Fame or Glory

Isaiah 6:1-10, John 17:1-11

​Over 10 years ago, an eleven-year-old yodeled in a Walmart. A month later, Mason Ramsey had a record deal with Atlantic and is now worth over one million dollars.

A Scottish church volunteer sang the most beautiful rendition of I Dreamed a Dream, and in 2009 Susan Boyle became a global phenomenon, now worth over $40 million.

An Austrian skydiver decided to take the sport to the next level, and rather than diving from the sky, he leapt from space at 128,000 feet. At that moment, Felix Baumgartner became a legend—the first person to break the sound barrier simply by falling.

Millions of people post hundreds of millions of videos doing fantastically crazy stunts in the hope of gaining viral fame, to feel that moment of glory from adoring crowds.

But long before the internet, a man had a chance to perform a spectacular act that would have become the most viral stunt in history.

The stunt was simple: climb atop the Temple, leap off, and the crowd’s shock would turn to awe when, out of thin air, angels would catch him, leading the people to bow down and worship him.

But Jesus spurned this temptation to viral fame because he knew this was not the type of renown God had for him. He was on the path to glory—but not the human version.

In the eleventh chapter of John, Jesus recounts the prophet Isaiah’s frustration with the people.

He refers to a time in Israel immediately following Uzziah’s successful reign as king. During his reign there was political stability, virtually zero unemployment, and prosperity across the land. Upon his death, a power vacuum led the nation into a spiral. Inequality, unemployment, and poverty exploded, while spiritual corruption was rife throughout the land. Most tragically, this greatly weakened the nation, leaving them vulnerable to the Assyrian Empire’s evil intentions, which eventually utterly destroyed the kingdom.

Isaiah called them to turn back to God and to justice. Tragically, they refused to listen. And this is the critical part: not because they didn’t believe, but because they were afraid—afraid that if they followed Isaiah they would be expelled from acceptable society. They would not risk their financial and social positions to do the right thing.

Jesus observed, “They loved human glory more than the glory that comes from God.”

Fast forward to the Last Supper and our passage this morning, when Jesus reveals the center of his character:

“Father, the hour has come; glorify your Son so that the Son may glorify you.”

The shock of this remarkable point of view has been dimmed by familiarity. To see why, we must understand the Old Testament view of crucifixion. Deuteronomy 21:22–23a says:

“When someone is convicted of a crime punishable by death and is executed and you hang him on a tree... [he] is under God’s curse.”

This is as bad as it gets. Cursed by God. This was people’s view in Jesus’ time.

Internet fame is understandable; it’s nice to be adored. It makes us feel important and special. In contrast, Jesus refers to this public revilement—not as personal shame, even knowing the people would see him as cursed by God—but as his glory.

And it turns out, eventually, he was right.

And though he knew that he would be rejected by people, he did not judge them for it. Though it frustrated him, he sympathized with human weakness. Back in chapter 11 he said as much:

“I do not judge anyone who hears my words and does not keep them, for I came not to judge the world but to save the world.”

And this is why we glorify him. He was willing to experience the exact opposite of viral fame out of love for us.

And remember, he had that opportunity to jump off the Temple and have angels catch him. People would have believed who he was without having to go through all ofthese awful things.

But that was a trap—fame and glory for the wrong reasons.

Unlike the people in Isaiah’s time, because Jesus loved God’s glory more than human glory, he now has both.

As in Isaiah’s time, as in our time, as in all times in human history, we prefer fame over glory.

Fame is the quick-hitting rush of adoration. In and of itself, fame is not bad, but we know that we are called to something more.

Thankfully, we are not all meant to climb up on a cross, but we do share the charge from Jesus to seek God’s glory.

Joyce Kilmer (1886–1918) offered us a simple and profound illustration:

I think that I shall never see

A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest

Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day,

And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in Summer wear

A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;

Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,

But only God can make a tree.

Her poem points not only to the beauty of poetry, not only to the wonder of a tree, but to the God who makes it all possible.

And this is the point of Jesus’ mission. This is why he did everything.

We think eternal life is heaven, but that’s a place. In verse three of our passage Jesus tells us, “This is eternal life, that they may know you.”

To understand the true nature of glory is to understand God; to know more God—not just more about God, but more God. And in that moment we also know more about the glory of our own selves.

I’m going to retell the story of Lynne Cox, who showed us courage, sacrifice, and a willingness to chase the wonders of creation. Every time I recount the story, I am left saying to myself, “God is so good.”

This version is adapted from NPR’s This American Life.

When Lynne Cox was 17 years old, she had already broken several world records for long-distance swimming. She had crossed the English Channel twice and was always training.

One morning, she was swimming in the ocean off Seal Beach, California, before the sun was up.

She loved swimming at this hour when no one and nothing was out there—just her, the darkness, and the water.

But on this day, suddenly she sensed something beneath her.

As she said:

“I felt the water hollowing out around me and felt like something really big was swimming below. And so in my mind, I'm thinking, oh my gosh, is it a seal? And I'm like, no, it's too big for a seal. I was like, okay, is it a dolphin? No, it's not a dolphin. And then I thought, oh my God, could it be a shark?”

She started swimming closer to shore, and this giant something continued to swim underneath her.

“But there was an old man named Steve who worked in the bait shop on the pier, and he sort of watched over me and watched what was going on with the water. And I could see him standing under a light on the pier, waving toward me to come, to swim out to him. And at first I thought, ‘There's no way.’ And he yelled at me and said, ‘Lynne, come here. There's a baby whale swimming with you.’”

In the midst of her shock, she was ready to go ashore. Lynne Cox explains:

“But Steve told me that the baby whale would follow me and possibly run aground. And the weight of his lungs on the beach would kill him. But he also thought that maybe the baby whale would just swim off and be totally lost. So his idea was that you just need to stay with the baby whale.”

In the thrill and privilege of the moment came a sense of responsibility for that whale.

For the next five hours, Lynne Cox swam with the whale trying to find the baby’s mother. Truly risking her life, she swam farther from shore; and if she became too tired, she might not make it home.

But she had been bonded to this whale’s fate with the belief and hope that only a seventeen-year-old can have.

And fishermen were directing her, helping her find the mother.

But the whale helped her too. Sensing she was not as strong, the whale swam right in front of her so that she was pulled forward in its wake.

Finally, now at almost the seventh hour, they found the mother.

“She came right next to me. And you know, when a mother whale comes next to you, it's like a bus pulling up beside you. And I backed away some because I was afraid. I mean, the animal's 40 feet long, 45 feet long. And to be in the water with something so huge is frightening.

“So I saw them together, and it was one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen in my life, to see the mother and baby reunited.

“I thought, ‘I'm going to touch her, too. I'm just going to do it, because I feel like a part of this whole thing.’ And I touched her, and I could feel that she felt my hand on her. And it was amazing, because she was so big. And how does that whale express happiness? But I felt that she was happy.

“And then a few minutes later, they swam off.”

Jesus set the standard. He showed us the power of glory over fame, and Lynne Cox showed us how, as mortals, we can follow.

She took a risk. It wasn’t about a viral stunt.

It all began on a morning swim in the darkness when she was alone.

She kept swimming. She kept listening to the people around her and to her care for that whale.

Through her courage, she showed us how we can focus on doing for others—even a whale—and so, in no small way, she showed us the power of the glory of God.

Amen.