When I put a new vegetable in front of my four-year-old, his eyes narrow, his brow furrows, he leans slowly closer to his plate, and, before tasting it, he predictably says, “I don’t like this.” This neophobia—the fear of the new—seems contextually inborn.

When I tell my four-year-old, “We are going to watch a new movie,” his eyes widen, his arms raise, a spontaneous interpretive dance ensues, and, after I tell him what the movie is, before he’s seen it, he predictably says, “I like this movie.” Neophilia—the love of the new—seems contextually inborn.

My hunch is that in the first half of your life, there is a natural neophilia for technology, and in the second half of your life, there is a learned neophobia for technology. Is that neophilia youthful folly or openness, a sense of possibility, and belief in the ingenuity of the imago dei? Is that neophobia sober wisdom or cynicism, the accumulation of disappointment from the over-promise-under-deliver marketing gurus?

When we turn to the Scriptures, we see neither neophobia nor neophilia endorsed. Rather, within the first few chapters of Genesis, we see a wise formula for how we ought to engage technology as Christians and parents: open, but cautious.

Skirts for Shame

In Genesis 3, after breaking the one commandment that God had given them, Adam and Eve are in crisis-management mode. In a sense, they default back to their good and proper design: they make something.

God had previously assigned them the task of unfolding the latent goodness of creation. The exact words in Genesis 1:27 are “subdue” and “dominion,” which, to the Hebrew mind, conjure up images of kneading bread, plowing fields, or crushing grapes: it is creative force.

Adam and Eve, feeling ashamed, then use the ability God gave them and “sewed fig leaves together and made themselves loincloths” and hid from God (Genesis 3:7-8). They are doing the work God had called them initially to do, but in a misdirected way.

Both the process of sewing and the result of sewing are good technologies; hiding from God is a disordered use of technology. Theologian Al Wolters gives us the categories of Structure and Direction to make sense of this recurring reality. The structures or processes of creation remain good—Adam and Eve can still do the work of subduing and dominion—but the direction or goals can be disordered and contrary to God’s desires.

Rather than creating in such a way that fosters a relationship with God, they use what they make to create distance between themselves and their Maker.

Farming for Fratricide

In Genesis 4, Cain kills Abel. How? Genesis doesn’t say, but the non-canonical book of Jasher says that he used “the iron part of his plowing instrument.” This is likely what Joel is referring to when he says, “beat your plowshares into swords.”

Humanity had developed the good technology of mining, blacksmithing, and plowing. They were walking in faithfulness to the command to “have dominion over all the earth” (Genesis 1:26) and fulfilling their call to “work the ground” (Genesis 2:5).

Yet, while this tech was originally developed for good purposes, the human heart found a way to twist it and use it for violence. Instead of only getting more efficient at farming, humanity also got more efficient at bludgeoning; the original design of the plowshare to support and extend human life is inverted and becomes a means of ending human life.

Dominion for Debauchery

In Genesis 9, Noah gets off the ark and gets busy living into the responsibility of mankind to work the ground. He becomes a “man of the soil” and “plants a vineyard” (Genesis 9:20). This is good. Wine, winepresses, wineglasses, wine barrels, and viticulture are all technology—the creatures are creating as was designed.

Turning the field into a vineyard doesn’t end well, though. The good structures are used for disordered ends. Noah drinks to the point of being drunk and then embarrasses himself and his family in such a way that there are generational consequences (Genesis 9:21-29).

The wine that was meant to “gladden the heart of man” (Psalm 104:15) instead brings sorrow, shame, and servitude. Noah was too open and not cautious enough to the thrills of technology.

Bricks for Babel

In Genesis 11, humanity uncovers new technology that can be used in construction: baked bricks and bitumen. Even after the fall, humans continue to walk in the image of the creator God and can’t-stop-won’t-stop innovating and developing.

Yet, instead of leaning into the image of God and letting their creativity be a conduit of fame and reverence for the Almighty Creator, they use it as a chance to “make a name” for themselves. Rather than letting this new technology propel them outward and fill the earth with the imago dei, they decide to build a tower “lest we be dispersed across the face of the earth” (Genesis 11:4); the tech produces glory-stealing and sloth.

