Mike Novotny - The Bad
I don’t want to talk to you about the explicitly bad things of the internet. Pornography is a huge problem that’s affected my life and many of yours; we’re not going to talk about that today. The toxic trolls in the comments section deserve to be excommunicated from the internet; we’re not going to talk about that today. There’s fake news and algorithms, and the obsessive comparisons as we scroll through social media, and look at all the numbers that deserve a sermon, but that’s not the sermon. In this sermon, I want to talk about the more subtle things in your digital and spiritual lives. I just want to discuss maybe the quantity of the things you’re putting on your plate through those screens.
And that’s some really serious questions about three areas of life that I think all of us care аbout: our family, our friendships, and our faith. So if you want a roadmap for where this message is going, I want to cover three things: first, your family; then, your friendships; then, your faith. I want to ask the question: Is all this screen time actually more bad than good for our souls? So today, if you came for a happy, clappy sermon where you skip down the aisle, you might want to leave now. But it’s going to be really good for us if God needs to grab our attention and call us back to truth and reality—it’s better now than tomorrow or next year.
I want you to grab your pens because we’re going to wrestle with three big questions and think about the bad things that screens do to our souls. So first of all, let’s talk about family. A number of years ago, I had a really memorable conversation with a pastor named Mark Jeske. If you’re watching at home, you might know that name; he is the founding lead speaker of Time of Grace. Here, Mark and I were talking about ministry, work, and family balance—a lot of those big questions. Mark Jeske said something to me that no one had ever said before; he said something to the effect of, «You know, Mike, you think you have until your kids leave the house, but it actually happens long before that.»
I had thought that raising my kids would take time, and when they went off to college or got a job and their own apartment, I just wouldn’t see them as much. But Mark said, «Actually, that’s not true. They’re going to get into high school, and they’re going to make friends. They’re going to want to hang out more with their friends than with Mom and Dad, and you’re going to see less of them. Maybe at 15 or 16, they get their first job, so for one, two, or three family dinners a week, they might not be at their place at the table. Then maybe at 16, they get their driver’s license, and so those minutes that you had with that good windshield time between parents and children—that’s going to be gone.»
Mark said they might meet someone, and I said, «No, no, no! For a minute, I’m going to keep my daughters in the basement so they’re always safe!» But he said, «You know that’s going to happen. The boy is going to be way more interesting than the old dad, and he’s just trying to convince me.» You think you’re counting down the days and months and years until May of graduation year, but Mark said, «That’s not true. The window of opportunity with those kids will close long before that.»
That’s why not long after that conversation, I made this; this is my daughter Brooklyn’s graduation jar. Inside the lid, God willing, is the date of her graduation: May 30th, 2026. Inside are marbles representing one week until this moment comes. I remember that conversation with Mark Jeske, creating this, and going to Amazon to buy all the marbles. I swear it was yesterday when that jar was full to the top.
The scary part, though, is if Pastor Jeske was right: I don’t have that long. I have half of these marbles left. My little girl was running around in her diapers yesterday, and now she just got her first job and opened her first bank account. She’s about to start learning how to drive. Wow! How and when did that happen? But it happened. I say that not to make the moms and dads cry—though I see some people crying right now—but here’s the fact: every family member that you love has a jar. If your mom and dad are living, they have a jar. If you have a brother or sister you’re close to, they have a jar. If you have grandkids, nieces, nephews, sons, or daughters—people in your family that you love—whether you realize it or not, every week you are one week closer to not having them in your life.
The mistake many of us make, as Mark Jeske was trying to teach, is thinking you have until the median age of 74, 76, or 80 years old when they pass away. But actually, in real life, most of the time, you don’t get that long. Mom, Dad, Grandma, or Grandpa gets older, and they start to forget. They’re a different person than they were in the past. Your brother, whom you’re super close to, you wouldn’t believe this because he’s your brother, but maybe he’s going to meet a girl one day that likes him, and she’s going to want to spend time with him. Now your brother, who used to be there for every single Thanksgiving meal, is going to be with his new girlfriend or wife. Maybe God gives him a son or twin daughters, and now you barely ever see him. That relationship, even though he’s still alive and you’re alive, is different from what you wanted it to be.
