Most people would say they live with an internal angst that they can't always put their finger on. This is because the Internet has changed our very way of being in this world, compelling us to be perpetually "on" - from our cars to our computers, our tablets to our smartphones, our desks to our living rooms or dining tables, our churches to our libraries to our schools.

The reality is that most of us are rarely, if ever, alone with our own minds and souls. Even when we do find a few minutes of quiet, we're driven to check our devices for emails, texts, etc.

I'm frustrated with the fact that it's harder to remember things now because I can so easily find them on the Web. I hate the way I have to work at reading; a pastime that once brought nothing but relaxation and joy. I hate the Internet's addictive qualities, as I watch my own grandchildren - whose brains are still being developed - want to be on devices so much. I hate what technology bodes for our culture, but even more for the body of Christ.

Most people would say they live with an internal angst that they can't always put their finger on. This is because the Internet has changed our very way of being in this world, compelling us to be perpetually "on" - from our cars to our computers, our tablets to our smartphones, our desks to our living rooms or dining tables, our churches to our libraries to our schools.

The question I ask myself daily is whether my smartphone has been my servant or a silent taskmaster. The truth is that our devices can serve us greatly in our walk with God, even in helping us rewire our brains in positive ways.

I'm dependent on technology like most 21st century human beings. More and more I need to be "connected" in order to communicate with family, teach seminary, minister to my community, and write as I'm called to do.

We don't have to be victims of the spiritual fall-out of the digital age. It does take some serious intentionality to combat the cultural compulsion for connection that surrounds us, but it's worth it.