By Father Peter Choy Wai-man
I often silently ask myself a question: what light do I truly emit in the digital world? Like many pastors, owing to various responsibilities and pastoral needs, I find myself part of numerous groups on my smartphone to facilitate connection and communication. This enables messages to arrive instantly, opinions to flow rapidly, and expectations for responses to escalate. Over time, it becomes easy to assume that silence signifies absence and restraint equates to indifference.
However, scripture repeatedly interrupts this assumption. St. Paul described his ministry in an unexpectedly vulnerable manner, stating he came “in weakness, fear, and trembling” [1 Corinthians 2:3]. This is not self-deprecation, but a matter of trust where faith is rooted not in the speaker’s strength but in God’s power. In a digital culture that champions certainty, speed, and visibility, St. Paul’s words challenge me deeply. They compel me to reflect: is my online presence more about performance than proclamation, more about reactive responses than discerning silence?
Our Lord Jesus’ words deepen this challenge. He told his disciples, “You are the light of the world.” Yet he added that this light is to “glorify your Father in heaven.” [Matthew 5:14-16]. The Christian light is not for attracting attention but for revealing God, who is greater than ourselves. This is especially significant in digital spaces, where platforms subtly encourage us to speak incessantly, respond rapidly, and define ourselves by our stances.
However, my pastoral experience continually reminds me that communication is more than simply the exchange of information; it is about building relationships. Our words shape how others encounter the Church, and sometimes even how they encounter God.
I am learning that not every issue requires my immediate response, nor must every truth be publicly defended in the moment. Jesus remained silent during his trial not because he lacked truth, but because he fully entrusted himself to the Father. That silence was not weakness, but obedience.
With this insight, I began to realise that shining in the digital world may relate less to visibility and more to fidelity, less to argumentation and more to companionship, less to click rates and more to presence.
Before I post, comment, or share, I try to ask a few questions: Does this foster unity, or deepen division? Does it reflect Christ’s patience or my inner anxiety? Does it help others catch a glimpse of the Father, or merely draw attention to myself?
In the digital world, success is often measured by click rates, engagement, and influence, yet the gospel measures by charity, humility, and truth.
We might not become the focal point or always be noticed. But as we embody charity, restraint, and faith in our online and offline presence, we emit a light that does not fade. It is not our own light, but the light of Christ.
