“Who’s Who in the Kingdom of God” is not an award …

On multiple occasions I’ve seen the prestigious plaques hanging in different minister’s offices, and read in their bios how they had been named “Who’s Who in America” for something.

It sounded impressive.

Then I started receiving in the mail various invitations to receive my own “Who’s Who” award … all I had to do was pay a certain amount of money and they would send my plaque and list me in their catalog of “honorees.” I discovered that some of these awards are scams — a way for unscrupulous persons to make a buck selling false honors, and an empty tool for people to elevate themselves. While a legitimate “Who’s Who” recognition exists, there are also many companies selling similar, but false, honors.

It made me think about the human heart and its ancient inclination toward self-promotion. We see it everywhere, not just in the world, but sometimes within the very places we expect humility and service: our churches. The desire to be recognized, to have our names and accomplishments highlighted, to climb some perceived ladder of spiritual success — it’s a persistent temptation.

This yearning for prominence is nothing new. In fact, Jesus’ own disciples wrestled with it. Luke’s Gospel records a moment of surprising contention among those closest to the Savior: “Then they began to argue among themselves as to who would be the greatest among them,” Luke 22:24.

Imagine the scene. Jesus, knowing the immense sacrifice He was about to make, was sharing a final meal with His followers. And what occupied their minds? Not the gravity of the moment, not the impending suffering of their Lord, but their own status relative to one another. Who was the most important? Who held the highest rank in their fledgling movement?

Jesus, with his characteristic wisdom and gentle rebuke, addressed their misplaced ambition directly: “Jesus told them, ‘In this world the kings and great men lord it over their people, yet they are called “friends of the people.” But among you it will be different. Those who are the greatest among you should take the lowest rank, and the leader should be like a servant. Who is more important, the one who sits at the table or the one who serves? The one who sits at the table, of course. But not here! For I am among you as one who serves,'” Luke 22:25-27.

Jesus flips the script entirely. In the world’s eyes, greatness is measured by things like accomplishment, status, and recognition. But in the Kingdom of God, greatness is found in humility and service. The one who seeks to be the greatest is the one who willingly takes the lowest place, the one who prioritizes the needs of others above their own.

Think about those “Who’s Who” invitations. They appeal to our ego, our desire to be seen as accomplished and important. For a fee, they offer a semblance of prestige, a tangible symbol — a plaque for the wall, a listing in a book — that whispers, “Look at me.” But this kind of self-proclaimed honor is a hollow echo of the true honor that comes from selfless service and a life lived for God and others.

Consider the stark contrast. The world offers accolades for self-promotion; Jesus offers a model of self-sacrifice. The world celebrates those who climb to the top; Jesus elevates those who willingly stoop to serve. The “Who’s Who” schemes offer a shortcut to perceived significance; Jesus calls us to the long, often unseen, path of humble obedience.

Perhaps instead of seeking earthly recognition and titles to adorn our biographies, we might ask ourselves: Are we truly serving those around us? Are we using our gifts and talents to minister to the needs and best interests of others, or are we primarily focused on our own advancement? The true measure of our greatness in God’s kingdom will not be found on a purchased plaque, but in the lives we have touched and the love we have shown.

Of course, there’s nothing wrong with genuine, earned recognition for dedicated service and hard work; it’s the pursuit of empty, self-serving accolades that misses the mark.

May we continually examine our hearts, ensuring that our pursuit is not for the fleeting applause of the world, but for the enduring approval of the King who came not to be served, but to serve and give His life as a ransom for many.

Scotty