The Areopagus Trap

“The Net’s interactivity gives us powerful new tools for finding information, expressing ourselves, and conversing with others. It also turns us into lab rats constantly pressing levers to get tiny pellets of social or intellectual nourishment.”
Nicholas G. Carr

“Social media is more addictive than cigarettes and alcohol.”
Gary Vaynerchuk

“The signal is the truth. The noise is what distracts us from the truth.”
Nate Silver

“Books are better than television, the internet, or the computer for educating and maintaining freedom. Books matter because they state ideas and then attempt to thoroughly prove them. They have an advantage precisely because they slow down the process, allowing the reader to internalize, respond, react and transform.”
Oliver DeMille

“What the Net seems to be doing is chipping away my capacity for concentration and contemplation. ... Now I zip along the surface like a guy on a Jet Ski.”
Nicholas G. Carr

“Social media addiction is taking our youth captive and leading them down a path of shallow connections and superficial living.”
Jonathan Anthony Burkett

The digital world, especially social media, is a strange beast. One in which every church, and every Christian with a keyboard has been pulled into. There are some people who treat it like a pulpit, some a mission field, others like a boxing ring. We see Instagram and Facebook comment threads turn into theological battlegrounds and Twitter/X become Mars Hill with snark. (Areopagus means “Hill of Ares” in Greek, and since Mars was the Roman name for Ares, Mars Hill is the Roman equivalent). The internet is the modern shrine to the “unknown god”—lots of spirituality, but no anchor in truth, and it is all too easy to confuse the arena with the assignment. We must confront the fact that Paul did not rent an apartment in Athens so he could argue with Stoics on their turf, nor did he plant himself in the Areopagus as though the debates themselves were the mission. No, he preached Christ, planted the gospel like a seed, and then returned to his actual work—building up the churches entrusted to him.

Areopagus and Algorithms
In Acts 17, we see Paul waiting in Athens, provoked in his spirit because the city is “full of idols” (Acts 17:16, ESV). He reasons in the synagogue with Jews and God-fearing Gentiles, and also “in the marketplace every day with those who happened to be there” (v. 17, ESV). His preaching draws the attention of Epicurean and Stoic philosophers who haul him up to the Areopagus, the high court of ideas; a platform for thought, debate, and novelty. Luke even notes, “Now all the Athenians and the foreigners who lived there would spend their time in nothing except telling or hearing something new” (v. 21, ESV). If that does not sound like a social media feed, I do not know what does, and the parallel is not difficult to see: The digital arena is a place of ideas that is literally always available, and anyone can wander in and start talking. The draw is constant and novel. “What is trending? What is the hot take? Who is getting ratioed today?” The measure of success is obviously attention; who heard you, who liked your post, who shared your reel. Social media is a constant churn of chatter, with truth and falsehood tossed equally into the air like one more topic to weigh and debate. The danger? Quite simply, it makes the gospel feel like another hashtag in the mix instead of the power of God for salvation (Romans 1:16).

Paul’s Method
Let us look closer at how Paul handled his moment on Mars Hill. When asked, Paul did not run from the debate, he walked through the door that opened to him and took the opportunity to proclaim Jesus. He was not afraid to step into the conversations already happening, but he did not settle for philosophical banter. He moved from their altar to the “unknown god” and declared the true God who made heaven and earth, who calls all men to repent, and who has fixed a day of judgment through Jesus Christ. Some mocked, some said that they wanted to hear more from him, and a few believed. One could argue that Paul was given a platform, and thus a mandate to keep preaching at Mars Hill, yet he did not set up shop to continue debating the Stoics indefinitely. Paul did not confuse engagement with fruit because while he sowed seed, he went back to the fields God had assigned to him and was not distracted by the possibility of reaching more. Paul left Athens for Corinth (Acts 18:1), and stayed a year and a half teaching the word of God there (Acts 18:11).

The Alluring Drain
Here is the trap for Christians: The internet feels fruitful because the metrics are visible. You can literally track “reach,” “likes,” and “impressions.” That dopamine hit of, “Wow, 3,000 people saw my clip!” can feel like revival. But conversations do not equal conversions. You see, Paul had plenty of conversations in Athens, and the philosophers wanted to hear him again, but curiosity does not translate into conviction. The soil of Mars Hill was more like the path in Jesus’ parable (Matthew 13; Mark 4; Luke 8), hard ground where the seed barely sank in, only a few truly believed (Dionysius and Damaris are named), and the city remained unchanged. But, compared with Corinth, where Paul taught, discipled, and built, the local church produced much fruit. The internet, and especially social media, can drain our time, energy, and even our heart, while producing little more than digital echoes. The people God has called us to reach right here in our midst, get leftovers while strangers on the internet get our full engagement. That is scattering energy into the wind.

