“Hear this word, you cows of Bashan,

who are on the mountain of Samaria,

who oppress the poor, who crush the needy,

who say to your husbands, ‘Bring, that we may drink!’” — Amos 4:1 

This morning I read an article in The Atlantic, “The Innovation That’s Killing Restaurant Culture.”  From the article: “In 2024, nearly three out of every four restaurant orders were not eaten in a restaurant, according to data provided to me by the National Restaurant Association, a trade group. The share of customers using delivery specifically, as opposed to picking up takeout or going to a drive-through, more than doubled from 2019 to 2024. In a recently released poll by the association, 41 percent of respondents said that delivery was ‘an essential part of their lifestyle.’”

It’s difficult to understate the impact this is having on the restaurant industry.  Restaurants are adapting their menus to be more cost effective and provide food that travels better.  Kitchens are getting bigger, seating areas smaller.  Some new restaurants aren’t designed for in-person dining at all. Ellie Cushing writes, “In effect, delivery has reversed the flow of eaters to food, and remade a shared experience into a much more individual one. If communities used to clench like a fist around their restaurants, now they look more like an open palm, fingers stretched out as far as possible, or at least to the edge of the delivery radius.” 

It’s too easy to blame this shift on the pandemic, although the pandemic certainly accelerated it, as it did many other things.  Like so much else, these shifts started long before a virus shut us all up inside our homes.  The seismic shift happened back in the early 2000s with the dual supernovas of the development of the internet and smartphones.  Twenty or so years later, every facet of our lives has radically changed.  Winston Churchill once said, “We shape our buildings and afterward our buildings shape us.”   We now have the ability to sit at home and have the world brought to us on a whim, but at what cost?  How is that convenience shaping us?

The “cows of Bashan” were the ancient equivalent of Wagyu beef today.  They were meticulously doted over and cared for so as to provide the absolute highest quality meat possible.  When Amos calls the Israelites the cows of Bashan, he is saying they are lazy, fat, and indolent.  As Michael McKelvey writes, Amos is painting a picture of a people who “defiantly and selfishly take advantage of others, using them for their own ends. Their concern is not for what is morally right or socially acceptable. Instead, they live unto themselves; their god is their belly.”  Feeding their desires and appetites by any means necessary, they cared not at all about the consequences of their self indulgence.  One might argue whether we are more or less self-indulgent than the ancient Israelites, but one thing is true: we have not counted the cost we are paying for our cultural smartphone addiction.  It’s been 2,800 years since Amos wrote his prophecy, but it has come true in far more visceral ways than he ever imagined.

What makes dining at a restaurant special isn’t simply that someone else is cooking for you. It’s the entire experience.  It’s the sensory experience of the aromas and the ambiance, but more than that it’s the relational experience — from the welcome extended by the host, to the courtesy of the waitress, to the attention given to your meal by the chef, to the shared fellowship of those with whom you dine.  None of that can be put in a box and delivered to your door.  What is lost without those experiences goes far beyond the scope of these words.  This barely scratches the surface; we haven’t talked about the impact on families, jobs, the economy, and much more.

However, Amos wasn’t talking about having food delivered to your door, and neither are we.  Have we taken the time to consider what we are losing by doordashing our worship, our discipleship, or our fellowship?  We worship by turning on the radio or Spotify.  We get our discipleship from TikTok.  We find fellowship through social media.  All from the comfort of our couches.  But true faith is inescapably relational and experiential.  True worship happens when we are gathered together with the saints (Hebrews 10:25).  Discipleship occurs when “iron sharpens iron” (Prov. 27:17).  Fellowship, which at its root means “connection,” requires being physically present with one another (Acts 2:42).  Modern technology is reshaping everything, but it can’t change the fundamental paths of our faith.

There’s nothing necessarily wrong with doordashing your dinner when you need to, or using Spotify or TikTok.  But be aware of what you are choosing when you do so, and what you are not choosing as well.  Be intentional in being wise and discerning when it comes to your worship, discipleship and fellowship.  Make the effort to pursue Jesus in the company of other brothers and sisters.  In person.  Much like dining out, our faith was never meant to be an individual experience, but a communal one.

Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.  What you have learned and received and heard and seen in me—practice these things, and the God of peace will be with you. — Philippians 4:8-9

Blessings,

Rev. David Garrison