“Brain rot” was Oxford’s word of the year in 2024, defined as “the supposed deterioration of a person’s mental or intellectual state, especially viewed as the result of overconsumption of material (now particularly online content) considered to be trivial or unchallenging.” It’s a favored slang term of Gen Z, who deploy it in a metamodern manner: simultaneously as a self-aware expression of irony (“Yes, we know we’re scrolling ourselves to death”) and as a sincere cry for help (“I know it’s killing me, but I can’t stop. Help!”). Talk of “brain rot” is a sort of defense mechanism or alarm bell amid the addictive vortex of nonnutritive scrolling. We know scrolling is terrible for us—there’s more evidence of this each day—but we do it anyway. Calling it brain rot at least gives us the minor consolation of self-awareness. We know scrolling is terrible for us, but we do it anyway. Calling it brain rot at least gives us the minor consolation of self-awareness. Screens are making us dramatically less conscientious (less adept at self-control and responsibility) and more neurotic. Digital life is leading to poorer mental health, diminished cognitive capacity, spiritual acedia, and existential ennui. But our wink-wink “brain rot” discourse at least signals the virtue of our knowing all these bad things are happening to us. The problem with discourse about the ills of digital life is that we rarely move from discourse to actual change. There’s a technological fatalism at work here—a sense that we’re locked into the scrolling age and simply cannot live otherwise. This a sobering point Antón Barba-Kay makes early in his book A Web of Our Own Making: Almost everyone has serious misgivings about the powers of this new genie we’ve let loose. Almost everyone also knows that those misgivings have done and will do little to slow its development or moderate its expression. . . . Outside a tech-topian, giddy minority, most people I have spoken to about the consequences of digital technology for their lives are at once disaffected and resigned. Just about every conversion thus consists of acknowledging that it is bad and disruptive in some ways, while being really handy and valuable in others. The bottom line remains that, regardless of how depressing or terrific its uses, it is an inescapable fact, so that it doesn’t really matter what we think about it. We can think critically about technology and lament its ills all day. But don’t we want to stop these bad habits? Do we have the will to truly make a change? What can be done to reverse the rot? Five Ways Churches Can Help People Reverse the Rot We’re well aware of the problems. Now what do we do about it? The church is well positioned to offer actionable ideas. Here are five. 1. Normalize phone-free spaces. Many schools now have phone bans in the classroom. Good. Why don’t churches do the same? Make it a habit of giving congregants permission to leave their phones in the car, or at least in their pocket, during worship services. Encourage phone-free Sunday school or small groups. This might mean providing physical Bibles in every seat. Do what you have to do. Make it feasible—and desirable—for church to be at least one dose of radically analog, embodied, non-screen-centric experience each week. And if people get used to it at church, they’ll likely find it easier to put away devices at other moments throughout their week. 2. Model minimal scrolling. For parents, pastors, authors, and influencers who talk frequently about the ills of excessive scrolling—are you practicing what you preach? (I’m speaking to myself here!) More is caught than taught. Don’t just tell digital addicts to change; give them examples of what it looks like. Show them it’s possible to live differently. Pastors, you probably won’t help the Highly Online in your flock by “meeting them where they’re at” on apps and feeds. You’ll more likely help them by living a happily “less online” life. 3. Create plausibility through critical mass. Being tethered to your smartphone is costly. But for many, the perceived costs of not being tethered feel greater. This is why parents struggle to say no to teens begging for a phone. Adolescent peer pressure is potent. If every other kid at school or at church has a phone, it feels cruel and socially alienating to mandate that your kids are the outliers. Don’t just tell digital addicts to change; give them examples of what it looks like. But what if churches fostered a critical mass of families where most kids didn’t have smartphones and social media? What if parents in churches banded together to normalize “dumb phones” in a microcommunity of shared values, guided by the practical advice of books like Clare Morell’s The Tech Exit? Widespread cultural change requires tipping points. The church should lead the way in this particular tipping point. 4. Practice church-wide digital fasts. This might sound daunting, but why not try it? Experiment with different types of digital or media fasts. Perhaps start by challenging your flock to go without some aspect of their smartphone—their most beloved social media app, perhaps—for two or three days. It should be enough of a challenge that it’ll feel painful. Channel that pain toward worship. Each night of the digital fast, gather as a church for embodied fellowship, prayer, and worship. This sort of communal lookaway can illuminate and galvanize, showing people what’s possible when head-down scrolling is replaced with lifted-eyes worship and community. 5. Cultivate a reading culture. To help people wean off screens, we need to encourage alternative habits. This could include more time outside in nature (e.g., organize group hikes or routine neighborhood walks) or community service activities, exercise groups, or fun outings to beaches or ball games. But arguably the greatest screen-alternative habit to promote is reading. Get your people reading books, discussing them, digesting them in community. Reading helps us retrain the cognitive muscles atrophying in the scrolling age. For Christians, the muscles of reading are critical for gleaning the wisdom of God’s Word. Start book clubs. Curate lists of recommended books on various topics. Host authors for Q&A events. Put a library or bookstore in the church foyer. Be a bookish church. Train your folks to become people of the Book.