Not long after my conversion, I was on stage. An intriguing testimony and apparent gifting opened doors for me to speak in churches and on college campuses. Despite encouraging feedback, I knew I needed to learn the Bible. So I moved to Denton, Texas, to study under pastor Tom Nelson.
We were charged to find an area of service, so I jumped into the college ministry, assuming I could help lead the way.
God had other plans.
The Stage
John Bryson led the college ministry during those years. He’d been around enough young men to know I needed to learn a lesson.
Before the first gathering of the year, John said he had an important opportunity for me. I assumed he wanted me to share my testimony or preach, so I showed up ready. Instead of leading me on stage, he led me backstage. He pointed to a rope. I would be serving those on stage by opening and closing the curtain.
With each tug of the rope, my frustration increased. My hands burned and my heart criticized the speakers—If I were out there, God would use me powerfully. I’ve never heard the audible voice of God, but that night I had this distinct impression:
If you can’t be just as joyful back here where no one can see you as you would be out there where everyone can see you, then you are seeking your glory, not mine.
Photobombing Jesus
And then it hit me: I served God with mixed motives. I hoped lost people would be saved—but I wanted to be the evangelist God used. I desired Christians to be encouraged—but I wanted to be the instrument of edification. I wanted people to think God was awesome—and that I was, too.
This is where it gets tricky. The desire for God to be glorified through me is the height of my created purpose. But there is a fine line between wanting God to use you for his glory and wanting everyone to know it. It’s the fine line between pure worship and idolatry.
It’s not wrong to desire to be part of what God is doing—you were created for this purpose (Eph. 2:10). It’s not wrong to want people to see God glorified in your life (Matt. 5:16). It’s not wrong to serve with the hope that people will be convicted of their sin and trust in Christ (1 Pet. 2:12).
In fact, I would say it’s sinful if you don’t desire these things. But we must give careful attention to our hearts so we don’t seek to steal glory from Jesus.
Confessions of a Glory Thief
Here are six confessions of a glory thief.
1. I want to glorify Jesus, but I want glory too.
I’ve left wonderful Sunday services discouraged because deep down I wanted someone to tell me, “That was the most amazing sermon I’ve ever heard.” I can desire Jesus to be exalted while lusting for affirmation from others. Useful servants are satisfied when no one applauds them, so long as everyone applauds Jesus. But a servant who seeks affirmation steals from Jesus. As a friend once said, “A pastor who preaches to gain glory for himself is flirting with Christ’s bride, for whom he died.”
Useful servants are satisfied when no one applauds them, as long as everyone applauds Jesus.
When do you feel the craving for affirmation? How do you respond?
2. Because I want affirmation, I hide my sins.
Shame is powerful. It convinces us we can’t be honest about our true condition, and so tempts us to pretend. When we hide sin, we show that we treasure people’s opinions more than pleasing Christ.
Yet when we confess our sins to another trusted Christian, God begins to crucify our glory-thieving. A unique humility is birthed when you look into the eyes of another person and confess how you’ve sinned against God and others. The idol of affirmation is crushed, and God is seen as glorious in spite of you.