Is too much choice ‘killing us’?
Our lives are too cluttered. By things. By tasks. And also by choices.
The gospel calls us to a simplicity that allows us to focus and centre our attention and effort on what ultimately counts – loving God and others.
There is, as Richard Foster notes, a great freedom in simplicity. It “…allows us to see material things for what they are – goods to enhance life, not to oppress life. People once again become more important than possessions. Simplicity enables us to live lives of integrity in the face of the terrible realities of our global village.”
One of the barriers to simplicity is the constant state of overchoice we find ourselves in.
Our culture has promoted a half-truth that increased choice is liberating and freeing. The freedom to choose whatever we want is supposed to make us much happier and more complete people.
“You can do whatever you want, buy whatever you like, go wherever you want to, have sex with whoever you choose.” These are the constant messages our culture keeps telling us.
There is certainly much to be thankful about regarding the options and choices we have. I’m very grateful that I’ve had such freedom to decide what work I undertake, who I marry, where I live and what friendships I build.
However, there is a growing body of evidence that too much choice actually becomes debilitating, rather than liberating. When the options are unlimited we easily reach a point where our decision making capacity becomes overloaded and closes down in response. Paralysis – the inability to make decisions – results.
We become decidedly decision-weary when we are confronted each day by an absolute barrage of choices.
Let’s take breakfast cereals for example. I’m incredibly grateful to Dick Hubbard. He makes wonderfully tasty, fruity and interesting cereals. But when I go down the aisle at the supermarket, I’m confronted by endless options – nearly twenty of them just from Mr Hubbard, let alone the dozens from other manufacturers!
Of course, once I’ve checked out five of the cereal boxes, I feel compelled to check out the rest – just in case I am missing the best, tastiest, most nutritious option. Having taken an extra ten minutes to do this (and quite a bit of mental energy) I make my decision. But what a complex process it has been – and all for the sake of a box of cereal. I’ve just experienced what has been called “the tyranny of small decisions”. (And of course just down the aisle a bit further, the next product I’m looking for will force me to go through a similar daunting process.)
By themselves, small decisions like this may not seem too much. But when we’re making such choices hundreds of times every week we develop a weariness. The worst element of our developing tyranny is not so much in these countless trivial decisions we make – products to buy, TV programmes to watch, websites to connect to, colour paint for the house, which power or phone company to connect with (and on which particular plan) etc etc, but in the cumulative effect it has on making choices about the much bigger and important issues in life – ones relating to education, training, employment, where we live, who we build friendships, how we go about making our lives count, and so forth. All these choices also have increasingly unlimited possibilities and demand a lot of energy – both because of the hugely expanded options and the importance they carry.
Something tells me that each of us have a limited amount of energy available for decision making. If most of this energy is consumed each day by the small and insubstantial choices, then could it be that we are endangering our capacity to make good choices on the more important stuff? It’s like we’ve already drained our decision-making tank and we’ve got nothing left.
Of course, some of us delight in the challenge of becoming ‘savvy’ consumers. We seem to excel in exploring all the different options on all the various products, services and possibilities, and then make the ‘best’ decision. (Though it’s a frightening thought that if we’re spending a good percentage of the week trying to get the best deal, all that may end up defining who we are and what we’re about is the word ‘consumer’.)
Is there a better way to live?
There are no easy answers to the state of overchoice we find ourselves in. However, some practical matters I’m attempting to work on in order to simplify my life (and lifestyle) include:
Limiting my options
Can limiting my options possibly be more healthy for me? I think it can. If I’m looking for a particular product or thinking about how I might use a few spare hours, it helps if I allow myself two or three options to choose from – rather than exploring every available product or service.
This is difficult for me. There’s a part of me that enjoys researching the options and then reveling in the sensation of making a well-informed and savvy choice. But then I ask myself, “How much of my time, energy and focus have I consumed in this, and has that eroded such energy for the stuff that counts most?”
Interestingly, if our adult minds get overwhelmed by the range of choices, no wonder those of our kids suffer even more. A parent might take their 5 year old into a huge toy shop and say, “You can have any toy that you want – but you can only choose one.” Is this going to be helpful for the child? In all likelihood it will simply overwhelm them. Far better to give them a choice between two or three toys.
Maybe I’m not so different from a 5 year old, after all!
My experience has been that when I try to exhaust all the options I am generally being driven by the fear that I will regret not doing so – because I might miss the very best option. Dropping my expectations and accepting that in many cases a ‘good decision’ is good enough – it doesn’t have to be the absolute best – helps me cope with my fear.
