Sept 23 | The Spiritual Discipline of Unsubscribing: Why Digital Decluttering Is Essential for Your Faith
You have 47,293 unread emails. And somehow, you think adding a Bible app is gonna fix your spiritual life.
Look, what if I told you that your overflowing inbox is actually a perfect picture of what Paul was talking about in Hebrews 12? The spiritual discipline of unsubscribing isn't just about productivity—it's about creating sacred space in a world that never stops demanding your attention.
We're Drowning in Digital Noise Before We Even Wake Up
Here's the thing—we live in the first generation in human history where saying "no" is harder than saying "yes." Think about it. Your great-grandmother? She had to actively seek out information, entertainment, connection. She had to work for input. You? You're drowning in it before you even wake up.
The average person checks their phone 96 times per day. That's once every 10 minutes. We're processing more information in a single day than our ancestors did in an entire year. And we wonder why we can't hear God's voice anymore.
The writer of Hebrews says, "Let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles." Now, most sermons focus on that second part—the sin. But catch that first part: "everything that hinders." The Greek word there is "ogkos"—it means bulk, mass, unnecessary weight. Not necessarily evil stuff. Just... stuff. Weight that slows you down.
The Hidden Cost of Every Notification You Allow
Can I be honest? I spent three hours last week trying to find an important email. Three hours. You know what I found instead? Seventeen newsletters I don't remember subscribing to, deals from stores I bought from once in 2019, and—this killed me—four different Bible verse of the day emails that I... never read.
I'm literally too busy reading about mattress sales to read God's Word.
Every notification you allow, every subscription you maintain, every account you follow—it's taking up mental real estate. And here's what nobody talks about: your brain doesn't have unlimited RAM. Neuroscientists call it "cognitive load"—the amount of information your working memory can handle at once. Every "yes" to digital input is a "no" to mental space for prayer, reflection, actual human connection.
The Neuroscience Behind Digital Overwhelm
Research from Microsoft shows that since the year 2000, our attention span has dropped from 12 seconds to 8 seconds. We literally have a shorter attention span than goldfish now. This isn't a moral failure—it's what happens when we train our brains to constantly switch between inputs.
Dr. Larry Rosen, who studies technology's impact on the brain, found that even when our phones are turned off and in another room, we check them every 12 minutes on average. The mere possibility of a notification creates what researchers call "continuous partial attention"—we're always slightly distracted, never fully present.
Jesus Understood Empty Spaces Better Than Anyone
Now watch this—Jesus never had an inbox, but He understood decision fatigue better than anyone. Luke tells us He would regularly withdraw to lonely places. The Greek word is "eremos"—wilderness, solitary, empty places.
Empty.
Not filled with good Christian podcasts. Not catching up on sermon videos. Empty.
This wasn't just Jesus taking a break. This was Jesus modeling something essential about human design. We were created for rhythms of engagement and withdrawal, noise and silence, community and solitude. But we've created a world of constant engagement, endless noise, and perpetual connection.
The Mary and Martha Principle for the Digital Age
Remember Mary and Martha? Martha's running around, stressed, doing all the things. Mary's sitting at Jesus' feet. And Jesus says Mary chose what's better.
We always read this as "Don't be too busy for Jesus." But what if it's also "Don't be too busy WITH religious stuff for Jesus"? What if Martha's modern equivalent isn't just the woman planning the church potluck—it's the person with 47 Christian podcasts in their queue who hasn't actually sat in silence with God in months?
Paul tells the Philippians, "Whatever is true, noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable—think about such things." But how can you think about what's noble when you're processing thirty TikToks about someone's morning routine? How can you meditate on what's pure when your brain is juggling seventeen different conversation threads?
Unsubscribing as a Spiritual Discipline
So here's my theory: Unsubscribing isn't just productivity advice. It's a spiritual discipline.
Every "unsubscribe" is a tiny act of resistance against the empire of endless content. Every notification you turn off is creating space—eremos—wilderness where God's still small voice doesn't have to compete with sale alerts.
Think about the spiritual disciplines we already practice:
Fasting - saying no to food to say yes to God
Silence - saying no to words to say yes to listening
Solitude - saying no to people to say yes to presence
Digital Decluttering - saying no to inputs to say yes to focus
The Sound of Thin Silence
First Kings 19—Elijah's looking for God. There's a powerful wind, an earthquake, a fire. God's not in any of them. Then comes a gentle whisper. The Hebrew is "qol demamah daqqah"—literally a "sound of thin silence."
