The Power of Going Gray
The first notes sound from my smart watch, and gentle pulses tap my wrist, chasing sleep away.
It’s still dark out with only the orange glow from the alarm clock and the neighbors’ security light brightening the room.
Before a wide-awake thought stretches itself in my brain, my smart phone is in hand. It seems innocent enough — just a quick tap, but the screen yells for my attention.
Five notifications came in while I was sleeping. Surely I need to know instantly about the latest sale, the breaking news or the late-night reply from a friend. All too often, I click through and find myself soaring down a digital highway of information and faces, tidbits and rabbit holes to fall down, down, down away from any rest I had gained.
But in this season of Lent — this 40-day period of leaning in to focus on Jesus in anticipation of celebrating the sacrifice he made for us, I wanted desperately to break the digital cycle. To remember vividly that this world with all of its bright red notifications and dinging alarms is not my home.
Prefer to listen? Find this episode of the Unwrapping Rest podcast at https://dawntolbert.podbean.com/e/episode-9-the-power-of-going-gray/. Or search for Unwrapping Rest with Dawn Tolbert wherever you listen to podcasts.
“But in this season of Lent..., I wanted desperately to break the digital cycle. To remember vividly that this world with all of its bright red notifications and dinging alarms is not my home.”
One of the podcasts I frequent — focused on increasing productivity to get the right things done most efficiently — mentioned breaking the power that our digital devices hold over us by causing a visual interruption. The trick?
Going gray.
Don’t worry! I’m not encouraging you to follow my lead in embracing my strong white-haired genes. Instead, I’m referring to turning off the color on my smart phone.
A Shocking Change
When I first switched to grayscale, I was surprised by how different my relationship with my phone felt. What had been a source of stimulation suddenly felt... muted. Subdued. The apps that usually drew me in now seemed somehow less urgent, less compelling.
There's science behind this change.
Our brains are wired to respond to bright colors — especially reds and blues — with increased attention and even small dopamine releases. The people who design apps and build social media platforms know this. They invest in research, studying the exact shades of color that will deliver the biggest return. Every notification bubble and every "like" button is color-coded to maximize our engagement.
Remove the color, and you remove much of their power.
Without the emotional cues that colors provide, I found myself approaching my phone more objectively. The grayscale served as a visual reminder, a pause button that asks:
"Do you really need to check this right now?”
“Is this worth interrupting your present moment?"
A Simple Enough Process
Turning bright and shiny into monochromatic wasn’t a hard process — at least not on my iPhone.
I headed to Settings, then selected Accessibility. From there, I chose Display and Text Size and scrolled down to find Color Filters. By toggling on the Color Filters and selecting Grayscale, I took my phone back some 70 years in appearance. The look is more Dorothy Gale’s Kansas than the Technicolor Land of Oz.
And you know what? A lot of the attraction faded.
Without the easily recognizable, market-tested brand colors, it became hard to distinguish one app from the next.
The lack of color provided a strong mental reminder — an interruption of the everyday appearance. It whispered that this icon-filled world shouldn’t have all my attention. The always-jarring visual speedbump served its purpose as it made me more mindful of how I was spending my time.
A Spiritual Practice for Digital Times
"Be still, and know that I am God." (Psalm 46:10)
God calls us to live differently than the way the world does. He invites us to be still, to rest, to lie down in green pastures.
But how do we practice this stillness — how do we rest — when the world is actively designed to keep us in a flurry of constant motion? How do we create space to hear God when we’ve fallen so far down the digital rabbit hole?
My purpose in “going gray” hasn’t been about reducing screen time or boosting productivity. Instead, it has become a spiritual practice to become more mindful of where my focus is. Each moment of hesitation when I receive the visual shock provides an opportunity to redirect my attention toward God, to choose conversation with him through prayer over mindless scrolling.
““Be still, and know that I am God.””
I will add that I am not against digital tools, even social media. This morning, my Facebook check brought news of a friend nervous over knee-replacement surgery, another with “a big moment” coming today who was asking for prayer, and a chance to rejoice alongside a young lady I know who’d achieved a huge accomplishment. All offered opportunities to pray for friends in my circle and to thank God for them.
BUT, each gray screen I encounter reminds me that this tool of communication can also become a huge distraction. And that seemed an important focus — especially during this season of Lent.
Choosing Intentionality, Simplicity
The church I grew up in didn’t really emphasize Lent. Remembering the sacrifice made by Christ and celebrating his Resurrection were extremely important, but I didn’t really begin to develop an understanding of Lent until I became an adult.
At first, I heard mainly about giving things up for this season — making a sacrifice that reminds us of the one Christ made on our behalf. But I’ve come to appreciate the idea of removing distractions not for the removal’s sake but to allow greater focus on what matters most.
By choosing to stem my constant rushing into the world of digital distraction, I’m making room for faith and rest and peace to grow, watered by the Living Water (Jesus). He is the only one who can quench the thirst we have for true connection — regardless of the count on our friends list or the sum total of our followers.
My practice has not been total avoidance of technology, and the color filter can be toggled on and off quite easily. But this practice has allowed me to hone new habits:
Mindful consumption: Before opening an app, I can pause and ask: "Why am I reaching for this? What am I hoping to gain? Is there something else my soul actually needs right now?"
Morning and evening buffers: My goal is to give myself at least 30 minutes of phone-free time after waking and before sleeping that creates space for prayer and reflection at the day's beginning and end. My success in this area varies from day to day.
Embracing Small Friction
Do you remember the prophet Elijah’s encounter with God on the mountain? He’d been so tired. He was discouraged and spiritually defeated, feeling that God had left him alone in a world hell-bent against him. And God invited him into the wilderness where God himself met him. God came not in an earthquake or a fire, but with a still, small voice (1 Kings 19:12).
Of course, God can choose to communicate in limitless numbers of ways, but I can’t help but wonder how many times he has tried to speak to me, only to be drowned out by the dings, buzzes and endless scroll of my digital life.
Perhaps true rest in our digital age isn't about completely disconnecting—it's about reclaiming our attention, about remembering that we are meant for more than constant consumption.
“Perhaps true rest in our digital age isn’t about completely disconnecting—it’s about reclaiming our attention, about remembering that we are meant for more than constant consumption. ”
As I look at my gray-screened phone beside me, I'm reminded that the most powerful changes come from small, consistent choices about where — or rather on whom — we direct our attention and place our trust.
This season, and always, may we fix our minds on Christ.
What ways might you use to create space for sacred silence in your life this week? I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments below.
