H/T: Cyberbrethren

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The most popular thing people are giving up for Lent this year is Facebook. And then of course there is the old joke, “I’m giving up giving something up for Lent.”

Me personally, I’m giving up for Lent. I’m going to stop trying to base my spirituality on my own performance. I’m going to try to stop relying on myself to obtain victory over sin in my life. I’m simply going to give up, and give it all over to Christ. And hopefully I make this a life-long change.

What are you giving up for Lent?

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Thanks to Facebook, I never lose touch with anyone. And that, my Friend, is a problem.

Hey, want to be my friend? It’s more than possible; it’s probable. Hell, we may already be friends—I haven’t checked my email in a few minutes. And once we are, we will be, as they say, 4-eva. A perusal of my Facebook Friend roster reveals that I, a medium-social individual of only middling lifetime popularity, have never lost a friend. They’re all there: elementary school friends, high school friends, college friends, work friends, friends of friends, friends of ex-girlfriends—the constellation of familiar faces crowds my Friendbox like medals on Mussolini’s chest. I’m Friend-rich—at least onscreen. I’ve never lost touch with anyone, it seems. What I’ve lost is the right to lose touch. This says less about my innate lovability, I think, than about the current inflated state of Friendonomics.

Yes, I know he said ‘hell’, so did Jesus — get over it. Aside from that, this raises a serious point. I’ve written about Facebook before, and I’ve even mentioned how you never lose touch with people using the service, but Brown really hit the nail on head when he said, “What I’ve lost is the right to lose touch.” He goes on to say:

“A friend may well be reckoned the masterpiece of Nature,” Emerson wrote, not bothering to add, “and like most things natural, friendship is biodegradable.” We scrawl “Friends Forever” in yearbooks, but we quietly realize, with relief, that some bonds are meant to be shed, like snakeskin or a Showtime subscription. It’s nature’s way of allowing you to change, adapt, evolve, or devolve as you wish—and freeing you from the exhaustion of multifront friend maintenance. Fine, you can “Remove Friend,” but what kind of [person] actually does that? Deletion is scary—and, we’re told, unnecessary in the Petabyte Age. That’s what made good old-fashioned losing touch so wonderful—friendships, like long-forgotten photos and mixtapes, would distort and slowly whistle into oblivion, quite naturally, nothing personal. It was sweet and sad and, though you’d rarely admit it, necessary.

And maybe that’s the answer: A Facebook app we’ll call the Fade Utility. Untended Friends would gradually display a sepia cast on the picture, a blurring of the neglected profile—perhaps a coffee stain might appear on it or an unrelated phone number or grocery list. The individual’s status updates might fade and get smaller. The user may then choose to notice and reach out to the person in some meaningful way—no pokes! Or they might pretend not to notice. Without making a choice, they could simply let that person go. Would that really be so awful?

I thought this was a neat idea about a ‘Fade Utility’, but aside from that, why has “friendonomics” become such an issue? I think a lot of people in my generation and younger migrate from Myspace to Facebook once they get a few years into college, in order to do away with the past, but often the old friends find you there, too. Myspace is even trying to replicate Facebook lately, with the creation of “Apps”, “People You May Know”, and other Facebook-cloned programs.

I think this causes a huge stunt in maturity for many Web 2.0 kiddies. And it’s beginning to stunt the growth of Busters and Boomers who are new to the technology as well, as they get caught up in the friend-o-drama of “friendonomics”. In real life, you simply “fall out of touch” with people, but in Web 2.0, you have to intentionally delete them as a friend. That causes a major crisis of conscience for many, and so they stay connected to hundreds (sometimes even thousands) of people whom they never interact with on a regular basis, aside from social networking antics such as “getting poked” or being invited to take part in some ridiculous application or cause.

What does this mean for Christianity 2.0? I really don’t think is a whole lot different from how the faith looks now, actually. What do I mean? Well, you show up for church on Sunday mornings, and there’s a whole slew of people you only interact with in that setting. In many cases, neither party really opens up to the other in a real and meaningful way, and they may even be annoyed by each other. Still, they continue to say “peace of the Lord” to one another every Sunday with a smile, never making any real connection. Take this over to the Web 2.0 realm, where now they’ve become friends on Myspace (or Facebook). They look at each others’ family photos, comment on one another’s walls on holidays and on each others’ birthdays, and they may even be sure to include them in their “top friends.” But what constitutes a “top friend”? And why so cordial with no real connection?

I’m not exempting myself here, I do it all the time — but I’m sick of it. My wife and I have been very blunt and authentic with people lately, and it’s not very popular. But you sure learn who your friends are quick. How can we be more blunt and “real” using Web 2.0? What can the church do to ensure that Christianity 2.0 isn’t a game of Schrades, where we all play our respective roles?

“All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players; they have their exits and their entrances; and one man in his time plays many parts.” –William Shakespeare

Church folks typically hide their sins and trade more noticeable sins for ones that are easier to hide. I think one of Satan’s best tactical deceptions has been to get God’s people to associate most sins with shame, guilt and embarrassment — and thus not share them. The worst part is that Satan has gotten church people to view people who struggle with sin more negatively. Most people in church will readily confess that they are sinful, but few can point to specific sins they struggle with or have been delivered from. Without real sin, there is no real Savior! But if your sin is real, then your Savior must be also! The reason we struggle with “dead churches” is that we have lost our gratitude — because we do not truly see ourselves as being sinful.

The Bible says to “confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous man is powerful and effective” (James 5:16). I don’t know about you, but I long for that healing, and the transparency and profound relationships that come through it.

So where do we go from here? I’d say being yourself, i.e. becoming authentic is a great start. And after you can do that, it’s time to do some friend-purging. . . .

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