optimisation? less of that.

Published on 08.10.2024

Picture this: you're in a classroom, and I, as the teacher, say; "Put your hand up if you can't resist a good deal." Is your hand up? I'll out myself right away and admit that I love a good deal. In fact, I'm the kind of guy who'd pull up historical pricing charts (thanks, idealo!) and waits until the price of an item falls to an all-time-low. Now, some of you reading aren’t spendthrifts and so might not be able to relate; more power to you. I would bet my last pound sterling (let's stick with the British theme, why not?), however, that you look for good deals in other forms. You’ll haggle at the car dealership, at the meat market, when negotiating what to give up in exchange for a much-needed favour, when looking for a girl/boyfriend, when praying to God; it could be in just about anything. Why can I stand on this point confidently? Well, in all the families of origin I—as a twenty-something male—have ever observed, education includes the following principle: maximising the return on your investment. It’s a basic tenet that holds fast, spatiotemporal demarcations be stuffed.

Now, I’d like to go ahead and caveat my point by saying that there’s wisdom in seeking increased output for a given input; I am in no way seeking to rubbish this line of thinking. I'd say that actively shunning higher returns can be detrimental, in some cases. Just look at the servants in the parable of the talents (Matthew 25:14-30). However, as the Teacher in Ecclesiastes would say, there is a time for everything under the sun (Ecclesiastes 3:1). Unfortunately, we appear to have an unhealthy tendency to disregard the conditions and demands of the various contexts we find ourselves in, preferring to optimise at every turn.

So, when does this inclination to find the best deal become problematic? I’d like to give two markers that may be helpful to form some kind of reference frame: compromised decision-making ability and disbelieving God.

Gripped by indecision

Take the example of seeking out someone to establish a romantic relationship with. Allegedly, many homo sapiens having lived through anywhere between 18 and 35 complete revolutions of this God-wrought space rock around the cosmic object commonly referred to as the Sun show some level of interest in this endeavour. I have zero experience here, so if you, dear reader, find yourself in that demographical dragnet, perhaps you’re better positioned to comment on how true this allegation is. No matter. What I gather is that seeking a potential girl/boyfriend is an odyssey rivaling that described in Homer’s Odyssey. I mean, the Greeks thought Odysseus was a legendary hero but they obviously could not have imagined what heroes would stalk the streets of modern civilisation. We have veritable war veterans among us, I tell you, having fought on the battlefields of the dating market, their innards scarred by heartbreak and betrayed loyalties. This quest is so treacherous, with so many opportunities for veritable catastrophe, that it really looks like everyone has deemed waiting it out is the wiser tactic, in hopes that things will somehow work themselves out and the right person will come along. As some say, "what's yours will find you"; opposite poles of a couple magnets have nothing on us. So we wallow in indecision, desperately trying to avoid the cardinal sin that is "settling", seeking out the perfect, most optimal conditions to take the plunge. Yes, in very many cases, people wait not out of intention, but out of indecision. Take a look at what Kevin DeYoung has to say about this general attitude:

[Our] search for the will of God has become an accomplice in the postponement of growing up, a convenient out for the young (or old) Christian floating through life without direction or purpose. Too many of us have passed off our instability, inconsistency, and endless self-exploration as "looking for God's will," as if not making up our minds and meandering through life were marks of spiritual sensitivity. As a result, we are full of passivity and empty on follow-through. We're tinkering around with everyone and everything. Instead, when it comes to our future, we should take some responsibility, make a decision, and just do something.

It's no secret that this is a recipe for a miserable life, whichever way you look at it. Christians and non-Christians alike will agree that a life of no commitment is a life of misery. Yet, somehow, we reckon God approves our unwillingness to commit. What do you call the dogged mistrust of God's design? Hint: the answer is staring at from the next line.

Unbelief

Ah, unbelief. It's another marker that points to hazardous levels of optimisation. In Isaiah 30, the Lord says the following:

"Woe to the rebellious children who take counsel, but not of Me, and who devise plans, but not of My Spirit, that they may add sin to sin;".

