As we move further into 2024, a new generation is emerging who have had a shared experience. This new cohort of emerging adults is the first generation to have parents actively on social media while being raised. Every generation of parents has shown off their children in one way or another. But these are the first children whose lives were publicly shared for all to see in universally viewable mediums. Now, they are beginning to speak about their experiences. While many claim to be fine with having their lives posted online for all to see, others have a very different experience. An increasing number harbor resentment, if not anger, over the fact that their lives were shared with the world without their consent. Their voices should be heard: ‘sharenting’ (as it’s been called) can rob a child of their God-given anonymity, quiet, and obscurity.1
An experience from years ago reminds me of the importance of not over-sharing for the wrong reasons. In one particular classroom where I was teaching, a student openly shared some of the struggles they were facing in public pastoral ministry. Unbeknownst to them, someone in the classroom recorded the conversation on their computer. Later, when the recording had been shared with others, it had devastating consequences for the person who had been so open. The incident not only shattered the sacred trust of the classroom as a safe space for vulnerability but also left the individual who had risked being vulnerable with a deep sense of skepticism about whether such openness is ever truly safe.
Sharing is a good and powerful thing. We are meant to share: that rich bounty of food, time, resources, energy, emotions, and trust that we have been given us from God. But sometimes, indeed, we overshare to our detriment. And to the devastation of others. Knowing how to share appropriately is a key element of Christian formation and maturity.
Which brings us to Jesus. The stories about Jesus of Nazareth in the Gospels consistently highlight two overlapping (and seemingly inconsistent) themes. On the one hand, Jesus is portrayed as a wonder worker, healer, and miracle-maker. Time and again, his life is shown intersecting with real people in their real pain—followed closely by a story of healing. One such miracle takes place in the region of the Decapolis, as recorded in Mark 7. Here, Jesus encounters a man who is deaf. Placing his fingers in the man’s ears, Jesus declares, ephphatha, meaning ‘be opened’ (v. 34). Immediately, the man’s ears are opened, and he can hear.
On the other hand, these same Gospels also emphasize Jesus’ command to those who witnessed his miracles. Repeatedly, Jesus instructs the onlookers—often His disciples—not to tell anyone about what they have seen. This is especially evident in the account from Mark 7. Mark records that “Jesus commanded them not to tell anyone. But the more he did so, the more they kept talking about it” (v. 36). Scholars have referred to this recurring theme as the ‘Messianic Secret.’ It is a striking pattern that seems to follow every time Jesus performs something seemingly impossible or miraculously unthinkable.
Placing these two themes side-by-side creates an awkward contrast for any reader. One might assume that Jesus performed these miracles to spread his fame and glory throughout the land, inspiring people to take up their cross and follow him. But no—there seems to be something deeper at work. The use of miracles in Jesus’ ministry does not seem to be his primary method for growing his Kingdom; especially since the crowds saw it coming through increasing his popularity, celebrity, and fame. He appears to resist turning the bread of a miracle into the stone of fame. Jesus didn’t want to be a spectacle. He didn’t want the quiet, hidden Kingdom he was bringing to be scandalized by being publicized.
Jesus loves a good secret. Because a good secret when planted in the dark soil of obscurity can blossom into great fruit. I’ve often reflected on how the New Testament distinguishes between ‘seeing’ and ‘looking.’ In his writings, John makes a passing comment: “We have seen with our eyes... and we have looked at [Jesus]” (1 Jn 1.1). There appears, for John, to be some kind of distinction between these two activities. The crowds ‘saw’ Jesus. But the disciples ‘looked at’ Jesus. They stared, reflected, took it in, and pondered.
This distinction between different ways of beholding Jesus is seen elsewhere, especially in how the New Testament distinguishes between ‘pondering’ and ‘amazement.’ For instance, we learn that as Mary discovers her surprising pregnancy through the message of an angel, her reaction is instructive. Mary doesn’t share such news with many people. Rather, she “pondered what sort of greeting this might be” (Lk 1.29, NRSV). Even after the birth of Jesus and the visit from the shepherds, she is said to have “treasured all these things and pondered them in her heart” (Lk 2.19). Mary is the consummate ponderer. She’s such a ponderer that the final depiction we have of her in the Gospels is standing at the cross, pondering the death of her son. This contrasts with the crowds always being ‘amazed’ at what Jesus is doing. A reaction which, Ronald Rolheiser rightly points out, is never given high praise in the New Testament. The people are astonished, mesmerized, and eager to follow from one miracle to the next. They don’t want to follow Jesus. They want to follow his works.2
There’s a critical difference between loving Jesus by pondering him and chasing him as a fan chases a celebrity. The distinction between the ponderer and the one who is simply amazed is that only one can make it to the cross. The amazed follower steps off the path once things get painful.
The ‘amazed’ person feels the need to share everything immediately, with everyone, all the time.
The ‘ponderer’ is slow to share. They take time to sit with what has happened and don’t feel the need to overshare. They allow the work of Christ to permeate every part of their life at its own pace.
Why does this matter? I think this idea of ‘pondering’ is why we feel uncomfortable with Christian leaders, celebrities, or even friends who make quick or immediate announcements on social media that they’ve changed after some mistake or moral failing. It’s also why we feel that subtle distaste or vapid dissatisfaction when we ourselves rush to share some new revelation or insight or experience we had just three minutes ago for everyone. Or how we intuitively know that the Kingdom doesn’t come through ‘hot takes’ but rather through the slow, thoughtful, and often painful process of sitting with something for years.
There’s a time to share. And when it’s time, it should be done. That’s the essence of good evangelism—sharing the right message at the right moment with the right person. But don’t rush to believe that immediate proclamation is always necessary. You aren’t God’s publicity agent; you’re a servant of the King. His glory is already glorious enough.
Here’s a suggestion: ask Jesus to reveal himself to you, with complete vulnerability and openness to what He wants to teach. Then, when he speaks or reveals something to you, deliberately choose not to share it with anyone for a while. Just ponder it. Sit with it. Reflect on it. Allow the quiet word of God to transform your inner being in the sacred obscurity of your heart. And as you do, the seed will take root. And soon form. And what was once hidden hidden in the basement will be shouted from the rooftop.
Thanks for reading. You can always find me wasting time on Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook. Or check out my podcast with Dr. Nijay Gupta at Slow Theology. If you found this content helpful to your journey, yay! Consider enjoying my most recent book The Gift of Thorns: Jesus, the Flesh, and the War for our Wants, which was released with Zondervan in February of 2024. Within, I explore the topic of human desire from the perspective of Scripture, theology, and experience—with particular interest to how we can be formed into the image of Christ through our desires. In short, it’s about why our cultural mandate to “you do you” is so profoundly unhelpful to the follower of Jesus. You can support my work by reading it! And sharing about your experience. Click on the image below to get yourself a copy.
On “sharenting,” see https://www.cnn.com/2024/05/29/us/social-media-children-influencers-cec/index.html.
The distinction between ‘pondering’ and ‘amazement’ is brilliantly sussed out in Ronald Rolheiser, Sacred Fire: A Vision for a Deeper Human and Christian Maturity (New York, NY: Image, 2014), chap. 5.
So interesting. In the addiction recovery, we often lead with the difficult, shameful, and challenging in order to heal and confess publicly. Yet, there is a time to be silent and a place for pondering, too. Thanks for this reflection today.
Good stuff AJ... "ponder" is one of my favorite words... to me, it's something that must be done slowly. Deliberately. Intentionally. Repeatedly. Kinda like chewing one's proverbial cud. I'm discovering the joy of sitting with a thought/insight/word(s) that I receive from Jesus-time. Thank you