Glory

And whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted. (Matthew 23:12)

The human heart craves glory. We want to see it, and we want to take part in it. The world ties glory to self. It comes from who we are, what we do, and what we have. No humility is necessary to know this splendor. In fact, the proud often obtain it best.

God’s glory is profoundly different. It does not come by exalting oneself, nor do we realize it through the approval of others. In the kingdom of God, we raise ourselves by lowering ourselves. This is a mystery to the world, but the wisdom of God. It is the humble who behold the glory of God and participate in it. In this article, we shall explore the tie between humility and glory. We shall see why pride is the ultimate blindness and why humility lifts our worth to the heavens.

All this came upon King Nebuchadnezzar.

At the end of the twelve months, he was walking about the royal palace of Babylon.

The king spoke, saying, “Is not this great Babylon that I have built for a royal dwelling by my mighty power and for the honor of my majesty?”

While the word was still in the king’s mouth, a voice fell from heaven: “King Nebuchadnezzar, to you it is spoken: the kingdom has departed from you!

And they shall drive you from men, and your dwelling shall be with the beasts of the field. They shall make you eat grass like oxen; and seven times shall pass over you, until you know that the Most High rules in the kingdom of men, and gives it to whomever He chooses.”

That very hour the word was fulfilled concerning Nebuchadnezzar; he was driven from men and ate grass like oxen; his body was wet with the dew of heaven till his hair had grown like eagles’ feathers and his nails like birds’ claws. (Daniel 4:28–33)

Nebuchadnezzar was a grandiose figure in the Bible. His self-importance knew no bounds. This king obtained the heights of worldly glory, but he also witnessed God’s glory. In those days, kings gained honor by building things and breaking things. This fellow did a lot of both. He won great military victories and built a vast empire. He sacked Jerusalem and destroyed the temple in 597 BC. As you recall, he took many of the Jewish people into exile. We read about the mighty sovereign’s exploits and the time of Babylonian captivity in the book of Daniel.

To say Nebuchadnezzar had an over-inflated ego would be an understatement. He built a ninety-foot idol of solid gold and forced everyone to fall down and worship its majesty. God’s servants, Shadrach, Meshach and Abed-nego, refused to bow. In his anger, the king had the three thrown into his fiery furnace. However, the only thing the king’s fire burned were the ropes that bound them. A fourth man, possibly the Lord, appeared amid the flames.

You would think seeing such a wonder would humble the mighty ruler, and it did, but only momentarily. God gave Nebuchadnezzar a dream to warn him of where his pride was leading. In it, he envisioned a majestic tree that was cut down to a stump. The tree represented Nebuchadnezzar, and as the dream foretold, the Lord stripped the ruler of all he measured himself by, even his sanity.

Nebuchadnezzar illustrates the human ego. Although his pride was extravagant, we can recognize ourselves in the king. He represents the ego on the throne. In him we also perceive how God humbles us, not to destroy us, but to reveal infinite glory.

The glory of the ego has many sources, but its essence is self. We exalt in what we have. Have you ever stared at a prized possession? To do so is to bask in the glory of the things we own. We also yearn for the grandeur of what others own. We can’t resist a glance at a celebrity’s home. Mansions, cars, yachts, jewelry, and clothing have a splendor that draws the eye and the heart. Yet, to have true majesty, our possessions must stand out. If everyone has what I have, there is little glory, but if I am the only one among thousands or millions who has something, I get to shine.

Like Nebuchadnezzar, we relish the glory of defeating our foes. We may not face them on a battlefield, but a sports venue is the next best thing. I am not saying sports are evil. Many good things come from being part of a team, such as fellowship and discipline. Yet, the ultimate prize in sports is glory. We fill stadiums hoping to share in the honor of a winning team. Fans who fill the stands have a lot at stake. They will leave either exalting in their victory or crushed under the weight of defeat. The winner’s honor comes at the expense of the loser’s defeat.

We give glory to each other, and we take it away. If someone is good at gaining honor through who they are, what they have, or what they do, we call them a star. They receive acclaim far beyond the ordinary. When my son was about four or five years old, he heard someone say an actor was a star. He said, “Daddy, I don’t like that. If they are the stars, the rest of us are the blank space in-between.” Out of the mouth of babes…. For the world’s glory to exist, there must be the inglorious, the ordinary, and the shameful. Finite glory can be measured and compared.

