From the archive:

Do you ever wonder what people would think if they witnessed you and God in conversation? I opened the stats page for my blog. That’s the page with the graph that shows me how my post is performing for the day, week, month, or year. It had been my habit to look often, comparing numbers, trends, and growth. It was interesting to see that Friday’s were viewed less and Monday’s were normally highest. God reminded me periodically that it was His decision what happened with it but pride still wanted me to size-myself-up in the popularity contest. Pride had not gotten himself completely through the door but he definitely had a foothold–and probably still does somewhere inside. Once again I hit refresh to measure my imagined success at the current moment. Would it make me smile or grimace?

Then my mouth said words that really weren’t my own: “One day it won’t matter anymore.” “Yes, Lord, but when?” I asked. He answered, “Now.” Before the page reappeared on my screen I closed it and walked away. Father said to me in that same voice, “Your success has nothing to do with the numbers you see. That is my business alone. Your success is in the follow-through. Don’t go back to those numbers unless I tell you to.” In my heart, I agreed and started to leave my office.

I looked up at the overhead light and thought I would turn it off. That light brings out the hypocrisy in me. I make the same sarcastic remark my dad always did: “Every light in the house is on!” In reality, as I repeat the command to my family to turn off unused lights, my office light is often only turned off as I’m going to bed. I sat my coffee down, reached for the chain, changed my mind, and grabbed my coffee. I heard the reminder in my mind, put my coffee down, and reached for the light chain again. I thought: “They are LED bulbs. It’s only about ten cents a day, they claim.” I picked up my coffee and turned once more to walk out. Then I heard: “Ten cents is ten cents.” I stopped once again, spun around, put my coffee down, and turned the light off. 

Suddenly I wondered what I must look like to anyone who may be watching–speaking with no visible listener–going back and forth between my coffee cup and the light chain. If I would have responded properly the first time, instead of debating with my Father, how much time, thought, and energy would I save? “He leads me by quiet water,” (Psalm 23:2) but I keep jumping in and out. “I am the good shepherd; I know my own, and my own know me.” (John 10:14) 

Do your debates or arguments with Father look as silly as mine? Being a Christian is supposed to make you stand out. Are you willing to look strange to people in order to remain close to Father?