Save us from influence, Lord.

A quick missive on words in 2025

Photo by Valentin Antonini on Unsplash

I do not want more Holy Week content. I do not want a spring cleaning list. I do not want the banter on the socials as if those words meant real lives were changed.

I do not want more noise.

Whether it is the insanity of our political moment, or being 45, or seeing the ways in which the internet makes zombies or culture warriors of us, I do not want more.

I do not want to eat my 100g of protein, lift heavy things, and also feel compelled by scripty fonts to do more, be more, or have a certain sort of experience.

I know you’re well intentioned. That your book/podcast/offering/lectio divina is a service to others. It may have cost you much time, effort, and planning. But, in the year of our Lord 2025, it feels like entirely too much with us.

Save us from influence, Lord.

I want only good and true words. Words wrestled with. Words that surprise or stun, or slip out sideways, like spring rain, or unbidden tears.

I want words on paper pages.

I want old books that have traveled through time and space to my corner of California, which I crack open in my peacock blue chair, to read. Books that have stood the test of time.

May that be true of us, too, Lord.

I will make a fort of words from which to peer out at the vast streams of scrolling data. Scrolling, after all, does not make a life.

From my fort of paper pages, I’ll offer you a cup of tea and solid ground.

Save us from influence, Lord.