The Pocket god Problem

What Your Phone Reveals About What You're Really Depending On

I wanted to throw my phone in the pond.

Not in a dramatic kind of way. In a serious, “this thing is destroying my ability to be present” kind of way.

I was standing outside by our pond, watching the water, feeling that familiar itch in my pocket — the phantom pull of a device I wasn’t even holding — and in that moment I was well aware: I'd structured too much of my life around a device that promised to serve me but had somehow become my master.

You probably know the feeling. The compulsion to check it even though you checked it three minutes ago. The way conversations get interrupted mid-sentence because a notification just happened.

Or maybe you don’t think you have a problem. You’ve got it under control, right?

Try something: leave your phone in another room for two hours at some point this week. Pay attention to how many times you instinctively reach for it. Pay attention to the low-grade anxiety when you can’t check it. Pay attention to what that reveals.

Thanks for reading Becoming Saints! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and join the adventure.

The god in Your Pocket

Think about what we expect from God:

Always available. Always accessible. Knows everything. Provides comfort when we’re anxious. Gives answers when we’re confused. Connects us when we’re lonely. Validates us when we’re unsure.

Now think about what we expect from our phones.

The overlap is unsettling.

We reach for our phones first thing in the morning — before prayer, before conversation, before we’ve even fully woken up. We check them constantly throughout the day, looking for reassurance. We feel genuine panic when we can’t find them.

And here’s the kicker: they actually deliver. Sort of.

Our phones promise connection and give us notifications. They promise knowledge and give us information overload. They promise to make our lives better, and instead we just do more, faster, with less depth.

It’s the oldest bait-and-switch in history. The same one that’s been running since Eden: Take this. It will make you like God.

The problem isn’t that smartphones are evil. The problem is that we’ve given them authority over our attention, our time, and our presence — the very things God asks us to steward well.

When Accessibility Becomes a Trap

My wife said something the other day that opened up a conversation, which made me stop and really think.

She seemed frustrated, and I asked if she was frustrated with me, as I can be a pain in the butt at times. She said, “No — I’m frustrated at the 50 million people who are texting me, needing me, wanting something from me, all at the same time.”

I asked her a question I’d been asking myself: “Why are you so accessible?”

Not as an accusation. As a genuine question.

It's easy to make yourself available to everyone and end up being truly present for no one.

I’m guilty of this too. So I’ve started leaving my phone in the other room. Airplane mode. For hours at a time — especially on the weekends and evenings when I get home from work.

Not because I’ve got it figured out. Because I’m a dad and a husband who realized I was more responsive to others on a screen than to the people sitting right in front of me.

Jesus took time away from the crowd to be alone with His Father. If He needed that, what makes us think we don’t?

I’m not saying ignore your aging mother’s calls or miss genuine emergencies. I’m saying question whether you’ve defaulted to being too accessible when some boundaries would actually serve everyone better — including you.

None of this is new information. You already know your phone has too much of your attention. I do too. I'm not writing this from the other side — I'm writing it from the middle. But sometimes the adventure of becoming a saint means taking a step back to honestly look at what's holding you back before you can move forward.

What Your Kids Are Learning

Whatever captures your attention has your heart. The Psalms call us to fix our eyes on the Lord. Jesus tells us to watch and pray.

So when I compulsively check my phone when I get home in the evenings, I’m communicating that whatever might be on that screen deserves my time more than my daughter’s story about her day. When I scroll instead of pray, I’m choosing notifications over conversation with God.

And my kids are watching. When they see me choose my phone over their stories, they’re learning that divided attention is normal. When they see me choose presence over a screen, they’re learning what actually matters.

I’m not just managing my phone. I’m teaching them how to be human.

What’s Waiting on the Other Side

A few weeks back, I left my phone upstairs before coming down for dinner.

My son Luke told me about a book he’s looking forward to reading. My daughter, Eve, asked for my opinion on something she’s wrestling with. We laughed. We talked about things that mattered. Nobody was half-present, half-waiting for the next ping.

It was ordinary. And it was extraordinary.

That’s what’s on the other side of this: actual presence. Real conversations. The capacity to sit with someone — or with God — without reaching for something else. The kind of moments I wrote about last week, where God shows up in the pines and the laughter and the quiet of a room full of people you love.

Those moments require your presence. Your full, undivided, phone-in-the-other-room presence.

One Thing This Week

Pick one phone-free zone. Meals, mornings, or bedtime. Just one.

Protect it for seven days. Phone in another room.

Then pay attention to what happens. Who gets the best of you when your phone isn’t competing for your attention? What conversations happen that wouldn’t have? What do you notice about your own anxiety — or your own peace?

This won’t be easy. You’re fighting against devices designed to hijack your attention. Years of habit. Expectations of instant response.

Some days you’ll fail. It’s not the end of the world — it’s being human. What matters is choosing again tomorrow.

The adventure of becoming a saint requires your presence. And your phone can either serve that adventure or sabotage it.

The choice is yours.

But first, be honest about who’s actually in charge.

---

“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

---

NEXT WEEK: “The Only Answer That Matters: What the Thief on the Cross Teaches Us About Becoming Saints”

---

This post connects to Navigating Challenges in the SAINT Method — recognizing the things competing for your attention and choosing to fight for what actually matters.

---