Religion is often the glory of the ego disguised as the glory of God. It is a splendid home for the flesh, and it often hides there in plain sight.

Also, He spoke this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous, and despised others:

“Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector.

The Pharisee stood and prayed thus with himself, ‘God, I thank You I am not like other men—extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even as this tax collector.

I fast twice a week; I give tithes of all that I possess.’ (Luke 18:9–12)

If we had someone in our church congregation who paid their tithes and fasted twice a week, would look up to them as a shining example of godliness. We exalt people who are good at being good, and like this Pharisee, they often exalt themselves and have contempt others. Yet, the ego’s boast is always empty, for it is void of the glory of God. The Pharisees’ glory was finite. It could be measured and compared, a dead giveaway that it was flesh and not Spirit. Notice how many times he says the pronoun “I” in his prayer. He was not giving honor to God, but to himself.

Like Nebuchadnezzar, this fellow in Jesus’s parable is an overt example of ego. Yet, how often do we make our own good, even our service to God, our glory? Christians exalt in souls saved, buildings built, and the size of our congregations. We boast in our good deeds, and we want everyone to know how we help the poor and reach out to those we think are below us. We even boast about our suffering! Religion is often the angel of light Paul warned about (II Corinthians 11:14). If we seek to gain approval or if we look down on others not as “godly” as us, our glory is the ego’s gain, not God’s.

Glory is so valuable that we daydream about it. Consider the scenarios you create in your mind. We dream of having, conquering, and excelling. Indeed, we have a great need for glory. Ironically, God wants to give us exceeding glory, but it is not the glory of the ego. We ask God to give us finite glory, to make us somebody, to take us from not having to having, and to take away our flaws (Yes, even this can be self-glory, the desire to be like God apart from Christ). We fail to comprehend that these are the desires of the ego, and through them, we can never enter the kingdom of God. The earmark of God’s hand upon our lives is rarely what we imagine. Its outcome is glory, but it begins with humility.

In Nebuchadnezzar’s story, we see how God humbles us. He takes away our glory, or He withholds it from us. The Lord stripped the king of all he measured himself by, his wealth, his power, and even his sanity. The biggest somebody in the land became the biggest nobody.

Has the Lord ever shaken your sense of worth? Or perhaps you watch others shine and receive honor, but your day in the limelight never seems to come. When we think of God’s hand on our lives, we imagine victory and gain, not defeat and loss. Yet, whom the Lord loves, He humbles. He does so to put them in their place, not groveling at His feet, but sitting at His side glorified together with Him.

When you are on your way down, it is difficult to understand that God is lifting you up. I came to minister at Thorncrown Chapel when it was at the heights of its popularity. Regularly, visitors waiting to get into Thorncrown lined the entire trail that led from the parking lot to the chapel, and it wasn’t uncommon to have fifty or more buses daily. We held services from the time we opened the chapel doors until we closed them. On Sundays, our first service started at 7:30 am and was followed by two more services at 9 and 11 am. And all three were always full, even the early one. Other pastors envied what I had, and people always told me what a wonderful job I was doing. It seemed I was well on my way to being great in the kingdom of God.

One day, I was in my secret place of prayer, diligently praying for God’s favor. The Lord is always present, but sometimes His presence is especially evident. This was such a day. God showed up, and He didn’t want to talk about the Sunday services. In my heart, I heard Him speak. “I am going to deal with your self-righteousness!” I did not understand what He meant, but I sensed things were about to change.

Shortly after that, Eureka Springs’ popularity among church and tour groups fell, and it fell fast. The days of fifty buses a day and three full Sunday services ended. Within two years, the number of tour groups visiting Thorncrown Chapel dropped by almost 80 percent, and our Sunday services suffered likewise. We had to lay off employees as our donations dwindled, and all our plans for expansion ceased. One Sunday, I walked into the chapel, ready to preach, and my heart sank when I saw only one person had showed up for church. People gauge a minister’s success by the size of his or her congregation. When someone learns I am a pastor, they almost always ask how big my membership is. But what they really want to know is how important I am, and I loathed the question I once loved. Somehow, on the way to becoming “a somebody” in the ministry, I became “a nobody,” and I could not understand why God would do this to me.

