6 Glory
It was a stunning moment of self-glory, but where it took place and how it took place made it even more stark. The man had gone to the temple to pray, but what came out of his mouth was not a prayer (Luke 18:9–14). Well, I guess you could have called it a prayer to himself. Filled with pride at the glory of his own righteousness, he basically told God he didn’t need him. He didn’t need God’s forgiving, transforming, and empowering grace, because he was not like all those other people. Especially like that tax guy over there, weeping and mumbling (the poor guy). No, he was a public religious leader. He knew his religious stuff, he kept the rules, and he deserved all the honor he got. He was in the temple, but he was his own place and object of worship. He was full of himself and, because of that, he saw nearly everyone around him as lesser. He was a religious expert but he was way farther from the God that was at the center of his religious life than he knew. In what is one of the most overt religious acts—prayer—this man stood there as a glory thief, incapable of loving God and incapable of reacting toward those around him with love. There was little that was vertical in his pseudoreligious glory-grabbing. Whatever religious or spiritual trappings he surrounded himself with, the glory of self left no room in his heart for the glory of God.
Self-glory destroys true religion and, because it does, it decimates your ability to then love your neighbor as yourself. Only the one who loves God above all else will ever love his neighbor as himself. Patterns of unloving reactivity toward your neighbor expose an even more tragic thing—a lack of true love for God. In this way, the presence of so much social media self-glory in the conversations of professing Christians reveals a core deficiency that lies at the heart of the culture of the modern evangelical church. Many of us seem obsessed with glory, but it’s not the glory of God. No, we’re filled with a sense of the glory of our theological knowledge, our biblical literacy, our political conservatism, our social action, the success of our ministries, the number of our followers, who we hang with, the prominence of our tribe, and the power of our ability to communicate. And we're thankful that we are not like other people who don’t have what we have. We are righteous, we are experts, and we know what’s best. This kind of self-glory will always blind your eyes to the humility, gratitude, and love-producing glory of God.
The culture of toxic reactivity that seems to have taken over not only social media but much of the social landscape of our daily lives is not first a horizontal problem. It’s not first about how to respond lovingly to my neighbor. It’s more deeply about a war that rages in the heart of every sinner between the glory of self and the glory of God. It is there where we must focus our battle against toxic reactivity if real lasting change is ever going to take place. This great spiritual war exposes the depth of our need for divine rescue. In many ways this is exactly what the gospel of Jesus Christ is all about. The gospel narrative, which is Scripture's dominant theme, unfolds for us what has gone wrong and how in the world it gets fixed. Social media rules are helpful, but they lack the power to get at the causal factors that produce the toxicity we all encounter every day. We have a heart problem, which horizontal regulations simply do not have the power to solve.
The problem of self-glory, which is one of the things that fuels the fire of toxic reactivity and which is so culture-, community-, and church-destructive, did not begin with social media. Social media is the huge influential power platform that gives expression to a dark thing that has been around for a very long time. In other words, social media does not cause us to respond in a way that is personally and relationally destructive, but the way it is built, the way its platforms operate, and the way its algorithms are designed, potentiate an age-old spiritual weakness. Sadly, this is a weakness all of us will carry until sin is no more. Let me explain how the gospel exposes and offers the solution to the problem of self-glory and all of the relational toxicity that results from it.
Let me take you back before the invention of the internet, the invention of the computer, the invention of the television, and the invention of the radio. Let me take you back millennia before even the printing press was invented. We find ourselves at the first recorded human conversation in a very simple world that was about to become deeply and tragically complicated (Gen. 3).The world of Genesis 1 and 2 was gloriously simple. Everything was perfectly created, everything was in its perfectly designed place, and everything did exactly what it was intended to do all of the time. It was a simple world of peace and harmony, totally without dysfunction, acrimony, brokenness, or toxicity of any kind. As I have been writing this book, a longing has grown in my heart to live in a world like that of Genesis 1 and 2.
