January or Bust: The Hidden Values Within Our Goal-Oriented Mindsets

For many of us, January offers a fresh start. It’s a month to plan, set personal goals, improve our habits, or take up that new 10-step program. One of my colleague’s goals is to “optimize sleep” this year, while another is taking on a 52-book challenge. Whether you’re the type of person who delves head long into setting goals, or prefers to avoid it, the “rationally ordered methods for making human activity more efficient” (a concept dubbed “Technique”), is so pervasive in our culture that it affects each of us personally, often in ways that we don’t realize. 

Jacques Ellul was a 20th century French philosopher and theologian who wrote extensively on “technique.” Ellul pointed out that while technique’s rigor, applied to science and engineering, made possible the rapid advancement of technology, it has also permeated and shaped our society: our culture, education, how we make friends, how we think about ourselves, and how we measure our success or even our life’s meaning. Consider our daily checklists and routines, productivity apps, social media, 5-steps programs, life-hacking, algorithms that search for the perfect partner, the corporate latter, or annual goal setting - these technical methods offer efficient, linear, and easier shortcuts to living.  

Take a moment to think about the analogies we use to describe ourselves. How often do you think, “I need to unplug”, “recharge”, or “reboot.” It’s “nose to the grindstone” again. “I wish I could slow down”, “get into a routine”, and “increase my bandwidth?” We are using technological metaphors to describe ourselves. Yet, in this thoughtful podcast I came across, two professors point out that Jesus described people using natural metaphors, such as sheep, flowers, seeds, branches, and sparrows, with two notable exceptions that were meant to reprove the religious elite of their technique-encumbered practices [1]. What's more, Jesus and his father were professional carpenters who quite literally would have used the grindstone to sharpen their tools on a regular basis. The Greek word used to describe Jesus’ profession is “tekton”, a craftsman, which is related to our word for technologist [2]. He was a maker, surely employing various techniques to shape the world around him to create technology. Jesus employed technique, but it is not how he described himself.

I humbly admit that I tend to view myself as a machine. I am the recipient of inputs that are external to me, and which I often wish I had more control over: be it my diet, calendar, exercise, a clean house, or the vast resources and information available to me. Then there is me, the (hopefully) well-oiled machine, whose job is to make something meaningful - to achieve the goals set before me. The more efficient I am at managing the inputs, the more productive my output. Like dominoes, it's a matter of arranging all the pieces and setting them into motion.   

 

 

This realization challenged me. What am I saying about myself when I use tech-centered metaphors? How do I embrace a more human, more natural, and, for the Christians in the crowd, a more biblical approach to setting measurable goals? How do we employ technique, rather than be consumed by it? When I read Psalm 1, the analogy of a tree planted by streams of water resonates more deeply, more holistically with me than that of a machine.

“Blessed is the one whose delight is in the law of the Lord… That person is like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season, whose leaf does not whither – whatever they do prospers."

A sketch of Psalm 1 from my journal (no judging, I'm an engineer)

The metaphor of a tree has several values that are distinct from that of a machine. Here are a few that I can spot, but I encourage you to think of others.

Independent vs. Interdependent 

A machine is independent, so long as its inputs are adequately controlled within what engineers refer to as "the control volume." People and resources become cogs in the system. I am the focal point and success depends on me. But a tree is interdependent and is only as healthy as its environment. When we are overwhelmed or unproductive, the machine in us pushes harder, relying on our own strength, and "rests" only to recalibrate ourselves or fix others. "If only [insert change], then I would [insert outcome]." When what we really need is to be deeply rooted in our relationships, present to our surroundings, and connected to God. This rooted-ness re-orients our priorities and inspires our creative and mundane work.

 

The next time you think “I don’t have enough bandwidth," recognize that this metaphor suggests you are a machine that should increase its bandwidth, or exercise more control over its inputs. Instead, if we say, “I need to root myself deeper in good soil,” immediately we are challenged to consider the health of our ecosystem and our connection to it.

Goals vs Fruit

The machine follows a linear process that churns out predictable results, or in this case, goals. On the other hand, fruit is the byproduct of a dynamic growth-oriented process. As such, we don’t know the exact quality, quantity, shape, or size of the fruit. Nevertheless, we can (and should!) envision, with hopeful anticipation, what the fruit of our lives may look and taste like. We can even ask ourselves what steps should we take to nourish that fruit and measure that progress. The subtle shift is from being goal-centric to growth-centric, from achieving to becoming, and from prescribing to nourishing.

Routines vs Rhythms

 

The machine, along with everything that interacts with it, follows routines, and deviations from its prescription cause chaos. But a productive tree gracefully accepts the rhythms of life, be it rain, sun, or perhaps a bit of pruning. It is agile, robust, open to interruption, and thankful in the midst of change. Rhythm allows room for grace and growth, in a way that rote routine cannot.

 

Take for example, my two toddlers, who on several occasions have interrupted my focused work time by spilling their milk on the living room rug in the midst of a heated argument over a toy. My concentration is broken, our household rules have been crossed, and I feel my blood begin to boil. In that moment, I am tempted to enforce the rules with a heavy hand, reinforcing our family's prescribed routines and rules, akin to a programmer debugging an algorithm. 

 

But what I’ve found, after many unsuccessful attempts, is that the application of the law, and more generally, technique-based discipline, is a temporary and incomplete remedy. Rather, the example I set is far more important than the fix I employ. The outcome of parenting my children, and indeed my life’s work, is not determined so much by the techniques I employ, but by the source (the "vine" as Jesus says about himself in Matthew 15:5), that I am drawing from.

By responding to my children with affection and grace, I lay the groundwork for heart and character transformation [3]. This is real fruit that is much sweeter than any behavior modification, which even a machine can be programmed to mimic. On my better days, I recognize the rhythm of the moment, and participate in my calling to be a parent for 5-minutes before calmly resuming work. I gently and firmly restore order (often through a practical technique like the “1, 2, 3 Method”), but more importantly, I help restore a right understanding and right relationship between God, myself, and my children.

Product vs Process

 

The tree is a vessel, a steward of things already valuable. Phloem and xylem are critical to distributing valuable nutrients and water to and from the soil, and chlorophyll for converting sunlight into a usable form of energy. Even the tree's detritus is valuable to its surroundings. Like a tree, our work is a process of transforming value from one form to another, whereas technique emphasizes our output, especially anything new and revolutionary, over the input or the process. How does this relate to goals? I don’t think our goals necessarily need to be revolutionary in order to be valuable, and the means can be just as important as the end. In this broader context, there is great value in even our most ordinary everyday work.

Here’s to a fruitful 2023!