We’re continuing in Psalm 135, which calls God’s people to praise him for his goodness, for he is far greater than the idols we make for ourselves. God is greater because he provides for his people and he rescues his people. Today, we look at the predicament of those who continue to trust in idols they created for themselves rather than the one who created them.

The consequences of idolatry

But what about those who aren’t God’s people? Who don’t renounce idols and worship the one true God—what happens?

God’s judgement on idolatry is simply the natural consequences of rejecting the only God who holds any power and instead, choosing powerless gods you made for yourselves. This is how the psalm puts it:

135:15-17 The idols of the nations are silver and gold,
made by human hands.
They have mouths, but cannot speak,
eyes, but cannot see.
They have ears, but cannot hear,
nor is there breath in their mouths.

The judgement on trusting in idols is… well, you’re left trusting in idols. Things you made for yourself. Things fashioned in such a way that they promise much, but don’t deliver.

There are mouths, yes!—but they don’t say anything. There are eyes—but they don’t see anything. There are ears—but they can’t hear you. They have no life.

135:18 Those who make them will be like them,
and so will all who trust in them.

As God famously said to Isaiah when sending him with a message to God’s people, who had chosen to trust in blind, deaf, and mute idols:

Isa 6:9-10 (ESV) And he said, “Go, and say to this people:
“‘Keep on hearing, but do not understand;
keep on seeing, but do not perceive.’
Make the heart of this people dull,
and their ears heavy, and blind their eyes;
lest they see with their eyes, and hear with their ears,
and understand with their hearts, and turn and be healed.”

Those who choose blind and deaf idols will end up just like them: blind and deaf to the saving message of God. Ever-hearing, but never understanding; ever-seeing, but never perceiving. (It’s a warning Jesus repeated to God’s people in his own day, in Mark 4:10-12.)

Those who make idols will be like them. We become like what we worship, enslaved to the work of our own hands.

We become like what we worship

So what does that look like, in relation to some of our contemporary idols? How does it play out, specifically? Let’s focus on just a couple, looking at how they promise much—but end up conforming us to their image; they end up enslaving us.

The idol of property

Firstly, let’s look at the great Australian idol of property: owning the family home and the sense of security it brings.

It starts out as a good thing. Something that serves us. It provides for one of our most basic needs: shelter. And owning it gives us security after we stop working. There’s nothing wrong with that.

But when it becomes the focus of our security—the thing in which we place the most trust—it can get out of balance. A bigger house gives us more security. A better location provides access to a better school for our kids. We undertake extensions and renovations, so that house starts to become a status symbol. And these days, we have a whole society competing for a limited resource, just bidding up the price for everyone, making it almost impossible to opt out of the arms race in our cities.

So at some point, instead of our house serving us, we end up serving it: working harder and harder to afford the ever-increasing repayments; prioritising work over self-care, over time with our family, and over time with our Creator. We become enslaved to its appearance—cleaning, maintaining, redecorating. So busy working that we’re less likely to invite people over—not when the house is in that state and I haven’t had time to clean it…!

And we end up having no life. Just like the lifeless pile of bricks we’ve made for ourselves; the lifeless idols in the Psalm.

A good thing becomes our master. A gift from God becomes our source of trust, rather than the one who gave it. And it can still all be wiped out in an instant.

The idolatry of seeking security in owning stuff—it’s its own punishment. Because it doesn’t deliver on its promise. It stifles the life out of us. And we become enslaved by what we thought would set us free.

The idol of our own image

Or perhaps more for those who are younger, who can only dream of affording the deposit for that kind of idol. What about the online world, and the connectedness it promises? Social media, the cure for loneliness and boredom: how has that played out?

It started out serving us, helping us locate old friends, if you remember the early days of Facebook. We could keep up with people’s lives. It alleviated loneliness for those unable to get out much, or too busy to socialise in person.

It became an alternative to the anxiety of in-person interaction. A text message is more efficient than a real-time conversation. And it’s safer—we can think about what we say before sending it.

It’s also allowed us to share the highlights of our lives with our friends… and  random strangers, giving us the attention or esteem or confidence we lack in the currency of likes and comments. Little dopamine hits that our brain becomes addicted to.

It has connected us with everything and everyone in the world, meaning we never need to be alone with our thoughts. We never need to be bored: just scroll to something new and we get another one of those sweet dopamine hits while we’re waiting for the train, or sitting on the loo, or pretending to listen to our spouse.

Little by little, we end up serving it. We end up being changed by it.

Bombarded with messages, it becomes our primary form of communication. We still feel lonely for human contact, but we’re too fatigued from scrolling too late each night to catch up more with people in person. We don’t build resilience from pushing through times of social anxiety, so we withdraw more into the online space. But anxiety still increases as we overthink our text responses.

We forget how to kill time without an external source of stimulation. So we stop having meaningful thoughts, reflecting on what’s truly important.

Our holidays start to be viewed in narrow, 9 by 16 portrait mode. The real experiences we have are merely fuel for the reel, as the online record starts to become the reality. 

And we feel the pressure to curate our online persona so that it looks more like the ones that that have more followers than we do. It becomes less real; less connected with our true self.

Then we feel the pressure to airbrush our in-person appearance to match the filter; to match the aesthetic we’ve chosen. With workouts and filler and all the programmes and products these platforms sell us so we can live up to our online image we’ve made for ourselves—all so we can become more like what we’ve created.

Our life ends up in service of our avatar rather than the other way round. The image-bearer becomes a slave to its own self-made image. And, oh yes, that’s the definition of idolatry right there. These days we just do it in pixels and datasets rather than silver and gold.

Those who make idols will be like them. Enslaved by them. We become what we worship.

To think about

We’ll talk about the antidote to all of this tomorrow. But for now, think about whatever idol is the main rival to God in your own life—perhaps a good thing that has become your master. Think through how it started off serving you, and what happened that has turned—or threatens to turn—the tables.