COMPLEXITY AND THE LIMITS OF HUMAN UNDERSTANDING

It is the duty of the human understanding to understand that there are things which it cannot understand, and what those things are. Human understanding has vulgarly occupied itself with nothing but understanding, but if it would only take the trouble to understand itself at the same time it would simply have to posit the paradox.¹

—SØREN KIERKEGAARD

Immanuel Kant once reportedly said, “Science is organized knowledge. Wisdom is organized life.” If anything, it has become more and more difficult since the time of Kant and Lady Wisdom to keep up with the complexities of our rapidly changing world.²

One of Kant’s contemporaries, Johann Georg Heinzmann, a German publisher in the 1700s, was distressed by the number of books being printed. He even wrote an essay about it—Appeal to My Nation: On the Plague of German Books—in which he said, “No nation has printed so much as the Germans.”³ Another German, jurist and philosopher Christian Thomasius, called the proliferation of books an “epidemic disease.”⁴

Even ancient scholars were concerned about too much study and reading. Seneca, the Roman philosopher who said, “Leisure without books is death,”⁵ also said, “The abundance of books is distraction.”⁶ As we’ll see later, thousands of years before him, King Solomon wrote in Ecclesiastes about being wearied by too much study (12:12).

In our world, digital information is exploding exponentially, and technology is making communication easier and faster every year. We are directly affected by the realities of information overload.

Here are some statistics that bear that out:

• The equivalent of five hundred years of video are watched on Facebook every day.⁷

• One hundred hours of video are uploaded to YouTube every minute—that’s a daily amount of more than sixteen years.⁸

• The average mobile phone user checks his or her phone 150 times a day.⁹

• There was a ninefold increase in the amount of digital information created and shared in the last five years.¹⁰

• The English version of Wikipedia alone grows at a rate of seven hundred articles per day.¹¹

The availability of information and opportunity is skyrocketing.

Reading statistics of the speed of information and the pace of modern American life is in stark contrast to the pace and leisure experts in the 1960s thought technological advancement would bring by the end of the twentieth century where they projected Americans “could have either a twenty-two-hour work week, a six-month work year, or a standard retirement age of thirty-eight.”¹²

In Scripture, it seems, the expectations for simplicity are different from what we find now. But those days are gone, and the expectations we place on ourselves and each other seem to be multiplying. Quickly.

Now, in the age of digital media, globalization, and the Internet, it appears the limits of knowledge and understanding are infinite. We can literally read about any event, any place, any person, and any topic we want. We can learn anything and everything no matter how obscure or irrelevant the topic. There are millions of books to read, movies to watch, and places to visit. Our culture produces a torrent of information consuming our time, energy, attention, and imagination.

We have loads of information; but do we have transformation?

Though learning, traveling, and understanding are all good things, is there a saturation point? Is there a point where the pressure to do and see everything becomes unhealthy? How do we know when to stop, take a step back, and let go of our hunger for more? When we can always do more, it requires trust to stop and not do any more. When we can always fight to get ahead, it requires faith to sit at the Lord’s feet. As many teachers remind: we’re human beings, not human doings.

What are the effects of these influences on our faith? How are we supposed to cling to faith in the midst of such a turbulent era?

The truth is, we’re not the first Christians to experience the crisis of faith in the midst of stressful living. Imagine trying to cling to faith in medieval Europe during the bubonic plague, or working under slave conditions in antiquity. What if you were homeless in the hills of Palestine, hounded by religious leaders, knowing you might at any moment be put to death by a foreign power—would faith be any easier?

There is a paradox in that God calls us to immerse ourselves in redemptive engagement in this world, but to do so we must create Sabbath space from the world to rest from the barrage of information.

EVERYTHING IS DIFFERENT

Change is one of our culture’s few constants. If our era will be defined by anything, it will be defined by the sweeping changes that have occurred. The Internet and media are rapidly reshaping the way we do everything: shop, interact, meet, and share news.

An example of the incredible changes that have taken place over the last 150 years can be seen in the life of Igor Stravinsky. Stravinsky was one of the most influential composers of the twentieth century. If you’ve seen either of Disney’s Fantasia movies, you have heard his music.¹³

He was born in Russia in 1882, when the modern automobile was nonexistent, and died in 1971, two years after the crew of the Apollo 11 mission walked on the moon. Can you imagine growing up in a world without cars, then being barraged with earth-shattering revolutions the rest of your life: electric light, human flight, two world wars, assembly lines and mass production, the telephone, television, plastic, radio, rocket science, space travel, and moon walks?

Stravinsky responded to all this change by becoming a musical chameleon, constantly adapting and shifting his style throughout his life. In his autobiography he wrote, “Music is the sole domain in which man realizes the present.”¹⁴

Now, more than forty years after his death, change continues to accelerate rather than slow down. Electronics, the Internet, globalization, and media are transforming the world at breakneck speed. In the midst of it all, we can have a difficult time knowing what to hang on to and what to let go.

