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Always Bargaining with the Future

 

Rule 7 - Pursue What Is Meaningful (Not What Is Expedient)

 

“Long ago, in the dim mists of time, we began to realize that reality was structured as if it could be bargained with. We learned that behaving properly now, in the present–regulating our impulses, considering the plight of others–could bring rewards in the future, in a time and place that did not yet exist.” (Jordan Peterson, 12 Rules for Life)

 

I can’t think of a better definition of discipline, of work, and sacrifice.  Essentially, giving up something today for a better tomorrow. Conversely, tomorrow may suffer without such considerations.

 

Peterson proposes a fiction to explain the progression of how we, as a species, may have “stumbled” onto such a conclusion, likely over a very long period of time. Let me outline it here: 

Way back in history, we hunted and secured a mammoth. It would become quickly apparent that I couldn’t get through a whole mammoth on my own. So I share it with my immediate family.  Even then, there are leftovers. What do I do with the leftovers? I could just get through as much as we can and dispose of the rest. Eventually, though, I decide to share it with my in-laws and neighbors, too.  Why would I? Perhaps, I think, they might remember me when they have a mammoth and I don’t. Perhaps that would be good for me–and my family, too. This turns today’s mammoth into tomorrow’s mammoth. I can sacrifice something I have today, for a better tomorrow. 

 

As a more modern, slightly more relatable example, Peterson brings up medical school; a medical student sacrifices a whole host of opportunities for socialization and fun, as a student – sacrificing their "today”. The bargain with their "tomorrow", is that “a physician can–to paraphrase George W.–really put food on his family. That’s a lot of trouble dispensed with, over a long period of time.”

 

It’s clear that a sacrifice today will improve the future. But with that consideration in mind, there is a set of questions that spring to my mind:

1. What must I sacrifice?  Will anything I give up be good enough?  Clearly not.  That implies there is a range of options, and some options will be more beneficial than others.

2. If a small sacrifice will provide a little benefit, will a big sacrifice provide a greater benefit? Clearly, that is the case! But then what are the limits of small and great sacrifices?

3. Could a poor sacrifice create a worse future?  This is the equivalent to offering the wrong sacrifice. And is the better future all about context and aim?  I think about all the “workaholics” who have excelled at the office but have exchanged that success for their family and social lives.

4. What are the limits of the future benefits? How good could the future be with the right sacrifices at the right time? 

 

So the ultimate question: what must I sacrifice for maximum benefit – for whatever it is that I view as a benefit?

 

Peterson takes an unexpected turn into biblical texts to demonstrate that the idea of sacrifice is timeless. From Cain and Abel—where one sacrifice is deemed acceptable and the other is not—to Abraham being asked to sacrifice his son, Isaac, the message is clear: the right sacrifice is often the thing most important to us. It will likely be hard, painful, and even counterintuitive, but it’s essential to achieve a better, promised future. In the Gospels, God Himself doesn’t avoid this principle; Jesus offers Himself as the ultimate sacrifice for the ultimate future.

 

While the logic is easy to understand, applying it to life can feel daunting. What should I sacrifice, and to what end? Can I choose the future benefit or is that determined by God, the universe, or my own unconscious will? If I decide, will my goal be high enough? Do I dream big enough? Should it even be my dream, or something revealed by God? How do I know the difference? And what if I choose the wrong goal or hear the wrong calling?

 

A practical starting point is considering what future-me might want. For example, “I want to retire with my current standard of living.” It’s a modest but tangible goal—not so lofty as to be unrealistic, but meaningful enough to guide action. To meet this goal, present-me needs to make sacrifices: building assets, ensuring cash flow, saving, and investing. I’ll need to live below my current income level.  This might mean sacrificing things like vacations, a cool car, gadgets, parties, frequently dining out, or a bigger house. These trade-offs will look different for everyone, depending on what they value most. I'm sure you get the idea! The principle, however, is universal: present sacrifices shape the future.

 

Peterson delves deeply into the temptations Christ faced after 40 days of fasting in the wilderness, using them to illustrate how they address mundane concerns, like my desire to retire comfortably, while also pointing to harder questions, bigger sacrifices, and greater benefits. Each temptation represents a challenge not just to immediate needs but to deeper values and long-term meaning.
 

The first temptation is to turn rocks into bread. Christ’s response, “One does not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God,” reminds us that satisfying our physical needs is not enough. Bread is of little use to the man who has betrayed his soul. Temporary gratification pales in comparison to the fulfillment that comes from aligning with a higher purpose.

 

The second temptation challenges Christ to throw Himself off a cliff to test God’s protection. His reply, “Do not put the Lord your God to the test,” underscores that God will not be mocked. We should not expect miracles to bail us out of problems, especially those of our own making. It’s a sobering reminder of how often we create or exacerbate our own “tough spots” and then look for a way out without taking responsibility.

 

The final temptation is the offer of power over everything visible. Christ responds, “You shall worship the Lord your God, and Him only shall you serve.” Power is undeniably tempting—getting what you want, when you want, however you want. But this pursuit of control often leads to serving our impulses rather than our purpose. By contrast, serving God frees us from the need for control and aligns us with a higher calling, one not centered on ourselves but on a greater good.

 

These temptations reveal the shallow allure of expediency and the profound challenge of pursuing what is truly meaningful. They force us to confront our desires and consider whether we are aiming for fleeting comfort or lasting fulfillment.