Lure of Likes
The reach of the internet may be wide but it is shallow because it creates the illusion of multiplication. The post may be loud, thousands may engage, but almost none become disciples. People may rage their opinions in the comment section, but turning to God seldom occurs. All social media does is give the impression of presence; you may be “everywhere online” but increasingly absent from the people God is calling us to disciple. The Great Commission is not “go viral and make content,” but “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age” (Matthew 28:19-20, ESV). Yet instead of obeying this, we turn to something that seemingly has more reach. Why is it that we are so enamored with our Mars Hill? Christians unconsciously borrow the habits of a business-model driven focus and influencers who live and die by reach, visibility, and “engagement.” So we chase impressions. We are well meaning, but graphs cannot tell us whether someone is truly being discipled. Add the idol of relevance and we buy in to the belief that the gospel needs to be re-packaged to stay relevant. The danger is obvious: what starts as “meeting people where they are” quickly slides into chasing novelty and applause, instead of faithfully proclaiming the same Christ yesterday, today, and forever. Numbers have never been God’s measure. Gideon’s 300, Elijah’s lonely stand on Mount Carmel, the narrow road that few find, Scripture never flatters the majority, and yet we feel the dopamine hit of reach and confuse it for impact. The unspoken fear is, “If we do not post, people will forget we exist,” so we move from shepherding to marketing. But, God’s people are not customers, brand anxiety is not theology, and social media is easier than discipleship because a viral clip is more exciting than months of sanctification; slow discipleship and deep teaching (Acts 20:27).

Clicks versus Converts
Paul told Timothy, “Have nothing to do with foolish, ignorant controversies; you know that they breed quarrels” (2 Timothy 2:23, ESV). Curiosity is not conviction, and just like Mars Hill, people love to “hear something new,” but curiosity never saved anyone. Instead, Paul calls us to maturity in Christ. As he writes in Ephesians 4:13, “until we all attain to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to mature manhood, to the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ” (Ephesians 4:13, ESV). This is the aim—not novelty, not applause, but spiritual growth rooted in Christ. Paul never confused applause with worship and receiving a “like” does not equate to salvation. He tells the Thessalonians, “We were ready to share with you not only the gospel of God but also our own selves, because you had become very dear to us” (1 Thessalonians 2:8, ESV). He charges the Ephesian elders to “pay careful attention to yourselves and to all the flock, in which the Holy Spirit has made you overseers” (Acts 20:28, ESV). That is the real charge, not to gain shares and likes, but to guard the flock purchased with Christ’s blood.

Platforms and Priorities
The lure of 120 people on Sunday feels small compared to 12,000 views on our latest post, but if we spend more time chasing clicks than shepherding the people in front of us, we are ignoring the call God actually gave us. So, the question is: should we just drop social media and internet egagement altogether? No, Paul did not ignore the Mars Hill moment, but he refused to allow a potential platform to overshadow God’s call. We must prioritize the things God has called us to—the metrics that matter —faithfulness, holiness, disciples made and not likes, follows, or reach. We resist endless novelty to focus on the gospel which does not change, and we do not let the hunger for “something new” draw us into distractions.

Dear reader, the Areopagus was Paul’s moment of intellectual engagement and the internet and social media is ours—useful in passing, but dangerous to dwell in. The local church is our Corinth: messy, slow, demanding, but that is where God has placed His people and His promise. The lure of the internet makes us feel influential, fruitful, and effective, but unless that time and energy flows back into the local church, it is largely smoke. So let me ask you, do you want to be endlessly clever in the Areopagus of the internet, or do you want to be faithful? Proclaim Jesus online when the chance arises, but then get back to the work of spending time and praying with the people in your local church, open Scripture in your living room, counsel the weary, break bread, teach sound doctrine, and guard against wolves. “Therefore, my beloved brothers, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that in the Lord your labor is not in vain” (1 Corinthians 15:58, ESV).