But this world didn’t last long. Adam and Eve decided to step across God’s holy, wise, and loving boundaries. Their disobedience was sin rooted in self-glory. What hooked Adam and Eve was the seductive lie that if they ate the forbidden fruit, they would be like God. Sin is always rooted in glory thievery and, because it is, the sin of Adam and Eve ushered into the world a glory war. Consequently, this war causes all of us to somehow, someway abandon our allegiance to the glory of God and to live for the glory of self. But glory thievery never remains just a vertical thing; it also carries with it destructive horizontal results. Adam and Eve don’t just hide in guilt and shame from God; they also experience shame and acrimony between one another. And the destructive results of self-glory don’t just stay with Adam and Eve but are carried on in their sons. Cain is so eaten with jealousy toward his brother, whose sacrifice was accepted by God while his was rejected, that he murdered his brother in envious rage. Jealousy and envy, the inability to celebrate the blessing or success of another because it is not our own, is rooted in self-glory. Adam and Eve’s glory thievery creates a relational toxicity that gets very dark, very fast.
Every moment of cruel mockery on social media, every attempt to completely cancel someone, every time more and more people pile on, every dismissal, every unfounded judgment of motives and character, every straw man argument, and every tribal attack is rooted in self-glory. Each of these is about taking power, being recognized, and being smarter and more insightful or righteous in some way. These reactions are spotlight stealing, not from another person but from God. These responses do not flow from a commitment to give God glory, but rather are about the seductive buzz of the self-aggrandizing moment. Self-glory never produces patient love, forgiving grace, humble respect, a willingness to listen, or a commitment to guard another’s reputation in your relationships. Self-glory never makes you kinder, more tender, or more gentle. Self-glory turns truth into a weapon and uses words to harm. If every brother or sister in Christ reacted on social media or in face-to-face relationships with the glory of God in view, the toxic reactivity that sadly lives in both domains would be no more.
Because toxic reactivity, which is so destructive to the community that is essential to the health of human existence, has its roots in self-glory, I want to use a self-glory narrative from the Bible to see how self-glory operates. There is no better place to look to understand the operation of self-glory than the story of Nebuchadnezzar in the book of Daniel. Nebuchadnezzar was king of Babylon, a great warrior, and the conquering king of the kingdom of Judah. But with all of his power and all of his conquests, Nebuchadnezzar was obsessed with his own glory, so much so that he demanded worship. God was about to take Nebuchadnezzar down, but before he did, he warned him in a confusing and mysterious dream. Daniel was tasked with interpreting the king’s dream, and it is in the interpretation and Nebuchadnezzar’s response to it that we see how self-glory operates. Here is God’s appeal, through Daniel, to Nebuchadnezzar: “Therefore, O king, let my counsel be acceptable to you: break off your sins by practicing righteousness, and your iniquities by showing mercy to the oppressed” (Dan. 4:27). I don’t know if you saw it as you read this verse, but Daniel restates the vertical and horizontal requirements of the two Great Commandments. He is exhorting Nebuchadnezzar to do these things precisely because the king’s life and rule had been shaped by the exact opposite. Self-glory decimates the two Great Commandments. If you’re living for your own glory, you will not love God above anything else by doing what is right in his eyes, and you will not love your neighbor as yourself by being committed to mercy wherever it is needed. Self-glory means I do what pleases me, and I really don’t care about the plight of others.
But there is more. Twelve months after this exhortation we find Nebuchadnezzar on the balcony of his palace. Let me just say as an aside that this is to me an amazing picture of the patient grace of the Lord. He had given the king twelve months to decide whether or not he was going to repent. Twelve months! If you’re a parent, can you imagine saying to your child, “Your room is a constant mess. I want you to give it a thorough cleaning, and you have twelve months to get it done”? God’s patience with Nebuchadnezzar should be an encouragement to us all. But listen to what Nebuchadnezzar says as he looks out over his kingdom: “Is not this great Babylon, which I have built by my mighty power as a royal residence and for the glory of my majesty?” (Dan. 4:30). Self-glory will cause you to take credit for what you could not have earned or produced on your own. All of the king’s power, military brilliance, physical strength, success, and even his life and breath came from the Lord. But to Nebuchadnezzar it was all a monument to one thing: his glory.