So here’s the question you and I need to ask in our digital age: If that’s true, and if time flies with the people we love the most, are our screens separating you from that limited time that you have? The first big question I want you to write down and grab your pen is: Are screens separating me from my family? I have this day, this week, this marble; I don’t need to be looking at something bad on the internet. The question is: Will this lesser thing get in the way of the thing that, on paper, I say I love so much more: my kids, my spouse, my parents, my siblings?
Here’s what I mean: Let’s say you’re a teenager here today. You get dropped off at school, or you drive there at 7 in the morning. You hang out with your friends, go to class with your friends, eat lunch with your friends; you go back to class with your friends, maybe an after-school thing—sports or music—with your friends; you drive home, talking to your friends, and then you walk through the door and sit down at the dinner table with your family. What do many people do? They go back to their friends. They literally just spent 8 or 10 hours with those people. You have this limited amount of time with the ones who gave you life. Will you separate yourself from the chance to really have a beautiful family, which will last much, much longer than most of those friendships?
Let’s say you’re in a relationship, or you’re a parent, and you go to work early with a fresh cup of coffee. You spend 8 or 9 or 10 hours or 12 hours texting, sending emails, meeting with people, closing deals, and then you finally, finally, finally get to come home to the ones you love. You’re not 10 minutes through the door when it’s back to work—not for the boss, the clients, the partner, or the co-worker. And that little kid is right there. God gives us this limited time; every parent knows it goes so fast. Will we allow these devices to separate us from those sweet moments when we can actually connect and be together?
Dads, let me ask you a massively important spiritual question: One of the most important callings we will ever have in life is to disciple our children. Have you taught your own children how to connect with their Father in Heaven? Did they learn how to pray from you? Did they learn the Ten Commandments from you? Did they learn who Jesus is from you? Some of you would say, «Well, I don’t know how to do that.» You look up YouTube videos to change your oil or something on your car, but you won’t use it to disciple your own children to know the Living God? That the screen time says that you have hours of expendable time each day, and yet you don’t take care of your own children’s souls? There’s something grievously wrong about that.
I think relationships—it’s been kind of a tough season for our church in relationships. I feel like there’s fighting, adultery, and the need for counseling. I get that relationships are hard, and they can be really, really beautiful—like when you’re connected with that person that you love so dearly. There’s something profound about that. That’s like Jesus and his church and their connection. But here’s something you already know: great relationships take time; they can’t live off fumes. It takes time to talk, to listen, to ask questions, to communicate, to work through differences. It takes time to plan romantic dates. It takes time to give a back rub, to just be there, to enjoy each other’s presence.
But my fear is that most of us today default to watching the same screen instead of looking into each other’s eyes. After we finally get home, after work, after the kids are finally in bed, the way we connect is simply by being in the same space—maybe even on separate devices. If that’s true—and it is for so many of us—are we shocked that marriages are struggling? They need time, energy, and effort. Have we wasted it not in the darkest corners of the internet, but just in the ones that take too much time and attention? Today we’re not asking, «Can I have a phone? Can there be a TV in the bedroom? Can my kids have social media?» The question is: Are these screens separating us from the limited time that God has given us?
I think about that passage from First Corinthians chapter 6. The Corinthian Church loved to say, «Where’s the line? What’s right? What’s wrong? I have the right to do anything, ” they said. But the Apostle Paul asked them this question or made the statement: „I will not be mastered by anything.“ That’s a big question for you: Are you mastered by your phone? Do you really want to give more time to your parents and your siblings? At the end of a week, you’ve given hours and hours to lesser things, and barely minutes to the most important things. If that’s true of you—and it is for many of us—then screens are not a blessing overall, but a bad thing for our souls.
It’s not just our families; let’s talk about our friends. Maybe it’s just me, but I think friendship is one of God’s greatest gifts—one of the most beautiful depictions of the gospel. And here’s why: when your parents made you, they didn’t know what you were going to be like. They were just stuck with you and your brother or sister, like you’re their family, so I guess you’re family. But friends are different, right? We get to pick our friends; we can come and go. So the fact that your friend wants to be with you—to come to the party, remember your birthday, or share a cup of coffee—that’s like God choosing you to be with a friend and to have a friend who actually knows so much about you—the good stuff and the bad stuff—and still shows up; that’s amazing.
