Written by Samuel D. James |
Wednesday, April 26, 2023
You and I are not going to be able to exhaustively know everything and everyone that our kids are encountering through digital tech. Even strong guardrails are not going to fully account for every minute with this technology. That needs to be accepted rather than protested. But there is encouraging news: The next generation of parents, and children too, are going to be far more aware of how this technology is shaping them than previous generations.

I’ve had the opportunity to speak to a few different groups of people now about some of the ideas in my forthcoming book. Two things stand out to me so far. First, the idea that the digital age is having a serious spiritual effect on us is resonating with a lot of Christians. The problem is not awareness; what most people lack is the language to name what they can see and feel is happening.
Second, the first thing many people think about after hearing what I have to say is parenting. They want to know how these ideas would shape their households. They’re eager for this, by the way. I’ve been struck by how little “keep your nose out of my family’s business” I’ve encountered thus far. It’s amazing how many people want to open up about their family habits, their parenting strategies, and get real feedback and counsel. The sense that we’re in this together, that we cannot navigate this era while clutching onto our autonomy, is palpable.
Alas, the problem for me when I get these questions is that my oldest child is six years old. The Christian world does not need one more guy with very young children dispensing parenting advice that will probably make him look like a fool or a failure within a decade. Truthfully, I’m not always sure what to say when people ask to talk about this. I have no moral authority on which to stand and say, “Do this, and you will be glad you did.” What I try to do instead is offer some big picture perspectives on my own experience growing up, the challenge that digital tech presents to entire households, and a general sense of what the future looks like.
I’ve had the opportunity to speak to a few different groups of people now about some of the ideas in my forthcoming book. Two things stand out to me so far. First, the idea that the digital age is having a serious spiritual effect on us is resonating with a lot of Christians. The problem is not awareness; what most people lack is the language to name what they can see and feel is happening.
Second, the first thing many people think about after hearing what I have to say is parenting. They want to know how these ideas would shape their households. They’re eager for this, by the way. I’ve been struck by how little “keep your nose out of my family’s business” I’ve encountered thus far. It’s amazing how many people want to open up about their family habits, their parenting strategies, and get real feedback and counsel. The sense that we’re in this together, that we cannot navigate this era while clutching onto our autonomy, is palpable.
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The War for American Independence was a significant turning point for the Presbyterian Church. As the church re-imagined America’s role in God’s plan, they came to wrestle with national sins that threatened that future, specifically slavery and the continued division in Christ’s kingdom. Repenting these sins, they knew, was the only real safeguard for both American independence and the country’s new transformative role in the world. Although slavery would, by the war’s end, take a back seat to spiritual schism, it was not forgotten and would be addressed specifically in 1787. Independence meant that the process of rebuilding lay ahead and the Presbyterian leadership was primarily concerned with uniting Christians for this purpose. However, when the Presbyterians restored Christian unity to its place of priority, it was not as it had been before the war. A nationalist spirit had been joined to their cooperative hopes and it was expected that this interdenominational nationalism would help to transform the newly independent states into an idyllic Christian republic that would benefit and expand the kingdom of Christ. 

There was no turning back after the morning of April nineteenth.[1] When the militiamen under Captain John Parker defended themselves against the British regulars at Lexington, they signaled a transition in the imperial crisis. What was still primarily a war of words before the sun broke the horizon that morning in 1775 had intensified into an armed conflict by the falling of that evening’s shadows. Meeting in Philadelphia shortly after this bellwether moment, the ruling body of the Presbyterian church, the Synod of New York and Philadelphia, wrestled alongside their fellow colonists with the repercussions. In the course of their annual meeting the synod decided to write a pastoral letter to the congregations under their care and throughout the colonies.[2]
This letter set out four things very clearly. First, God was still sovereign in all things, and that “affliction springeth not out of the dust,” meaning, in other words, it was time to examine themselves and repent. Second, the synod insisted that they were still, and should be, loyal British subjects who hoped for reconciliation and peace. “Let it appear,” they wrote, “that you only desire the preservation and security of those rights which belong to you as freemen and Britons, and that reconciliation upon these terms is your most ardent desire.” Third, they affirmed that the elusive theory of justifiable rebellion was well within reach. If “the British ministry shall continue to enforce their claims by violence,” then Presbyterians should fight, alongside the rest of the colonists.[3] Fourth, the synod noted that while the conflict lasted its members needed to maintain colonial unity by both supporting the Continental Congress and promoting “a spirit of candour, charity, and mutual esteem … towards those of different religious denominations.”[4] Wearing their orthodoxy and loyalty on their sleeves, the Presbyterians demonstrated that they saw no separation of the spiritual and the secular and that they would strive in this time of crisis to build and preserve unions within and for these blended realms.
