Dear Craving Congregation:

A few years ago, I stopped drinking diet soda. It wasn’t a reaction to any study revealing ill side effects wrought by artificial sweeteners; it was because of what diet soda was doing to my desire for sugar. Strangely, within a few hours of consuming a diet drink, I found myself longing for a cookie, candy bar or ice cream, usually something that completely nullified any caloric advantage granted from the low-cal beverage. Switching back to sugared beverages, I found no subsequent craving. What seems to have been happening was that my mouth tasted sweetness and my body anticipated the jolt of sucrose. Receiving no such energy rush, my body told my brain it was disappointed and wanted real sugar, now!

One look at me and you know I’m not qualified as a spokesperson for healthy dieting. But my experience with substitute sweeteners got me musing about other brain tricks—those times when we substitute something hollow to meet our real desires. One such substitution became particularly acute during pandemic lockdowns. As much as worship videos and group chats generated their own form of connection, they could not replace face-to-face fellowship.

Now that distancing has become a thing of the past and we have unfettered access to “the real thing”, our reliance on substitutes seems to have become habitual. In any given week, I spend way more time on social media than I do being social. Unfortunately, my hunger for human interaction is tricked into thinking a few hours of screentime will feed my desire for human interaction. It doesn’t. But rather than making time to meet with real people, I succumb to the immediacy of online scrolling, the empty social calories of illusory contact. What makes matters worse is the corresponding erosion of social skills. When I encounter real people, I’m frustrated because I cannot change the channel or open a new tab when they inevitably become boring.

All this becomes even more pathetic because I am fully aware that we are wired (or created) to interact with real human beings. While AI may create more sophisticated substitutes, I fear an eventual self-selected solitary confinement where the cumbersome work of old-school human interaction is rendered passe by the electronic quick fix, the aspartame of real friendship.

I do not mean to sound hopelessly dystopian; I’m optimistic. Eventually we’ll make the connection between what tastes good in the moment and what feeds us. I’ve watched this transformation unfold over the past few months in what is happening after worship. While attendance remains slightly behind pre-pandemic levels, the depth and quality of conversation following our worship service is richer and longer than it’s ever been. Even before worship, I’ve found it harder to coax people into the Sanctuary, because the Narthex is full of real live interaction. It’s not only good to see one another; it’s great to be with one another.

I hope others suffering from interactive malnutrition will rediscover the labor-intensive banquet of true fellowship. It’s inconvenient, it’s awkward, it’s risky, but oh so satisfying.

Thinking I’d like to buy the world a Coke, I remain,

With love,
Jonathan Krogh
Your Pastor