My Sabbath Day’s Journey isn’t 2,000 paces. It isn’t a regulation that guards me from violating the commandment. It is the long walk toward eternal, eschatological rest. It is the aim of my work. It is the desire of my heart. It is my longing for the day when the hard work is done, when sin doesn’t intrude, when there is finally peace in the garden.
How many psychologists does Facebook employ, like the white coated scientists at the Doritos Factory, to study and exploit my potential for addiction? I am nothing to them but a frantic lab rat who will kill myself in search of just one more Mashable headline or Buzzfeed listicle.