“If it counts, count it!”
If only I could count how many times I’ve heard that mantra at church-growth conferences. But the most important things are usually uncountable. Hope, salvation, worship, and spiritual health, for instance. At their best, attendance figures, small-group percentages, even the number of water baptisms only hint at what really matters.
In this short guest article, Chris Maxwell challenges what we’re counting, and why we’re counting it. Then he points us to a better alternative, from the life and ministry of Jesus.
— Karl Vaters
We’ve been trained to count.
Count heads in the room. Count dollars in the bank. Count followers, likes, scores, stats. Count the books sold. The sermons preached. The hands raised. The buildings built. The crowds gathered.
And when the numbers aren’t high, we feel low. Defeated. Useless. Unimportant. Of little value.
We assume something’s wrong with us. We question our worth, our calling, our direction. We compare our invisible to someone else’s viral. We scroll through highlight reels, all while hiding our own reality.
But what if we’re counting the wrong things?
What if value is found not in how many, but in who? Not in how much, but in how deep? Not in the scoreboard, but in the stories?
God Notices People, Not Crowds
Jesus knew how to gather crowds.
But he often walked away from them.
He noticed one in a tree. He knelt beside one caught in shame. He paused to bless the children others pushed away. He dined with outsiders, wept with those grieving. He washed feet. He listened. He asked questions. He told stories.
No stat sheet promotes those type of moments.
But God noticed. And God notices.
Those he loved and invited and welcomed noticed.
And we—chasing crowds, craving applause, counting followers—are invited into a different way.
To mentor a few, not manage a multitude. To shepherd a small flock, not perform for a stadium. To linger in a conversation instead of rushing to another obligation.
Choose Contentment
We’re tempted to believe we haven’t done enough if we can’t show impressive numbers. But maybe the quiet prayer, the anonymous kindness, the faithful presence are the truest victories.
So today, let’s wave goodbye. Goodbye to the pressure, the performance, the pursuit of popularity.
Let’s choose contentment. Let’s measure success in hugs, not headlines. In faithfulness, not fame. In depth, not digits.
Because maybe small isn’t less. Maybe small is sacred. Maybe small is where Jesus still shows up, unnoticed by the crowd, but fully present to the few who see him in every little thing.
(This article originally appeared on Chris Maxwell’s blog, Pause. Used here with the author’s permission.)
(Photo by Tim Green | Flickr)
