Response Driven

I find myself contemplating the need to extricate myself from social networking, from facebook and twitter and tumblr, though each for different specific reasons, all for a general concept.
I am made by and defined by and live in Christ. But when I feel needy or miserable or excited or frustrated or sad it is as if it isn't enough to simply share it with Him; I additionally take it to the wide wide world of the internet for validation. As someone who acknowledges and accepts that she is in large part an external processor, this didn't use to bother me (this concept that I feel the need to share an experience, thought, or moment with someone else in order for it to matter/be real/actually have happened.) There's something very relational about this and relationships are what matter to me. And God has built us to be that way, in community with one another, sharing our hopes and fear and joys and distresses with one another. I think the hitch is that living in and sharing with community is different than flinging our cares abroad.
And that is what the internet is: an opportunity for us to fling our thoughts and feelings abroad, letting them drift down to be received or fall between the cracks. (As I write this I continuously consider whether it ought to belong in a journal rather than a blog.) But when we fling them, we have a small (or rather large) piece of us inside that simply sits and waits to be responded to. We wait for a mass of people each wandering in their own worlds, having their own revelations, their own struggles, their own late night heartbreaks and hurts, to suddenly cast their gaze upon ours and respond with the depth of a true friend. We pretend it isn't so, that we write for ourselves, share for the joy of others knowing, but we--I--must acknowledge that we are seeking to be responded to. We are seeking a voice that calls out and says "Yes! You are worth my time and effort!"
But He has already said that.
He has already said that in the loudest voice possible, a voice that shook the earth, eclipsed the sun, and tore the veil. With the agony of His death, Jesus reached out to like every status and reblog every post and reply to every tweet and, ultimately, cry out against their necessity. That may sound blasphemous, or at least ridiculous, to account the Christ's blood as a social media click, but He is in and has accounted for even the tiniest things. And this is how we think now, in these media messages.
I want the blood of the Lamb to wipe out all of those messages.
I want my God to be the only server I turn to when I need to shout my joy, anguish, pleasure, or distress. Not simply the first, but the only. He and His angels, his servants here on this earth, who he has blessed me with. These women, and a few men, have changed my life into a life I can envision standing before the king, casting off the cares of this world, and dancing with abandon, rather than bowed heavy with the weight of shame and sorrow and apology.
Oughtn't we to cast off the things that make us ache for a validation outside of the glory of the King?
We house the fullness of God, who is the creator of the universe, our bridegroom, brother, and father, who is the judge of all good and evil in the world, the mighty healer, the compassionate and wrathful warrior, and the most merciful existence. And He loves. Me. Specifically. and YOU, specifically.
He loves me.
What is a facebook status like in comparison with that?