CHASING AFTER THE WIND

When we find ourselves surrounded by rapid change, the natural reaction is to try to keep up. The Internet and social media make it seem possible—with the ease of a touch, we can easily listen to all the latest music, watch all the latest videos, and read breaking news tweeted live from where it’s happening.

As a result, the techno-savvy culture is in a constant state of distraction. Eventually we find ourselves drowning in an ocean of distraction—a riptide of texts, e-mail alerts, Facebook notifications, and advertisements is constantly surging at us, driving us out to sea and away from the serenity of life’s fundamentals. We wonder how we got there and how we’ve lost the meaning of life.

Ironically, one day while working, I ran across a graphic representation of the potential cost of distraction in the American workplace. Here are some of the stats compiled from Forbes magazine, CNN, Psychology Today, and other sources:¹⁵

• Workers are interrupted every 10.5 minutes by social media notifications.

• It then takes 23 minutes for those employees to get back on task.

• That’s $650 billion of work hours a year, which is more than seven times the amount of money lost due to smoking breaks and more than the combined value of Google and Chevron.

Distraction is a real phenomenon, and it is causing real problems.

But isn’t the ability to multitask an asset? Aren’t there benefits to being able to simultaneously process a lot of information from various sources? Yes and no. Unfortunately, we rarely stop to consider the downsides. In a 2009 study conducted by late Stanford professor Clifford Nass, chronic multitaskers actually underperformed non-multitaskers in every cognitive test they were given. According to the study, multitaskers “have greater difficulty filtering out irrelevant stimuli from their environment . . . they are less likely to ignore irrelevant representations in memory . . . and they are less effective in suppressing the activation of irrelevant task sets.”¹⁶

In other words, multitasking without discipline has the potential to reprogram us for distraction. Rather than developing the superpower of taking in more information at a time, some multitaskers are actually losing their ability to focus and filter out irrelevant information, making it harder for them to learn, get work done, and pay attention to what they are doing.

The danger with more and more information is that we can end up knowing less and less.

During the Renaissance and the height of the philosophy of humanism, there were some great thinkers, like Leonardo da Vinci, who believed a person could truly become an expert in multiple disciplines. Even so, these men, who mastered multiple languages, art forms, sciences, and philosophies, were not masters of everything.

Our modern interpretation of what it is to be a Renaissance man or woman has expanded to include mastery of all the arts and sciences, and the countless nuances of knowledge that we can google. Despite the fact that it is harder to be a modern-day Renaissance man or woman, some of us continue to operate as though it ought to be done. It’s certainly a temptation for me as I try to wrap my mind around church ministry, education, justice, and how they all relate. Sometimes I feel pressure to read every book, watch every documentary, and visit every historic site I can.

FINDING YOUR RHYTHM

Is this raging drive to know and understand everything a biblical one? Not according to Ecclesiastes. Here are a couple of passages from Ecclesiastes about study and never-ending work:

There was a man all alone;
he had neither son nor brother.
There was no end to his toil,
yet his eyes were not content with his wealth.
“For whom am I toiling,” he asked,
“and why am I depriving myself of enjoyment?”
This too is meaningless—
a miserable business! (4:8)

Of making many books there is no end, and much study wearies the body. (12:12)

Perhaps at this point you are recalling all the proverbs you have read about hard work and pursuing wisdom that sound like direct contradiction of the idea that “much study wearies the body.” Such as this, also written by Solomon:

Let the wise hear and increase in learning,
and the one who understands obtain guidance,
to understand a proverb and a saying,
the words of the wise and their riddles.
The fear of the LORD is the beginning of knowledge;
fools despise wisdom and instruction. (Proverbs 1:5–7 ESV)

Is Solomon contradicting himself? Or is there a principle of rhythm here that we are missing? Let’s look at the Sabbath command for some more perspective:

Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy. Six days you shall labor, and do all your work, but the seventh day is a Sabbath to the LORD your God. (Exodus 20:8–10 ESV)

Look at the reasoning behind the command, given in verse 11: “For in six days the LORD made heaven and earth . . . and rested on the seventh day” (ESV). Today, we sometimes treat rest as if it is optional. Was the Sabbath a Hebraic law that only made sense for an agrarian culture? Was it only for the periods before the industrial explosion and later digital explosion?

Solomon was trying to explain in Ecclesiastes that enough is enough. He was presenting a principle of rhythm, rest, and trust in resolving the paradox, a gift given for God’s people in any and all ages. Solomon assured us that God has designed us for rhythm, rest, trust, and relationship.

While God has always given provision for renewal and restoration for His people, culture tells us there’s always something more we have to learn. It tangles us in systems that never end, like social media and the Internet.

The Sabbath hits the “reset” button. Through Sabbath, God reminds us we are made in His image and loved by Him. He realigns us to our calling and purpose in life, those things we can accomplish. He prescribes for us a calling that is attainable, and that isn’t going to lead to depression, joylessness, and isolation. Such things are more characteristic of modern culture than of the kingdom of God.