Do you have a friend who loves you enough to be both tough and tender—to pat you on the back when you need it and kick you in the pants when you need it? To have a friend who can read between your lines and knows when there’s something in your heart that you’re not coughing up just yet? They can read your expressions—the non-verbals—and they can ask the questions that you really need them to ask. You and I will not have many friends like that in our lives—maybe 10, maybe 6, maybe 3, maybe 2—but the ones we have are such a beautiful gift from God.
When the two of you get to be in the same place and share a physical space, that is a wonderful blessing from above. So here’s my question: In those moments, are screens scattering my friends? Here’s this incredible gift from God—almost as good as family—maybe sometimes even better than family. Finally, finally, finally, we get together. The question is: Are we checking the game? Are we checking Instagram? Are we watching something? Do our friends have to literally fight for our attention, even though they’re looking right at our faces?
Have you ever heard of the seven-minute rule before? It’s a theory of communication that basically says the most important conversations you will have will really start to happen about seven minutes in. So here’s what happens: You and I sit down for a cup of coffee. I say, „How are you doing?“ You say, „Great, I’ve been watching soccer all week, ” and I say, „I know because you’re a follower of Jesus, so you should be.“ You’re going to say, „How am I doing?“ I’ll make the small talk; I want to talk about the weather. „Wow, isn’t it cold in winter in Wisconsin? Who would have thought?“ I’m going to talk about all the little things; then, the kids, or whatever—the politics. After about five or six minutes, there’s that moment where we run out of things to say. The small talk is over, and it’s kind of awkward.
Then, someone says something that matters. It’s on the other side of that awkward silence that you come forward with something you really need help with, or your friend tells you something she’s never told you before—the deep stuff, the good stuff, the stuff of life. That normally doesn’t happen in the first or second minute you see a friend; it takes a little bit. But you know what’s happened in our digital age? We sit down for coffee, and we say, „How are you doing?“ And you say, „Good, ” and I say, „How are you doing?“ And you say, „Good, ” and I say, „The weather these days, huh?“ Then there’s an awkward silence, and we miss the moment.
It’s as if our brains can’t stand it; you get to a stoplight, and you’re watching the clock tick down 20 seconds for those people to walk across. „I can find something in 20 seconds!“ You’re standing in line at the grocery store—my goodness, how could you stand for two minutes? It’s as if we’re physically unable to handle all this, and it makes us so anxious that we just reach for this digital candy.
It’s not that we’re pulling up something bad or bullying people online; it’s that we’re so close to something so much better with our closest friends, and the internet took it from us. It scattered us. I don’t want to add rules that the Bible doesn’t have, but I just want to encourage you: if you’re with a friend and your phones are both out on the table, that’s what that conversation has become. It means every notification—everyone who has my phone number, everyone who can text me or send me an email—they’re all standing right behind me, and they’re all close enough to interrupt.
Even if I’m trying to ignore it, this pulls me away. I’m thinking, „I wonder who that is?“ and you’re thinking, „I wonder who that is?“ I’m trying to be engaged in this conversation, but I’m distracted. If you have your phone out, guess what? The same thing is happening to you, and now we can’t give each other our full attention because we’ve allowed all these people to interrupt the conversation and this moment that God gave us together. It’s scattered.
That’s why the Apostle John valued just being face to face with his friends. In Second John, chapter one, Jesus’ friend writes these words: „I have much to write to you, but I do not want to use paper and ink—the modern technology of his day—instead, I hope to visit you and talk with you face to face so that our joy may be complete.“ There was some level of joy that John knew had to be face to face; if it’s this disrupted conversation, that’s good, but it’s not great.
If I want my joy to reach maximum levels with my friends, then I need to visit you and talk with you face to face. God is trying to sober some of us up today; you don’t have to raise your hand for this one, but have you ever been at a party where everyone’s drinking way too much and you’re the only one who’s sober? You look around and think, „All of my friends are idiots.“ They’re slurring their words; they don’t know they’re slurring. „I think she’s being funny, ” and „he’s just being super cringy.“ You have to be sober to see it.
