I recently conducted a little experiment with my social media algorithm. What I observed was pretty fascinating.

Normally, my feed is a predictable mix of marathon and gym humor, scuba diving, sermons from various pastors, and a healthy dose of ’80s rock nostalgia.

But I decided to shake things up.

I started intentionally engaging with a handful of topics I wouldn’t normally pay too much attention to. Not because I was particularly interested in them, but because I wanted to see what would happen when the algorithm decided I was.

It didn’t take long to notice a change.

As new stories controversies emerged, they began showing up in my feed earlier, more frequently, and from sources I wouldn’t normally encounter. Suddenly, I was seeing the same national news stories circulating through dozens of different outlets, including regional newspapers and smaller news organizations that had never been part of my usual feed.

I’m sitting in Wichita, Kansas, wondering why a news station in New Jersey is suddenly showing up in my algorithm covering the same national controversy I’ve already encountered elsewhere.

Different outlets. Nearly identical headlines. Remarkably similar messaging.

But what really caught my attention was that each new controversy seemed to follow a familiar pattern.

A story starts circulating through a handful of news sources. Then a celebrity or politician weighs in. Their reaction gains traction, and suddenly social media influencers I’ve never heard of, much less followed, start appearing in my feed with their opinions.

Somewhere in that progression, the story begins shifting from news into ideology.

Instead of simply discussing what happened, people start using the story to reinforce what they already believe or demonstrate what’s supposedly wrong with the other side. Details supporting one interpretation get amplified, while information that might complicate the narrative receives less attention.

Fear and outrage become powerful motivators. One side sees the story as proof that its values are under attack. The other sees it as another example of everything wrong with the opposing worldview.

And here’s what troubles me: We’re often forming strong opinions about stories that aren’t even fully understood yet.

In some cases, especially when investigations or legal proceedings are involved, it can take weeks, months, or even years for the complete picture to emerge.

But the outrage doesn’t wait for the facts. Sometimes, it doesn’t even care about them. By then, defending an ideology can become more important than understanding what actually happened.

Meanwhile, the story keeps spreading.

National outlets expand their coverage. Headlines become increasingly provocative. Local newspapers join in. YouTube starts recommending reaction videos with hot takes. Before long, everyday people are sharing posts, choosing sides, and arguing in comment sections.

Then come the memes and reels, comparing the current controversy to something that happened two weeks ago or twenty years ago, usually to expose perceived hypocrisy in the opposing position. Sometimes those comparisons are legitimate. Other times, important context is missing. Either way, the outrage gets another round of fuel.

And then there’s another phase I’ve noticed. People who weren’t involved in the original controversy begin connecting it to something that happened to them years ago. Suddenly, a comment or incident involving someone they’ve never met becomes another example of how they’ve personally been wronged.

Sometimes those connections are meaningful, and people are sharing legitimate experiences. Other times, the similarities seem pretty thin, but identifying with the perceived victim becomes a way to join the conversation, gain sympathy, and attract attention.

And in a social media environment where attention has value, even victimhood can become a form of social currency.

I’ve watched variations of this cycle unfold over just a few days, sometimes even faster. And then the next one… and the next one…

Here’s what really stood out: The algorithm isn’t necessarily feeding you information that helps you understand an issue. It’s feeding you information that keeps you engaged with it.

And anger is incredibly engaging.

The more you interact with something that makes you angry, the more similar content appears. Sometimes the next version is more provocative, the interpretation more extreme. Before long, you’re surrounded by a narrative built around the emotional reaction the algorithm has learned will keep your attention.

And that engagement is worth money. More watching, clicking, commenting, and scrolling means more advertising opportunities and revenue. The business model doesn’t necessarily reward making you better informed. It rewards keeping your attention.

But what aren’t you seeing?

What details were left out? What context or opposing arguments might change your perspective?

How often are we accepting an incomplete version of a story simply because it reinforces something we already believe?

There’s another layer to this that those of us who grew up back in the 1900s, as the kids like to call it, might appreciate.

Remember when the news was mostly delivered by two anchors behind a desk, followed by sports and weather? That doesn’t mean reporting was always accurate or unbiased, but the format was different. You watched primarily to find out what happened.

Over time, panel discussions and opinion-based programming became increasingly prominent. Much of the format shifted from reporting events to personalities debating what we should think about those events.

That business model proved successful enough to expand beyond traditional news. Opinion-driven shows like The View became fixtures in entertainment, while ESPN increasingly built programming around personalities, debates, and reactions rather than simply delivering sports highlights and results.

There’s often more attention to be gained from delivering the biggest reaction than from patiently explaining the complete story.

Social media took that model and accelerated it.

I’m not suggesting every news organization is conspiring to manipulate us or that every provocative story is misleading. But we should recognize the incentives behind what we’re consuming.

We’ve created an environment where people can be told what deserves their attention, repeatedly exposed to a particular interpretation, and encouraged to react emotionally before they’ve had much opportunity to think critically.

Eventually, we start believing those conclusions are entirely our own.

Then we wonder why everyone is so angry.

We say we want less division in America, yet consuming information from a system that rewards outrage, amplifies disagreements, and turns practically anything into another reason to dislike someone we’ve never met. I’m not immune to any of this. That’s part of why I conducted the experiment.

Culture changes. Social norms change. Political movements come and go. What’s celebrated today may be condemned tomorrow. Or vice-versa. Even the things we’re told to be outraged about change by the week.

That’s another reason I put my faith in God, Jesus Christ, and the Bible rather than the constantly shifting opinions of the world.

In a world where everyone seems determined to tell us what to think, believe, and be angry about, there’s something incredibly peaceful about having a foundation that doesn’t change.

Maybe we should spend less time letting algorithms shape our convictions and more time examining where those convictions come from.

Because being constantly informed about what everyone is angry about isn’t necessarily the same thing as being informed.

Hebrews 13:8 (NIV)
“Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.”