Am I Sharing the Gospel or Building Babel?

When “reaching people” starts becoming “notice me.”

There’s a line in the story of Babel that’s been bothering me lately.

The people don’t just decide to build a tower because they fancy a big project. They say, “Let us make a name for ourselves.” That feels uncomfortably familiar when you’re trying to write about faith online.

I tell myself I’m sharing the Gospel. I want people to read something honest about grief, doubt, Jesus, all of it. And that’s true. I do want it to reach people. It’d be a strange thing to put a post on Substack, share it on Instagram, then hope nobody opens it.

But then there’s the other bit.

Checking the open rate. Refreshing the Notes. Wondering why that one got shared and this one didn’t. Thinking about who might repost it. Trying to work out whether a better title would get more clicks. Seeing somebody else’s numbers and feeling that little pinch in your stomach.

At what point am I trying to point people towards God, and at what point am I just trying to make a name for myself with a Bible verse stuck on top?

I’m not writing this because I’ve worked it out. I’m writing it because I can feel both things in me at once.

I want the writing to help somebody. I also like being told it helped. I want people to find my book. I also want that feeling of being noticed. Those aren’t identical motives and I don’t think it helps to pretend they are.

I don’t think the answer is to stop trying, either. Paul wrote letters that were meant to be read. Jesus told people to go and tell. You can’t share the Gospel while secretly hoping it goes nowhere.

Maybe the danger is making the interaction the proof that God was in it.

Because sometimes a post might quietly reach the one person who needed it, and you’ll never know. No comment. No new subscriber. No lovely message in your inbox.

Would I still write it then?

That’s the question I’m trying to keep near me.

I don’t want to build God a tower and secretly carve my own name into the bricks.