“Would you rather look better in photographs or look better in person?” 

This was a popular “would you rather?” question I’d hear on long car rides or group icebreakers. My response was always the same no matter what I indicated aloud; I’d roll my eyes in disbelief, thinking to myself, “Of course I’d rather look better in person! Wouldn’t anyone?”

I can’t say that this still holds true in a day and age where our reflected persona is glamorized. Why tell me a thousand thoughtful words when you could give me a great photo? Who we are is constantly redefined by the projection of ourselves via our online identity footprint. In-person presence needs to be captured and supported by virtual presence. If I can’t find you on Google, do you even exist? How do your stats measure up on Klout? And be sure to be able to tell me who you are in 30 seconds or less, because if who you are can’t be synthesized in a tweet, how can you ever become an eye-catching byline? The perpetuation of our significance being validated by online social identity has driven many to the edge. 

Take the story of Danny Bowman, for example, a teenager who became so obsessed that after failing to find his perfect selfie after 200 tries and an average of ten hours of selfie-taking a day, overdosed on medication in a suicide attempt. 

Selfies are contagious and we’ve all been bitten by the bug, perhaps understandably: a selfie has the more intimate look of a self-made capture where we can feel that much closer to its originator, to the point where those in groups would rather take their own group shot thanks to some gifted limbs rather than resort to a self-timer or an innocent passerby. Just look at the buzz generated by Ellen DeGeneres’ Oscar selfie.

The selfie can be described as a small episode of yourself — a quickly digestible snap showing where you are, what you’re doing, and how you feel all in one. On one hand these posts can positively express and reinforce our personal image on the social media stage, but in another, we can quickly find ourselves over-absorbed in perfecting our perceived persona to our liking for public reception.

The tempting preoccupation with the way we look in photos by taking an endless number to contort ourselves at the right angle can affect our understanding of who we are in light of what’s socially acceptable. Even further, do we attend events, go places, and see people to be excited about being there? Or are we too quick to show up somewhere to post about it as if that’s how we’re creating our memories? If we start to associate our satisfaction with our experiences by how good our pictures look, we’re in trouble.

I remember back to a movie screening I attended where I saw a fan chasing after Joshua Jackson on his way into the theatre. I was shocked to see her reaction once she got next to him. Anyone would have expected her to have her paws all over him once she got close enough, but once in earshot distance, she proceeded to turn her back to him, point her camera phone (with a convenient mirror sticker on her back cover) in his direction, and snapped away. A good chance to appreciate an artist for his work became an opportunity for a photo with a lot of likes. 

Another friend told me her experience at a Demi Lovato concert. During a point of the concert where Demi went to give her front row fans a close-up, my friend said she saw these fans, who dug deep in their pockets for the best seats in the house, enjoy Demi’s personal welcome by turning away and around to snap selfies with the singer. I can see their captions now: “Just me and Demi #nbd”. Why be just another fan snapping photos any paparazzi could easily get when you can be seen as that much more accessible to stardom with a personal selfie!

All these observations have me asking the deeper question: How do we live according to the word of God when nowadays the temptation to glamorize and glorify the manipulation of our self-image is a part of our everyday lives? How do we thoughtfully exemplify our Christ-likeness through the intentionality of our posts, tweets, and statuses? Do I receive a stamp of approval from God when I post photos of myself spending time in the Word? Sure, not everything we publicize is meant to be a statement; it is up to us to be intentional with our platforms to thoughtfully share and connect.

I appreciate the opportunity for introspection to a finer degree, whether or not this is a daily struggle. Even fighting the urge to not judge others who seemingly taut and flaunt their lifestyle is not the easiest thing. We each express ourselves differently and with different intentions, but in the end we are ultimately responsible for how we respond to others in light of ourselves. 

I believe no matter the relationship we have with our projected social image, we could all dig a little deeper into our areas of vanity and tendencies to seek validation from shaky sources. Every time I intentionally unplug, I catch up with reality around me and see what I was really missing out on. In the end, even tools that can be used for good can easily become distractions. 

Let’s challenge ourselves to be present in the moment and not define an experience by the number of “likes” we receive. This ties in with one of my favorite prayer pastimes: the quieting required for us to become, as I like to put it, present to His presence. 

Am I too busy looking at my phone to hear when God is speaking to me? How can I ever stay present with a hyperactive self-consciousness of how I am being perceived? Is there any time or space left anymore for self-reflection other than the reflection we catch on our cell phone screens? 

I am challenged to seek intentional communication more, and less inclined to write posts to no one in particular. I am encouraged to appreciate and seek face-to-face interaction, as the thriving pulse of humanity. Let’s challenge ourselves to live according to who we are made to be in God’s image, not the projection of our self-image. His thoughts define who you are, and let’s seek to be present to them.

But first, let me put my phone away and enjoy the moment.