Of course, the size of the implications of the decision partly dictates how much effort and attention I give to the process of choosing – and the number of options I consider. Those decisions that have minimal consequences either way, I try to treat with little energy. The bigger, more critical decisions should, of course, be given significant attention.
Trusting the ‘experts’ more
For many things, asking an ‘expert’ to tell me what I should do or choose, is actually liberating. My mechanic, doctor, dentist, lawyer, plumber know much more about their fields than what I do. However, trusting their advice more should not be read as a blank cheque to judgement. They are also fallible – and biased. So I look for signs of this in the questions I ask.
I often start with the line, “If you were in my situation, what would you do? – and why?”
Regarding products, taking the time to read a Consumer report relieves a bit of mental anguish and protects me from re-inventing the wheel (an activity that my fiercely independent self just loves to do!). If they’ve done their job well, the hours of sifted research will have uncovered much of what I’m looking for.
Of course, it still gives me the opportunity to make the decision myself (and to take responsibility for it), but I may well have saved myself a lot of unnecessary energy.
Embracing habits and routines
Sometimes habits and routines are the enemy of my journey of faith. They can be oppressive and restrictive. They can shelter me from new experiences and allow me to hide from risk and adventure. They can also fool me into thinking that I am focusing on the important when I may very well just be acting out a lifeless practice.
However, they can also act as protection mechanism – keeping me from wasting unnecessary energy on secondary things, and reinforcing ways of relating and activities that will assist me to follow Jesus more fully.
For example, it’s easy to be negative about the routine of spending time alone with God if it has developed into a meaningless custom – devoid of real intimacy. However, it can also breathe life into my relationship with Jesus and remind me of my priorities.
With so many choices abounding – regarding how I use my time and money – good habits may save me a lot of pain and help to avoid diversions. While slipping into a default mechanism of visiting the shopping mall when time is on hand has never been a great temptation for me, the newfound accessibility provided by the internet to check out endless options for products and services, is. It has made the temptations more close-at-hand. So I am trying to learn to be more rigorous in avoiding the pitfalls of discretionary time.
The habit of a “buyless” day in the week might also be a reminder that there’s more to life than consuming. Which leads me to another point…
Taking a Sabbath from choices
Part of the demand of the week is the constant challenge to make choices. Maybe then, having a day out from making lots of choices is a good thing?
While the Pharisees were heavily criticized by Jesus for their complex laws about what not to engage in on the Sabbath (sometimes called an ethics of avoidance) they did at least appreciate that such a day had to do with rest and relationship, rather than work and productivity. Making choices is work. Anything we can do to get a break from this and focus on relationships and rest is good.
Taking a Sabbath is a reminder that ultimately life depends not on my hard graft, but on God’s provision and grace. It frees me from the belief that productivity and consumption are what define me and give me value. It also liberates me from thinking that my choices are the only determining factor in how life turns out. I am enabled to trust again in the providence of God – in the role he plays in leading and directing and working in my life. His choices – not mine – become the focus again. For a few hours each week, a Sabbath can slow me down enough to bring this realignment.
Practicing contentment and gratitude
Contentment and gratitude are spiritual disciplines I am attempting to nurture. I admit that it’s not easy. Our consumer culture depends on the capacity to grow discontentment – not just about ‘our lot in life’ but regarding our very selves. Most products and many services contain the seed of disaffection. They eventually leave me hungering for more and better. This insatiable desire affects my relationships as well. And the fact that I have so many choices in virtually every aspect of life, fuels my discontent even more.
However, the gospel calls me to foster contentment and gratitude (or thankfulness) – which in turn leads to generosity.
In order to be content I need to know when enough is enough. I have to come to terms with my limitations – both internally and externally imposed. There has to be a recognition that more is not necessarily better.
Paul writes to the church at Philippi, “I’ve learned by now to be quite content whatever my circumstances. I’m just as happy with little as with much, with much as with little. I’ve found the recipe for being happy whether full or hungry, hands full or hands empty. Whatever I have, wherever I am, I can make it through anything in the One who makes me who I am.”
His words are a breath of fresh air to me. There’s no sign in Paul’s life of resignation or settling for less than the full, abundant life Jesus offers. In fact, his attitude reveals the inherent tension in the journey of faith. It’s a call to both contentment and discontentment, captured well in the AA prayer:
“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I can not change, the courage to change the things that I can, and the wisdom to know the difference”.
May this be increasingly so.
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