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?