Certainly there was an Eden on this very unhappy earth. We all long for it, and we are constantly glimpsing it: our whole nature at its best and least corrupted, its gentlest and most humane, is still soaked with the sense of “exile.”1 ~ J. R. R. Tolkien
We were not made for this world, at least not the way it is now. Something in us longs for the wholeness and simplicity of a life before brokenness entered the picture. But exile has a way of making us forget. The more time we spend immersed in a system, the more we begin to think, act, and live as if that system is normal. The people of Israel learned this the hard way in Babylon, just as we are learning it now in what some call Digital Babylon.
Technology has woven itself into every aspect of life, shaping how we see the world, relate to others, and understand ourselves. It is more than just a tool; it is a teacher, a culture-shaper, a voice in the wilderness calling us not to repentance but to consumption. Without realizing it, we are being discipled—trained in habits, affections, and desires that may have little to do with the kingdom of God.
Paul’s words to the Corinthians remain true:
“Moreover, it is required of stewards that they be found faithful.” (1 Corinthians 4:2 ESV).
If all things ultimately belong to God, then our time, attention, and even our digital lives are not ours to do with as we please. The question is not whether we use technology but whether we use it in a way that reflects faithful stewardship or passive submission. Who is in control?
There are signs that technology has taken the driver’s seat. The first thing we reach for in the morning often says more about us than we like to admit. Before speaking to God, before letting His words shape the start of the day, we reach for a screen. Notifications, messages, news, updates—all demanding to be seen, each one forming our priorities before we have had a chance to set them ourselves. Jesus warned,
“No one can serve two masters, for either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other” (Matthew 6:24).
Technology is neither good nor evil. Still, when it starts demanding our loyalty, focus, and devotion, it functions like a master rather than a servant.
Distraction is not just a side effect; it is the product being sold. We live in an age where silence feels unnatural, boredom is something to be eliminated, and even a moment of waiting in line is an opportunity to pull out a phone and let something fill the void. But scripture calls us to
“Be still, and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10a).
The very practices that have formed disciples for generations—meditation, prayer, reflection—are becoming more difficult as our habits bend toward constant engagement with something, anything, other than the voice of God.
Jesus made it clear that our hearts follow what we treasure.
“For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also”(Matthew 6:21).
If our treasure is the approval of others, the dopamine rush of notifications, or the endless stream of entertainment, then our hearts will naturally drift toward those things rather than toward God. But to live as faithful stewards in a digital age, we must intentionally direct our affections toward what matters most.
Stewardship begins with recognizing what is shaping us. It is one thing to use a tool and another to be used by it. None of the algorithms that determine what we see, the systems that curate our information, and the endless cycle of news, entertainment, and social validation are neutral. It all has an agenda.
“Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind” (Romans 12:2).
If we are not intentional, we will find ourselves formed by these systems, absorbing their values, priorities, and anxieties.
From a biblical perspective, stewardship has always been about faithfulness, not control. Adam was given stewardship over the garden, not ownership. He was called to cultivate, not to consume. The same is true of the digital world we inhabit. We do not own it, nor should it own us. The command remains the same: to be faithful, cultivate wisdom, and bear fruit that lasts.
The first step toward reclaiming control is awareness. Pay attention to the patterns that shape your day. What are the first things you give your time to? How often do you turn to a screen out of habit rather than necessity? What emotions rise when you cannot access your phone or favorite digital distractions? These are not small questions; they reveal the spiritual formation happening under the surface.
A practical step is to establish moments in the day that are free from digital intrusion. Keep the phone away from the bed. Start the morning with scripture rather than scrolling. Set aside time in the evening when the noise is turned off, stillness can settle in, and God’s voice is not competing with a hundred others.
“Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly” (Colossians 3:16).
Reintroduce silence. Make space for prayer. Let scripture dictate your attention before technology does.
This is not about rejecting technology entirely, or living in fear of it. It is about discipleship, choosing daily who we will serve, and recognizing that while we live in a digital world, we are not called to conform to it.
Exile does not mean abandonment. Even in Babylon, God was present, calling His people to be faithful where they were. Digital Babylon is no different. The systems shaping the world around us are strong, but they are not sovereign.The world will always seek to conform us to its patterns, but we are called to be transformed by the renewing of our minds. This will not happen passively. It will take intentional, disciplined, daily choices to follow Jesus rather than whatever the algorithm serves up next.
Stewardship is faithfulness. It is choosing whom we will serve each day. The digital world offers one answer. Jesus offers another.
“Choose this day whom you will serve” (Joshua 24:15).
The question remains: Who is in control?
~PW 🌮🛶
- Tolkien, J.R.R. (2000). The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien (H. Carpenter, Ed.). Houghton Mifflin. ↩︎
Phillip W. Martin 
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