The title of this post sounds contradictory, but I am forever fascinated by the reality of it—that Jesus the Messiah, who is co-equal and co-eternal with the Father, humbled Himself to the point where He took on cursed flesh and was slain at the hands of His own creation, all while people shouted, “If you’re really the Son of God, get yourself down from the cross!” His holy feet walked through dirt. His holy hands touched lepers and dead men. I can see why King David said, “Who is this King of Glory?” (Psalm 24:8). Not that he didn’t know Him, but it was because he saw another side of Him that he didn’t recognize. Even today, at this very moment, seraphim fly around His throne shouting “HOLY” as they catch another glimpse of this glorious King that sits above the circle of the earth.
I’ve attended many church services and conferences in my lifetime. Many, God has used to mark my life forever. However, as much as I love the church, sometimes, it’s hard to miss the humanity of it all. I’ve walked into some places where the worship leaders sing “Give us your glory” and “Let the fire fall” over and over again. Then the preacher gets on stage and shouts the whole time as if the anointing and God moving were dependent on the volume of his voice. They get the crowd nice and “riled up,” as we say in the south, filling their messages with all the popular Christian buzzwords and catchphrases before laying hands on people and pushing them over where then people seem to have a contest of who can manifest the most to look like God is really moving in their life. Of course, it’s fine to shout. We’ve been set free by the blood of the Lamb, after all—who wouldn’t want to shout about that? It’s also normal to fall over under the power of God when being prayed for, and sometimes people shake, wail, laugh, cry—you name it. A divine touch from the living God makes a mere physical body react in all kinds of ways. However, when we rely too heavily on the “glory of God,” the manifestations of the Spirit, and shouting from the pulpit, we might be missing what Jesus is really doing in our midst while we’re putting on our own show.
I attended one such conference where similar things were taking place. God was genuinely moving among the people, but I couldn’t help but feel that something was missing. During worship while they sang, “Give us your glory,” I sat down, and in my heart, I began to go to a different place. My eyes were closed, but in the Spirit, I was searching for where Jesus was and what He was doing. I looked left. I looked right. I looked up. Then, I looked down. Jesus was on the floor praying. He was alone, but I wanted to join Him. Later in the service, I still saw the same image, and what He said broke me. He said, “Not many people come with Me here.” “Here,” being on the dirty floor. That was my Master on the floor, and He was alone.
Tears welled up in my eyes as I remembered those final moments the disciples had with Jesus at the Garden of Gethsemane before the Romans arrested Him and took Him away to be crucified. Mark describes the scene in chapter 14 where Jesus brings His closest friends—Peter, James, and John—to stay and pray with Him through the night, yet He found them sleeping. He said, “Simon, are you sleeping? Could you not watch with Me one hour?” This is the only documented time that Jesus asks any of the disciples to stay and pray with Him, but instead, they slept. They left Him alone.
The disciples, though they truly loved Jesus, are also the same ones that asked Jesus, “Who is the greatest?” after they had seen demons cast out and people healed through their own hands. I imagine that on the road to the next city, they were comparing notes of who cast out the most demons or saw the most people healed. All the while, Jesus corrected them and said, “If anyone desires to be first, he shall be last of all and servant of all” (Mark 9:35). He corrected their thinking in that their definition of personal “greatness” involved things related to the kingdom of God, but their hearts were drifting from what “greatness” in the kingdom of God really looks like—servanthood and humility.
While the band still sang of the glory of God, I thought back to where Jesus told the sons of Zebedee, “You do not know what you ask. Are you able to drink the cup and that I drink, and be baptized with the baptism that I am baptized with?” (Mark 10:38). This response came after they asked Him if they could sit on either side of Him in His glory. They wanted His glory but were naive to the suffering that came with it. At the time, they could never imagine that the “King of the Jews” was about to be flayed open with whips, beard ripped, mocked, and spit upon, and that He wouldn’t do a thing to stop it, even though He had the authority to command legions of angels to rescue Him. They had no grid for this level of humility He was about to demonstrate to the world.
If you want to know what “greatness” and “glory” looks like to Jesus, look no further than John the Baptist—the one who dressed in camel hair and ate bugs in the desert, and yet, He calls him “the greatest among those born of women,” (Matthew 11:11). His life was marked by radical humility, so much so, that when the Messiah was revealed to him, the One whom his whole life’s purpose revolved around, he gladly stepped aside, saying “He must increase, I must decrease,” (John 3:30). He wasn’t the least bit upset that his ministry was coming to an end. He didn’t idolize his position in the kingdom of God. Rather, he cast his metaphorical “crown” at the feet of Jesus and, like a “Best Man” at a wedding, essentially told Jesus, “Go get your Bride! My work here is done.”
What does greatness look like to you? Does it look like being rich in material wealth? Having a lot of friends? Attending multiple church services in a week? Or being able to demonstrate every gift of the Spirit and preach on stages internationally?
As for me, I saw the King of Kings on the floor praying alone. I think I’ll join Him.
This is an updated edition of a post originally published on AwesomeSierra
Featured Image by Holger Langmaier from Pixabay
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