Here is the way self-glory operates. It causes me to do what I do for no greater purpose than that it pleases me. It causes me to be so busy loving myself that I have little time and energy to love others, and it makes me take personal credit for what I could never do or produce on my own. Think of how these three things operate when self-glory meets Twitter, Facebook, TikTok, or Instagram. I come loaded with my own glory. I post whatever it is that gives me pleasure. I am not sensitive to how what I post may affect others. I come to social media feeling entitled and deserving because of who I am, what I’ve done, what I know, or maybe simply because of the amount of followers I have attracted. I post what will get me the most likes because I am motivated by my own glory, no matter how proud, outrageous, or hurtful. If it makes me feel good to mock or dismiss, then I will. If taking someone down gives me pleasure, then that is what I’ll do. I don’t post for the benefit of others; even if I think I do, every post is really for me because the motivating drive that is in possession of my heart is self-glory, and it will exercise inescapable influence over my reactions.
I am convinced that many of the theological battles on Twitter are motivated not by a love for theology after all but by self-glory. When ruling your heart, the truths of the word of God will never produce cruel mockery, angry accusations, or a willingness to judge motives or assail another’s character. Using words to harm is not the fruit of good theology. Theology that does not produce love is simply bad, God-dishonoring, and unbiblical theology. The desire to be a social media truth vigilante is not motivated by God’s honor and glory or his magnificent truth but by self-glory. Self-glory often masquerades as a fight for what is right. If you find pleasure in the battle and you love the kill, it’s probably not God’s glory that’s driving you, because he is slow to anger and lavish in love. If tenderness, gentleness, kindness, patience, and love seem like weakness to you, it’s doubtful that the glory of God is shaping how you act, react, and respond. I think the toxic reactivity of Christians—often toward other Christians—on social media is a constant warning to us that the kingdom of self does a good job of masquerading as the kingdom of God. May we be humble enough to search our hearts. Perhaps as we post, it is not God we’re serving after all.
I want to end this chapter with an examination of a passage that points us to the only solution to the glory war that often rages in our hearts and the beautiful fruit that this solution will produce in our lives. This passage reminds us that the cure for toxic reactivity, which is the focus of this book, is found in something deeper and more fundamental than a new set of social media regulations or in limiting your use of these platforms (which is probably a very good idea). Written thousands of years before the birth of these incredibly powerful platforms of communication that have become so divisive and harmful, Psalm 112 is right on topic:
Praise the Lord!
Blessed is the man who fears the Lord,
who greatly delights in his commandments! . . .
Light dawns in the darkness for the upright;
he is gracious, merciful, and righteous.
It is well with the man who deals generously and lends;
who conducts his affairs with justice.
For the righteous will never be moved;
he will be remembered forever.
He is not afraid of bad news;
his heart is firm, trusting in the Lord. (Ps. 112:1, 4–7)
First, Psalm 112 offers to believers the only lasting solution to the toxic reactivity madness that has captured and distorted much of the dialogue of the church. Fear of the Lord is the solution. The psalmist is not talking here of a terror that would make me want to run away and hide from the Lord, but rather an awe-inspiring recognition of his power and glory that would make me run to him, rest in him, and be willing to surrender to his will for me. This fear alone quiets all the other fears and motivations that make up the nasty stew of toxicity that is so daily damaging. When fear of the Lord has captured my heart, I don’t fear what other people will think of me, how my words will be received, or a thousand other “what ifs” that could capture my heart. When I am living in a functional awe of God and his power, glory, and grace, and when I am blown away that one of such incalculable glory would include me in his family, I will not be impressed by my own glory. If God’s glory is what motivates me, then self-glory, with all of its desire for power, acclaim, control, recognition, and moral high ground, won’t.
