I was invited to speak at a Christian university chapel for three consecutive days. Known as an outstanding academic college, it attracts a lot of bright students. Its chapel program is well known for having some of the best speakers and musicians as weekly guests. It holds around twenty-five hundred students, who must go to chapel a few times a week. It was an honor to be asked to speak for three days. I was both eager and intimidated. Earlier in the semester Billy Graham had stood in the same pulpit; the week after I was to speak the stage would be inhabited by the most popular Christian band in the country at the time. I felt unworthy.
The first day I spoke went pretty well. I discovered that the students and I had something in common: we wanted to be high achievers for God, which means we tended toward legalism. I shared my own story, and it seemed to connect with them. I also shared my discovery of the unconditional love of God, the antidote to legalism. My talk on the second day went even better. But I felt a tremendous inner burden: I wanted to be liked, to impress the students and the faculty, to leave the school as a winner. And yet my only real reason for being there was to speak words of encouragement, to point people to God, to let the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be a blessing to the students. The conflict did not go away.
Before I spoke on the third day, I spent time in prayer and let the matter go. I wanted to help the students, and I stepped up to the microphone with a pure desire to be an instrument of God and nothing more. I thought about each student’s pain and uncertainty, struggles and fears, and I wanted to bring a word of comfort and encouragement from God. I found myself speaking from a very deep place that morning, with courage, conviction and passion. When I was done I thanked them for listening to me and then gave an actor’s bow to show my gratitude.
The students began to applaud. Though I was looking down, I noticed that the applause got louder. When I looked up, they were standing. Wow, I thought, these students are awfully polite. I walked to the chair where I had been sitting, and the university president leaned over to me and whispered, “You should soak this in because they very seldom give standing ovations.” Suddenly a feeling of elation and exhilaration coursed through my body.
As I drove home I still felt my internal struggle. I went to the college with a mixture of motives. I wanted to do ministry, to bless and encourage students. I also wanted to be liked, to be well received and to impress people. I have heard that a person’s heart is truly in the kingdom of God when, after speaking, his or her desire is not for people to say, “What a great preacher,” but rather, “What a great God he (or she) knows.” I thought about the pull of pride, the desire for accolades and the longing for compliments—where that comes from and how we can let it go in the kingdom. Even though I have not mastered it, I now have a better sense of what makes us want others to think well of us, and how we can prevent that desire from ruling in our hearts.
False Narrative: My Value Is Determined by Your Assessment
The narrative that gives rise to our need for affirmation is a story we learn early in our lives. When we do well, we receive affirmation; when we do poorly, we receive no affirmation, and may be criticized. “You ate all of your peas—you are so good.” Or “You did not finish your peas—off to your room, and no dessert!” Life continues this way at each phase, from school to sports to jobs. Do great things and your value increases; fail and your value decreases. Over time we begin to hunger for others’ affirmation because it seems to establish our value. Positive appraisal can become more important than actually being good or doing well.
We all want to be loved. We all long to feel that we are valuable, worthwhile and wonderful. In a sense we are. Regardless of our physical appearance, talents or abilities, we are amazing beings created in the image of God. But the world will not tell us this. Too seldom do we hear it from our parents or our loved ones. Even our churches contribute to this problem. We praise success and lionize certain people for their piety. Though there is nothing wrong with acknowledging a ministry success or a godly person, the narrative that value is determined by success may continue to work its way in peoples’ minds.
How does vainglory get ahold of us, and how can we combat it?
The world measures our worth on the basis of our appearance, production and performance—which seem to be the only things that count. This narrative says our value is determined by others’ assessment. If they say we are good, then we are. Image is everything in our world. We feel the need to be appreciated, respected, applauded and affirmed for what we do. Then we feel good about ourselves. The need for love is temporarily assuaged by admiration; it is the only substitute we can find. Unfortunately, admiration based on our looks or performance is fickle and fleeting. We are only as good as our next performance.
