Blogging in Christ — Issue 23

Count What Counts

Every writer who publishes keeps a count, whether he admits it or not. He knows how many came, which piece drew the crowd and which was passed by. The numbers arrive daily, and soon begin to feel like the work itself. A piece that draws many must be good. A piece that draws few must have failed. A writer who watches the count long enough begins to write for the count, shaping the next piece toward what the last count rewarded, until the count is no longer measuring the work. The count is governing it.

The counsel of the age calls this wisdom: measure what you do, so you can do more of what works. It sounds like stewardship. But stewardship is measured by a different ledger, and Scripture draws the line between the two ledgers in a single scene, where rejoicing itself is corrected.

The seventy return from their first sending, and they return with joy. "The seventy returned with joy, saying, 'Lord, even the demons are subject to us in your name!'" (Luke 10:17) The report is true. Power has answered their going. Nothing in the Lord's reply denies it. He even confirms the ground beneath it, and then he turns their rejoicing away from it altogether: "Nevertheless, don't rejoice in this, that the spirits are subject to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven." (Luke 10:20)

Mark the joint. He does not say the work was nothing. He says it is not the thing to rejoice in. The first ledger records what was done through them: spirits subject, visible effect. The second records what was done for them before they ever went out: names written in heaven. The first moves up and down with every sending. The second does not move at all. Rejoicing that stands on the moving ledger will rise and fall with it, and a writer whose joy rises and falls with his numbers has already handed his joy to his numbers.

That is the inversion at the root. The analytics of the age count what can be seen from outside: arrivals, returns, attention held and lost. God counts from the other side. "For man looks at the outward appearance, but Yahweh looks at the heart." (1 Samuel 16:7) And again: "Every way of a man is right in his own eyes, but Yahweh weighs the hearts." (Proverbs 21:2) A count of outward appearances can tell a writer how many eyes passed over a page. It cannot tell him what any heart did there. The outward ledger is not false in what it records. It is false as a verdict, because it cannot weigh what God weighs.

The writer, then, is not forbidden to know his numbers. He is forbidden to let them name his work. A steward is not judged by the size of the crowd that passed through his house. "Here, moreover, it is required of stewards that they be found faithful." (1 Corinthians 4:2) Faithfulness can be counted, but only in its own kind: pieces finished, quotations verified, corrections received and made, sentences cut because they said more than the text said. These are the writer's own work, the portion entrusted to him. What lies beyond that portion is not his to count, because it is not his to cause.

For the increase belongs to another ledger entirely. "I planted. Apollos watered. But God gave the increase." (1 Corinthians 3:6) "So then neither he who plants is anything, nor he who waters, but God who gives the increase." (1 Corinthians 3:7) A writer who counts the increase as his own fruit has claimed what God did, and judged his planting by a harvest he never controlled. The early church kept the grammar straight: "The Lord added to the assembly day by day those who were being saved." (Acts 2:47) The Lord added. The writer plants and waters, and the planting was faithful either way.

Here the parable of the talents gives the writer his true scale. One servant receives five, another two, another one, and the verdict does not fall on the size of the sum. It falls on the same word spoken to the five and to the two alike: "Well done, good and faithful servant. You have been faithful over a few things, I will set you over many things. Enter into the joy of your lord." (Matthew 25:21) The few things are the measure. A writer given a small readership and one given a large one stand before the same word, judged by faithfulness over what was entrusted, not by a total no man was asked to fill. To chase the larger column is to abandon the few things, and to lose the verdict in pursuit of the volume.

Therefore the writer keeps two books, and keeps them apart. The first book is his own, and it is small: pieces written, texts verified, errors corrected, days kept at the work when no one was watching. The second book is God's, and it is not his to open or audit. "Another book was opened, which is the book of life." (Revelation 20:12) That book holds the names, and the Lord has already told his seventy where their rejoicing belongs: in that book, not in their report. A writer who confuses the two books will either despair when the small book stays small, or boast when it grows, as though he had written his own name in the large one. Scripture closes both doors: "For it isn't he who commends himself who is approved, but whom the Lord commends." (2 Corinthians 10:18)

A further corruption hides inside diligence. A writer watches his numbers in order to serve his readers better, and the watching quietly teaches him what to write next. The piece that drew many becomes the template. The hard text that drew few is set aside, not because it was untrue, but because it was uncounted. Little by little the crowd edits his canon, and his totals choose his texts for him. That is why the warning about treasure is also a warning about counting: "for where your treasure is, there your heart will be also." (Matthew 6:21) A heart stored in a dashboard will follow the dashboard. A heart stored in the book of life will write the hard text whether the dashboard rewards it or not.

This does not excuse a writer who stops counting what is his to count. "Unless Yahweh builds the house, they who build it labor in vain." (Psalms 127:1) The verse does not tell the builders to stop building. It tells them where the building stands or falls. The small book is kept daily — did I sit with the text, verify the quotation, receive the correction, finish the piece, leave it true? — and it is kept for the Lord's eye, not for the crowd's applause. "To whomever much is given, of him will much be required; and to whom much was entrusted, of him more will be asked." (Luke 12:48) Much given is not much achieved. It is much required, and the requirement is faithfulness, not volume.

So the practice is plain, and it can be kept every evening without a single instrument. Close the work by asking what was entrusted today and whether it was done truly. Then close the dashboard, and do not ask it whether the day was worthwhile. It can tell you that many came or few came. It cannot tell you whether you were faithful, or whether the text was honored. Those questions belong to the ledger that does not move. "Let's not be weary in doing good, for we will reap in due season if we don't give up." (Galatians 6:9) The due season is not the next spike in the chart. It is the Lord's season, and it arrives whether the chart rises or not.

Count, then, what counts. Count finished pieces. Count verified texts. Count corrections humbly received. Count days kept at the work. And rejoice, not in the crowds that came or stayed away, but in this alone: that your name is written in heaven, where no count can erase it. The writer's joy was never meant to be a number. It was meant to be a name, written where it cannot be uncounted, by a hand that is not his own.