Warning: Lost Connection!
Why we must choose people over pixels
The other day, I got a text—and before I could even think about how to respond, my phone suggested a reply. Not some random, generic option, but an actual answer I probably would’ve typed myself. Has that happened to you too?
It kind of stopped me in my tracks. And I paused for a moment to decide if I wanted to hit the suggested reply (which was quite appropriate) or if I wanted to type my own, even if I had to revise it a little, just so that it was truly “my own”!
I started wondering… what if two phones could just carry on an entire conversation with each other—predicting replies, responding automatically—without the people behind them ever really showing up? What if two humans could go back and forth without ever actually being present, thinking, feeling, or relating—just reacting with what they’d likely say?
That thought spooked me a little. Honestly, it spooked a few friends I brought it up to as well.
Because here’s the thing: there’s something sacred about the way light falls on a human face.
I’m not talking about the blue glow from a screen. I mean real light. The warmth in someone’s eyes when they really see you. A smile shared across a table. The stillness of being fully known without needing to explain a thing. These moments—those small, holy moments of real connection—can’t be duplicated by a device.
Because no device can love.
And yet, here we are, most of us with something glowing in our hands all day long. Phones, tablets, smartwatches—whatever it is, it’s “on.” And sure, they can be helpful. They can inform, entertain, even offer a sense of connection. But they’re not neutral. These tools shape us. Which means we’ve got to approach them with awareness… and a good dose of reverence.
Because not all light is sacred.
And not all voices are real.
One of the most mysterious moments in Scripture happens in the wilderness. Moses turns aside to see a bush that’s on fire but not burning up. From that bush, a voice speaks—the voice of God.
But the bush itself? It wasn’t holy on its own.
It became holy because God chose to speak through it.
That’s something worth remembering when we navigate this digital world. AI, technology, even beautifully crafted words online—they might offer insight or comfort. They might sound poetic or even inspiring. But they’re not alive. They’re not human. They’re not sacraments. They don’t feel.
And if we’re not careful, we’ll start mistaking replication for relationship.
We live in a strange time. A time when two devices could, in theory, have a “conversation” without the people behind them ever being involved. When your phone can offer a reply before your heart has even had time to feel something. When a soul can go days—weeks, even—without being seen, because screens have taken the place of faces.
Let’s not lose sight of what matters.
Technology has its place. It can be a gift—a tool that inspires, connects, teaches. But it’s still just that: a tool. It’s light, but it’s not breath. It’s code, not compassion.
And so, we have to be careful not to let what looks like love take the place of what actually is love.
The burning bush didn’t have a soul.
But Moses did.
And so do you.
So does your spouse, your friend, your neighbor, your child.
The people in your life aren’t devices. They aren’t algorithms. They’re not waiting for your auto-reply. They’re souls—real ones—entrusted to you by a God who chooses to speak through relationship.
So sure, use the phone. Use the tool. Learn from the light in your hand. But don’t let it replace the light in your home… your Church… your community.
Hold the hand. Make the eye contact. Say the words. Offer the silence.
Because no glow in your palm will ever be as sacred as the person sitting beside you.
And one day, when the glow of this world fades and all that’s left is love—you’ll be glad you chose souls over screens.
Check out our Always Toward the Light marketplace. Our aim isn’t to sell “stuff” but to spread high quality faith-based materials. If any of our digital products are cost-prohibitive, then let me know and we’ll discount them further or send it to you for free. We just ask you to help us grow!
Want to get in touch? Send me a message on Substack’s chat feature. Or email John Henry at alwaystowardthelight@icloud.com
