Politics. Sexual identity. Theological controversy. You name it, people are arguing about it online.
Count me out.
Yes, I could get a lot more eyeballs on my content, higher reader engagement, and probably even monetize it if I stepped up my outrage game, but I refuse to do it. Here’s why.
On Feb 1, 2019, I put this verse on what was then called my Twitter feed:
Don’t have anything to do with foolish and stupid arguments, because you know they produce quarrels. (2 Timothy 2:23)
It got so much positive response that I posted it the next day. Then the next. I’ve now posted it every day without comment for over 2,000 days and counting. Here’s my X feed, so you can see how many days I’m up to now.
But, how do I know if an argument is “foolish and stupid?”
Let’s be honest, sometimes you just know. But in the cases where I’m not sure, here’s my test. Does it “produce quarrels” instead of helpful results? Then engaging in it is foolish and stupid.
It can be a foolish and stupid argument to engage in, even if I’m right. Even if they’re wrong. Even if the subject is important. I won’t engage if my participation will only create more quarreling.
In addition to following that wise biblical advice from Paul to Timothy, here are seven other reasons I’m opting out of online outrage:
1. I Don’t Have The Emotional Bandwidth
That’s right, I’m not strong enough.
I only have so much emotional energy, and engaging in online arguments takes more out of me than I can spare.
2. It Takes Too Much Time
To read their argument, engage in my argument, then keep refreshing . . refreshing . . . refreshing . . . as I await a response . . .
That process is not refreshing to my spirit or my schedule.
Every minute I spend in an online argument is a minute I can’t use doing something that matters more to me. And there are a lot of other things that matter more to me, as we’ll see in reason seven.
3. I Don’t Trust That It Wasn’t Generated Artificially
There are manipulations happening online that are way bigger than my ability to discern. I have zero confidence that my anger over the latest online controversy was generated purely by my own value system and not because I was emotionally manipulated by an algorithm or a bot.
Sure there are a lot of times when I can tell it’s a bot, but I’m not confident that I can always spot it.
The only way to be sure I’m not being manipulated is to refuse to take the bait.
4. It Never Moves The Needle
When was the last time you changed your mind because someone online made a well-reasoned opposing argument?
Exactly.
5. There Are Enough Voices Talking About It Already
By definition, if a subject is controversial it’s already got a ton of people talking about it.
I don’t mind weighing in on hard subjects. Like how small churches have been under-resourced, or how our obsession over numerical growth has hijacked the church. (I could write a book. Oh wait . . .)
I prefer pointing out an issue that’s being under-represented instead of ranting over stuff that’s already garnering all the attention it needs.
6. I’d Rather Take It Offline
The fact that I don’t engage in the hot-button sexual, theological, and political topics of the day online doesn’t mean I’m shying away from dealing with them at all.
I can and do engage in hard face-to-face conversations with people I actually have a relationship with. Those conversations are far more effective than engaging in yet another online argument with someone running a bot farm who’s intentionally triggering me to raise their click rate.
7. I Don’t Care Enough
There are a few things I really care about. My relationships with Jesus and my family. Serving the local church. Resourcing under-served pastors. My own emotional, spiritual, and physical well-being. Slowing down enough to appreciate where I am and who I’m with.
Compared to those, I don’t care enough about the controversial issues of the day for them to register on my passion meter.
After I’ve paid the appropriate amount of attention to what really matters to me, there’s no time left to argue online with people I don’t even know.
(Photo by home thod | Flickr)
