Something happened as I walked down the steps and went backstage to take off my microphone. A sudden temptation loomed in my heart. Suddenly I found I wanted some outside reassurance. I wanted to hear the approval of other people. I wanted to know that others had been blessed by what I had said. And right then and there, I made a terrible mistake. I opened Twitter.

I studied diligently. I prayed fervently. I prepared purposefully. I stood before that crowd of people and did my best to preach God’s Word in a way that would be accurate and applicable. I preached my heart out. As the band took over and I left the stage, I would have said with a clear conscience that I had discharged my duty before God, that I had done my utmost to honor him and bless his people with the opportunity he had given me. I felt good. I felt blessed. It’s still a wonder to me that God ever gives me this privilege of opening his Word before his people.

But something happened as I walked down the steps and went backstage to take off my microphone. A sudden temptation loomed in my heart. Suddenly I found I wanted some outside reassurance. I wanted to hear the approval of other people. I wanted to know that others had been blessed by what I had said. And right then and there, I made a terrible mistake. I opened Twitter.

What I found on Twitter was mockery. Led by a couple of fairly prominent people, a crowd was making fun of me. They had spotted a little tic in my language, a little indication of how much it cuts against my personality to stand before so many people. While I preached, they were making sure that I and their thousands of followers knew about this tic. They were making sure that I and their thousands of followers knew exactly how they felt about it and about me. I had no idea in the moment and would have had no idea at all. But I opened Twitter.

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