In waking up each morning, I connect to the Internet with unfailing promptness. The homepage greets me with the reading of the day through my daily Bible reading plan. Something I started around middle of January. After getting the gist of the verse and marking that chore complete, I click Twitter open. While that’s loading, Hotmail, Gmail, and Facebook are opening on different tabs. Throw in various Web sites that come up in more tabs when I click random links from those I follow in Twitter, and it’s a jump start.
Skimming through the pages, closing tabs and then opening new ones, Meebo occasionally draws my eyes to the lower right-hand of the screen where it shows who’s online. I only chat when I really need to, so I usually just shrug at the notifications. A little over thirty minutes, when all the Web sites have been screened, the work for the day starts. But not without breaks in between very short intervals. Every day is like 40 percent work and 60 percent play. But that will change. Perhaps I should turn a cold shoulder to play altogether until my other master (work) has been served. Sounds like a sloshing idea but hard to do considering my fingers have been used to involuntarily pressing Alt + Tab every once in a while. The Internet is a tough temptation.
For the entire day, every day, I’m on the Internet (with few exceptions like when I need to answer a call of nature or take a power nap). That’s fifteen hours a day, seven days a week. In this modern age, I cannot say my case is rare. Most jobs today require the use of the Internet. Today’s people have the urge of wanting to know and wanting to be part of something while also giving little portions of themselves to the world–uploading pictures, updating profiles, sending e-mails. With these many people online, you never feel alone even though there’s nobody else in your dark, cold room. You have company.
But having company and having a companion are not the same. When you have company, it could be anyone. A physical presence that only stays on the surface. When you’re with a stranger, you have company. On the other hand, when you have a companion, you feel a presence that not only resides in the outer core of your being but something that permeates the soul. When you’re with your best friend, that’s companion.
When I stop and think about it, the fifteen hours I spend online consume most of my day that only a pint size is left in spending time with a companion. I used to save the first and last ten minutes of my day to praying, sending short knee-mails to God. Then a lot of things started to keep me busy that the ten minutes plummeted to five. Sometimes, when I get so sleepy, the minutes even become seconds. The most important conversation of the day just went down the drain.
But he is god. Undaunted. Every day, he pokes us with his awesomeness either through a whiff of fresh morning air or through a stupendous rainbow after the rain. Although we are none the wiser, he constantly sends these messages because he loves to converse with us. But conversation is a two-way street. We talk, but at one point in the conversation, we also must listen.
We tend to throw all requests for supplication to God when we pray. We ask for answers.
When is the rain going to stop?
When will the flood subside?
But when he’s about to give us the answers, we already ended the conversation. We forget to listen. To meditate. We forget that we are not talking to a wall but to an omniscient, omnipotent, and omnipresent being. I am guilty.
He listens to our knee-mails and is never too busy to answer them. In times when we are plagued with heartwrenching catastrophes and terror, we can have a companion. God’s mailbox is never full.