The antidote to the algorithm

When less means not being the main character

I am posting less on social media these days—and I am not alone (for reference this article). The design of social media itself discourages the casual, everyday posting we did back in, say, 2014. Now our feeds push us toward influencer content, ads, AI, and highly curated reels rather than the ordinary and often mundane, day-to-day updates of friends.

Do you remember when Facebook used to say, “Sarah IS…” and you filled in the blank? Most of us posted text-heavy updates about our lives. Then photos took over—and you posted your breakfast, then, the barista’s art of the swirl in your coffee. That gorgeous salad you had for lunch. Your every day life.

Every so often, Facebook will boomerang a 10-year-old post back to me like a time capsule. I’ll pause and think: This is what I shared then? Wow, so interesting.

Now our feeds have a whole other story. My socials’ algorithm, at least, is packed with beautiful homes, dream vacations, AI-generated pools (?), brain-rot humor, tragedy clips, influencer tips, political rants, celebrity pastors, and perimenopause comedians—sometimes all in the same scroll. Emotional whiplash, you think? Our feeds hold the trauma of suffering and starving children beside influencer makeup tips and financial tutorials. And then you factor in the addictive nature of scrolling, the mental fatigue, FOMO, and the clear links to anxiety, trauma and depression. It’s too much.

The algorithm gives us what we want, and what we want is too much.

During the Outpouring at Asbury, President Kevin Brown asked students, “What do you want more of?” One student said something that stopped us: “We don’t want more. We want less.”

Less chaos. Less noise. Less opinions. Less politics. Less influencers. Less.

I am in a season of releasing: stepping back from leadership on a university stage, loosening the grip of identity tied to a specific role, letting go of the hyper-social immersion of campus life. Life is still full, yes—but it is less. My hope is to trade the intensity for depth, intention, and for walking slowly through my days with my eyes open to God’s presence. Is that less or is it more? It’s the deeper life.

The deeper life of God takes us to a place that is not curated, influencer-directed, noisy or the jolting back and forth of content that baits our attention. The deeper life in God changes who the main character of our lives. Instead of holding the main character energy ourselves, our story gravitates the around God’s story. This is the deepest shift. It's a daring and courageous one. The deeper life releases our personal life feed curated to the tastes and preferences of our own algorithm to inhabit the consciousness of God. It allows us to not have to hold it all because it’s not our story.

In the deep life, our distracted minds, torn between global suffering and the mundane demands of daily life, are immersed in the omnipresence and holiness of God. This is the antidote to the emotional chaos. The tension and discord of the endless scrolling with the weight of information and global pain is not simply more discipline, better filters, or more discernment.

It is going deeper into God.

Jesus holds the ultimate tension of humanity. On the cross, He bore all suffering of all time and all hope of the cosmos in His outstretched arms. From misery and evil to joy, delight, and beauty—Jesus held it without distraction, and without turning away.

The way forward is deeper. Deeper into the consciousness of God. Deeper into the quiet of the Holy Spirit. Deeper into the shalom that brings peace without avoiding the human condition.

In this season, I want to want less. I’m not there yet—but I want to want less. I want my soul to grow deep in the soil of God, to release my need to be the main character, to stop curating my personal feed in which the world gives me exactly what I want. Unless it is the fire of the Spirit refining me, I want my desires aligned with the holiness of God, not my own preferences or someone else’s.

For now, I am walking more slowly. I notice the steam rising from my coffee. I listen to my daughter practice her reading beside me on the sofa. I breathe prayer in and out. May this be the rhythm of less—a life of depth, holy imagination, trust, intention, and the kind of abundance that only comes from God.

In the midst of tension. In the midst of an evil world. In the midst of human suffering. Deeper into God.

May God be the main character of my story. And of yours. It’s the only way.

I know that we are living in the midst of impossible tensions and the cosmic battle between good and evil.

Don’t give up on God, go deeper.

This week, friend, let’s lean into the deep consciousness of God.

^18-21 Your life is a journey you must travel with a deep consciousness of God. It cost God plenty to get you out of that dead-end, empty-headed life you grew up in. He paid with Christ’s sacred blood, you know. He died like an unblemished, sacrificial lamb. And this was no afterthought. Even though it has only lately—at the end of the ages—become public knowledge, God always knew he was going to do this for you. It’s because of this sacrificed Messiah, whom God then raised from the dead and glorified, that you trust God, that you know you have a future in God.

I Peter 1:18-21, The Message