Vainglory: The Eighth Deadly Sin
Throughout the Sermon Jesus moves us along a continuum, beginning with the pervasive problem of anger, culminating in the challenge to love and bless our enemies. If we make it this far we have gone a long way to becoming a whole person. Yet Jesus knows we are not done yet. There is yet another heart problem that plagues people in their attempts to grow closer to God. The early Christian teachers and writers used a word that perfectly described this problem: vainglory. Though most of us are familiar with the seven deadly sins, the Orthodox Church speaks of eight deadly sins, adding vainglory to the list. Vainglory is essentially rooted in insecurity and is driven by our need for affirmation by others. It is very subtle and hard to detect.
When I went to the college to speak I wanted them to think, Jim is a really terrific speaker and a humble guy as well. That response would make me feel really good about myself. My worth would be established by their affirmation. Conversely, if I had not gotten a positive response (which has happened many times) my value would be in question. This example is appropriate because vainglory, while a problem for everyone, is a particular problem for religious people.
A Subtle Trap for Religious People
Outside of the kingdom of God, we have no way to determine our value other than what others say about us. If we do something well and no one notices, it drives us crazy because we have lost the thing we want the most—affirmation and praise. It’s easy to see how we transfer this narrative into our religious lives. Most people praise religious activities. Thus spiritually mature people, those who pray and read their Bibles and fast, often receive accolades, which tempts them to vainglory. And this also affects those who do not struggle with the vices such as anger, lust and lying. Vainglory is the bane of the pious.
John Cassian, a church father, wrote “One who would not be taken in by the vices of the flesh can be all the more vulnerable to vainglory.” Because they are not defeated by the more “carnal sins,” they might be tempted to think they are better than others, that their spiritual lives are superior to those who fail in obvious ways.
When the devil sees someone who is serious about his or her spiritual life, he does not give up. He utilizes a special vice to destroy them: vainglory. Religiously challenged people usually don’t struggle with vainglory. They know they are not spiritually proficient, that their moral character is not impressive. But the temptation to vainglory knocks at the door of the pious and pure each day, and it can create a life that looks bright on the outside but is dark on the inside. Andrew Murray wrote, “There is no pride so dangerous, so subtle and insidious, as the pride of holiness.”
Vainglory is the most elusive of the vices we have addressed so far. It hides under the guise of virtue: “This disease strikes precisely where a man’s virtue lies.” This is the only vice that actually needs a virtue in order to exist. Vainglory hides behind another virtue, which makes it difficult to see. In the bragging Christmas letter the author is alerting us to success after success—all good things. What could be wrong with that? Nothing. Except that in many cases the true intent of the author is to impress the reader with how wonderful his or her family is. No one ever writes about strain in the marriage, that a child is in therapy for an anxiety disorder, or that a family member came in last in a vocal contest. We don’t hear about the suffering, the failing or the struggles, only the accomplishments.
Vainglory appears in my life many ways. In each of the following examples you will notice something good as well as something bad:
Whenever I accomplish something or receive accolades for something I have done, I immediately want to let others know.
I try to keep others from knowing my weaknesses and failings. This is just as much about vainglory as broadcasting my successes. In both cases I am seeking to have others think well of me.
In most conversations I try to appear humble, and yet I very much want the other person to know how wonderful I am. And if that does not appear to be happening I find subtle ways to interject my accomplishments. If I do it well, they will not even notice.
I am not above dropping names. All of my close friends are well aware of all of the famous people I have met or spent time with.
Nearly every act of service I have ever done has become known to others—and I have never hindered these from being known.
When watching my kids perform in sports or the arts, I find myself sometimes more interested in them performing well in front of others than I am in their own enjoyment of the game or the show.
Just when we might begin to think, Well, I have conquered anger, lust and lying, and have learned to bless those who curse me—I am really something now! we find that we have another obstacle in the road to kingdom living: vainglory—the need to have others think well of us in order to feel worthy.
Jesus’ Narrative
Jesus was critical of three vainglorious acts (ostentatious giving, praying and fasting) that were common in his day. What are some modern illustrations of vainglory we see in our churches?
