We live in a world full of tests, examinations,
and measurements. The testing starts from an early age. Even before babies are
born, we use ultrasounds and other tests to check that everything is OK with
the little human being in there, who is about to emerge into the world. As soon
as the baby is born, there are more examinations: tests for hearing, for sight,
for reflexes, and more. We test kids at preschool and at school. Then we measure
their ability when they’re leaving school. We interview and measure and test people
before they’re allowed to start a job. Then we review them against key performance
indicators to make sure they’re doing their jobs properly. We measure our
weight. Doctors keep taking blood from us to check the levels are right. In
business and government and health and education, our decisions about what to
do and how to spend the money are (in theory, at least) all based on
measurements. Decisions must be “evidence based”. So we have to measure
everything: test it, scrutinise and prove it with numbers before it’s allowed
to go ahead. In so many ways, this testing and measuring brings great benefits.
The lives of at least two of my children have been saved through medical tests
at an early age, which led to effective medical intervention. So often, measuring
and testing and examining allows us to make wise decisions and so to live healthier,
fuller, more flourishing lives.

But a strange thing happens when we start to measure and test everything in life: we end up valuing only what we measure—and not valuing what we don’t measure. This is true in political decisions. In theory, we want our nation to be run through good economic decisions, based on evidence and clear data, leading to the best possible outcomes for flourishing and happiness for each individual in our society. But the problem is: whose flourishing and happiness do we measure? Who counts as an individual in our society? And so, whom do we count when we make our measurements? Very often, we decide we will only count the prosperity and wellbeing of legal citizens of our nation. That seems to make sense at first glance—and of course, it’s reasonably straightforward to measure. But when we do that, we automatically exclude others who aren’t legal citizens. For example, we exclude asylum seekers, or the not-yet-born. They’re harder to count. So we don’t count them. Which actually means that to us, they don’t count. And so we make our decisions as a nation based on maximising health and flourishing, but only for the people who count. What has happened? Instead of working out what (and whom) we value first, and then measuring it, we just go ahead and make our measurements first, and then end up simply valuing what (and whom) we measure.

In fact, this can happen in the Christian
life, too. In our daily Christian walk, we can easily place a high value on
those things that are easy to measure and see. How often do I read my Bible?
How many minutes do I spend praying each day? How regular in attendance am I at
church? How many Christian conferences did I attend this year? How many
connections do I have on my social media platform of choice? How do I appear to
others around me? Do people look up to me and praise me? These things are easy
to test, and so we value them. We can also do it in our Christian ministry and
service of others. We want to measure our effectiveness in ministry—but how do
we measure it? We find things we can easily measure: How many people are
in my church/group? How many different ministries am I involved in? How many
people follow my ministry online? How busy am I?