Have you ever been the sober one in a digital party? You just walk in, and you see these people who love each other just lost. You see friends who finally find time to make it out for dinner, and a minute can’t go by without someone reaching for their device. They’re drunk on bytes and pixels, and you’re totally sober, and you see it.
The Bible says, „Do not conform to the pattern of this world.“ I know that’s what people do; I know you have to be available all the time, but you don’t have to be. You can value what John valued and say, „You know, sometimes I can’t have paper and pen; I can’t have phones and tablets. I need to be face to face so that my joy can be complete.“
Finally, let’s talk about faith. According to Jesus, what gives you faith and great faith is this book. Romans 10:17 says faith comes from hearing the message. This book has the power to teach you about Jesus, and convince you that Jesus is worthy to be worshiped. It can save you; it can remind you of the mercy and grace—the amazingness of Jesus, who went to the cross for you. But there’s also something you should know about this book: just by touching it doesn’t give you great faith. Just by skimming it does not give you great faith. Just by sitting here in a church where there is a Bible does not give you faith by osmosis.
I’ve stood in my garage for many years, and I’m still a terrible mechanic. Just like being in a physical place doesn’t give you the gift, so how do you get the gift of great faith? The answer is by fixing your thoughts on this book. The book of Hebrews, chapter 3, verse 1, says this: „Fix your thoughts on Jesus.“ Don’t skim; don’t scroll; don’t quickly like and share. Instead, stop and stare. Psalm chapter one calls this meditating on the word of God. You’re chewing on it; you’re thinking of it. You’re contemplating the compassion of the cross. You’re fixing your mind and your thoughts on the amazing forgiveness that is all yours when Jesus died for your sins.
Thinking constantly, persistently, and deeply is the thing that too much screen time will not allow you to do. Here’s my last question for you today: Are screens sabotaging my faith? Are they robbing me of the thing that will bring me closer to Jesus? Have you ever studied how your human brain works? God wired us with an incredible system of chemicals that are released during different experiences.
Have you ever heard of the chemical dopamine before? It’s like a feel-good chemical; it’s connected with powerful experiences. When you experience something new, see the ocean for the first time—when there’s something novel, I don’t know, a cat could be on YouTube—when there’s something dangerous, arousing, or exciting—mainly just new things—dopamine is being released in your brain. It’s super exciting and interesting; that’s why we itch for it.
In fact, it’s the main chemical involved in addiction. Drugs are chemically engineered to release massive amounts of dopamine. It’s so, so good. But you know what happens after? You crash, and you itch for more. That’s why addiction is so hard to escape; you’ve tapped into the brain’s reward system and taught your brain, „I can’t even be at baseline because I know what it’s like to experience this.“ You crash below it, and you just get caught in the cycle of addiction, with diminishing returns.
Guess what’s on the internet? New, novel, exciting, angry, arousing—everything. It doesn’t have to be illegal or immoral. A new email, a new text, a new post, a new person who liked my picture, a new person who’s interested in me—all that new isn’t wrong. But you know what it does to your brain? It makes real life, non-digital life itchy. It’s like, „I just want something!“ Ever watch movies these days? Count how many seconds until the angle of the camera changes.
Our brains have been trained to need that level of dopamine release and stimulation. So what happens when we try to pray or read an old book or think about the words or come to church? Even if you didn’t check your phone while I’ve been preaching, are you physically able to listen for 30 minutes to one human talking? I shouldn’t admit this, but do you know sometimes I bring out props? Your brain would lose me if I didn’t. It’s sort of what happened; you know, the pastor gives you just a minute to pray, and you literally can’t pray for a minute. Your brain is back in the 1800s during the Lincoln-Douglas debates. The average American would stand and listen to rhetoric for four to five hours. Not that Instagram reel that’s under 60 seconds!
So I’ve got to ask you: Is it possible that screens have sabotaged your ability to worship, to listen to teaching about Jesus, to read the word of Jesus, and to talk to Jesus in prayer? This is my great fear: not that all of you will end up as gaming addicts or porn addicts, but that all of us will be so addicted to the dopamine rush of new and novel that the old truths from this old book just won’t excite you anymore.
