In 2012, Steven Furtick's book *Greater* debuted at an impressive #4 on the *New York Times* Advice Best Sellers List. But a week later, it vanished from the list. The brief spike suggested there was a coordinated effort to buy thousands of copies at the same time in order to game the system. But Furtick's bio proudly lists him as a *New York Times* bestselling author.

A new church initiative led a friend to quit his job, sell his belongings, and move overseas for missionary service. But then priorities changed, the funding was pulled, and he had to return home. So he came back to his home church without a job and a strange gap on his resume. His return forced the sending church to ask a hard question: was he a failed missionary or an honored brother, whose sacrifice showed us how to live?

I researched how to make a web app go viral. One website recommended adding streaks with competitions, gamification, and badges. I thought about it. But we already judge ourselves for failing God. I didn't want to build an app that adds to the shame.

Every conversation at a national ministry conference in Washington, D.C. felt like it followed an unwritten script. "Hi, I'm so-and-so. How are you? So, how big is your church?" As a campus minister, my answer wasn't that impressive, but the question itself felt shallow. Why were we sizing each other up by attendance records?

I gasped for air and charged around a curve on a dirt path deep in the woods. To my shock, my cross-country coach was there, screaming, "VICTORY! Anyone can run a mile! Go, go, go, now!", windmilling his arms toward the finish line, and flashing his signature 'V for victory' hand signal at me. Instinctively, I accelerated, knowing the end was near.