Too often we plot a course of action, wholly reliant on dreadfully unreliable minds. Despite the evidently spotty track record we have as humans operating with limited information and even more limited understanding, the common choice is still to weigh inputs from our physical senses and apply reasoning. Ironically, it is likely because we've been burned in the past that we try to limit further heartache by being extra careful, treading as cautiously as we can with our eyes and ears wide open, triply examining all available information to ensure we're on the right track. Unfortunately, that is almost never enough. The Bible presents us with roughly 2 millennia of human efforts to obey and keep God's law. The entire narrative could be classified as a tragedy, especially when you consider the most elite law-keepers, the Pharisees, wind up crucifying God in the name of God. Make that make sense. Optimisation that involves disbelieving God's word is simply self-sabotage in disguise. Yet, this is our preferred path. Not convinced yet? Well, check this out. In Matthew 6, Jesus shares the Father's heart on caring for His children. To believe the words of Jesus would be to seek God's kingdom above all else, which often looks like obedience and diligence in our current context. To disbelieve, in the interests of optimising in the face of a tough economy for example, would be to hustle incessantly, taking on a plethora of gigs and choosing to knock quality time with God off the ladder of priorities. Which one is more familiar to you?

*exhales* Selah.

Lot, an optimiser extraordinaire

If you know anything about Abraham (né Abram), you may have heard of his nephew, Lot. I find Lot to be quite an interesting character. His granddad Terah leaves Ur, packing his belongings to head to Canaan. Abraham, Sarah and Lot go with him. For an unknown reason, on his way Terah settles in Haran with his family and lives there until his death. Intriguing. Abraham picks up the thread when God appears to him, and eventually ends up in Canaan with his wife and nephew. In Genesis 13, we see how Lot is given the opportunity—as a result of conflict between his shepherds and Abraham's—to choose which part of the land he'd like to settle in, and he chooses the plains of the Jordan. The Bible likens these plains to the "garden of the Lord". Our man Lot must've thought he hit the jackpot; surely things couldn't get more optimal than this. This choice, however, ultimately brings Lot much pain and suffering. His life takes a nosedive from here. I gather that he learned nothing from his grandfather's journey, and repeats the same mistake of doing what seemed right in his own eyes, forgoing the leading of God that, heretofore, had brought him blessing and goodness. I mean, didn't he know why Abraham left Haran? Didn't he know that God was the one leading his uncle? Didn't he know about the promise? Yet, why did he not believe and choose to stick with his uncle, understanding that Abraham's blessing would be his blessing too? Could he not have given up his possessions to his uncle, accepting to stay by his side and help manage his property? If separation were absolutely necessary, could Lot not have honoured his uncle by asking that he choose first?

Ruth, the woman who chose God

In startling contrast to Lot's optimising proclivities, we have a Moabite woman who seemingly throws away her life in a decision to stay loyal and true. Called Ruth, she marries into a Israelite immigrant family in Moab, only to be beset by tragedy. She loses her husband, her brother-in-law and her father-in-law. Losing the male in-laws in such a short span of time very quickly made her situation rather precarious. It meant losing protection, losing provision and prestige. Yet, this bereaved young woman quashes her personal fears and decides she won't abandon her mother-in-law, in this stunning confession that reveals her character and faith:

Entreat me not to leave you, or to turn back from following after you; for wherever you go, I will go; and wherever you lodge, I will lodge; your people shall be my people, and your God, my God. Where you die, I will die, and there will I be buried. The Lord do so to me, and more also, if anything but death parts you and me.

It's astonishing; this woman refuses to return to her home and family of origin, instead choosing to follow her mother-in-law to Israel. She puts herself, her fears, her plans and her future aside to serve this older woman. She seals her commitment by invoking God as judge and witness over her pledge. Here is a woman who is willing to lose her life to stay loyal and true to one who has cared for her. In a striking departure from Lot's posture, she resists the desire to seek out her own gain, accepting to honour her commitment to the family she married into, beyond the call of duty (for indeed, her mother-in-law had given her express permission to leave). Ruth looked full in the face of optimisation and stuck out her tongue in contempt.

The wrap

Ultimately, this is what much of our walk with Christ is about: how willing are we to lay down our lives, our interests, our plans, our fears of the unknown and wholly resist the desire to optimise? Are we like Lot? Saul? Achan? Or do we follow Ruth's example? Mary's? The Christ's? It's up to us, that much I know. The pull to optimise is really the pull towards self-preservation, fueled by a deep-seated belief that we we walk alone under these vast skies, with no one taking our interests to heart. As such, the pull to incessantly optimise is a pull to believe a lie. Not just any lie, but the dark lie that God doesn't really love us, or that He can't really care for us, or that He isn't really honest with His word. Whichever way you cut it, it's simply untrue.

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