"But their idols are silver and gold, made by human hands...Those who make them will be like them, and so will all who trust in them." Psalm 115:4,8 (NIV)
We could still be friends—that’s how things ended with me and Instagram. This relational cliche didn’t come with a sting or fidgety heart. It was mutual. In fact, we still get along well. Still chat. Still like each other. Instagram’s still in my phone. Nobody’s been deleted or blocked.
But we are no longer in love. The relationship was toxic, and I didn’t realize how unhealthy it was until it impacted how I mothered my toddling son.
I’m a Georgia native who spent some time living at the foothills of the Colorado Rockies but traded their icy caps for the rolling mountains of East Tennessee. Here, life is slower, and I’m not sure which is sweeter: the iced tea or the thick drawl.
Many people in my rural community are farming folks who stick to a more homegrown, homeopathic way of life. I’ve adopted many of those practices. I’m growing turmeric to make medicines and peas to feed my family. I make Amish amoxicillin and do detox baths for my baby. But there are some harsh, judgmental opinions around here about how to raise your kids, from “proper” foods and medicines to school options and more.
I had so many well-meaning women posting links and texts and cutesy captions about the “best” way to raise my little one—and Instagram’s algorithm picked up on this scent.
And ran with it.
Each time I logged into the app, I was bombarded with reels and carousels about how “good moms” do this and “bad moms” do that—and, without truly realizing it, I was letting an app, ten-second videos of strangers who know nothing of me or my son, dictate my emotions as a mother.
Guilt, shame, and judgment became my cruel companions and robbed my ability to find joy in nurturing my baby, in using my God-given instincts as a mama to raise him how I think best.
It didn’t take long for me to discover that the lies and downtrodden feelings invading my mind were snippets of content I’d gleaned from Instagram. Its algorithm, and the way I fell for its consuming lure, was the Oz-like voice booming in my mind and destroying who I was.
I couldn’t wean myself from Instagram. Promising myself that I’d only check the app 1-2 times a day wasn’t working, saying I’d set a timer to only be on for fifteen minutes a day didn’t happen, and any other fence-straddling method wasn’t detoxing my mama brain. Quitting cold turkey, going so far as not to post anything for selling my books or growing my blog, was the only effective treatment.
I anticipated all the detox symptoms, the shakes and sweats and desperate need to pine after the little pink and purple square. But none of that happened by the grace of God.
Instead, I simply felt better. Fast. It was nothing short of miraculous how my mind was less noisy and my thoughts more encouraging, how I discovered that I was gifted the ability to take one day at a time, one circumstance at a time, and pray about and consider what was best for my baby. No stranger’s random reel allowed in my headspace now!
This new peace of mind and heart has made me gentler towards my son, more compassionate towards my husband, and allowed me to narrow my focus on my family and what we are called to do. I haven’t deleted the app, and occasionally, rarely, I’ll post, but my motherhood is no longer a marionette dangled for likes and clicks by millions of distant strangers.
Motherhood is truly mine now. A gift from God to cultivate as He sees fit.
Let's pray:
Jesus, please grant me discernment to recognize when comparison, fear, and judgment dictate how I use social media. I pray that you cover my heart with your wisdom and peace and guide me as I try to keep a healthy relationship with technology. Thank you for the gift of connecting with others around the world, but allow me to stay focused on using this blessing as a means of growth and encouragement. In your holy name, King Jesus, Amen.
Photo Credit: ©GettyImages/vorDa
Related Resource: Praying Through Psalm 51: Restoring the Joy of Salvation
Can a heart stained by the worst kinds of betrayal ever truly be restored?? When the world demands justice, does God offer a different way back? In this devotional on Psalm 51, we step into the wreckage of King David’s greatest failure—the affair with Bathsheba and the murder of Uriah. We move beyond a simple apology to uncover the specific Hebrew anatomy of David's confession: Pesha (rebellion), Avon (twistedness), and Hata'ah (missing the mark). We explore the shocking reality that under Mosaic Law, David should have faced the death penalty, yet he boldly asks God to "create a way" where the law offered none. If you’ve ever felt like your mistakes have disqualified you from God’s presence, or that you are not worthy due to your past mistakes, this episode offers a roadmap from guilt to gladness. Come ready to run toward the Father who doesn't just want your perfection, but your broken and contrite heart. If this episode helped you connect with God, be sure to follow Praying Christian Women on Apple or Spotify so you never miss an episode!
Originally published Thursday, 15 May 2025.
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