So, what’s your New Year’s resolution this year? I have a few. Problem is, I haven’t checked off my list from last year. One thing I’d like to do is learn to say “no” more often; learn to be OK with boredom once in a while. Tall task, I know; especially since we have kids whose schedules run us rampant.

Another resolution: to be OK with being disconnected; to not feel the need to answer my email every time my iPhone buzzes. I’m starting to realize what a double-edged sword technology is, and I wonder if, in the midst of our quest for the latest technology, we’re losing our very sense of selves in the meantime. It seems perhaps we’ve taken a bite out of the wrong apple … again. Funny how the Apple icon on my phone has a bite missing. Coincidence?

I was blessed this Christmas to spend lots of time with family and friends. We ate out a lot. Know what I noticed? Other people eating out, ignoring the person sitting next to them because they were too busy staring at their phones. The last sporting event I attended was no different. People couldn’t keep their eyes on the game because they were “compelled” to check their emails.

I’m certain there are times I fall into this trap. But I’m reminded that in our efforts to become more “connected,” we’ve actually become less so. Less connected with our loved ones … and I’m certain, less connected with God.

The same thing happens with our kids’ activities. How busy do we need to keep them in order to satisfy our craving for their success? And what do we lose in the meantime? I think sometimes in our efforts toward scholarship, to prepare our kids for the end of the journey, we miss out on the journey itself.

Part of the problem is boredom, and the problem we humans have with it. Is being alone with ourselves — or with God — really that scary? Are we afraid that in our silence we might be forced to face the bitter upshots of our failings? If so, here’s something to remember. There are two types of people: those who fail, and those who pretend they don’t. I go to Catholic confession regularly because I need it. The frustrating thing is that I seem to confess the same failings every time. Know what my wise spiritual advisor once told me? “Welcome to the human race.”

Henry David Thoreau once wrote: “Silence is the universal refuge, the sequel to all dull discourse and all foolish acts, a balm to our every chagrin.” And Mother Teresa once said: “We need to find God. He cannot be found in noise and restlessness. God is the friend of silence.”

The good news about being alone with God is that we needn’t be afraid. And we’re afraid because we project the love we’ve known — or not known — in our human relationships, onto Him. It’s not the same. When we take the time to be silent with God, we can rest assured that His voice isn’t the one that says, “I love you a little. But if you were a better person, I’d love you more.” That isn’t love. And that certainly isn’t a way to build relationship … with God or with others.

There’s an old German proverb that reads, “Silence is a fence built around wisdom.” I think we could just as easily say it’s built around peace. My prayer life isn’t what I’d like it to be. I just never seem to have the time. But I think when we are courageous enough to unplug, we can then learn to be humble enough to face our faults in the face of a God whose patience with us is far more than we have for ourselves.

Slowing down, being quiet, affords us the opportunity to build relationships rather than legends, humility rather than deceit, and mercy rather than blame. At the heart of that examination of conscience is the realization that we are in constant need of God’s grace to grow. Nor is it an exercise in self-abasement.

There is so much in life that has a dual purpose if we have the wherewithal to keep from being deceived. Money, entertainment and social media — it can all be good if filtered by the right moral compass. But we need to slow down a little, to turn off the media once in a while. That’s the only way we’ll find a compass that works.

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Paul Stuligross teaches theology at Livonia Ladywood High School and is a former police officer.