It would be a mistake, however, to see these union efforts by the Presbyterians in May 1775 as occurring in a vacuum. Seventeen years earlier the Presbyterians had embarked on a mission that made union building a priority for the church. This effort of 1758 was prompted by the schism that had rent the church since 1741. The reunion of 1758 was not intended to be a private affair. The Presbyterians had very publicly split and so they decided to very publicly reunite. In this spirit, they published an account that combined their reunion efforts as well as four promises for the colonial reading world. They first promised to “study the Things that make for Peace;” second, to lead exemplary lives, both in word and deed; third, to ensure that their doctrines were orthodox and evangelical; and fourth, to commend “ourselves to every Man’s Conscience in the Sight of God.” There is no doubt that these efforts were first intended to heal the divisions within the church but this should not obscure the Presbyterians’ intentions towards their fellow colonists in other churches. The synod made this point clearly when it wrote that the ultimate “Design of our Union is the Advancement of the Mediator’s Kingdom.”[5]
Thus, 1758 was the year the Presbyterians formally began an effort to heal the various divisions within the Body of Christ. This was no small undertaking, even if the initial scope was limited to colonial North America. Still, the church did find some success, as can be seen in their coordinated mission work with the Congregationalists among the Native Americans—including the ordination of the first Native American minister, Samson Occom—and their cooperative efforts with the Anglicans in Virginia to create an orderly and peaceful co-existence among the growing number of Protestant churches in the colony. Yet, for all of their notable success in the years that followed, the Presbyterians were still a long way from achieving their goal when British Prime Minister George Grenville introduced the Stamp Act resolutions, which helped spark the American Revolution. As the British Constitutional Crisis developed over the real and perceived challenges to colonial religious and civil liberties, some Presbyterians saw unions with other Christians as an ideal way not only to protect their liberties but also to strengthen the kingdom of Christ. As is evident in the synod’s pastoral letter in the wake of Lexington and Concord, this blending of spiritual and temporal objectives would continue throughout the crisis, all the while altering their original cooperative vision established in 1758.
When Presbyterians throughout the colonies responded to the synod’s four-fold charge in May 1775, most embraced rather than rejected the ruling body’s petition. They joined with their fellow Americans and served as soldiers, chaplains, congressmen, and home support. One example is found in the minister and congregation of Philadelphia’s Third Presbyterian Church, often simply referred to as the “Pine Street” church.[6] Third Presbyterian’s reputation as the “Church of the Patriots” was well earned and a March 1776 worship service led by Rev. George Duffield—future chaplain to the Continental Congress—illustrates this point well. While Duffield supported the synod’s four points in his sermon he also touched on a new idea that was becoming increasingly popular—God had chosen America for a special purpose; it was to be a safe haven for liberty. Duffield reassured his congregation that although through their violent measures the British leadership was actively opposing this plan, God would not be thwarted.[7] “Can it be supposed,” he asked, “that God who made man free … should forbid freedom, already exiled from Asia and Africa, and under sentence of banishment from Europe—that he should FORBID her to erect her banners HERE, and constrain her to abandon the earth?”[8] No, he said, America was to be the new standard-bearer for liberty and would continue as such “until herself shall play the tyrant, forget her destiny, disgrace her freedom, and provoke her God.” Giving their approval of the minister and the message, as one church historian has noted, the congregation let fly with shouts of “To arms! to arms!”[9]
