Friday, October 16, 2009
Is Risk Really, Well, Risky?
The other day, I ran across four converging lanes in downtown Dallas. I looked both ways first, and mentally measured the risk. I glanced back at the intersection of cars, guesstimating how many seconds I’d have to get across while they sat at a red light. In the end, it was the little old man yelling, “What are you doing just standing there? Get out of here, girl!” that motivated me to cross all four lanes. (One meets such congenial people downtown.)
Luckily, I made it across alive and well. Or was it fated to be that way? In stepping onto the street, I took a risk. The cars were stopped at a light, so it wasn’t a huge leap to assume that I’d make it, but it was an assumption nonetheless. Makes me wonder:
Is there such a thing as risk? In one sense, of course there is. We risk ridicule when we stand up against popular opinion. We risk pain when we choose to love. We risk when we assume that the cars at the intersection will not run a red light while we run across the street. Of course there is risk. But in a higher sense, does risk exist?
In Descartes’ Meditations on First Philosophy, he tries to prove the existence of God. He reasons that he can’t trust his senses—because sometimes our eyes play tricks on us. So, he cannot really know that anything exists. In a Matrix-esque line of questions, he asks if the world around him is actually a dream. How can he prove what is reality without his senses? Because he is thinking, he concludes that the only thing he can truly know is that he himself exists, and posits that if he does, then God must as well. While that may be an oversimplification of his meditations, Descartes’ writing demonstrates to me something that is a natural human reflex—to base our understanding first upon ourselves.
We say with Descartes, "I exist, therefore, I am," or "I exist, therefore, I must watch out for myself." We naturally see decisions through the lens of cost and gain. "What will this decision give me? What do I have to lose?" If we start from the understanding that we exist, and every choice we make will have an unsalvageable domino effect, risk is a valid concept. Yet, if God is the author of all things, we must realize that we risk nothing. Not now. Not ever.
Sure, our actions will have consequences—there’s no contradiction between God’s sovereignty and cause and effect. What we are guaranteed is that God has a will—promises that He has made that He will bring to pass—in spite of or in hand with our decisions. For example, He declares that He is the beginning and the end. He will never cease to exist. Ergo, his attributes—grace, love, mercy and holiness will never cease. No matter what we do, we can never change the indelible reality of God.
In the book of Ruth, the young widow Ruth takes the advice of the older widow, Naomi. Naomi tells her to go visit an acquaintance named Boaz and essentially request Boaz for a marriage proposal. It’s all kind of crazy and definitely awkward, especially as Ruth is Boaz’s employee. But in obedience to Naomi, Ruth takes the risk. She talks to Boaz. While the Bible doesn’t set forth Naomi’s advice as a prescription for how to get a marriage proposal, it does seem to praise Ruth for her trust. She must’ve known that her risk—as uncomfortable and daring as it was—meant that she had confidence that God would provide for her, even in unlikely circumstances.
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