We’re going to have to start resisting the impulse to believe every breathless narrative that circulates online. And church leaders will have to be more mindful of what they put into the digital world—because there will always be those who care nothing for the health and unity of a local congregation but are more than willing to stir up mobs against faithful pastors and churches simply trying to navigate ministry in a world of chaos.

Here’s one of the under-discussed realities behind the infighting and controversies we see in churches, denominations, and networks today: we’ve yet to learn how to coexist and do ministry together in a digital age.

Just start at the local level. One reason there may be disunity in a local congregation is church members are together in person less and yet visible to each other online more. Facebook comments, threads on X, and Instagram posts introduce us to a greater number of our fellow congregants’ perspectives and outlooks than in the past. Over time, it’s inevitable we may wind up surprised that they stream that show, or support that politician, or frequent that restaurant, or recommend that author, or oppose that law, etc.

Zoom out to networks and denominations, and you see the same challenges at work. We are together in person less, but open to each other online more.

What if the problem isn’t too little visibility, but too much?

When I consider why uneasiness, concerns, and quarrels have been on the rise in multiple denominations and traditions—whenever I talk with leaders across the spectrum about the issues they’re debating—I can’t help but wonder if, in many cases, the issue isn’t a lack of visibility into church life but rather overexposure.

Simply put, we can see into each other’s churches more than ever before.

In an age where every church has an online presence, where pastors and staff can offer hot takes on whatever is happening in the world or in DC, where the majority of churches livestream their services, we have an unprecedented ability to observe what’s happening in congregations far beyond our own. And while we might be inclined at first to assume this development is positive—greater transparency, greater visibility, greater openness—research suggests it may actually be counterproductive to long-lasting partnerships.

Proximity breeds contempt.

Nicholas Carr’s new book, Superbloom, devotes a short chapter to antipathies in the digital era. He cites a study from the Journal of Experimental Social Psychology that found proximity in a physical neighborhood to be a key factor in disliking other people—more so than in liking them.

The closer your proximity to someone, the more likely you will get irritated at some point by their mannerisms, their habits, or their opinions. The old saying that “fences make good neighbors” holds up, because the more visible someone is to you, the clearer their foibles come into view. And once you notice something irritating, you can’t unsee it. Their quirks, their comments, their way of doing things—minor annoyances can turn into full-blown frustrations. Proximity keeps those irritations always in view, which can lead to resentment, then antipathy, then a cycle of enmity.

Church history is replete with stories of this happening in the physical world. Just one will suffice. Consider the official unity among certain Eastern and Western churches until migration patterns brought their distinctive worship practices into closer proximity. Suddenly, church leaders were debating the proper way to make the sign of the cross (three fingers, left to right, or two fingers, right to left?) and Christians were aghast at their fellow Christians’ use of leavened (or unleavened) bread in the Eucharist. They were united… when they were distant to each other. Proximity led to fracturing.

Now watch how Carr applies this insight of proximity leading to contempt in the digital age:

“Now that we’re all virtual neighbors, we’re all in one another’s business all the time. We’re exposed, routinely, to the opinions and habits of far more people, both acquaintances and strangers, than ever before. With an almost microscopic view of what everybody else is saying and doing—the screen turns us all into Peeping Toms—we have no end of opportunities to take offense.”

It’s natural, Carr writes, to be biased toward people who share similarities with us and to dislike people who are different. But here’s what the research shows: something we dislike about someone else carries far more weight than all the things we might appreciate.

“As all this personal information swirls around the net, people find a lot of evidence of what they have in common with others and a lot of evidence of what they don’t. They see likenesses, and they see differences—and over time…they begin to place more weight on the differences.”

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