Religious services now compete on TikTok. Youth ministries hire social media strategists. Spirituality is being optimized, edited and exported, one post at a time.  This isn’t progress.

Across America, a growing number of people of all ages are communing with the Holy Spirit via their smartphones and laptops. Once the stuff of pews and pulpits, faith now flows through fiber optics. It’s convenient, sure. No parking, no crowds, no early wake-ups.

But is it really church? The answer appears to be no — a resounding no.

This isn’t just about religion. It is, in many ways, about something bigger — a major shift, a slow, creeping erosion of what it means to be present, to experience something together, to commit. Whether it’s faith, film or music, streaming is changing not only how we consume but also what we consume and what we lose in the process.

On the surface, streaming offers everything. Every song, every show, every movie, all at your fingertips. Endless libraries, infinite possibilities. But the paradox of infinite choice is absolute paralysis. The more we can watch, the less we value what we do. There’s no urgency, scarcity or need to sit down at 8 p.m. because the film starts then and won’t wait for you. Streaming has trained people to drift, to skim, to half-watch while scrolling, eating, sitting on the toilet or doing laundry.

You’re not in it. You’re not fully there. And if you’re not fully there, you’re not really experiencing anything at all.

Go back a few decades. Watching a movie meant a trip to the theater or the local video store. Renting a VHS or DVD meant committing to a choice. It meant you had one night, maybe two, before it had to be returned. It was an event. It mattered.

Moreover, there was a time, not that long ago, when a film could bomb in theaters but find a second life on VHS, DVD or late-night TV. Word of mouth could resurrect a hidden gem, turning it into a classic over time. “Blade Runner” flopped in 1982. “The Big Lebowski” wasn’t a hit in 1998. “Donnie Darko” barely made a dent in 2001. But they endured. People found them, passed them along, debated them, rewatched them and gave them a second life.

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