Jesus deals with vainglory in one of the larger sections of the Sermon on the Mount. He gives three examples of people doing good things with the intention of being praised by others, using pious behavior as a cloak to conceal it. Three religious activities that we engage in will likely make others think well of us: giving alms, prayer and fasting. All three are God-given disciplines that when done rightly tune our hearts to God’s kingdom. However, they can be done in such a way that they actually harm us. Jesus shows his deep understanding of the human heart:
Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them; for then you will have no reward from your Father in heaven.
So whenever you give alms, do not sound a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, so that they may be praised by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But when you give alms, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your alms may be in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.
And whenever you pray, do not be like the hypocrites; for they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, so that they may be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.
When you are praying do not heap up empty phrases as the Gentiles do; for they think that they will be heard because of their many words. Do not be like them, for your Father knows what you need before you ask him.
And whenever you fast, do not look dismal, like the hypocrites, for they disfigure their faces so as to show others that they are fasting. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face, so that your fasting may be seen not by others but by your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you. (Matthew 6:1-8, 16-18)
I will try to explain this passage in its original context to help explain what Jesus was condemning.
Have you ever been tempted to let others know about your good works?
First, Jesus describes a common practice when giving alms (money given to the poor). The synagogue in the first century had a system in place to care for the poor, much like a welfare state. People gave a portion of their money to the synagogue, which was then given to the needy. When someone gave a significant gift, it was common for that to be acknowledged in the synagogue (Sirach 31:11). There is nothing wrong with giving money to people in need; in fact, it is a good and godly thing to do. And there is nothing wrong with having others acknowledge the gift. Jesus is not criticizing the act of public acknowledgment. He is asking whether we gave that gift in order to be praised by others. If so, then we already have what we asked for.
Second, Jesus describes another scene common in his day: prayer in the synagogues and on the street corners. Devout Jews prayed three times a day, often in public. At the ninth hour people often went to their synagogue to pray, and they commonly prayed aloud while standing. So it was obvious when a person was praying. Again, there is nothing wrong with going to a religious place for prayer. But Jesus asks what we are seeking. Do we want people to see us praying so that they will think we are pious and godly? If so, we have what we seek.
Third, Jesus describes the common practice of fasting. The Pharisees fasted twice a week (see Luke 18:12), usually on Mondays and Thursdays. Some people wore sackcloth or mourning clothes. They often put dust and ashes on their faces, a symbol of penance and mourning. This practice, a sign of mourning, was intended to help a person grow closer to God.
Giving money to the poor. Praying. Fasting. All three activities are some of the most spiritual activities a person can do. So what about Jesus’ harsh words? Actually, he is not speaking against these practices. He is attacking the way in which they are being practiced. He is not concerned about the method but the motive. As we have seen, Jesus starts with the world’s standard of rightness (not murdering, not lying under oath) and then peels off the veneer to see if the heart is good. The same is true here. He takes three righteous and holy actions and shows how the condition of a person’s heart determines whether the discipline is a blessing or a hindrance.
Jesus is a genius when it comes to how our hearts work. He exposes people who practice these disciplines in order to impress. They do what they do “to be seen,” to gain the respect and the praise of others.
If they wanted to impress others, then Jesus says, “truly they have received their reward.” The Greek word for “reward” is in the singular, indicating that it is a one-time reward. They got what they wanted. But God has nothing to do with any of this because he is not in the mind of the person caught up in vainglory. He or she wanted the praise of other people, not intimacy with God.
Relieving the burden of the poor through giving, or earnestly seeking communion with God through prayer, or cleansing and training the body through fasting was not their aim. They were driven by the need to impress others. But how do we know whether someone is driven by vainglory or earnestly seeking to do good?
Ignorant Hands, Secret Places, Happy Faces
What is the solution to vainglory? Jesus’ direction to his followers is not so much about how they are to give alms, pray and fast, but with what intention they should do these things. It is important to note that Jesus does not say, “ If you fast,” but “ When you fast,” indicating he expected his apprentices to do these things. The point is not about the disciplines themselves but about the condition of our heart when we do them.