Then Psalm 112 details for us the gorgeous fruit in the life of the person who lives in a heart-capturing and life-shaping fear of the Lord. The person who fears the Lord will be “gracious, merciful, and righteous” (112:4). Imagine if these three character qualities were to shape everything you post and every conversation you have. Imagine if every reaction that every Christian typed into his phone were gracious, merciful, and righteous. Think about the impact that would have on the media landscape that we traverse every day. The person who fears the Lord is not disrespectful, angry, or vengeful but rather generous, one who conducts his affairs with justice. Justice deals with evil in a way that does not create more evil. Generosity is not just a financial thing but also a giving and serving spirit in every area of your life, including your communication. Generous people listen well, give you the benefit of the doubt, and endeavor to think the best of you. Generous people aren’t stingy with patience, love, sympathy, understanding, and grace. Generous people don’t use words as weapons; no, their words are used as gifts, meant to relieve, encourage, clarify, instruct, comfort, and edify.
Finally, the psalm says that when fear of the Lord rules your heart, you are not afraid of bad news. You don’t live afraid of the next attack, the next time you will be misunderstood, the next time your character or qualifications are called into question. Fear of the Lord will keep you from always looking for the next enemy around the corner. Fear of the Lord means you are getting your security and peace not from how people are responding to you, but from who the Lord is and from what he has done and is doing for you. I so appreciate how the psalmist talks about this security and rest. He says “his heart is firm” (Ps. 112:7). Firmness of heart, which is only ever the fruit of fear of the Lord, will rescue you from becoming part of the toxic madness that is such a destructive force in our current communication culture. I am afraid that many believers have wobbly hearts. They lack the firmness of rest, security, and peace that comes from awe of the glorious glory of the Lord. When your heart is wobbly, whether you know it or not you are searching horizontally for a stability of heart and mind that can only be found vertically. So you demand recognition, respect, appreciation, power, control, and this list goes on. You demand these things because they give you a feeling of firmness for a moment, but it never lasts. In your “I must have this,” you fail to hear people well, you fail to love them well, and you fail to give them the grace that everyone always needs. You may think you’re standing for what is right, but what you’re actually doing is demanding what you want and think you deserve. It’s all driven by a heart that is not at rest and, because it isn’t, you fail to be gracious, righteous, and merciful.
Psalm 112, ancient though it is, is right on topic. It reinforces the main theme of this book: the gospel exposes the roots of and the only lasting solution to the toxic reactivity that distorts and damages the communication culture that is both outside and within the body of Christ. You may be a believer. You may have a high level of theological understanding and biblical literacy. You may have walked with the Lord for a while. You may have ministry experience. But I ask you to open your heart to this question: Could it be that there is a whole lot of self-glory still living in your heart? Are there times when you proudly flash your theological knowledge, like some badge you have earned? Do you at times use it as a weapon and not a gift that serves? Do you look down on those who seem less knowledgeable or less insightful than you? Do you go looking for a fight or jump too quickly into someone else’s fight? Are you demanding, entitled, overcritical? Do you hear your opponents well? Do you give them grace? Do you treat them with dignity and respect? Are you quick to admit when you are wrong or have treated someone wrongly? Are your words measured, careful, and crafted to do good? Could it be that you’re not actually defending the glory of God and his truth but rather projecting, defending, and protecting your own glory?
I wish I could say that self-glory never motivates me, but I can’t. I wish I could say that fear of the Lord is always more powerful and influential in my heart than any other fear, but I can’t. So I invite you to do what I endeavor to do every morning. I invite you, before you begin your busy day, to take a few moments to focus the eyes of your heart on the stunning glory of the Lord and the awesome glory of his grace. Each morning allow your self-glory to melt in the redeeming heat of divine glory. Allow fear of the Lord to disarm every other fear. And as you bask in the splendor of the glorious beauty of who he is, plead with your Lord to rescue you from you throughout the day. Then get up and determine to keep his glory in view, in every conversation, whether digital or personal. And then look for opportunities to be gracious, merciful, righteous, and generous. Jesus lived, died, and rose again so these characteristics would be our potential. May each of us speak and post with God’s glory in view. His grace makes this possible.