As social media becomes ever more prevalent, Lisa Skinner encourages Christian parents to think twice before posting images of their children

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Source: Photo by Kampus Production on www.pexels.com

I once listened to a children’s sermon about the power of our words and the harm they can cause. To illustrate his message, the pastor used a tube of toothpaste. He squeezed all of it out onto a tray, then asked one of the children to put the toothpaste back into the tube. Naturally, they couldn’t do it—once the toothpaste is out, it can’t be put back. His point being that the same is true of our words, once spoken they can’t be taken back. In today’s digital age, it seems the same holds true for what we share online—once something is posted, it’s nearly impossible to take it back. While some platforms like Snapchat automatically delete messages after a certain time (unless saved), one has to wonder: are these records ever truly gone?

I love the promise in Isaiah 1:18: “Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red as crimson, they shall be like wool.” This a powerful image of God’s grace and our redemption. No matter how deep our guilt or how dark our past, God chooses to remember our sins no more. He will only ever look at us through the lens of Christ and we will be pure in his sight. It’s a breathtaking truth—yet one that feels almost foreign to our human understanding in the context in which we live.

I try to help my children understand that, unlike the online world, where nothing is ever truly erased—their slate is eternally wiped clean through Christ’s work on the cross

In today’s world, nearly everything we say or do is recorded, sometimes without us even realising it. Ever talked about a product and then noticed it pop up in your social media feed moments later? It’s unsettling. But perhaps more concerning is how our mistakes, missteps, and lapses in judgement, especially in our younger years, can become etched into our digital footprint, forming an online record that’s nearly impossible to wipe clean.

A number of years ago, I made an intentional choice to try to keep images of my children off the internet—hoping to delay their digital footprint until they’re older and better equipped to understand what’s wise to share with the online world. While I occasionally post a glimpse of our family adventures, it’s usually just a silhouette or back profile. A gentle way of preserving their privacy while still capturing the memory. Whenever I do share their image, it’s with their consent and only within a private group of close family and friends.

When my two eldest daughters reached their teens they negotiated for their own Instagram accounts, under agreed monitoring. While I had tried to delay this moment for as long as possible, I was also mindful of finding the right balance: protecting them from the pitfalls of the online world without isolating them from the social spaces their peers inhabit. Once their accounts were up and running, and I was checking daily, I noticed something unexpected—they hardly posted at all. It made me wonder if my caution around sharing their images had quietly shaped the way they now view their own digital presence.

the scary reality is that images and videos of individuals can now be generated that aren’t even real

Back in 2021, a gifted 16-year-old country singer named Caleb Kennedy was ousted from American Idol after an old Snapchat video surfaced online. In the brief clip, filmed when he was just 12, Caleb appeared beside someone wearing what looked like a Ku Klux Klan-style hood. His mother insisted there was no malice intended in the three-second video and that it had no connection to the Klan, despite appearances. Caleb had made it to the final five in the competition, only to see his dreams unravel overnight due to a post from when he was a child. As avid viewers of the show, we were heartbroken for him, but the incident also sparked an important conversation in our home about the lasting impact of what we share online.

In a time where we no longer print photographs to the same extent, I appreciate that our social media accounts have become our digital time capsules for preserving memories, but we also need to be aware of how those memories might be used by others. It is so important to be cautious but even at that, the scary reality is that images and videos of individuals can now be generated that aren’t even real. A recent study from tech security firm, Proton, found that criminals just need 20 images of your child to make a deep fake version of their identity.

Professor Carsten Maple from the University of Warwick and the Alan Turing Institute warned: “it’s not just images that can be used, social media posts also reveal sensitive information such as location data and key life moments, that can effectively be used to create an online profile for children long before they’re old enough to consent to it. He adds that “oversharing by parents can lead to numerous problems for the child in the future, including digital records that can be extremely difficult and painful to remove, leading to mental anguish, negative reputations and harm to others.”

 

Read more:

Helping your teen navigate Snapchat: A Christian parent’s guide to helping them flourish online

The online world: Friend or foe for Christian youth and children?

Beyond the endless scroll: Protecting your teen’s heart on TikTok

 

I often feel uneasy when I see social media influencers sharing photos, videos and personal details about their children. These days, your online following is a form of currency — and there’s often a sense that the more of ourselves we’re willing to share, the more engagement we’ll receive. I use social media myself, both professionally and personally. Ironically one of my favourite accounts, and one of the most followed, belongs to a woman who shares images of her outfits and home decor. Yet, you never see her whole face and not once have I seen her family. Maybe she is on to something? I’m not saying that I always get it right on these issues, as parents, we all make choices we believe are in our best interests of our children, but I can’t help but wonder if, years from now, we might look back and ask ourselves: Did I overshare? Did I disclose something that wasn’t truly mine to share? Was it to the detriment of my kids and their online identity? Perhaps only time will tell.

There’s no question, we need to be praying for wisdom as we navigate the digital world alongside our children and young people. For now, in the “real world” as I wrestle with all this, I cling to the truth of Isaiah 1:18 and try to help my children understand that, unlike the online world, where nothing is ever truly erased—their slate is eternally wiped clean through Christ’s work on the cross. Their identity isn’t defined by likes, comments, or digital footprints, but by the grace and love of a God who redeems. And in the end, that’s what matters most.