(RNS) Nine years ago, I was standing beside a hotel television in Maryland when I saw the second plane hit the World Trade Center.

I had no idea what was happening. But I knew I needed to figure it out.

As colleagues and I drove home to North Carolina, we listened to National Public Radio the entire way. What an extraordinary journalistic service they provided that day.

I knew my 10-year-old son was about to play soccer on a field surrounded by trees. Could there be danger lurking in those trees? Probably not, but I needed to get home to my family.

I didn’t seek a Walter Cronkite to summarize and shape events. NPR was providing raw material, and so did the next day’s newspapers. It was up me to make sense of these events.

Some switch had turned. Without my knowing it, I entered a new day of information processing. Television anchors still did their solemn thing. So did columnists and editorial writers. But a baton had passed.

I no longer expected an authoritative voice to have the final word. This was my family and my nation, and I couldn’t cede to anyone the duty of figuring it out. I was on my own. And that, I have decided, is a good place to be.

It’s often confusing, as waterfalls of information pour over us 24/7, much of it spin and nonsense. It is hard work to sift and sort our way through such a massive news flow. In the end, however, I think it makes us better citizens and less bewildered persons as we learn to take responsibility for comprehending the news.

I saw it happen again last week as an anti-Islamic bigot in Florida suddenly burst into the world’s consciousness by threatening to burn Qurans.

I read countless newspaper articles and Facebook and Twitter news feeds. Some writers clearly wanted to claim Cronkite’s mantle of authority. Some politicians wanted to have the final word.

But this was democracy in action. Every voice mattered, and every citizen was required to process the flow as it occurred.

Many found that requirement disturbing. They wanted an Uncle Walter. Many piled on “the media” for forcing them to witness such events. How could the media be so easily duped, they asked. And by such a pathetic little man with poor credentials and a sorry mustache.

Welcome to the new information age, America. You don’t get to choose your car wrecks. Feeling superior to the villain doesn’t make him go away. Wishing news providers were more discriminating doesn’t stop the news flow.

Every villain has direct access to the public. So does every good guy. So do the tweeting politicians we wish would vanish, the makers of videos that go viral, churches that spring up out of nowhere, ideas that inexplicably draw attention, and fears and angers that you didn’t know existed. We are all raw material in a 24/7 news feed.

We can loathe this new media age, but that won’t make it go away. Better, I think, for us to deal with it, to stand under the downpour of information, to develop skills at sifting and sorting. We must learn to sniff out the charlatans, emulate the veteran reporter’s skepticism about “official” statements, and ask of every source: Why are they saying this? Can they be trusted?

We can let certainty providers like nascent demagogues think for us, or we can grapple with the raw material and — imagine this — think for ourselves.

(Tom Ehrich is a writer, church consultant and Episcopal priest based in New York. He is the author of “Just Wondering, Jesus” and founder of the Church Wellness Project. His website is www.morningwalkmedia.com. Follow Tom on Twitter (at)tomehrich.)