I learned a new word yesterday. It's new to me, yes, but it is also a brand new word for our cultural lexicon---

"Nomophobia" is the persistent, compulsive fear of being out of mobile phone contact, even for a moment. It is the condition of being addicted to our cell phones and the other devices that keep us connected to email, FaceBook, Twitter, Instagram and all the rest. People who have this condition are fairly easy to spot. They always have their iPhone in their hand. They keep their charger in their pocket or purse because they are constantly afraid of a depleted battery. They check their device every few minutes for updates, even when at dinner or in conversation with other people face to face.

They sleep with their phone-- either right there on their pillow or on the table beside the bed. It is never cut off.

I am not throwing stones here, because I may be in the early stages of this disease myself. I was checking emails in the back of the convention center hall when the speaker for the morning introduced the term to us. I looked up, made a note, and then went back to my mail.

We all want to be connected with people. Our world has changed so dramatically due to this tech revolution. Having touched friends and families in distant places around the world--instantly and clearly, and at a moment's notice-- we never want to go back to the old days of "snail mail" and long stretches without hearing a word.

Balance, of course, is the answer. Moderation in all things. I need to stay in touch with folks around the world, but I must be sure to heed Jim Elliot's admonition that I mentioned Sunday. "Wherever you are-- be all there..." To be fully present in the moment and with my full attention fixed on the person or people I am with. To be listening closely to the one speaking to me. FaceBook updates can wait-- this is a non-repeatable encounter in real time that deserves my full attention.

It's like the people who are constantly taking pictures with those smart phones. They are compiling a complete record of their family vacation-- a vacation that the picture taker was never actually a real part of. Not in a single shot.

Real human contact is always best. I'm an introvert, myself, and need more private, quiet time than some others do. But I often crave this, too. To have people around me, at my table or a restaurant--catching up or maybe going deep. Sharing life and faith. Our stories-- and God's. Laughing together, or crying. Praying for sure.

Just this past week I had several times like this. I spent a morning with our former staff member, Jim Witt, and heard stories about FBCA back in the 1980's and 90's. What wonderful years, too! Later in the week I had an hour with my old pastor buddy from Danville, Bruce Wilson. And on Friday I spent the day with a younger Virginia pastor who considers me his mentor. Jonathan is on sabbatical this Summer and he came up to Alexandria to pick my brain. Let me just say that, when it was over, we were "mutually encouraged" by our time together.

At LaGuardia on Sunday afternoon I met and talked for a long time with a lovely young med student headed back to Ohio State University. Amy is from China, but her teen years were spent in the Netherlands and later Massachusetts. She is studying medicine because she wants to spend her life helping people. I told her:  "What you want to do for their bodies, I want to do for their souls". She's engaged-- so I gave her some quick (and free) premarital counseling.

Yesterday morning over breakfast I urged another OSU student, Jackie, to consider Christ and a relationship with Him. Looking her in the eye, a smile on my face, she could tell by my smile and body language that I genuinely cared.

Now, here at the Southern Baptist Convention, I am having corridor conversations with old friends that span my years of pastoral ministry. On the street Sunday night I even ran into the guy who was the youth minister of my home church when I was a teenager. At age 69, he's still pastoring! What an encouragement.

"Hey: let's be friends on FaceBook", I say. "Let's stay in touch on Twitter", I encourage. "Send me an email sometime", as we part. But it will be these moments that we spent together-- the handshakes and the hugs, the laugher and the tears-- that I will remember and that will continue to strengthen me.

I could get along without all this social media if I had to-- but I never want to lose real flesh and blood contact with people.

And if we can't be in the same room together, I'd much rather talk to you on the phone than get a text message. Old fashioned, I know.