And Then What?

Alan Jacobs once asked a simple but piercing question: And then what?

He was writing about technology — about the ways we try to move faster, consume more, optimize everything.

We listen to podcasts at 2x speed to fit more into the commute.
We skim books and call it reading.
We let AI draft our emails, write our essays, summarize our thoughts.
We swipe, scroll, and binge — and then what?

What do we really gain from all this optimization?
Do we become wiser? Kinder? More human?

Or are we just numbing ourselves, stacking more information into already-crowded minds, while our hearts remain restless and unchanged?

The World on Fire

It’s not just technology. The same question echoes in the way we consume culture, politics, and tragedy.

Another school shooting hits the headlines.
Another stabbing.
Another hate crime.
Another round of shouting matches on cable news and social media.

We deport children and their parents to faraway places.
We allow leaders to speak violent words with no consequence.
We think if we just get our people in office, we’ll be okay — finally, utopia will arrive.

But history is clear: even when we get “our people” in power, there is always the next fight, the next scandal, the next thing that will surely fix it all.

And then what?

The Doom Loop

There’s a term psychologists use: “doom-loop thinking.”

It’s when we stay stuck in a cycle of consuming pain, anger, and outrage, with no resolution. It gives us a false sense of control — like we’re doing something by paying attention — but it leaves us more anxious, more divided, more exhausted.

Doom-scrolling is the perfect example. We start with one story, then another, and another, until we’ve filled our minds with the worst the world has to offer. We set the phone down, sigh, and then… pick it right back up again.

And then what?

The ancient writer of Ecclesiastes said, “There is nothing new under the sun.” He was right. Humanity has always raged, always fought, always tried to control the world — and failed.

We will never legislate, innovate, or medicate ourselves into utopia.

The Turning Point

But maybe Jacobs’ question — and then what? — is more than a lament.

Maybe it’s an invitation.

What if we turned the question inward?

• I’ve spent two hours yelling at strangers online — and then what?

• I’ve ghosted my brother because we voted differently — and then what?

• I’ve fed myself an endless buffet of fear — and then what?

This question doesn’t just expose the futility of our actions — it opens a door.

Because we can choose a different path.

A Better Way

The teachings of Jesus invite us into a radical alternative:

“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.”
— Matthew 5:9

• What if, instead of adding more noise, we became the quiet presence of peace?

• What if we turned off the screen and went for a walk with a friend?

• What if we asked a question instead of shouting an opinion?

• What if we prayed instead of posted?

• What if we practiced hope in a world addicted to outrage?

This isn’t passive or naïve — it’s deeply subversive. It is choosing to resist the culture of rage by embodying a kingdom of grace.

Choosing What Matters

I don’t know all the answers. But I know this: we only get so many years on this earth.

Do we really want to spend them in a constant war we cannot win?
Do we want our legacy to be division, bitterness, and the endless fight for the lesser evil?

Or do we want to leave behind a life marked by reconciliation, generosity, and joy?

The Final “And Then What?”

One day, everyone of us will breathe our last. We’ll stand before the God who made us. And we will face the ultimate “and then what?”

On that day, the shouting matches will fade. The political wins and losses won’t matter. The arguments we clung to will seem small and sad.

What will remain is love.

So maybe the question isn’t just “and then what?” — but “what matters now?”

• What can I do, today, to plant seeds of peace instead of anger?

• What can I create that brings light, not darkness?

• Who can I forgive?

• Who can I love?

And maybe — just maybe — if enough of us ask that question and live it out, we’ll stop screaming at the moon and start shining like stars.

-Ryan