Ultraprocessed Time

Teach us to realize the brevity of life, so that we may grow in wisdom.
-Psalm 90:12​

The title of a recent New York Times article caught my eye today. It was a phrase used by Dr. John La Puma, the author of a book titled “Indoor Epidemic.” He uses the term ultraprocessed time to talk about minutes and hours that get sucked up staring at phones or consuming cheap media. 

La Puma suggests that ultraprocessed time "does to our attention what ultraprocessed food does to our metabolism." I took an ethics class in seminary where we focused on food production. And let me tell you, ultraprocessed food not only has no nutritional value, but many times it's not even real food.

The same might be able to be said about this idea of ultraprocessed time. Did you ever look up and wonder, where did that last half hour go??? I feel gross.  

This past Sunday during the first message in my June sermon series (titled "Neurodivergent Jesus" 🙂), I was reflecting on our approaches to time, and how remarkably interruptible Jesus was. He didn't process time in typical ways. He was always willing to be interrupted, even when he had important places to go. In fact, Jesus' ability to be completely fixated on the person right in front of him, even when that made him late for other responsibilities, led to lives being transformed again and again (if you want, you can listen here). 

So today, in addition to seeking to be a little more present and a little more interruptible, I'm also thinking about limiting my consumption of ultraprocessed time. 
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In our exhaustion and stress and busyness, we look for the easy distraction, but it actually leads us to not experience time well at all.  When was the last time you made a list of what it means to have "time well spent" and then prioritized it? I can go entire days without asking myself that question. 

Unsurprisingly, I’m really interested in how we understand each minute that we live. The writer of Ecclesiastes, in reflecting on the nature of life, uses the Hebrew word hevel thirty-eight times. It's really the main theme in the book. And it's sometimes translated as "meaningless." But literally, hevel is just the Hebrew word for "vapor." So, was Solomon suggesting that life is meaningless, or that life is a vapor? How we spend our time will reveal our interpretation. 

Consider the two options. On one hand, life has very little purpose and what we do with it has no real value. On the other hand, life is brief and should be lived with beautiful purpose, releasing the things that should not be held onto and holding to the things that we don't want to miss out on. Time spent dwelling on what is good and beautiful, and using our minutes to contribute love and care into the world, will make us feel good and healthy and pleased on the other side. I almost never feel that way when I eat my second pack of swedish fish. And I almost never feel that way after an hour of allowing processed algorithms on my phone to determine what I consume. 

I'm not interested in guilt, but I am interested in purpose. The older I get, the more valuable time with others becomes, and the more valuable intentional solitude becomes. It's easy to slack on my "time nutrition" and before I know it, I start feeling pretty gross. 

It doesn't always have to be high and holy. And I'm also not on an old guy rampage suggesting screens are evil. In fact, one of my disciplines in the coming weeks is to watch a lot of World Cup games with friends and family, enjoying every minute together. It's also to turn my phone off during those games, so that pixelated junk food doesn't ruin my chance to be fully present with others. 

As you follow Jesus this summer, what does it look like to enjoy healthy time, knowing that life is a vapor, but that you are incredibly loved, and capable of incredible love? What new and beautiful practice can take root in your life to help you move from ultraprocessed time back to the real thing? 

Jesus, help me realize the beautiful gift of each day, so that my time is spent in ways that have lasting value. 

Peace,
Keith