CHOOSING OUR HEROES

Since Martin Luther, the heroes of the Protestant faith have often historically been academic theologians. What is frequently missed is the value that the Catholic tradition placed on simple saints, like monks and nuns. As a result, the text-based culture of Protestant churches spent tremendous energy trying to understand God, but slowly de-emphasized the importance of solitude and simply being with God.

Because we follow and emulate our heroes, we must choose them intentionally. If we choose academic theologians, there will be no end to our trying to understand God. The bigger question might be, where should we begin our journey with God?

The masters program at Kilns College seeks to redeem education. Though there is a wealth of good traditional schooling available, we also need places of study that are less about information gathering or vocational training and more about the flourishing of the human soul. There has to be an end to the complexity so the conversation on simplicity can emerge.

Though Brother Lawrence is a fairly famous name now, during his lifetime (c. 1614–1691) he was simply a monk at the Discalced Carmelite priory in Paris who worked in the kitchen and repaired sandals. In fact, he had such a lowly position because he lacked the education to become a cleric.¹⁷ He has since become a powerful voice for simplicity and the joy of being in constant communion with God.

Lawrence penned: “Think about God as often as you can, day and night, in everything you do. He is always with you. Just as you would be rude if you deserted a friend who was visiting you, why would you be disrespectful of God by abandoning His presence?”¹⁸

Lately there has been a resurgence of people finding these Christian voices of peace and serenity, people learning that there’s a Christian tradition of mindfulness, of being aware of the presence of God in the little things, and of stilling our souls to walk in faith moment by moment.

THE NEW LAW

Speaking of Christian voices, who doesn’t keep adding more books to their “to-read” list? Everyone’s stack keeps getting bigger and bigger, especially the stack of spiritual books. The pressure to consume more and more spiritual information keeps increasing.

We’ve made information the new Law, and nobody can obey it perfectly. Just as the Law of the Old Testament couldn’t be satisfied, the goal of keeping up with the Information Age can’t be satisfied, but to the extent that we attempt it, we’re living under a new tyrant.

We feel as though we have to be able to defend the doctrine of the Trinity, to learn about the Gnostic gospels, to pick a side in the latest cultural controversy, and to read whatever is the latest Christian best seller.

God loves us for who we are. He has grace for us. We can put off reading that book. We can say no to that conference. We can skip watching that spoken-word video. We can just be children loved by a compassionate Father. And if you’re a father or mother, you know the joy of simply being with and enjoying your children.

Do you want to please God? It’s simple: just spend time with Him.

MORE GOD, LESS ADVICE

Sometimes we simply need more of God and less advice. Typically, if I am bothered by something, I go looking for more information about it. But if the problem is information, more information won’t solve the problem or relieve the tension. Sometimes all the advice keeps us from simply taking a step forward and crying out to God.

At some psychological level, we’re addicted to our approach to information, and it’s hard to resist the temptation to try to subtract by continuing to add.

I toyed with the idea of titling the introduction “Why This Book Is Part of the Problem.” In some ways I believe it is. More information is not the solution to an overload of information. Stepping out of the current is the answer.

Maybe that’s why you’re reading this book. Maybe the only thing you needed to get out of this book was the permission to close it. We need to find balance, not pile information onto existing mounds of information.

No doctor treats a cancer patient with more cancer. No psychologist treats anxiety with more stress. We need to stem the tide, not dump another stream of water into it.

ESCAPE

There is a strong biblical precedent of solitude and quiet as a requirement for being able to hear and understand God. Jesus exemplified this lifestyle: “Very early in the morning, while it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place, where he prayed” (Mark 1:35).

When we spend all our time trying to hear God, not in solitude, but through the cultural noise, the message can often be a little obscured or confusing.

Jesus says His yoke is easy and His burden is light. If His way constitutes a model for our lives, then we must be able to live into it. We can make our way to the eye of the hurricane, which is what it feels like to live closely with God in a chaotic world. Circumstances won’t always change, but we can find a sense of peace in the presence of God.

There are the realities of God in the midst of confusion. We have to wrestle with them, because that’s what the life of faith is going to mean. It is not simply that I hold a Christian creed, all the while being sucked into the riptide and pulled into the world with nothing to hold on to and no end to the drowning.

When we are reminded of the eternal part of our being, we can flip the table on our light and momentary obsessions. The ray of light in the complexity of the moment is that we are eternal creatures. We can stand outside of that complexity . . . again in paradox.

In the face of our hectic culture, there is no formula, no easy answer; but instead, there is the principle of rest and trust and waiting. There is the reality of God there, available, wanting to still my soul, and to lead me.

Rest is the cultural Dramamine we need to navigate our cultural landscape. And in order to navigate it, we’re going to need to know what it looks like. The next chapter will tackle some of the most common pitfalls of the cultural landscape, and how we can seek out the proper alternatives.

“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

—MATTHEW 11:28–30 ESV