Rarely do I ask, “What would Jesus do?” but recently I discovered that what started as a guilt-free pleasure had grown into futile and intrusive monster of wasted time. It needed to go, and I needed Jesus’ wisdom, so for Lent this year I decided to take up Lent, because for some reason accomplishing self improvement goals seems easier when you have divinity on your side.

Having never seen the point in hunting through the yard for eggs when they’re already so readily available in stores, my holiday spirit surrounding Easter has always hovered at near comatose levels. But Lent isn’t just an Easter egg hunt. It’s actually a process of purification and repentance, manifest as a daily sacrifice, preceding the celebration of Christ’s resurrection.

Some people give up chocolate. I think it’s bloody stupid to pick sweets as a demonstration of self-discipline, sacrifice and faith. Does anyone really believe the man-God who gave his life for sinners will look down upon thee and glow with admiration for your sacrifice of chocolate? He may snigger, but not glow – at least not any brighter than he usually does.

I thought maybe I could lead by example and give up something that has become a useless daily habit. I picked a no-brainer. I quit Facebook.

The average person spends 19 minutes per day on this ever-popular networking site. That may not seem like very long. In a week, 19 minutes is probably about how long the average person spends on the toilet (assuming he’s taking his vitamins). In a year, it’s about how long the average grown man spends picking his nose. But when you’re talking 19 minutes per day, that’s almost 10 hours a month. To me, a zealot compared to those spending only 19 minutes a day on Facebook, that seems a very…long…time.

It’s easy to get sucked in. Facebook is a sort of portal into the often embarrassingly personal lives of family, friends, co-workers and co-workers’ families and friends. And it doesn’t matter that the older I get, the less social – or at least the more selective – I become, because the longer I was on Facebook the more old friends I reconnected with. But the more friends you have, the more “status” updates you have to read, and status updates cover everything from bodily ailments to extremist political conspiracies.

There are infinite responses to the response your old high school buddy made in response to your response to the status update he posted asking what the difference is between news feeds and live feeds. In a few seconds, fifteen people had commented and so you joined in, and by the fiftieth comment the question was still unresolved and you’ve wasted two hours discussing a topic that’s about as useful as debating the geographical origin of unicorns.

There’s guilt if you click “ignore” and thereby opt out of joining the group “Can This Pickle Get More Fans than The Who?” But your college buddy then writes on your “wall” and asks why you didn’t join. “You a fan of The Who or do you got a thing against pickles?” You’re expected to respond, and within a week you’ve dedicated hours trying to clarify that you neither dislike pickles nor enjoy The Who. You realize you wouldn’t be any smarter had you spent that time staring at carpet lint.

I didn’t like most of these people when I knew them years ago, and if I actually wanted to reconnect with any one of them I’d do what I did before there was Facebook: I’d pick up the phone.
So farewell Facebook. We are friends no longer. The man-God Jesus may not be glowing over my “sacrifice,” but at least he’s not sniggering.