Let’s face it. We’re getting dominated by technology. The digital appendages we call phones speak to us constantly, demanding our time, attention, and affection. In fact, we’re so tuned into their voice, that our brains think they’re speaking when they aren’t (coined a “phantom vibration”). We have access to all information all of the time, and it’s killing us. Slowly, but surely. 

It’s killing us slowly because, well, we don’t see any immediate effects. All of the tiny dopamine hits we receive thousands of times every day have over time conditioned us to be full-on addicts. If you think that’s an exaggeration, try turning off your phone for 48 hours and watch yourself look like a drug addict experiencing withdrawals – a thousand self-justifications to turn it back on, a thousand “but I need to”s, reaching for your pocket, thinking about what you’re missing.

It’s killing us surely because one day, maybe soon or maybe down the road, you will look up from your phone and realize you have become what you have given your time and attention to. You have become unable to focus, savor a moment, slow down, enjoy beauty, or even have real and intimate relationships. 

This is where Scripture, poetry, and books run against the grain like a stinging but satisfying knife being taken to our calloused hearts. Their words are meant to be chewed on with little to no immediate  result or dopamine hit. Instead, over time, they are meant to produce a soul-level refreshment, wiring our hearts to enjoy God, enjoy life, and taste beauty. This refreshment too comes slowly but surely. And one day, you will look up and realize you have not wasted your life.

And in the midst of life’s pressing, literature can often meet us where we most need it most. A beautiful book is more than just something to sit on a shelf, but a war against despair and hurry. Why bookbind when a machine can do it? Because pressing matters.