I know what some of you are thinking: „So inspiring, Pastor; I’m glad I brought my friend today. This is wonderful.“ Yeah, the church—we’re like, „Thanks for the guilt trip!“ We all feel terrible about ourselves. My answer to that reaction would be: You’re welcome for the guilt trip. We’ve been taught that guilt is a bad thing. Guilt is a God-given system that helps us realize when we’re doing a bad thing. So if during this message you’ve realized, „You know what? I give more attention to my work emails than to my wife. I’m more interested in the new and the novel than the old and unchanging, ” that is a gift from God.
Don’t waste it; don’t run away from it. Don’t wish it was just more positive and happy. Lean into this guilt so you have the motivation that you need to make a change. We never change until the pain of the status quo is too much. I want you to feel the pain of that today.
We’re living in an age that is not wise; it’s foolish, and it is wasting our limited time. That’s why you’ve got to come back next week; you and I—the answer is not to become Amish and move to a place that doesn’t have Wi-Fi. There are too many good things about having these devices, yet we need somehow to come up with boundaries, structure, and accountability so we can actually avoid the bad things and get the blessings.
Next week, I want to promise you something much more hopeful, much more exciting, and super practical. We’re going to talk about what wise people do in our digital age to have devices but not be controlled or used by them. I hope you can come back for that, but today, I don’t want to leave you before my amen with some practical tips.
I want to leave you with some gospel hope. Maybe you’re realizing, „I can’t go back. Those last years with Grandma, I barely saw her. My kids—they’re not little anymore. How much time did I squander? What have I done to my brain, to my soul, to my faith?“ If that’s you, I want to tell you a story—an old, old story about a boy who chased the dopamine high.
There was this kid; he was the younger brother, and he thought his older brother was totally lame. He didn’t love being with him, and the father was nice and everything, but not super exciting. So this young man decided he was going to take off and find something that was exciting. He did; he separated himself from his family. He sabotaged his own faith by seeking after sin, and he loved it for a little while.
He chased after the dopamine rush, and he got it with the women, the substances, and the friends—everything this world has to offer. He was up here until he crashed and the high wore off. If you’ve ever gotten lost in a screen and come out of that, feeling empty, unproductive, and guilty—you realize that you needed what this world could not offer you.
He needed his family; he needed his father. So he makes this long walk back to his father. He needs to see his face, to look him in the eye. If you know this story that Jesus once told, you know what happens next: the father, thank God, was not lost in a piece of ancient papyrus; he was looking for his kid.
The father saw his son, with all the guilt and shame, coming down the road; he took off to embrace him. He looked him in the eye and saw the compassion and forgiveness in his face. His son was so lost, but now he was found. He was dead, separated from the family, but now he was alive again. You know what story it is; it’s called the parable of the Prodigal Son, one of Jesus’ most famous stories.
It’s a reminder that wherever you’re at today, whatever sins you’ve committed or foolish years you have wasted, when you come to Jesus, here’s what he does: He takes all your sins, puts them in a big Excel spreadsheet, highlights them all, clicks delete, empties the garbage can, and looks you in the eye, where there’s nothing but joy and acceptance in his eyes.
I don’t know what bad things you’ve done on a screen; I don’t know what regrets you have today, but I do know this: we can bring all of our bad to Jesus, and he responds with the greatest blessing of all—the blessing of grace.
Let’s pray. Dear God, I wish I could go back; I wish there was a big rewind button on life that I could use to put some marbles back in the jar and be a wiser person—a parent, husband, and pastor. But I can’t, God, and we can’t. So we’re looking to you for all the forgiveness that we need and all the spiritual self-control that we so desperately lack. Without you, God, this world is going to swallow us up.
So before we walk out of here with shame and guilt and too many regrets, help us to fix our thoughts on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith. We ask God that you would send your Holy Spirit, who can only produce the fruit of self-control in us, that we would find a way to be balanced in this really difficult time to live. God, there are billionaires who made their billions by tapping into the systems of our brain; they are not the enemy, but they can be without our wisdom.
So we’re asking you today through this series to guide us, to teach us, to instruct us, so that we can walk out into this world, look people in the eye, and tell them that you are the God of love. Help us to do that, God; we need you. We’re calling out to you, praying all these things today in Jesus’ powerful name. And all God’s people said, „Amen.“