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“Present bias” is a thing.  It's a term coined by, I believe, behavioral psychologists to describe people’s behavior when they place too much emphasis on gaining something in the present while underappreciating future negative consequences of a given decision or action.

It’s a fancy term for something that we do, and have done, all the time.  Eating a whole pint of Rocky Road, for example, even though you know that it will cause you to put on too much weight, is an instance of present bias.  That, and a million other unwise choices we seem to make on a regular basis.

We have plenty of other terms that get at present bias: instant gratification, impulsivity, quick fix-ism, short attention span, and so on.  (When I was in high school, Comedy Central ran a show of snippets of the best bits from lots of different comedians called Short Attention Span Theater.  It was awesome!  And no matter what people might say otherwise, I contend that early 1990’s basic cable was the true era of Peak TV.)

Of course, present bias has been around forever, but the wrinkle is that scholars are warning that it’s getting worse.  A year or two ago I learned of a study that gave folks the choice between receiving $100 today versus $120 tomorrow––and the great majority of people settled for the hundred today!  Waiting a whole day for free cash apparently isn’t worth $20 anymore.

Likewise, plenty of studies are finding that our young people are increasingly susceptible to present bias in a way that previous generations weren’t.  Not that we should throw our youngins under the bus, however, since plenty of things are going on that are conspiring to dampen one’s hopefulness about the future.  Hence present bias can actually begin to make some sense.

Nevertheless, and it’s not a news flash, but present bias causes harm, both to ourselves and to others, either on the small scale or globally.  

But here’s a thought to try on: Lent is a powerful antidote to present bias.  Whether during this solemn season followers of Jesus take up additional practices or put down others for the sake of greater discipline in and focus upon Christ, Lent is a time of preparation.  Most directly, it’s in Lent that after our 40 days in the liturgical wilderness, we are getting ready to meet anew the risen Lord on Easter morning.  

At a larger level, too, during Lent we prepare not only for Easter (and, hopefully, a nice Easter dinner), but in an anticipatory way, for the life and the world to come.  Once Jesus returns, makes all things new, and wipes away every tear from every eye, it’s going to be all feasting, all the time.

If there’s a party ahead of us, we can endure some lean times between now and then.  If we remember a future feast, any kind of current fast makes a little more sense and becomes a little more manageable.  In fact, this is the basic arc of the Christian story, namely fasting to feasting.  Cross to glory.

Lenten fasting, by the way, is a totally different animal than a simple cleanse, as understood along secular lines.  If there’s no good and certain, forever future ahead for us––or “a Sabbath rest of the people of God,” as the author of Hebrews puts it––then our rhythms of fasting and feasting are merely cyclical and endless, at least until we die.  The disciplines of Lent, on the other hand, are truly and ultimately temporary, since after Lent arrives Easter, and after the present age, the new heavens and new earth. 

By taking up traditional Lenten practices, whatever they might specifically be for you, you’re pushing back against present bias.  Because now isn’t forever.  Forever is forever, and that’s what Jesus is pleased to share with you by grace, as you receive Him in faith.

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