The result of the story gives the story its name: Babel. The civilization organized around a shared affinity for self-glory and resistance to the LORD’s commission ends up unable to communicate within itself; the first echo chambers are established, and the once-unified community breaks into tribes.

Craftsmanship for Crucifixion

In the New Testament, the tree, the great symbol of life with God (cf. Psalm 1), becomes the instrument of torturous death: the wooden cross, a piece of technology designed to embarrass, torture, and kill. The inventors have become “inventors of evil” (Romans 1:30).

Consider the variety of technological means employed in the murder of the Son of God. He is flogged using a special whip made of leather, bone, and lead. He is crowned and clothed in thorns and wool twisted together, woven, and dyed. Iron was mined and formed into hammers and nails for crucifixion. Then, a sign was commissioned to shame him, a sponge harvested and put in his face to extend his suffering, and a spear was used to verify the death.

The carpenter is killed by a work of carpentry. The Creator is murdered creatively by His creation’s creations.

Regulate, Don’t Abdicate

People do not plan on becoming alcoholics, yet many find themselves there. They were too open and not cautious enough. The same is true for technology; our neophilia often gets the best of us.

The temptations of technology are the same that the serpent dangled in Eden: you can be like God. Delusions of omnipotence, omnipresence, and omniscience pour gasoline on our bullish neophilia.

As the serpent has dominion over Adam and Eve in the garden, so also our technology tends to have dominion over us; most adults I know, myself included, carry some level of shame regarding how they feel they are on their phones too much. The Artificial Intelligence revolution is not going to slow down our algorithmic overlords.

I think we need to relate to our technology like we relate to donuts. If I let my four-year-old eat as many donuts as he wants, he’ll get sick, be grouchy, and, at a certain point, his development will be impaired; refined sugars are addictive by nature. Even for adults, too many donuts too often could inflame our gut, harm our sleep, and contribute to premature death in a dozen ways. At the same time, it’s hard to beat a donut with your son on a Saturday morning.

I think we need to parent our kids around technology like we parent them around donuts. The mental health epidemic teens face is inseparable from the ubiquity of screen time, unfiltered internet access, and premature consumption of addictive and adult content. At the same time, it’s hard to beat FaceTiming your aunt who lives on another continent.

Too often, as adults, we trust Big Tech to act in our best interests, presuming that they’d choose to limit their profits in the name of “do no harm.” That is a poor assumption, and it amounts to abdication. Not engaging in self-harming behavior is our responsibility.

Likewise, as parents, we are tempted to hand our children iPads and iPhones and let the algorithm work its magic, hoping we can enjoy uninterrupted evenings or a Saturday on the couch. This is like handing a four-year-old a box of donuts and saying, “Stop eating whenever you want.” Not only is it selfish, at a certain point it is neglect and abdication.

We must be regulators and not abdicators. Set the limits, hold the lines, and put our creations in their rightful places. Adam and Eve weren’t able to say, “Get behind me Satan,” but Jesus was. The technological society won’t place proper limits on itself; one inch at a time, the people of God must walk in authority over our devices specifically and our technology generally.

We already understand that other technologies need to be purposefully limited. Nobody, Christian and non-Christian alike, thinks it’s wise to eat donuts all day every day or drink alcohol all day every day (yes, donuts and alcohol are both technically technology); we’d label that as “having a problem.” Do we apply that same standard to our digital technologies?

No—like many in our society, unfortunately, cannot imagine what having fun looks like without alcohol, the next generation increasingly cannot imagine what life might look like with proper boundaries on digital tech. Programs like AA exist for those who need help walking in dominion over alcohol, and programs like Bark, Screen Time, and Covenant Eyes exist for those who need help walking in dominion over their tech.

Alcoholism is a specific type of technological addiction, and society quickly needs to come to grips with another type of technological addiction that will prove to be equally self-destructive.

Open but cautious isn’t merely wisdom, it’s congruent with the story of reality given to us by God in the Scriptures.