The number of Presbyterians like Duffield borrowing the Puritan’s elect nation ideology increased following the Declaration of Independence. In their various capacities as ministers and laymen, Jacob Green, William McKay Tennent, John Murray, and Abraham Keteltas, to name but a few, drew on the idea.[10] Yes, Great Britain had once been the defender of civil and religious liberty in the world, but they had let that mantle slip. Were Americans worthy, then God would bless them with that honor and “this land of liberty will be glorious on many accounts: Population will abundantly increase, agriculture will be promoted, trade will flourish, religion unrestrained by human laws, will have free course to run and prevail, and America [will] be an asylum for all noble spirits and sons of liberty from all parts of the world.”[11] In this view America had tremendous potential, but as the Presbyterians warned, this glorious future was dependent on Americans humbling themselves through repentance before a holy God. To be sure there were some notable Presbyterian loyalists who resisted the break with the empire, such as William Smith, Jr and William Allen, but on the whole, the Presbyterians were remarkable for rallying around the cause of an independent America that God had set apart for a special purpose.[12]
While the American colonists were not strangers to war, the scope and scale of the Revolutionary War was unprecedented in the history of the British North American colonies. The realities of war’s death and devastation raised difficulties for Presbyterians looking forward to the glorious state they believed God meant for them. The American cause, they still believed, was holy, yes, but something had to be wrong for them to suffer as they had. While many Americans endured devastating losses, a number of Presbyterians believed that the British were singling them out for special punishment as both their institutions and ministers frequently found themselves targeted. For example, following the battle of Long Island at the end of August 1776, the minister of the Presbyterian Church there, Ebenezer Prime, fled for safety. Although Prime escaped capture, his church did not. The British destroyed the minister’s library and they repurposed the sanctuary as a depot and barracks. The redcoats leveled the church cemetery to create a common and the gravestones were used to construct the troops’ ovens.

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You can’t have good policies and a bad worldview. You can’t hate God and still do good to your fellow man. When you tear virtue away from its proper environment (God’s character and revelation), you aren’t left with the same virtue you started with. You have a monster that bears almost no resemblance to its former shape or purpose.

The modern world . . . is full of the old Christian virtues gone mad. They have gone mad because they have been isolated from each other and are wandering alone.
– G.K. Chesterton
We’ve all known friends who one day decided they needed to “start fresh.” So they grew their hair out and started offering didgeridoo workshops in their garage; they bought a farm and started raising Guinea Fowl; they abandoned their Honda at the edge of a wilderness in the hopes of finding their true selves lurking behind a bush somewhere.
Years later and you bump into them at a flea market. In the painful process of catching up you start to realize the awful truth; they desperately want you to believe their existential voyage has returned them to land whole and healthy. They’ve grown. They’ve changed. They’ve seen some things, man — they’ve done some stuff. So sure are they of their rebirth, we don’t have the heart to ask about their green yoga pants, neck beard, or why they’re missing an ear.
Wandering alone isn’t good for anyone. That includes virtues.
Stark Raving Virtues
If you want to know what a virtue gone mad looks like, look no further than one of the million “isms” staggering around with foam dripping from their mouths.
Environmentalism, for example. Ostensibly, NetZero fanciers want us to believe they’re the last line of defence against an imminent carbon apocalypse. According to the UN, we’re already “at least one degree Celsius above preindustrial levels and close to what scientists warn would be ‘an unacceptable risk.’”
Now, there’s already just enough vagueness in that statement for me to never want to leave it alone with someone I care about. But don’t you find “unacceptable risk” to be a fascinating choice of words? It almost feels like I’ve heard that exact phrase used in a different context, but that also involved experts and suffering. Questions arise from the shadowy recesses of memory and start chattering frantically at me: What criteria renders a risk unacceptable? What worldview do the individuals assessing risks hold to? What will the human cost be of responding to risks deemed to be unacceptable?
To be clear, my problem isn’t conscientiousness. My problem is the state attempting to legislate conscientiousness. This is a problem because:
A secular state is only concerned with expanding its power.
Without God, all the aims, operations, and policies of the state trend towards this singular end (Psalm 2:2).
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