There’s a kind of noise I can’t unhear anymore and no, it’s not the sound of a baby crying (even the phantom cries from the shower.) It’s the sound of performance. It is the noise of a loud life online—the curated, polished, and calculated declarations made online to insist everyone is doing fine, better than fine, thriving!
In my industry, I watch friends and strangers be loud online. Authors feel like this is the only way—we have to tell people to look at our book sales, join our launch teams, and look at all these five-star reviews (from people who we asked to write them.) I often see writer friends sharing about their Amazon rankings even though we all know they don’t really mean much and are fleeting.
When I go on social media, I feel like my friends are loud. Showing off how busy they are, how little they have slept, as if these things are signs of importance. I watch people share about promotions, another bonus, another win at work. People are showing off their clean kitchens, cute kids, husband bringing them “spontaneous” flowers and a picture perfect life. Even churches feel loud to me: check out this guest speaker, look at our podcast downloads, have you seen our pastor’s trendy outfit?
And if I’m honest—I’ve lived a loud life at times too.
I’ve posted my own highlights, angled my camera just right, drafted captions that sound vulnerable but still make me look good. I’ve shared the wonderful things and hoped people would fill in the rest: look at her life! She’s doing so well!
But it just made me tired. Lately, I wonder if it’s really that good, why is everyone so loud about it? If we are truly secure in who we are and content—if we know we are seen and loved—why do we need to tell the world over and over again?
I’m starting to wonder if a loud life is a cover. It feels like a performance to me. Like a posture, a brand, and maybe even a defense mechanism?
Sure, sometimes it could be rooted in authentic joy but most of the time I think it’s rooted in fear. Maybe a fear that if we don’t say it out loud, no one will notice. If we don’t tell everyone how on track we are, maybe we will fall behind. If we don’t always appear to be okay, maybe we have to face that we aren’t. Our culture seems to think that being loud is success, visibility is a virtue, performance means we have peace. It’s just a lie.
Loud lives make great reels. But they don’t make a great reality.
A few weeks ago, I watched the Ruby Franke documentary on Hulu. I knew it would be dark and a part of me didn’t want to but my curiosity got the best of me. I think stories like hers fascinate us because it is an extreme version of what we all know is true.
For years, she lived one of the loudest lives on YouTube. She seemed to have a beautiful family with “Christian” values, great parenting advice, and everything seemed put together. The behind-the-scenes footage showed just how devastating the real life was behind the loud life that was captured, curated, and sharing only a tiny fraction of a story that was far from the truth. (And yes, she will be spending the majority of her real life in prison.)
Maybe it’s an extreme case, but it’s not isolated. The internet is full of smily people with dying hearts. It shows off marriages that are seen as idyllic when behind closed doors they are crumbling. My finance guy husband loves to pick apart the appearances of wealth we see online too. A hilarious example of this was a Christmas haul done by a college girl whose entire brand was built off of being viewed as wealthy. Her haul was mostly of fake designer items and the internet learned she didn’t really live the “daddy’s money” lifestyle she showed off online.
Loud doesn’t mean true.
I don’t use this word lightly, but there is something demonic about the pressure to live a loud life. The spiritual pull to promote ourselves, to climb higher, to be admired—it’s nothing new. It is as old as Eden. Satan doesn’t need us to be “evil” and living in a “big” sin. Sometimes, he just needs us to be self-absorbed. Focused on showing off how good we are so we miss out on how good God is. We stop worshipping God and we start worshipping ourselves subtly as we worship how we are viewed.
If we are busy building a platform, we can’t be tending to the ground of our soul. If we are loud, focused on what we are going to say, we don’t have time to listen. If we are well liked and admired, we don’t feel the need to live a repentant life.
And maybe this is why the words of 1 Thessalonians 4:11 keep hitting me so hard lately, “…make it your ambition to lead a quiet life, to mind your own business and to work with your hands…”
It sounds so countercultural when we are often minding everyones business by keeping tabs on acquaintances online from ten years ago and trying to tell everyone about how great our life has turned out. I think it’s rebellious to lead a truly quiet life.
It’s definitely not what algorithms reward. It’s not a great “growth” strategy. But maybe it’s okay that the truth is God’s idea of success has always been different. I can confidently say the Kingdom of God was never built on power, influence or appearances—but on faithfulness.
Personally, I don’t want to live loud anymore. A part of me used to love the external validation I got from social media. I liked people telling me I picked the best wallpaper, that my outfit was adorable, that my hair looked good, that something I wrote mattered to them, or that they love how sweet my husband and I are together. I felt less lonely when I was home all day with my baby and people were swiping up on my stories, feigning connection. Something changed for me when I started to feel like I didn’t need that anymore.
I want to live grounded, small, and rooted in what is real and right in from of me. I delight in my toddler’s giggles not because I caught them on camera but because I was there. I want to write words that matter, not because I hope they go viral, but because I find fulfillment in pursuing quiet faithfulness to God’s call on my life.
I want a quiet life—not because I’m hiding, but because a loud life often lies, and a quiet life audaciously tells the truth.
Share this post