First, when we give alms we are not to let our left hand know what our right hand is doing. Some scholars believe that Jesus might be referring to the offering box that was on the right side of the entrance to the temple, which meant that the offering was placed with the right hand. This image suggests that we should do this good deed (giving some of our hard-earned money to others) with such unawareness that our left hand doesn’t know what our right hand just did. If someone were to ask us later, “Hey, did you give money to the poor a moment ago?” you would answer, “Hmm. Did I? I can’t remember,” and actually mean it.
Second, in terms of prayer, Jesus encourages us to shut the door to our room and pray to our Father who “is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.” This is an example of great wordplay. These examples are about people wanting to be seen, but God is unseen. God not only sees in secret but lives in secret. In other words, God is not a God of vainglory. R. T. France notes, “[God] is himself invisible, in contrast to his pretended worshippers, who are only too visible.”
Prayer is something deeply personal and private. The “room” Jesus mentions probably is a storage room, because it was the only room that had a lock on it. We should lock the door to be certain that no one sees us praying. That kind of secrecy would ensure that we will not “be seen” by others but will be in close fellowship with God. John Chrysostom wrote, Why “must we pray? Not to instruct Him, but to prevail with Him; to be made intimate with Him, by continuance in supplication; to be humbled; to be reminded of your sins.” He says this kind of prayer can only be done “in secret.”
Third, Jesus teaches us that fasting should be done without fanfare. When we fast we are not to put on our penitent clothes and smear ash on our faces so that everyone will know we are fasting. Our appearance should be normal. Washing one’s face and putting on oil was the normal routine in Jesus’ day. Alerting others to the fact that we are fasting reveals our intention to impress people, not to discipline ourselves or heighten our intimacy with God.
Humility: The Opposite of Vainglory
Jesus encourages us to do good things with absolutely no concern about what others think about us. This is humility, the antithesis of vainglory. The best example of the difference is Jesus’ parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector who went to the temple to pray:
The Pharisee, standing by himself, was praying thus, “God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income.” But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even look up to heaven, but was beating his breast and saying, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner!” I tell you, this man went down to his home justified rather than the other; for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted. (Luke 18:11-14)
The Pharisee is a perfect example of vainglory. He loudly lists his accomplishments for all to hear. In contrast, the tax collector beats his breast, confesses his sinfulness and asks for mercy. Humility does not require us to beat our breast and announce our sinfulness. But in this case the tax collector gives us ample evidence of his humility.
Jesus is the prime example of humility. The King of kings and Lord of lords is born a helpless infant to a poor family, lives for a time as a refugee and grows up in a forgotten town. He is baptized by his cousin, then gathers a group of uneducated and unimportant tradesmen, and moving from village to village he dines with known sinners and outcasts. The Son of God became a man without reputation, trading in power for powerlessness and ultimately accepting an unjust death with grace and dignity. As Henri Nouwen notes, “The whole life of Jesus of Nazareth was a life in which all upward mobility was resisted.”
The Cure for Vainglory
The kingdom narratives oppose the world’s narratives: You are valuable to God. God loves you no matter what. Your worth is not dependent on your performance or on what others think of you. Your worth is found in the loving eyes of God. If you win, God loves you. If you lose, God loves you. If you fast and pray and give your money to the poor, God loves you. If you are sinful and selfish, God loves you. He is a covenant God, and his love never changes. You are valuable, precious and worth dying for—just as you are.”
Paul says it beautifully: “Not that we are competent of ourselves to claim anything as coming from us; our competence is from God” (2 Corinthians 3:5). We do not need others to affirm us. Our worth comes not from the opinions of others but from God’s opinion: we are precious and priceless.
Have you felt the beginnings of the kingdom core narratives entering your heart? If so, how is that changing your behavior?
“Live for an audience of One.” This Puritan saying perfectly reflects kingdom living. Most of us spend our lives playing for an audience of many, fixating on what others are thinking or saying about us. Seldom do we apply this kind of concern when it comes to God. When we set our minds and hearts on things above (Colossians 3:1), we shift from an audience of many to the audience of One. What we do for God is what really matters.
