A Quiet Carriage
On my return journey home yesterday from Preston on the train, I settled into my current book, “The Anxious Generation” by Jonathan Haidt.
It has been a convincing read, backed up with reams of scientific research into how smartphones have transformed the lives of millions of children and adolescents, especially Gen Z and Gen Alpha.
Haidt outlines how play-based childhoods have been replaced by phone-based childhoods and explains the connection between the global rise in anxiety, depression, and other mental health conditions.
One of his core arguments is that over the last 15 years this generation has been shaped by a constant digital pull…not occasional smartphone use, but near-continuous engagement.
I was listening to Radio 4 last week on the same issue, and our own UK Government is now considering restrictions on under-16s’ usage, similar to those already introduced in Australia.
My Observations
Sitting on the train home, every now and again I lifted my head from my book and looked up and down the carriage and across the aisles… I could hardly believe my own eyes.
Almost every head was bowed, not in prayer, but immersed in a screen, in their own digital world.
Young and old alike.
Scrolling, tapping, swiping. Not frantic. Just absorbed. Quietly hooked.
Sitting there, it felt less like choice and more like habit. Less like connection and more like compulsion… even addiction.
Phones don’t just entertain.
They interrupt boredom, soften discomfort, fill silence, and reward attention.
Over time, they train us to reach outward whenever we feel the slightest unease, rather than inward, or even upward.
Our smartphones are undoubtedly both a blessing and a curse.
They connect us to a world of remarkable information and allow us to speak with anyone, anywhere, yet they can also impact our mental, physical, and spiritual health.
Some years ago, Russell M. Ballard taught that smartphones “need to be our servants, not our masters.”
Perhaps one of the most counter-cultural acts of discipleship today is not rejecting technology, but reclaiming stillness… choosing, even briefly, to put the phone down and sit with the quiet.
In that space, we may hear again the Lord’s gentle invitation, “Be still, and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10), and ask whether our phones are serving us… or quietly shaping us.
