“Self-optimization” has become a go-to euphemism for what used to be known as self-help. The word’s evolution foregrounds the perfectionism that was always inherent in more rigorous forms of self-help while deftly leveraging the therapeutic element of self-care, thereby lending the whole operation a moral sheen. […]
You and I love optimization because we love the control it promises. What is the allure of measurement if not the allure of personal dominion? That if I can study my data closely enough I can manipulate its direction? Alas, once that line starts heading south, we all know where it ends. It stops in the graveyard.
And yet there are worse places to find oneself than in a cemetery, surrounded by symbols of heavenly rest. Given the fumes of optimization we’ve been inhaling, we may find that the good news emblazoned on so many tombstones shines much brighter. Who knows, we may come across an epitaph or two that speaks of a God whose specialty lies in the sanctification of unoptimized souls. We may read of a Lord who does not deal with any of us according to our productivity but according to the generosity of grace. We may even overhear words from the burial service about a Father who welcomes into arms of mercy sinners of his own redeeming.