Texts: Jeremiah 6:16 & Matthew 11:28-30

Do you remember the movie Cast Away? Tom Hanks plays Chuck Noland, a FedEx employee obsessed with productivity, efficiency, and the bottom line. His obsession makes him a great troubleshooter for FedEx, but his workaholic tendencies threaten his relationships. Spoiler alert: he gets stranded alone on a small tropical island for about five years, where deadlines, efficiency reports, and the rat race of corporate America become a thing of the past. The movie ends when Chuck is rescued and travels to Texas to deliver a package he kept with him, unopened, throughout his ordeal. He leaves a note on the recipient's porch saying the package saved his life. As he drives away, he stops at a crossroads, looking in the different directions he can take. I suppose he could go back to the endless rat race of his former corporate life, or he could choose another path—a quieter, more introspective one. The scene fades to black as a gentle smile appears on Chuck’s face while he looks down the road toward the house where he just delivered the package.

I believe many of us are at a crossroads right now regarding the rhythm and pace of our lives, especially when it comes to our news consumption, social media use, and the increasingly unavoidable presence of artificial intelligence. For many, life has become so fast-paced and chaotic, and our reliance on technology and social media so overwhelming, that it’s hard to find balance and meaningful connections. That’s the focus of this three-week sermon series called “Stop the Scroll.” In conversations with my own therapist, my wife who is also a therapist, and with many of you, I’m hearing a recurring theme. We’re tired. We’re overwhelmed. We’re disconnected. Our spirits, our bodies, feel, as Bilbo Baggins once famously said, “like too little butter scraped over too much bread.”

I suppose I should confess that this sermon series is personal for me: I’m in a chapter of my life where finding rest has never been more difficult. But one certainly doesn’t need to be a parent like me to understand that feeling. I know many of you, who are in different stages of life, also feel burdened and weary. Caring for aging parents. Worrying about the world our children and grandchildren will inherit. Struggling to find employment. Wrestling with difficult relationships and trying to help family and friends battling addiction.

I’m not going to stand before you, wagging my finger and offering a simplistic, callous message that suggests finding rest these days is easy or straightforward. We all know it’s not. But I do hope that you and I can use the next few weeks to examine our relationship with technology, news, and social media, because all three are major factors in our collective struggle to balance responsibility and rest, advocacy and sabbath, action with stillness. Together, let’s stand at this crossroads and listen for God’s voice inviting us, as Matthew’s gospel says, to find rest for our weary and burdened souls.

As a millennial who grew up in the 90s, I remember the days before the internet. I remember flipping through card catalogs at the library. I remember when our family cell phone had to be physically installed in our minivan, complete with a literal antenna (I seem to recall the phone worked about 25% of the time). I remember getting my first cell phone in high school; it was a flip phone that was almost indestructible. I also remember getting in trouble often with my parents because a single text message cost ten cents and my parents’ phone bill suffered as a result. I remember my mom going through a big scrapbooking phase long before we started creating digital photo albums. And I remember 8-tracks—okay, I’m joking about that one; I’ve never used an 8-track in my life.

And then things sped up. Fast. I remember when we first got dial-up internet. And the drama that was caused when one of us picked up the phone - you know, with a cord and all that - and that Backstreet Boys song I had been so carefully ripping off of Napster disappeared mid-download. I remember getting my first “smart phone” when I went to seminary and iPhones had just come out. I could, of course, go on and on about all the technological advances that have happened since but it would take forever.

Now, we’re glued to our devices. Artificial intelligence is in almost everything we do (I can’t even refill my prescriptions these days without using AI). Gone are the days when politics was boring and we weren’t at each other’s throats. Gone are the days when news consumption was limited to the paper newspaper at breakfast, NPR in the car, or watching CNN or Fox on the treadmill at the gym. Now, notifications about the latest shooting, political cage match, or natural disaster are so frequent they become white noise, a constant source of both addiction and exhaustion. The nonstop flow of alerts and updates has changed how we relate to information, making it feel both urgent and trivial at once. We scroll mindlessly through headlines, often desensitized to the seriousness of events, yet still pushed to debate and discuss, often escalating quickly. Our social media feeds serve as battlegrounds for opinions, where nuance gets lost in the chaos, and empathy is scarce. In this chaotic landscape, we are both connected and isolated, craving meaningful interactions while sinking in a sea of digital noise.

And here’s the problem. Our brains were never designed to handle the enormous amount of noise we face today. From an evolutionary perspective, our brains tend to favor bad news because our Neanderthal ancestors who were more hyperaware of threats were more likely to survive and pass on their genes. But it’s not just the type of news we consume; it’s the sheer volume. In an article on Psychology Today, psychologist Dr. Charles R. Chaffin states: “Beyond the brain’s natural inclination toward negative information, the sheer volume of content we consume also affects our ability to process it effectively. The constant flow of news can create a numbing effect, where people either become desensitized to tragedies or experience heightened anxiety because they feel powerless to change the situation. This paradox—being both overwhelmed and disengaged—can lead to decision fatigue, stress, and an overall sense of helplessness (Chaffin, 2021). The rise of doomscrolling—mindlessly scrolling through bad news for extended periods—exacerbates this problem. Studies show that excessive news consumption is linked to increased anxiety and depression (Holman et al., 2020). The more we consume distressing information, the harder it becomes to put it into context, leading to a skewed perception of reality.

