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JR. Forasteros - September 10, 2015
A Screen Between Us
![Social](http://jrforasteros.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/09/SOCIAL-slide-011-492x276.png)
From Series: "Social"
Most of us don't connect new technologies to our faith. After all, Jesus never had a Facebook profile. He didn't post on Instagram or even have a smartphone. No wonder we struggle to imagine the Bible has anything to say about this Brave New World we live in. But we can think theologically about the technology in our lives. We can learn not a new set of rules (How many episodes per day is too many when I'm binge-watching? How old should my kids be before they get smartphones?), but rather how to ask the right questions. Do our technologies help us bring about God's surprising, mustard seed kingdom here on Earth as it is in Heaven? How are our screens spiritual? Welcome to SOCIAL.
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In the years after Hurricane Katrina devastated the city of New Orleans, I went to the city to do relief work several times. It was during those trips I learned that what victims of disasters want most isn’t necessarily the relief work. Every trip went more-or-less the same:
A big group of us would show up and get to work. Maybe we were gutting a home so it could be cleansed of mold and rebuilt. Maybe we were cleaning up vacant lots to beautify a city block for the other residents. Mostly we were gutting homes – tearing out sheetrock and ripping up flooring. It was brutal, exhausting work, particularly in the New Orleans summers.
The residents would always be nearby, helping if they could or in their FEMA trailers making lemonade for us workers.
And inevitably, over the three or four days we were there, each of us would end up just sitting and talking with that resident. Despite the fact that we were on a schedule. Even though we were working hard to get their home finished.
What they needed most wasn’t a new home (though, obviously, that was important).
What they needed most wasn’t our strong backs and hard work. What they needed most, every time, was human interaction. They needed to tell their story, to be seen and heard, to know they’re not alone in their grief.
Again and again, what gave them hope was not the pounding hammers and loaded wheelbarrows, but a person sitting with them, being present with them.
What does it means to be WITH someone in times of grief? The final movement of Lament is hope, an anticipation that grief is not the final word.