You already know your screen time is bad — but the real threat isn’t how much time you’re wasting. It’s how much your soul is being reshaped by the opinions, vibes and voices you absorb online without even realizing it.
According to Common Sense Media, Gen Z adults now spend more than four hours a day on social media. Pew Research found that nearly half of U.S. teens say they’re online “almost constantly.” And Barna reports that many young Christians now turn to digital content — like podcasts, Instagram reels and TikTok explainers — for spiritual input more often than church or Scripture.
This isn’t just about distraction. It’s about formation. Every post you scroll, every hot take you absorb, every emotionally charged explainer video you half-watch is doing something to you. It’s not just taking up space in your brain — it’s rewiring how you think about truth, morality, community and God.
The internet flattens everything. Complex theological ideas get reduced to confident 30-second soundbites. Humility and nuance don’t trend — certainty does. So instead of chewing on Scripture, we graze on opinions. We hear bold claims like, “If your church doesn’t post about this, it’s not biblical,” or “Jesus would never do that,” and whether we agree or not, those statements start to shift our instincts. Not because we’ve studied or prayed, but because we’ve seen them enough times with enough likes.
Dr. Russell Moore recently wrote about this phenomenon in a reflection on his own digital habits. He described hesitating to post a particular book on Instagram — not because he disagreed with it, but because he didn’t want to be seen as a hypocrite. “The case was so compelling,” he admitted, “that I’ve decided I don’t care.” The book in question, “Ten Arguments for Deleting Your Social Media Accounts Right Now,” by tech ethicist Jaron Lanier, made a striking claim: that social media isn’t just amplifying trolls. It’s turning all of us into them.
Lanier, Moore explains, believes we each have two modes: solitary and pack. Online, we’re almost always in pack mode. That’s when we start defending “our side,” snapping at others to protect our place in the hierarchy and shifting our alliances based on shared enemies. “We pounce on those below us, lest we be demoted, and we do our best to flatter and snipe at those above us at the same time,” Moore writes.
In that headspace, truth becomes less about what’s real and more about what’s useful. We don’t embrace ideas because they’re biblical or wise — we embrace them because they signal who we are and which side we’re on. The more viral a belief is, the more valid it feels. And that’s exactly the problem.
Most of us aren’t replacing our faith with YouTube theology on purpose. But formation rarely feels like a decision. It feels like routine. Like vibe. Like “just seeing what’s out there.”
We start out curious. Then we’re binging content from creators who sound spiritual but are accountable to no one — people who speak like pastors, act like influencers and teach like self-help coaches. Some are thoughtful. Many are not. But either way, they’re forming you.
Over time, you start sounding more like a content aggregator than a disciple. You can quote your favorite podcast word for word, but your prayer life is on autopilot. You know how to “talk faith,” but not how to hear God.
Moore connects this to a dangerous spiritual drift. “If I find my identity in the community, or in the community’s perception of me, I am no longer free to serve the community,” he writes. Your theology starts to mirror your followers, not your convictions. You post the right things, agree with the right voices, perform the right vulnerability. But the soul part — the part where you’re still before God and let him shape you — gets quieter and quieter.
And it’s not just individuals who suffer. Moore draws a direct line from pack-mode Christianity to church tribalism: “We end up with angry tribes within the church (‘I am of Peter; I am of Apollos …’),” he writes, quoting 1 Corinthians. “Those who do so are not selflessly serving the whole; they are instead seeking to selfishly find themselves, in a tribe they can war against another.”
You don’t have to throw your phone in a lake or become a digital hermit. But you do need to ask whether the voices you’re letting in are forming you into the image of Christ — or just into a more likable, tribal, digitally relevant version of yourself.
“You weren’t created for a hive or a pack,” Moore writes. “You were created for a church. And, for that, you need more than a tribe. You need a soul.”
You need intimacy with God, not just information about him. You need a real-life church community, not just people who agree with your takes. You need depth, not just resonance.
So maybe take a step back. Audit your feed. Ask yourself:
- Who am I letting disciple me?
- Is my spiritual life being shaped more by God or by the people I follow?
- Am I looking for formation — or just affirmation?
You don’t need to delete everything. But you do need to decide what’s worth your attention and what’s quietly stealing it. Because in a world full of commentary, Christ is still speaking. But you won’t hear him until you turn the other voices down.