It took years for me to comprehend the answer. I see now this was God’s love in action. He stripped away my finite measures of identity and worth to give me an infinite one. As long as my glory was in finite things, even if they were good things, I could not know God’s glory, and my lowly state was the perfect place to behold it. When God takes away finite glory, infinite glory is about to be unveiled. In emptiness, we come to understand what fulness is. We taste of the Bread of Life. If God has brought you low, you are not cursed, but favored. The ego’s loss is the Spirit’s gain.

Paul said he boasted about his weaknesses (2 Corinthians 12:9). Such a thought is incomprehensible to the ego. We are supposed to hide our weaknesses and infirmities, for they are the flesh’s shame. Yet, the Spirit exalts in the times when finite glory is absent. For it is then that we most easily comprehend the glory of God. Today, I cannot imagine where I would be if God had not lowered me. Therefore, I boast in my ego’s defeat, for it is God’s victory.

And at the end of the time I, Nebuchadnezzar, lifted my eyes to heaven, and my understanding returned to me; and I blessed the Most High and praised and honored Him who lives forever:

For His dominion is an everlasting dominion,

And His kingdom is from generation to generation.

All the inhabitants of the earth are reputed as nothing;

He does according to His will in the army of heaven

And among the inhabitants of the earth.

No one can restrain His hand

Or say to Him, “What have You done?”

At the same time, my reason returned to me, and for the glory of my kingdom, my honor and splendor returned to me. My counselors and nobles resorted to me, I was restored to my kingdom, and excellent majesty was added to me. Now I, Nebuchadnezzar, praise and extol and honor the King of heaven, all of whose works are truth, and His ways justice. And those who walk in pride He is able to put down. (Daniel 4:34–37)

In Nebuchadnezzar, we see the ego’s glory, but we also witness what genuine humility is. The king looked up. We mistakenly regard humility as looking down on ourselves, and we imagine this is what God wants. The less I can think of myself, the more God will think of me. How often do we come to God like the Prodigal Son came to his father with prepared speeches about our unworthiness? If we can shame ourselves enough, we suppose God will bless us. This reasoning is not God’s wisdom, and it is not humility, but ego. The flesh can honor itself but also shame itself. It is still ego either way.

Genuine humility is looking away from self and its finite measures to Christ. To glory in Christ Jesus and to put no confidence in the flesh is humility (Philippians 3:3). A humble person is someone who has lost their own glory for the glory of Christ. They neither exalt themselves nor despise themselves. In fact, the measures of self have lost their meaning. It does not matter if the world calls them a winner or a loser; their worth remains constant. They are at rest.

When an athlete makes a brilliant play and points to the heavens, we say they are giving the glory to God. That is probably so for most, but it can have an even greater meaning. It is saying we have a greater glory than finite accomplishments, and that is the greater glory by which we live. Truthfully, the one who makes the error and loses the game can point to the same place, the glory from above. If the loser did that at a sporting event, the world would be baffled. It cannot comprehend a glory that does not come from who we are, what we do, or what we have.

Christ came to unveil infinite glory. In the day of Christ, the Old Covenant temple was still standing. It was home to God’s glory. Yet, it was a veiled glory. Behind the veil in the Holiest of Holies was the Shekinah, the outshining of God Himself. Here, the glory of the creation and the glory of God were one. It was a place without distinctions.

When Jesus died on the cross, the veil to the temple was torn. This act gets but a sentence in two of the gospels, but it speaks volumes. We can ponder its meaning our whole lives. From one perspective, the veil represented the flesh or ego which veiled the Shekinah. Through the Lord’s death, God tore the veil of ego so we could not only behold the glory, but it would flow from us like rivers of living water. It is from lowliness that we comprehend His mighty works. When the ego has no boast, Christ’s story becomes ours. We are crucified ones, dead to the world’s measures of honor and shame. We are resurrected ones, alive to God, fully beholding His glory, and it is our only measure.

So, Nebuchadnezzar is us. We all resist God with the glory of our good and the shame of our evil. Our wrestling ends when we look up.