You Never Know

In a world obsessed with instant feedback, it’s easy to feel like our efforts vanish into the void. We crave likes on Facebook, engagement on Instagram, and comments on X, chasing fleeting validation. Yet beneath the surface lies a truth we can’t escape: no one knows the full impact of our words, actions, or examples.

I write this blog twice a week. Each morning, I send out a devotional called Morning Coffee. Weekly, I teach a Bible class, which is then posted online. Once released, these words scatter like seeds in the wind, beyond my sight and control. Does anyone read them? Do they bring change? Or am I shouting into the void, a whisper drowned out by a world addicted to noise?

Some days, writing feels like a chore. The questions linger: Am I making a difference? Or am I wasting my breath, pouring words into a windstorm that sweeps them away unnoticed? Discouragement creeps in, unpacking its bags and settling in my heart. It sets the table with fine china etched in a bleak pattern called “Worthless.”

And then, without warning, a spark. Someone struggling reaches out: “You helped me.” A phrase I’ve used in a blog finds its way into conversation. These moments of unsolicited feedback outshine any digital thumbs-up or heart icon. They remind me that real impact often remains unseen.

Paul understood this struggle. He preached, often facing hostility. In Lystra, after angry opponents stoned him, he climbed out from under the rocks and limped back into town, bloodied but resolute. Paul never left people ambivalent—you either loved him or hated him. He knew the risk, but he pressed on because he grasped a vital truth: you never know.

Every word written—you never know who’s reading.

Every morning, a devotional sent—you never know who’s listening.

Every Bible lesson taught—you never know who’s learning.

The uncertainty can lead to two paths: give up because you’ll never know the full impact, or keep going precisely because you never know whose life may be quietly transformed.

Paul, writing to the Galatians, said,

“And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up. So then, as we have opportunity, let us do good to everyone, and especially to those who are of the household of faith” (Galatians 6:9–10, ESV).

We plant seeds. The harvest is not always ours to see. The results belong to God, who knows the hearts that need healing and the souls longing for hope. Our job is to sow, trusting that each word, each act of kindness, carries eternal weight.

So, when doubt whispers in your ear, remember this: the good you do may never make headlines or go viral. But to someone, somewhere, it could mean everything. You may never know who needed that word of encouragement, prayer, or teaching—but God knows.

Keep going. Write. Speak. Teach. Love. Because you never know how your efforts ripple through eternity.