John Calvin describes how focusing on God leads to a true sense of who we are: “It is evident that man never attains to a true self-knowledge until he has previously contemplated the face of God, and come down after such contemplation to look into himself.” True self-knowledge comes from looking into the face of Jesus, not the faces of others.
This doesn’t mean we pay no attention to what others say about us, and it certainly doesn’t mean we are to disregard good counsel. But we turn our thoughts Godward and always act with God in mind. Then we are free to listen to the appraisals of others—with great discernment. We listen to the opinions of others, but we are not controlled by them.
The kingdom of God is the only place we find real peace. As Augustine said, “Our hearts are restless, O God, until they find their rest in you.” No matter how many worldly “trophies” we acquire, we won’t be able to lay our head down in peace because we are only as good as our last success. But our loving Father—the only One who matters—tells us that we are loved, that we are of immeasurable worth.
When the kingdom narratives replace the false narratives, we are able to play without needing to win, love without needing to receive, pray without feeling pious and serve without needing to be thanked. Our value is set; our worth is stable and unchanging. We are loved and valuable, no matter what people tell us. When that narrative penetrates our hearts, we become free people indeed. The prayer attributed to St. Francis reflects a kingdom heart:
O divine Master, grant that I might seek not so much to be consoled, as to console; to be understood, as to understand; and not so much to be loved, as to love another.
Such people are “more than enough” people (see p. 129). They live from the strong foundation of the kingdom and are not as interested in being consoled, understood or loved by people because they already are by God. Instead, they console, understand and love others. Paradoxically, people who learn to do this are the happiest of all people.
Three Things I Am Still Learning
Three things happened since I spoke at the university chapel that continue to instruct me. First, a few months after I returned home I got a letter from a student that shared some of the deep pain he had been experiencing, even wrestling with dark thoughts and bad dreams, during the months leading up to my visit. He shared that somehow God used my talks in chapel to heal his heart, that somehow the Spirit had impressed deeply into his soul that he was valuable, loved unconditionally and meant for something great. This taught me that God can work through a person whose heart has a measure of vainglory.
Second, two years after my talk someone informed me that my talks made the “Chapel Archives,” a sort of “Top 30” of the best talks given, on the university’s website. I was pleased, which reminded me that vainglory is not fully behind me.
Third, despite the standing ovation and the “greatest chapel hits” inclusion, I have never been asked back to that college. Unfortunately, I still seem to care. A part of me would like to go back just to see if my heart has changed, to see if I could stand in that pulpit with no other purpose than to point students to the good and beautiful God. Nevertheless, I know that the kingdom is not about me but about Jesus. My value is not established by an invitation to speak but by who I am (indwelt by Christ) and where I am (the kingdom of God). As long as I keep those truths in focus, vainglory loses its grip on me.
Soul Training Secret Service
The exercise this week is to do five things that will lift someone else’s burden. Any act of service that lightens someone’s load will do. Examples include doing someone’s laundry, filling someone’s car with gas, cleaning someone’s room, helping put up wallpaper, driving someone to where he or she needs to go, or helping someone complete some tasks.
Other examples:
Listen, really listen, to someone.
Offer to serve dinner at a homeless shelter.
Help your kids with homework.
Borrow a car over the lunch hour and clean it inside and out.
Ask God to send you a person in need. Watch out for this one!
Go out and “give me five” this week, five intentional acts of kindness and sensible acts of beauty! However, there is another catch to this one: You must strive to do it in secret!
We want to have our good deeds noticed. This can ruin our acts of kindness or generosity, because our motive may be to be rewarded for what we have done. As far as you are able, try to be of service to others without them knowing. It may be impossible to hide it—and don’t lie if they ask you about it. Just try not to draw attention to what you have done. It is likely that some of your acts of service will eventually be known. When this happens, simply say, “I just wanted to help you out. It was no big deal,” and move on.
One final caution: don’t give people money. Certainly there is a place for this, but for now your acts of service should involve your time and energy, not merely writing a check. Keep your acts of service on the nonmonetary level. Experience the joy of putting the needs of others before your own, and break the grip of vainglory in your heart.
