Social Media Scatters; The Church Gathers
by Donavon L Riley

Scrolling through social media feels like wandering a wasteland of shattered mirrors, where every shard reflects a distortion of humanity. Voices rise, not with substance, but with glittering fragments of loneliness. Each post seems to cry, “Look at me,” yet offers nothing to truly hold, nothing to nourish. It doesn’t crush the soul outright—it wears it away, layer by layer, eroding trust, love, and meaning. Social media is more than profane; it’s parasitic. It takes what is beautiful and true in us—what allows us to truly see and be seen—and reduces it to flickering, fragile images. What should connect us instead scatters us, leaving us chasing a mirage of belonging.

But step into a small, local church—one where the floor creaks beneath your feet and the air carries the faint scent of beeswax and old wood. No spectacle meets you here, no pomp, no show. The beauty is humble: worn pews, polished smooth by generations of prayer, sunlight filtering through stained glass, candles burning low on a simple altar. This beauty doesn’t demand your attention—it invites it. The space speaks of quiet dignity, of a peace that wraps around you like an old, familiar coat. Here, the beauty doesn’t deplete; it restores. It feeds the soul with grace, not noise, and reminds you that holiness is often woven into the ordinary.

In this unassuming place, you meet God—not through curated pixels or manufactured moments, but in bread and wine, in the soft shuffle of feet entering, in the shared murmur of prayer. Social media stages the performance of connection, but it offers no communion. It promises the world yet leaves you wandering, unmoored. The church, though—this small, steady place—grounds you. Its walls speak of permanence in a transient age. Its silence invites you to listen, not to the clamoring opinions of the world, but to the quiet, commanding voice of Christ.

Social media drains you with its endless scroll, filling the mind while hollowing the heart. The church fills you instead by emptying you—of distraction, pretense, and the noise that has consumed your days. It strips you to what is essential: your need for Christ, your longing for communion, the truth that we are not made for isolation. The blue light of the screen cannot hold a candle to the radiance of the cross. Social media scatters; the church gathers. Social media mimics light but offers no warmth. In the quiet beauty of the church, your soul finds its home again, resting at last in the presence of the living God.