Years ago I read the story of David taking a census of the people of Israel (1 Chronicles 21) — a seemingly innocuous act that actually exposed his own self-reliance, his lack of trust in Yahweh. I felt the Spirit invite me so clearly: No more counting and comparing, Katelynn.

Since then, that invitation has unfolded in so many areas. No more counting my cardio minutes or tallying calories. No more books-read goals, no more streaks to keep on a habit tracker.

It felt like a call to exit the rat race — which is surprisingly scary! With no measuring, how do I know if I'm doing okay? Without numbers, how can I compare my results to others?

You can probably guess from this writing that I'm a type-A person. High-capacity, productivity-minded. Letting go of measuring felt a bit like removing the framework I use to drive myself forward.

But the other side of it is… freedom! Shoulders down from around my ears. A long breath out. I can just live my life, according to my values, without having to measure or prove a thing. Truly, my life is too rich to measure.

And anyway — I don't even have the right tools. Nothing exists to measure the outcome of a life. A measuring cup is for flour and sugar — things that hold still and let you level them off. Not for a child. Not for a soul. It doesn't make sense!

So the call is to put down the measuring cup.

This came in the same season I was restructuring my life to carve out space for my soul — getting off social media, cutting back commitments, quieting noise, guarding margin. But I was learning you can clear all that outer space and still crowd your soul with measuring: the miles run, the words written, the quiet tally always running underneath. Putting down the measuring cup was the inner half of the same work — not just making room, but letting the work go unmeasured.

And in the end, to stop counting and measuring, comparing and keeping score, is to turn your eyes from yourself back to Yahweh — the only one who can truly judge the value of our work. He sees the whole picture. Not just the results of our work in the world, but the results in our own spirits.

Which is good — because I'm in a season of tending a lot of things that show little-to-no visible growth.

• Working with middle schoolers. It's a good day when I can get one of them to smile at me. God forbid one of them shows a sign that anything I say means anything!
• Parenting. What a long, slow game.
• Spiritual formation. So many practices I keep up just trusting that they matter somehow. I believe they do. I don't have the evidence to back it up.
• Right relationships at work. I'm working hard not only to work with integrity but to relate to my coworkers with respect — preserving their dignity, affirming their worth. Especially this last season, it hasn't seemed to make any difference at all.

None of this was ever only my work. Yahweh is the one who reveals Himself — to those middle schoolers, to my own children, to me. I just get to link arms with what He's already doing. A co-labor. Which means the results were never mine to tally in the first place.

But I will keep putting down the measuring cups I want to pick up. I will stop judging — letting God carry that weight, because there's no way I can carry it anyway. Only He can. I pray for discernment: the ability to see clearly, and then to let Him render the verdict on what I see.

I'm coming to believe the fruit of all this is so much more than I could imagine. Like working a garden, I have to think in longer terms. And ultimately, I’m invited to find joy in the work for its own sake. I am side-by-side with the Lover of my soul — and that is enough. Even if the tomatoes never grow, even if the seeds get carried off by birds, to dig in the dirt with Jesus is delight!

Great is the Lord! He is most worthy of praise! No one can measure his greatness. — Psalm 145:3