When's the last time you experienced thin silence? Not thick silence while you scroll. Thin silence. Where the only notification you're waiting for is from the Holy Spirit?
The early church fathers called this "hesychia"—a kind of stillness that isn't just external quiet but internal peace. It's what happens when the constant chatter finally stops and you can actually hear your own thoughts, let alone God's voice.
Practical Steps for Digital Decluttering as Prayer
This week, try something radical. Take twenty minutes—same time you'd spend doom-scrolling—and unsubscribe from ten things. But here's the key: do it as prayer.
With each unsubscribe, literally pray: "God, I'm making space for You."
The Sacred Art of Deletion
Delete the app that steals your morning before you talk to God
Turn off the notifications that interrupt your dinner table
Unfollow the accounts that make you covet or compare
Unsubscribe from the newsletters you never actually read
Remove the bookmarks to sites that waste your time
Each deletion is a small death to the false self that needs constant stimulation. Each unsubscribe is a tiny resurrection of the true self that was made for communion with God.
Creating Digital Boundaries
Paul says, "Do not conform to the pattern of this world." Friends, the pattern of this world is infinite scroll. The pattern of this world is notification addiction. The pattern of this world is being too busy consuming content about God to actually experience God.
What if the narrow path Jesus talked about isn't just moral—it's digital? What if following Jesus in 2025 means having the courage to live with less input, fewer voices, more silence?
The Theology of Attention
Your attention is sacred. It's literally the currency of your spiritual life. Where your attention goes, your heart follows. Jesus knew this: "Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also." In the digital age, your treasure isn't just your money—it's your attention.
Every app is designed to be addictive. Tech companies hire neuroscientists and behavioral psychologists to make their products as engaging as possible. They call it "persuasive design"—using our brain's own reward systems against us. Every like, every notification, every refresh triggers a tiny hit of dopamine.
We're not fighting against flesh and blood here, but against principalities and powers that have figured out how to monetize our distraction.
The Cost of Constant Connection
Research from the University of California, Irvine, found that it takes an average of 23 minutes and 15 seconds to fully refocus after an interruption. Think about that. Every notification doesn't just steal the 30 seconds it takes to check it—it steals nearly half an hour of deep focus.
How many prayers have been interrupted? How many moments of potential revelation have been shattered by a buzz or a ding? How many times has the Holy Spirit been trying to speak, but we couldn't hear over the noise?
Finding Freedom in Digital Minimalism
Your soul wasn't designed to process this much information. It was designed to know God. And knowing God requires something our culture has forgotten: the discipline of focus.
The Desert Fathers and Mothers who fled to the wilderness in the 4th century weren't running from evil—they were running from distraction. They understood that to hear God clearly, you need to turn down the volume on everything else.
We can't all flee to the desert. But we can create small wildernesses in our daily lives. We can build little monasteries of attention where God's voice doesn't have to compete with notification sounds.
The Spiritual Practice for Our Time
Maybe the most spiritual thing you can do today is hit "unsubscribe." Maybe the most countercultural act of worship is turning off notifications. Maybe the most radical form of discipleship is choosing to be slightly less informed about everything so you can be deeply formed by the One Thing that matters.
Every empty space you create is an invitation for God to fill it with something better than another sale alert. Every moment of boredom you don't immediately fill with content is a moment where creativity, prayer, or genuine human connection might emerge.
Your Next Step
So here's my question for you: What's the hardest thing for you to unsubscribe from? What digital input has the strongest hold on your attention? Start there. That's where the most freedom waits.
Remember—this isn't about becoming a digital hermit. It's about being intentional with your attention. It's about creating margins in your life where God can speak without having to shout over the noise.
The spiritual discipline of unsubscribing isn't just about having a cleaner inbox. It's about having a clearer connection to the Divine. It's about choosing presence over platform, formation over information, and depth over distraction.
That's worth thinking about. In thin silence. Without your phone.
An Invitation to go Deeper….
If today’s message spoke to you, join the FaithLabz 30-Day Prayer Challenge and strengthen your connection with God’s unshakable love. You are never alone—let’s grow together!