 

A noteworthy realization about the temptations in the wilderness, that Peterson didn't bring up, is that they don't seem to  be random trials but offers of shortcuts to what Jesus would ultimately accomplish through His ministry and sacrifice. The temptation to turn stones into bread foreshadowed His feeding of the thousands with just a few loaves and fish (Luke 9:10-17) and His transformation of water into wine at the wedding in Cana (John 2:1-11). The devil's challenge to throw Himself off the temple, testing God's protection, mirrored moments when Jesus escaped the hands of hostile leaders because "His hour had not yet come" (John 7:30; John 8:59). Finally, the offer of power over all the kingdoms of the world was a counterfeit of Jesus’ ultimate authority, granted after His crucifixion and resurrection, when He was "raised up to rule over life and death" (Matthew 28:18; Revelation 1:17-18). These temptations reveal the devil’s attempt to entice Jesus with immediate gratification, bypassing the suffering and sacrifice necessary to fulfill His mission. Yet, by resisting, Jesus affirmed that true power, provision, and protection come from God’s timing and purpose, not expedient shortcuts. Jesus did the personal work needed, without taking a shortcut.

 

Satisfying impulsive, short-term desires, avoiding full ownership of our situations and responses, and compelling others to align with our plans can lead down a slippery slope toward outright evil. Just because we can force something to happen doesn’t mean we should. Peterson illustrates this with examples from the known evils of the 20th century, carried out by all-too-relatable humans who justified their actions by saying they were “just following orders.”

 

A significant part of avoiding this slope is refusing to take shortcuts to outcomes, even when they seem to offer an easier or faster path. Shortcuts often bypass the hard work, discipline, and sacrifice necessary for meaningful progress, and they can lead to unintended consequences. True good comes from committing to the process, not just focusing on the result. Jesus’ refusal of the devil’s offers in the wilderness reinforces this idea—choosing God’s purpose over immediate gratification. Similarly, in our lives, doing the work rather than seizing expedient solutions ensures we remain aligned with higher values and avoid the traps of expediency.
 

Peterson also acknowledges, in a way that may intrigue, frustrate, or even delight readers, that Christianity has solved many significant societal problems, including slavery, infanticide, gender equality, and the sanctity of life. It has even paved the way for the flourishing of science. Ironically, science, which relies on objective truth, has posed challenges to faith in the unknowable. An interesting point Peterson raises is that many of these societal problems were solved so effectively that, over time, society forgot they were ever problems to begin with, let alone that Christianity played a role in solving them. For example, in today’s Western culture, it’s a given that slavery is wrong. But throughout much of history, owning slaves was seen as virtuous, a sign of being favored by the universe—a truism of the time. Christianity’s teaching that all people are equal before God ultimately challenged and dismantled this worldview, leading to the abolition of slavery.

 

However, with many core problems addressed, new and different challenges have emerged—problems that Christianity hasn’t explicitly dealt with. Solving one problem often reveals or creates the next. Sometimes these are new issues in the chain of challenges, like the abolition of slavery exposing the need to establish and enforce equal rights in laws and culture. Other times, they are problems created by solutions, as seen in Peterson’s example of the tractor. Farmers needed tractors to increase productivity, save labor, and keep their farms profitable, ensuring their families’ survival. Tractors achieved this goal, but they also introduced new issues, like CO2 emissions. It’s not that farmers don’t care about the environment—quite the opposite, given their dependence on the land. But environmental concerns only became apparent after the immediate problem of survival had been solved. They become a set of the "new problems" to solve -- and they will be solved, if we're really looking for the ultimate good!

 

This doesn’t mean we abandon the tools or solutions that brought us this far. Instead, it means recognizing that new problems will always emerge, and addressing them requires an ongoing commitment to thoughtful, meaningful solutions. Solving one problem is not the end of the journey but a step in the continuous process of progress. Avoiding shortcuts, doing the work, and embracing the sacrifices needed to pursue what is meaningful are essential to that process.

 

What’s the point of this foray into good and evil, into problems already solved and problems to be solved?  Questions we asked earlier, but never addressed were: What are the limits of the future benefits? How good could the future be with the right sacrifices? 

 

“Acquring bread” might represent the short-term impulse for improvement. It might be good, but it could be better. Sacrifices like attending medical school demand significant effort and commitment now but offer the potential for decades of benefit. Planning for retirement requires ongoing discipline but promises peace of mind and a freedom for many years. Similarly, making sacrifices for proper diet and exercise involves daily decisions and planning, with the hope of achieving good health and vitality both now and in the future.

While those sacrifices may provide decades of benefit; are there challenges that go beyond me that will create benefits for my family, friends, community, country, or even the world? What scale am I willing and able to work on? To what degree am I willing to take on the responsibility and ownership of long-term benefits? And what are the sacrifices they require? This is Meaning. Avoid the shallowness of expediency – doing what’s easy and “now” – Pursue what is Meaningful.

 

 

My Takeaway from Rule 7

I need to figure out what is meaningful—ultimately meaningful. While I must take care of my immediate needs, those efforts should serve a greater purpose. Without a sense of meaning at a larger scale, my thoughts and energy risk being consumed by short-term, expedient pursuits that provide little lasting satisfaction. What I do in the short term must align with and support what is truly meaningful. 

 

Peterson, whether deliberately or not, continually redirects the focus to an honest inspection of who I am, where I’m going (what I value), and how I’m progressing toward that end. Given how limited my knowledge of the future is—and even of myself—this process will undoubtedly require restarts as I make mistakes and, hopefully, gain greater understanding. That’s where frequent self-reflection comes in: small, regular course corrections can prevent the need for major overhauls later.

 

It’s not an easy process, but I can’t see another way to build a meaningful existence. It’s the path to becoming the person I’m meant to be and contributing to the family, community, and species we are capable of becoming.