Back in ancient near eastern times, people worshiped many types of gods; in fact, it was not uncommon for most people to have their own, personalized god. They would carve their god out of wood and stone, and they’d typically fashion it small enough to be carried with them wherever they went.
After all, there were clear advantages to making your god ‘pocket-sized,’ as opposed to being much larger and heavier. It was readily accessible. It was manageable. It was always within reach. And therefore, it had a more immediate and practical impact on day-to-day life.
For example, whenever a sense of dejection or dissatisfaction, anxiety or inadequacy, frustration or loneliness, or simply boredom would strike—they would reach into their pocket, almost like a spiritual reflex, and pull out their idol. Grasping onto it—even for a second—injected them with a renewed sense of calm and a reassured sense of hope.
For us modern, western people, the idea of carrying around a pocket-sized idol everywhere we go can seem a bit primitive and irrelevant. But if we reflect over our own day-to-day habits for just a moment, we’ll soon realize that this image is actually not primitive and irrelevant… at all. How so?
We too carry around something that is ‘pocket-sized’ everywhere we go. It’s usually the first thing we reach for when we wake up each morning, and it’s usually the last thing we release when we fall asleep each night. And it’s also the same object we tend to reach for as soon as we feel the least bit dejected or dissatisfied, anxious or inadequate, frustrated or lonely, or simply bored with life, desiring something more: our phone.
The primordial ‘pocket-sized’ god we thought would be buried underneath the sediment of ancient ruins and historical artifact has nonetheless found its way into our pockets all the same. The only difference is that our idol is not carved out of wood or stone, but silicon and lithium. Ours might even bear the glassy image of the half-eaten—and might I say ‘forbidden’—fruit.
And just like the ancients before us, as soon as peace begins to feel out of reach, we reflexively reach. As soon as we’re grasping for a sense of control, we instinctively grasp. As soon as dissatisfaction grips us and boredom sets in, we set ourselves down and grab our phone.
It’s our closest modern-day equivalent of literally taking-matters-into-our-own hands. It’s our default every-day, hour-by-hour, go-to source of salvation—and it hasn’t changed in thousands of years. And that’s mainly because we haven’t changed in thousands of years. Their displaced hope back then is the same as ours today, it’s just recycled and repackaged and recontextualized.
Whether you’re formally “religious” or not, everyone is equally and fundamentally religious in the truest sense because everyone has an inherent worldview (a set of beliefs about reality) and a practical, day-to-day expression of it (how you, therefore, live under that belief system). Everyone reaches out and grasps onto an ultimate sense of self-worth, meaning, control, satisfaction and hope—somewhere and in some way.
There’s a name for this innate, human reflex: worship. Worship simply means ‘worth-ship’—ascribing ultimate worth to something that you see essential for truly living, not just existing; for flourishing in life, not just fumbling and floundering and screen-timing your way through it.
The question is, does a ‘pocket-sized’ god actually help? Does it cure feelings of loneliness or exacerbate them? Does it relinquish burdens, or intensify them? Does it endow a deep and enduring sense of self-worth, or a shallow and momentary one? Does it lead to more freedom and peace, or to more addiction and angst?
Whether it’s a social media icon, a banking widget, or a dating app, our ‘pocket-sized’ gods bid us to do two main things: to feel our deficiencies and to take matters in our own hands—reaching, grasping, clenching, tapping, swiping, clicking—until we can no more.
The irony of a pocket-sized god is that it gives the illusion that is we who are in control since it’s in our own hands; but in reality, it is likely the reverse. As much as we think it is in our grip, we are in its grip even more. It is not in our pocket as much as we are in its. Oddly enough, when we hold onto it with both hands, we assume the same posture of being handcuffed.
I personally think about the many times I have poured over my screen, and countless minutes or even hours ticked by. I brought the depths of my soul to a pixelated screen, and I left feeling hardly better, usually much worse.
It fails to give a true sense of hope, a lasting sense of self-worth, or a deep sense of freedom. And of course, it can’t: it’s a ‘pocket-sized’ piece of impersonal plastic. Of course it cannot placate personal problems.
A languishing sense of self-worth cannot be cured through clicking.
A hole of loneliness cannot be filled with notifications and direct messages.
Any desire is hardly abated by scrolling or swiping.
It doesn’t help; if anything, it exposes how it cannot help.
And if it’s not for the long-term disappointment that our ‘pocket-sized’ god actually brings, it may take a “cracked screen” or a “dead battery” to snap us out of our in-the-moment, mesmerized gaze and to see its own inherent limits.
When our phones, for example, die or break or are simply turned off, all that’s left is a dark, colorless, glassy screen. And when we gaze into it then, something significant happens: we’re finally able to see more clearly the reflection of who is behind all of its inner workings all along: ourselves.
And so it is with all ‘pocket-sized’ gods as well.
Just as our phone is simply an extension of our faculties, our ‘pocket-sized’ god is an extension of our hoping, grasping, longing, striving. It makes our reach a little bit longer, but not by much. It may inject a quick hit of satisfaction, momentary peace, or alleged control; it may stave off loneliness or boredom for a moment. But there will be no true resolve.
Eventually, our illusion of hope will run out of battery; our superficial, blue-light edited image will flicker on-and-off; and when we take matters into our own hands, we’ll see how brittle and frail it really is—especially when the silicon meets the road.
If your god is small enough to be pocket-sized, small enough to be hand-held, small enough to be manipulated and controlled—it is not big enough to be trusted in to actually help; it is not big enough to provide a meaning and hope outside of yourself; nor is it big enough to declare a rich and enduring sense of love and worth over you.
What we need for a rock-solid hope, an enduring self-worth, and deep experience of freedom is not something we can hold in our hands—but Someone who can hold us in His. And not simply an impersonal extension of our own image and power; but a personal extension of Another who is greater, holier, and better than we are—and who is deeply involved.
Pocket-sized gods demand we give ourselves to them, and continually so; but there is a God who gave himself for us, but once and for all. And for all the times our souls have impulsively reached for our ‘pocket-sized’ gods and clung to them with a white-knuckled vice-grip—His hands were opened and pierced for us.
Instead of being bound to an pocket-sized idol that drains our souls all the more, through faith, we can know a Person who is both faithful and true: the only One who has declared a lasting self-worth over us, who has made peace between God and us and creation, and who truly has all matters in His hands.
The next time we feel the urge to reach into our pockets, let’s instead reach out first to God in prayer, being reminded that He first reached out to us in Jesus Christ. The next time we feel the urge to curve in and bury our faces in our pocket-sized god—whether it’s to dull the pain, stave off the anxiety, or drown the boredom—let’s be reminded our God was buried so that His face could shine on us: true salvation for the soul. All so that we can face the day and one another, and not a pocket-sized screen.
