Last night one of my closest friends texted me a photo of her mom clutching her father’s withered body the mouth taking the famed “O” that often accompanies death.
“My mom is heartbroken,” she texted. “Funeral is Friday.”
The message left me breathless. My friend had captured one of the most sacred moments of life—the passing of a family member—on her iPhone and passed it on without second thought for grandfather or her mom.
“Don’t share this image with anyone,” I texted back, fearful she would post it on Facebook or Instagram.
“This is a holy moment meant only for those closest, those present.”
Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. Maybe I should have texted back, “I’m so sorry for your loss.” Nothing more.
But one of the high costs of living in the age of oversharing and TMI (too much information) is:
We no longer know to slip off our shoes or lay down our smartphones when we’re standing on sacred ground.
I’ve made this mistake many times.
Two years ago, Leif and I visited a Compassion project in Africa when a young boy appeared on the property with a head wound. Blood dripped down his face forming a pool on his shirt.
Our host sprung into action, applying pressure and bandaging the wound. The local children gathered around. I grabbed my camera to capture what I perceived as a profound moment of bringing healing and snapped several images.
That’s when the host yelled, “Put your camera down! No photos!”
I didn’t realize I was standing on sacred ground. The young boy lay wounded, vulnerable, and I was snapping photos. Though I meant well, my act was exploitative, dehumanizing, and lacked compassion—let alone permission.
We live in an age of oversharing, where people will do anything to get the photo or the video.
A friend recently shared that he was on a hike in the wilderness when he came face to face with a bear who paused before charging him.
“What did you do?” I asked.
“I pulled out my phone,” he said. “I figured if I was going to be mauled by a bear I wanted it to be on YouTube.”
“You’re about to die and you’re biggest concern is getting it posted on YouTube?”
“Yep!”
The friend showed me the video. As the bear sped toward him, a gun fired nearby, redirecting the bear’s attention and saving my friend’s life.
These stories illustrate that maybe in order to live more we need to post to less. Maybe in order to drink to enjoy and celebrate life and recognize holy moments we need to put down our phones and cameras and breathe in the moment.
Perhaps that’s why one of the most profound scenes from The Secret Life of Walter Mitty was about a photo that was never taken. Walter finds Sean tucked into a mountain crevice quietly trying to photograph a snow leopard. Sean decides not to take picture of this rare, one-in-a-lifetime encounter because the moment is so precious he doesn’t want to be distracted by the camera.
The next time you find yourself standing on sacred ground be wholly and fully present.
Sip the precious gift God has given you.
This is a powerful tactic to fight back with joy.
I suspect the memories stored in your heart will be richer and more meaningful than what’s cheapened by posting absentmindedly online.
To be completely honest, in the beginning, I was really unsure how to share the story of my journey with cancer with you. I felt like my world hadn’t only turned upside-down, but it turned inside out.
So I made the decision to focus on what God was speaking to me during that time and spend as many seconds as I possibly could with my family.
The trade-off was that I didn’t post updates about my treatments or details about my suffering. I didn’t want anyone to feel sorry for me and even though I felt so many prayers and was so touched by the outpouring of love. I also felt a little guilty.
Would people think that I was sharing because I wanted attention? Cancer does crazy things sometimes. But, in hindsight, there was something else that prevented me from sharing, too.
To be honest, I needed some space because I could barely carry my own emotions and couldn’t imagine helping others process, too.
This journey has been the most painful experience of my life. And, to share about it requires some vulnerability. Okay, a lot of vulnerability. And, that’s really, really hard.
But, I feel like I’m finally ready to share what God has stirred in my heart along the way because although cancer has been the most painful journey, it has also been the most joyful. And no one is more surprised than I am.
Pick up a copy of Fight Back With Joy book and Bible Study, today.
(RSS Subscribers, click here to view.)
Rich & deep wisdom…inhaling it’s potent message…As I ponder some of life’s passages ahead it speaks deeply to my heart…thank you!
Something I need to keep reminding myself, too!
A resounding YES, I agree… Amen
<3
Yes… scared holy moments can get trampled on so easily these days… we lost the art of pondering these things in our hearts…
So true, Ro!
