An algorithm is a set of steps for accomplishing a task or solving a problem. Typically, algorithms are executed by computers, but we also rely on algorithms in our daily lives. Each time we follow a particular step-by-step process, like making coffee in the morning or tying our shoelaces, we are in fact following an algorithm.
In a digital world ruled by algorithms and dopamine rewards, it’s easy to think we’ve moved beyond ancient ritualism. But if you pay attention to how people behave online, you’ll see the truth: we haven’t escaped the game—we’ve just given it a new platform.
Every day, social media users are trained. Say the right words, hit the trending topics, stir just enough controversy—and the system rewards you with engagement. Step outside the approved formulas, and you’re punished with silence or scorn. It’s the same pattern you see in lab experiments: reward compliance, punish deviation, and watch the subject adapt.
It reminded me of Robert Cormier’s House of Stairs, where teenagers trapped in a surreal maze are slowly conditioned to act out scenes in order to eat. They don’t know who’s watching. They just learn what works. Eventually, they become products of the system—and some even embrace it.
And then it hit me: isn’t that what religion becomes when it’s separated from the Spirit of God? A system of appearances and rules. A game. A way to manipulate blessings or approval. But God never intended that.
A System Older Than Social Media
This pattern—trading obedience for reward, reducing worship to formula—isn’t new. It’s as old as humanity. Ancient paganism was built on it: offer grain, or a goat, or even your child—and maybe the gods will send rain, protection, or victory. The gods became vending machines. Rituals became transactions.
And this same mindset crept into Israel. They had the true God. They had His law. But they kept slipping into the old patterns—treating Yahweh like He was just another idol to be appeased. Like when King Saul offered the sacrifice without waiting for Samuel (1 Samuel 13:1-14). The people were scattering, and Saul panicked. He didn’t ask what God desired—he just did what he thought would work.
The offering wasn’t about relationship. It was about optics. Ritual over trust: “What to Me is the multitude of your sacrifices?” says the LORD… “Bring no more vain offerings… I cannot endure iniquity and solemn assembly” (Isaiah 1:11-13).
The rituals themselves weren’t wrong—God had given them to teach the cost of sin, the weight of mercy, the need for holiness. But Israel turned the covenant into a transaction: keep the rituals, secure the blessing. They had the motions, but not the meaning: Shall I offer my firstborn? Micah says, “He has shown you, O man, what is good: to do justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God” (Micah 6:6-8). Even when worshiping the true God, the people kept falling into the pagan trap: manipulate God with performance, and expect a payoff.
Jesus Exposes the Religious Algorithm
When Jesus walked among the people of God, He didn’t come to destroy the law—but to expose what they’d made of it. And He saw the same old game playing out—just with new rules: “When you pray… do not do it on the street corners to be seen by others… ” (Matthew 6:5) and in Matthew 6:16, “Moreover, when you fast, do not be like the hypocrites, with a sad countenance. For they disfigure their faces that they many appear to men to be fasting. Assuredly, I say to you, they have their reward.”
People were using righteousness like social media uses the algorithm: To be seen. To gain approval. To earn status. But Jesus called them out—not for keeping the law, but for performing it. They weren’t seeking God—they were playing a system.
That’s why the Pharisees were outraged when Jesus healed on the Sabbath… or when His disciples plucked heads of grain. It wasn’t that these actions were sinful—they simply broke the pattern, the tradition, the game: “Look, why are they doing what is not lawful on the Sabbath?” (Mark 2.24). But Jesus wasn’t breaking God’s law—just man’s definition of keeping it.
Traditions, when repeated without understanding, become reflexes, habitual actions that blind us to the purpose of God’s commands. The rules become more important than the reason. And so Jesus says: step off the stage. Leave the game behind. Walk with God in sincerity and truth (John 4:24).
When Grace Becomes Another Ritual
Many today speak often of grace—and rightly so. Salvation is a gift from God, not something we can earn. But even this truth can become distorted. Over time, even grace can become a kind of performance. We learn to say the right words: “It’s not about works.” “God loves me as I am.” “Legalism kills.”
But grace was never meant to excuse apathy. It was meant to change us. The danger is subtle: we can begin to use grace the same way ancient Israel used sacrifices as a way to justify a heart that doesn’t want to obey. And when that happens, we’ve built a new altar to an old problem: using religion to avoid relationship.
True grace doesn’t make obedience unnecessary, it makes it possible. It doesn’t eliminate the law, it writes it on our hearts. It doesn’t excuse sin—it leads us to overcome it. “This is the love of God, that we keep His commandments. And His commandments are not burdensome” (1 John 5:3). Grace is not a slogan. It’s the power of God to transform.
Didn’t God’s Law Include Blessings and Curses?
Yes—but here’s the difference: Pagan systems were mechanical: “Do this ritual, and the gods owe you.” God’s covenant was relational: “Walk with Me, and I will be with you.”
His blessings weren’t rewards to be earned through flawless obedience. And His curses weren’t punishments from a temperamental deity. They were the natural outcomes of walking with—or away from—the source of life: “I have set before you life and death, blessing and cursing; therefore choose life…” (Deuteronomy 30:19).
Think of it like parenting: There’s a big difference between a parent who controls their child with fear and reward, and a parent who teaches their child why certain actions lead to good or bad outcomes. The goal isn’t mere compliance—it’s maturity. It’s love. “Obey, because I said so” is far less powerful than “Obey, because this is the way to life.”
God’s law was always about shaping hearts. His desire was never robotic obedience, but a people who love Him enough to walk in His ways—not to earn His love, but because they already have it. “The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, You will not despise” (Psalm 51:17).
The Way of the Spirit, Not the System
God’s path is not an algorithm. It’s not a formula. It’s not a maze. It’s a walk—with Him. It’s slow, intentional, and relational. It requires humility and a heart willing to be shaped. It cannot be gamed or performed. And in a world obsessed with metrics, image, and spiritual posturing, the invitation still stands: “Come to Me… and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28).
God isn’t looking for actors or those who say the right thing. He’s not measuring our performance. He’s looking for sons and daughters. He’s calling us to the altar—not to play a part, but to be transformed. Not sacrifice without heart. Not slogans without obedience. Not ritual without relationship.
Step Off the Stage
Whether it’s a crowded temple or a curated feed, the question still echoes: Are we seeking God—or just playing the system? We don’t need more performance. We need more faith. We don’t need more algorithms. We need more awe. We don’t need another version of ritual religion. We need a return to the living God.
Let’s leave the algorithm behind. Let’s walk with the One who still calls you and me by name.
Ryan Welsh