Recently, a pastor I was listening to, shared some information that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about (and not in a happy clappy way).

Back in the late 80’s and early 90’s, scientists experimented with a closed ecological system in Arizona called Biosphere 2. I don’t do science or math and maybe you don’t either, but stick with me.

They created rainforest, ocean, wetlands, savannah, and desert inside a dome in order to see if something similar could be used in outer space.

Here’s what happened. The trees grew quickly, but then fell over!  One commentator said, “the lack of wind created trees with much softer wood than that species would normally make in the wild. They grew more quickly than they did in the wild, but were harmed in the long run as a consequence.” 

This stuck with me because I’ve been thinking about how much comfort and convenience has become an idol in our (MY!) lives.

We’re so committed to comfort and convenience through technology that there is less and less “wind” in our lives to help deepen our relational roots with God and others.

Think about some of the ways we try to prevent any relational wind in our lives.

  • We order through Amazon, or mobile order our coffee so we don’t have to interact with an actual person who may be irritating to us, and we get what we want as quickly as we want. Like magic!

  • We attend online church (if we attend at all) so we can cherry-pick the communicator we like, with the music we like, at the time we like, and fast-forward through anything that might be boring or challenge our status quo.

  • We keep our heads down, eyes on our phone screens to protect us from awkward social situations and prevent us from ever having a moment to look around and be present to God and others.

  • We stream movies so we don’t have the inconvenience of driving to a theater, or text an excuse and bail at the last minute because we don’t feel like going out.

We choose to be consumers at the cost of community.


Again, I really don’t want to think about this, but I see 3 consequences of this abundantly technological life of no wind:

1. It gives us the misperception that we are God.

We are in control of all of the things, so what need do we have of fostering a closer relationship with the true sovereign God? Is technology our new tower of Babel? Where we originally got off track was in our desire to be autonomous. To “be” God. We’re not. He knows what we don’t know. He sees what we don’t see. He is our good and sovereign creator. We were meant for a dependent relationship with Him.

2. It isolates us,

preventing us from the comforting and spiritually formative relationships God created us for.

A new report suggests that 36% of all Americans—including 61% of young adults and 51% of mothers with young children—feel “serious loneliness.”

The effect of all this technology is comfort, yes, but also isolation. Loneliness. Connection comes at a cost.

A friend of mine had been a barista for years, but recently quit, partly because with mobile orders there was so little of the human interaction he loved.

3. It makes us less grateful.

We just moved back from the Bay area of California where the weather is close to perfect. Basically 72 degrees and sunny. Every. Day. (almost).

That’s great, but you start to take it for granted. You never have to adjust or adapt. Someone I knew planned an outdoor wedding with no contingency plan for bad weather!

Here in Minnesota I think we are over-the-top obnoxious about our gorgeous summers and falls because the winters are so harsh. The grit makes us more aware of the gift.

We can’t control the weather, but the ability to adjust the thermostat of our lives in so many areas dulls our senses to the work of God and His image in others.

SO WHAT??! Why choose what feels inconvenient? We’re weary of all the “wind” of the war and the economy and politics and Covid.

Deep breath. That’s not what I’m talking about. Instead of giving into the anxiety that these things produce, maybe pray:

Lord, today, may I not forget my need of you.

May I look up and around more than I look down at my phone.

Help me to listen with my eyes as well as my ears.

Prompt me to pause to pet puppies, compliment the cute dress on the stranger in line at the grocery store, make the soup for a sick friend, go next door to welcome the new neighbors, and bike to church even when the preacher of the day isn’t my favorite.

Make me a world-class noticer of the longing, the loneliness, the battered and the beautiful, all around me.

When I see something, remind me to say something – “thanks”, “sorry”, “wow.“

May I show up when it’s easier to shut down.

May I be a truth-teller and a grace-giver instead of a canceler of relationships when things get uncomfortable.

May connecting with You and others trump comfort, and may commitment take priority over the convenience of staying home.

Amen