Thick & Thin

One of the biggest mistakes we're making today is trying to have thick conversations in thin places.

"Thick" conversations—ones that require nuance, context, and shared humanity—are the kind we were made for. These are the talks you have on porches, over dinner tables, or walking side by side with an old friend. They are complex, layered, often without clear answers, and they demand empathy, history, and humility.

When I spend time in the online world, however, I find that we keep trying to wedge these thick topics and conversations into "thin" places—places like the comment thread of a viral video, or the thread of a tweet on a complex issue, or the group chat where nuance dies in a flood of hot takes.

Thin places flatten. They strip out tone. They truncate context. They reward the loudest voice, instead of the wisest one.

The problem isn't just miscommunication. It's malformation. When we live too long in thin places, we start to become thin people. Lighter in substance. Quicker to outrage. Slower to empathize or understand.

When I speak to students I challenge them to beware of anyone who tries to make complicated things sound simple. Our souls were built for depth. But depth takes time. And presence. And often a willingness to say, “I don’t know yet. Let’s talk more.”

We need thick spaces again—where patience is a virtue, where questions aren't threats, and where truth can unfold at human speed.

Ask yourself: Do I have places in my life where I can have thick conversations? Or am I trying to build a life of substance in a world made of sand?

As Andy Crouch wrote in his book, “The Life We’re Looking For:” “Technology 'wants' things that don’t benefit people—except the people who own the technology. Sure, we can now stream all the world’s music... but fewer people than ever are making music with their own hands. Technology gives access but not depth. Consumption, not creation. And in the process, we lose something essential.”

We were made to make music, not just stream it.
We were made to sit with mystery, not to quip our way out of conversation.
We were made to find joy with others in the journey of life, not to escape from intimacy behind the thin veil of a screen.

Let’s choose places—and people—where that kind of depth still matters.

A note: these ideas didn’t just come from my brain. If you want to go deeper consider Andy Crouch’s “The Life We’re Looking For” or Tressie McMillan Cottom “Thick: And Other Essays.”