My Phone Has Replaced My Brain

And it wants to steal my soul.

I used to be smart.

Not, like, abnormally smart but smart enough. I did well in school, graduated high school and college with high honors, read books and thought a lot about things that interested me. 

Now, I scroll through Instagram reels. 

I used to stay up until 4 a.m. reading. I couldn’t put books down.

Now, I have to force myself to read a chapter. What I don’t have to force? Scrolling Reddit posts. 

I used to sit in coffee shops for 3 hours on the weekends studying scripture.

Now, it takes every ounce of discipline I have to sit and read a chapter of Romans. 

I used to have a brain, I think. Now, I’m not so sure. 

I could play dumb if I wanted and act like I have no idea what happened. Like my life is just too busy now and that’s why I can’t eat a meal without a screen in front of me. But that would be a lie. I know what happened. We all do.

I got my first smartphone when I was fifteen. I was the last of my friends to get an iPhone, and that Christmas of my sophomore year of high school I begged and begged my parents for one. I wasn’t sure I would get one, but they came through. I was so excited. Finally, I thought. 

We didn’t know then what we know now, but I think if I could go back, I would do everything I could to stop myself from opening that gift.

It was a slow fade at first—as these things so often are—and then all at once, my phone replaced my brain. And I let it happen. I gave it a free pass when I stopped thinking for myself and let anything else, especially my phone, start thinking for me. 

I know that by this point you’ve already heard it, and I’m sure that you’re rolling your eyes because you’re tired of hearing it, but I simply must remind you that your phone is no longer a device. It is an addiction, and you have a problem. I know because I have a problem, too. We all do, and I so badly want to raise kids who don’t. But how am I supposed to do that if every day all I’m modeling for them is how desperately I need my phone?

We have all discipled ourselves into needing our phones with us at all times. If you’re anything like me, your day is filled with constant noise: podcasts and videos and Instagram stories—talking, talking, talking. Some of it is beneficial, but I don’t need it. I’ve just convinced myself I do. 

I can nearly guarantee that your phone is less of an asset and more of a burden to you. It takes and takes and steals and steals. It fills you with anxiety and comparison and grief and weariness, and it gives you nothing of worth besides a few cleaning hacks every once in a while. 

I’m imploring you and myself: It’s not worth it. 

I want to be in tune with the Holy Spirit. I want to sit with him and dwell in his presence for more than three minutes at a time. I want to memorize scripture. I want to hear his still, small voice when he speaks. And with my phone next to me, I can’t do any of those things. 

I’m finally realizing that if I continue at the rate I’m currently going, I will look back when I’m 80 and discover that I gave my whole life to an idol that stole not only my brain but my soul. 

It’s not dramatic to say anymore. The data is here, and we should all be concerned. 

If you’re like me, then you’ve been being shaped and molded by social media for over a decade. It’s going to take more than easily-evaded time limits to break the addiction you’ve built. It will be a daily, and then life-long battle. One in which you wake up every day and say, “My phone cannot have my life.” You will have to deny yourself and choose to be bored, to feel left out, to listen to silence and your own thoughts. It will be scary. But for freedom you have been set free, and there is certainly freedom on the other side. 

Here are three things you can start doing today (that I’ve been doing, too) to fight back:

1. The landline method.

If you’re chronically online, then you probably already know about this one. Choose a spot in your house for your phone to live, preferably a place that is out of your usual reach. Mine is on my dining room table. That is now your phone’s permanent residence. If you want to check it for messages or look something up or scroll, that’s fine, but you have to stand there while you do it and put it back when you’re done. Much less fun. Very effective. 

2. Stop taking it to the bathroom with you. 

Just sit there. Think your thoughts. Reflect on your day. Make a to-do list. List out some things you’re grateful for. Take a few deep breaths. Pray. Practice scripture memory. I’m not joking. If you’re serious about breaking the addiction, you have to replace the time you spent scrolling with something else. Thinking is a good start. You have beautiful, creative thoughts to think. Give yourself the time and space to think them. 

3. Turn it off and leave your house without it.

I know, I know: but what if there’s an emergency?? I can almost promise there won’t be. And on the very off chance you do get into an accident or something, guess who has a phone you could borrow? Everyone else. A very small chance that you’ll need your phone for an emergency is not a good enough reason to let your phone keep stealing from you. The second you leave your house without your phone, whatever you’re doing immediately becomes an adventure. You’re like Bilbo on his way to the Lonely Mountain—anything could happen! And you get to experience it fully, the way you were made to. 

A few final thoughts: the Lord has promised to always provide a way out of temptation (1 Cor. 10:13). It will be tempting to keep doing what you’ve always done, but if you want to be free, he will provide the strength you need to fight. 

Second, there is no condemnation for those who are in Christ (Rom. 8:1). There is no room or reason for shame. Just acknowledge what is true for all of us—that we’re all addicted—and move forward. 

I am walking out this process with you, and I am doing it so imperfectly. There are days when I am so mean to myself for being on my phone. That is not the goal, and I have to reorient, turn it off, and ask the Lord for more strength because I don’t have enough. I never will. But he is for me, and he has set me free. 

He wants you to be free, too. To experience the beautiful, glorious, good life he has planned for you. A life of wonder and joy and hope and peace. It is there for you, specifically, if you can just look up and live it. 

I’m praying for you, my friends, and so is Jesus.