I recently switched to my fourth bag in six years of pastoral ministry at New Life. I bought a leather briefcase that was too small and came apart at the seams followed by a leather briefcase that was too large and stiff. I gave up on the briefcase experiment and for the past three years I have used my son’s hand-me-down backpack from his middle school years. My wife and kids constantly teased me about my middle school backpack. But you know,
Fast forward to a couple of months ago. I was tagging along on a shopping trip and found a backpack tucked away on a clearance rack. It was love at first sight, and not just because of the 60% off tag. Made of canvas and leather it felt durable and yet malleable in my hands.
I picked up the bag and noticed detail after detail in the craftsmanship. A perfectly sized and padded pocket for my laptop, hidden interior pockets, comfortable straps, a high-quality zipper with a durable pull, magnetic latches, and two side pockets that cried out, “Put your coffee Contigo in me!”
There is something compelling about a well-made item.
What do you own that speaks care, artistry, and craftsmanship? You pick it up, put it in your hand and you can just feel that the person who made it cared.
What do you own that doesn’t work quite right? It is made cheaply, parts mismatched, and doesn’t do what it’s supposed to do.
The other day our incandescent oven hood light bulb burned out. I soon realized that this would not be a quick job. After crawling up under the hood to get to the light bulb, I learned that a screwdriver was required. I returned only to realize that a special tiny Phillips screwdriver would do the job. Having removed the protective shield I went on a hunt on Amazon to learn that I couldn’t find this lightbulb. Finally, at Home Depot, with the help of an employee, I located a bulb that would work. I couldn’t get it in an LED (which I was hoping for), nor the same wattage. But at least it fit.
It may sound conspiracy-theory-ish to say, but these sorts of frustrations are not a mistake. Planned obsolescence, the intentional creation of products to fail or be unable to repair or replace parts is a well-documented strategy. In the pursuit of profit, manufacturers build devices that have a limited lifespan.
The popular Bosch MaxoMixx immersion blender is manufactured with a plastic latch that breaks after a certain number of uses. Bosch will not sell the replacement latch and instead sells the entire drive as a spare part, which nearly costs what a new blender costs.[1]
The same obsolescence happens when the designs of screws or fasteners are changed. Or when the Apple changed the type of jacks it made its iPhones with. Hewlett Packard was taken to court over designing inkjet printers and cartridges to shut down on an undisclosed expiration date. Other inkjet printer manufacturers have smart chips in their ink cartridges that make them shut down after a certain length of time or number of pages printed, even though they often have usable ink left in them.[2]
I remember being thrilled about the leap forward in technology from incandescent lightbulbs to LED lightbulbs. LED light bulbs last approximately 25 times longer than incandescent bulbs. And then I learned about the Centennial Light bulb. The Centennial Light was a 30 watt bulb that was invented by the French engineer Adolphe Chaillet. The bulb was installed at the Livermore Fire Department in Livermore, California in 1901 and later to the City Hall. While the lightbulb dimmed over time, it lasted over a hundred years until May 20, 2013 when the bulb appeared to burn out. The next morning the electrician arrived on scene to bid the bulb a fond farewell only to discover that the power supply was faulty and not the bulb. The power supply was fixed and the bulb continues to burn until this day.[3]
That lifespan makes the lifespan of LED bulbs laughable. Worse yet, it proves that the measly lifespan of incandescent lightbulbs had nothing to do with the fact that the technology couldn’t last that long, but everything to do with the poor manufacturing quality.
When God creates Adam and Eve and places them in the garden, he calls them to reflect his image by having dominion: creating order and crafting beauty. Many theologians believe that when God placed Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, while the Garden was beautiful, it was also wild. In one sense, it was perfect, because it was made by the hand of our perfect Creator. In another sense, Adam and Eve improved the Garden. Maybe they cleared out sections and built paths. Maybe they built stone walls around sections of certain types of trees. Maybe they built planters where they harvested herbs. Perhaps they irrigated sections of the Garden with crops that needed extra water. They turned wild beauty into tamed beauty. They exercised dominion.
Our Creator doesn’t chintz on anything. There is nothing that he makes that is sloppy or half-done. Consider the intricate beauty of a common housefly. Look at the amazing thought he put into your eye. Behold the glory that remains undiscovered in our oceans. Can you imagine the unexplored galaxies our Creator made that no one will ever see? Everything beautiful points to the Artist of artists, the Craftsman of craftsmen. And we were made in his image.
God has purposed you to exercise dominion. Whatever he has called you to, do it with excellence for his glory. Christians ought to be repelled by the notion of creating something with planned obsolescence. Christians don’t create junk. We don’t create things that fail or frustrate. Followers of Jesus create beautiful things that last.
Make good things. It’s what God made you for. It’s part of how you reflect him.
.
[1] Wiens, Kyle. "The Shady World of Repair Manuals: Copyrighting for Planned Obsolescence." Wired. Archived from the original on March 27, 2014.
[2] "L'obsolescence programmée par Apple expliquée (pour les nuls et plus)." Greenspector (in French). January 2, 2018.
[3] “Centennial Light,” Wikipedia entry. Retrieved January 15, 2022.
You may also appreciate How God Wants You To Work
Photo by John Beeson