Friends, that’s the paradox you and I face. That is the crossroads at which we find ourselves. And it’s a crossroads that’s mentioned in today’s verse from Jeremiah: “Stand at the crossroads and look, and ask for the ancient paths, where the good way lies; and walk in it, and find rest for your souls.” Together, we stand at a crossroads between our obligation to be informed and active citizens of our democracy, on the one hand, and the need to protect our own rest, on the other hand. But the good news is that those aren’t necessarily two divergent paths. Nowhere in the Gospels do I see Jesus expecting his followers to avoid the messiness of the world, bury their heads in the sand, and pretend everything is perfect. No, he expected his followers to be active participants in creation, bending that moral arc of the universe, sharing the good news of the Gospel with those who need rest, who need a break from the oppressive powers that assail them. But Jesus also slept in a storm. The Son also took time to rest, pray, and be with the Father. Christ got tired. Christ was overwhelmed. Christ needed Sabbath. And, in turn, he offered himself as sabbath to us.

“Come to me, all you who are weary and are carrying heavy burdens,” Jesus said, “and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

We have heard those words spoken today. We’ve heard those words sung today. Taking them to heart is one of the ancient paths that the Jeremiah passage harkens, the paths where the good way lies, where we find rest for our souls.

The problem is that you and I too often only rest “when we get around to it.” We wait to rest until the to-do list is finished (is it ever?). We wait to rest “until things calm down” (spoiler alert: they never do). We wait to rest after we feel we’ve pleased the gods of productivity (hint: those are greedy idols whose appetite for our souls is never satisfied!).

At some point, I’ve had to accept that rest isn’t just something my body does out of necessity, but also something my spirit does to honor God and accept my limitations. Even Jesus accepted his limitations. Satan tried to tempt Jesus with more - more power, more security, more satisfaction - and each time Jesus responded, “Nah, I’m good. I don’t need to be more than I already am to be who God is calling me to be. My baptism is sufficient.” What a radical statement, y’all!

Perhaps if we channeled that voice, that vibe, that sense of vocation, you and I might be better able to strike that healthy balance between having "the newspaper in one hand and the Bible in the other," as Karl Barth once famously said.

No matter what you need to rest from - social media, technology, news consumption, or always saying “yes” - whatever it is, remember this week that practicing rest is a way to acknowledge our limitations and honor God and the way God made us. But as we’ve said, it’s hard. There are many reasons why we find it difficult to rest, and it occurs to me that rest is not necessarily always a solo activity. In fact, it’s often a group effort (kind of like what we’re doing right now). This was a recurring theme when about eight of us gathered last Tuesday for the Word This Week. And I’ve thought of two examples to show that truth.

The first example comes from my frequent inspiration, Brené Brown. In a podcast from some years ago, she talked about marriage and said that whoever first suggested that a healthy marriage is 50/50 didn’t know what they were talking about. She and her husband check in with each other when they get home from work each day. They rate themselves on their energy and patience levels. Steve, her husband, might come home after a particularly tough day at work and admit he’s only at a “20.” Brené might respond, “Good to know. Don’t worry, I’ve got the other 80 covered.” On other days, it might be the opposite. Brené may come home saying she only has 10, and Steve will say he can cover the other 90. Some days, they might not even add up to 100. Sometimes, they come home and only total 50 between them. That’s when they make a conscious effort to sit down and talk about how they can be kind, compassionate, and gentle with each other despite their energy or patience being low. I love this example because it isn’t just about romantic relationships (though it’s great advice for any couple!). I wonder how you and I might find more rest if we normalize having those honest and vulnerable conversations.

The second example of how rest is a group effort involves meerkats. How many of y’all have seen the meerkat exhibit right up the road at the science center? If you have, then you know the drill. Meerkats live in clans of about 20-50 members, and at the science center, there’s a tall central pillar where you'll always find a single meerkat standing watch, looking for danger. This meerkat is called the sentinel. It constantly scans the horizon for potential threats. You can think of it like your brain when you’re doomscrolling and constantly on the lookout for things to worry about, or be angry about, or argue about. But here’s the thing: the meerkats take turns. Every member of the clan takes shifts so the rest of the group can rest.

Y’all, let’s be each others meerkats!

Let’s be each other’s meerkats because I believe, like Chuck Noland in Cast Away, we are at a crossroads as a society. We’ve been through so much, and like Chuck, we’re struggling to practice rest after such a long period of disconnection and disorientation. I hope that you and I can be one another’s meerkats — to watch out for each other, check in, and advocate for our neighbors, family, and friends when rest is needed for our weary souls and tired bodies. Because in doing so, we honor God, acknowledge our limitations, and accept Jesus’ invitation to rest. So this week, try to step away - even briefly - from the news, the doomscroll, or whatever it is that drains you, and be a sentinel meerkat or allow someone else to be a sentinel meerkat for you. And then, we get back to work bending that moral arc of the universe toward the place God has promised us it’s heading!

In the name of God the Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer, may all of us, God’s meerkats, say: Amen!

Rev. Dr. Stephen M. Fearing

Rev. Dr. Stephen M. Fearing

Sermons

Rev. Dr. Stephen M. Fearing

Rev. Dr. Stephen M. Fearing