I witnessed a hostage take down a few years ago. I pulled out my camera and filmed it. As the woman sobbed in the street I stopped thinking she wouldn’t want to relive this on TV. it never appeared in the news and I’m thankful for that.
A powerful reminder. Thank you, Heather.
Deep, loving, precious advice.
How true! Thanks for this reminder that not all events need to be posted on social media. Some things are private and need to stay that way, for the honor of those involved.
A great reminder for all of us.
This so needed to be said. And had been for a long time. I appreciate your courage.
Something else you said in this post was the reason they I took almost a six month break from social media. You said “To be honest, I needed some space because I could barely carry my own emotions and couldn’t imagine helping others process, too.”
Thank you for sharing that as well. We’ve been going through a battle and sometimes as much as I desire to help others it’s a struggle just to fight. I’ve felt v very guilty about not feeling like I could take any more on. Perhaps it’s not so uncommon after all and will improve with time.
This post gave me hope.
Thank you!
Not uncommon at all, Melinda. Hug, friend.
Margaret, thank you for this today. Yesterday I went for the mapping of my left breast for radiation treatment following cancer surgery. I greatly appreciate the love and support from my friends and family, but I am also tired of questions and constant requests for information from some of them. Sometimes, just a hug or pat would be appreciated, but reitterating my diagnosis and everything is intrusive. No one needs to say anything. Quiet. Stillness. These allow for God’s presence to be felt and healing to occur.
Praying for ZERO for you, Rhonda. Huge hug.
Margaret. What a beautiful post and so very, very needful for many reasons. You have said so much here, if we (I) will listen. And oh, how we need voices to speak and gently but clearly help us learn to navigate this whole social media world…there is so much that can be good but there is so much that is wrong/inappropriate/hurtful. Often we aren’t even aware of where we are going wrong. Thank you.
…and your journey. Oh how I wish we could spend some time over coffee, you and I. But having been the “Leif” in the cancer journey’s of my husband and daughter (both diagnosed within one year of each other) I was so touched by your words and my heart is so full of prayers for you and your journey(s) (yours and Leif’s and yours together). I am grateful for the opportunity to learn from you too as you have gone through a more than difficult time of life and journey. I think you have (from the public end of things) handled this in a way that speaks grace and wisdom.
God bless you big!!!
Sweet Debbie, learning this all right alongside you. Hug to you, friend.
It will be one year this March since my Mother died. It was not an expected death that resulted from a fall at Christmas time. She was a very strong and loving women. Her will to live was great.
She struggled greatly for several months and as I sat by her side I took pictures with her to remember her by.
As her decline continued, so did the pictures. So caught up in not wanting to loose a moment, I missed the very minutes of her life. Not knowing when to take the shoes off and stand on sacred ground !
About a week after her death, my phone was stolen. She did not want those pictures taken at all. I am sure that is not how she want to be remembered. I am so glad I do not have those pictures today.
Wishing I never took them in the beginning.
Thank you for your great words of wisdom.
Sue M.
Heartbroken to hear about the loss of your sweet mom, Sue.
Whew.
i was one of those moms who felt every moment of my children’s life’s had to be recorded through photos or videos. Thus most of my children’s lives for me was seen through the lens of a camera. Where are most of those photos/videos today? Sure some made their way in to albums but those albums are rarely looked at. I wish I would have stepped away from the cameras and viewed my children’s activities more through the lens of my heart. Where my memories are stored anyway. Trying to learn that lesson now with my grandbabies!
And those grandbabies are going to adore their sweet Grandma Cindi!
Thank you for tis wise blog. An eyeopener.
Sacred ground–that’s the very thing I felt as I watched my oldest son slip away from his cancer ridden body.There were no words and definitely no pictures. It was a sacred time between him and his heavenly father. Sacred ground is also how I’m coming to see this process of grieving. I shared our journey with family and friends for almost 5 years, but have yet been able to write about the grief. Someday maybe. Joy–I will have to read your book, as joy is something I remind myself of every day. Rejoice always is a reminder I hung on my wall over 30 years ago. He gives joy in the midst of trials, He gives joy in the midst of heartache, and He gives joy in the midst of sadness. Rejoice in the Lord always!
“He gives joy in the midst of trials, He gives joy in the midst of heartache, and He gives joy in the midst of sadness.” AMEN!