Greatness

After so many years of fame, the actress Angelina Jolie has resigned herself to some elements of its bargain. The constant gaze of paparazzi means other people have chosen how they want to see her.

Jolie says, “Since I was young, people liked the part of me that’s pretty tough and maybe a bit wild—that’s the part that I think people enjoy. I’m not the one [who] you want to hear about my pain or my sadness. You know, that’s not entertaining.”

Jolie plans to eventually leave L.A. “I grew up in quite a shallow place,” she says. “Of all the places in the world, Hollywood is not a healthy place. So, you seek authenticity.”

Music icon Bono, lead singer of the popular band U2, tells the Atlantic magazine that lately God has been leading him to desire silence and listen to Him more. Bono points out that Elijah had to go to the cave to hear God, and God was heard not in the thunder and the wind but in the sound of silence.

All of his life, he has reinvented himself. Now he thinks it may be time to do it again. Bono says, “Music might be a jealous god. It was always the easiest thing for me. I wake up with melodies in my head. But now I feel more like: ‘Shut up and listen. If you want to take it to the next level, you may have to rethink your life.’”

Bono has been grappling with the challenges to his faith since the band first achieved success: "How do you reconcile the humility of faith with the egotism of superstardom, the purity of the Holy Spirit with the material excess of show business, the drive to achieve musical greatness with the posture of surrender to grace?"

His focus once again is to surrender his life: “It’s just out of my reach. I’m getting to the place where I do not have to do, but just be. It’s trying to transcend myself. It’s like my antidote to me. The antidote to me is surrender.”

The writer asks whether Bono can achieve the perfect stillness he craves. It’s hard to know the answer to that. At one point he told me that throughout his whole life, he’s been searching for home, and that lately he has come to realize that home is not a place, but a person. The writer says, “I neglected to ask the follow-up question. Is that person (his wife) Ali? Jesus? Any random soul he happens to be in front of that day? Maybe all of the above.”

In his book With, author Skye Jethani describes the mausoleum of Galla Placidia in Italy:

Fifteen hundred years ago, the emperor of Rome built a tomb for his beloved sister. The small building was designed in the shape of a cross with a vaulted ceiling covered with mosaics of swirling stars in an indigo sky. The focal point of the mosaic ceiling was a depiction of Jesus the Good Shepherd surrounded by sheep in an emerald paradise.

The mausoleum of Galla Placidia still stands in Ravenna, Italy, and has been called “the earliest and best preserved of all mosaic monuments” and one of the “most artistically perfect.” But visitors who have admired its mosaics in travel books will be disappointed when they enter the mausoleum. The structure has only tiny windows, and what light does enter is usually blocked by a mass of tourists. The “most artistically perfect” mosaic monument, the inspiring vision of the Good Shepherd in a starry paradise, is hidden behind a veil of darkness.

But the impatient who leave the chapel will miss a stunning unveiling. With no advance notice, spotlights near the ceiling are turned on when a tourist finally manages to drop a coin into the small metal box along the wall. The lights illuminate the iridescent tiles of the mosaic but only for a few seconds. One visitor described the experience: “The lights come on. For a brief moment, the briefest of moments—the eye doesn’t have time to take it all in, the eye casts about—the dull, hot darkness overhead becomes a starry sky, a dark-blue cupola with huge, shimmering stars that seem startlingly close. ‘Ahhhhh!’ comes the sound from below, and then the light goes out, and again there’s darkness, darker even than before.”

The bright burst of illumination is repeated over and over again, divided by darkness of unpredictable length. Each time the lights come on, the visitors are given another glimpse of the world behind the shadows, and their eyes capture another element previously unseen—deer drinking from springs, Jesus gently reaching out to his sheep that look lovingly at their Shepherd. After seeing the mosaic, one visitor wrote: “I have never seen anything so sublime in my life! Makes you want to cry!”

Possible Preaching Angle:

It is difficult to experience the glory of God in our daily lives and when we do, it is only for brief moments. Yet, there are time when God breaks through the darkness of this world and reveals himself for a brief moment. Like Isaiah’s experience (Isa. 6:1-5), these moments should be life changing.

Pro basketball star Kevin Durant is one of the most famous athletes in the world (at least as of 2021). Durant is a four-time scoring champion, a two-time finals MVP, and an 11-time All-Star. By any measure, he’s one of the defining athletes of our time. His decisions about where to play, and which teammates to play with, have thrust whole franchises up to glory and sent others plummeting down.

But surprisingly, Durant is well aware of the fleeting nature of his fame. In a 2021 interview he said, “The world is bigger than my little box, I’m not going to be playing this game forever. So I can’t be expected to stay in this box.” He laughed. “Like: ‘This is the K.D. box.’ Who gives a [expletive]? It’s been billions of people on this earth. We really are small, if you look at it from a universe perspective.”

I think a defining question for a Christian is: Who was Christ? And I don't think you're let off easily by saying a great thinker or a great philosopher, because actually he went around saying he was the Messiah. That's why he was crucified. He was crucified because he said he was the Son of God. So, he either, in my view, was the Son of God, or he was … nuts. Forget rock 'n roll messianic complexes, this is like Charlie Manson type delirium. And, I find it hard to accept that a whole millions and millions of lives, half the earth, for two thousand years have been touched, have felt their lives touched and inspired by some nutter.

In her book Living Beyond Yourself: Exploring the Fruit of the Spirit, author and speaker Beth Moore recalls a particularly insightful moment in her life:

I will never forget watching an evening talk show featuring the story of the parents and killer of a young college student. The killer was his best friend. The weapon was high alcohol content inside a speeding automobile. …

What made this particular feature prime-time viewing? The parents had forgiven the young driver… And if that was not enough, they had taken him in as their own. This young man sat at the table in the chair which was once occupied by their only son. He slept in the son's bed. He worked with the victim's father, teaching seminars on safety. He shared their fortune and supported their causes. He spoke about the one he had slain in ways only someone who knew him intimately could have. …

Why did these parents do such a thing? Because it gave them peace. The interviewer was amazed; I was amazed. I kept trying to put myself in the parents' position—but I could not. Then, as the tears streamed down my cheeks, I heard the Spirit of God whisper to my heart and say: "No wonder you cannot relate. You have put yourself in the wrong position. You, my child, are the driver." God was the parent who not only forgave, but also invited me to sit at His table in the space my Savior left for me. As a result, I have peace.

Joshua Bell emerged from the Metro and positioned himself against a wall beside a trash basket. By most measures, he was nondescript—a youngish white man in jeans, a long-sleeved T-shirt, and a Washington Nationals baseball cap. From a small case, he removed a violin. Placing the open case at his feet, he shrewdly threw in a few dollars and pocket change as seed money and began to play.

For the next 45 minutes, in the D.C. Metro on January 12, 2007, Bell played Mozart and Schubert as over 1,000 people streamed by, most hardly taking notice. If they had paid attention, they might have recognized the young man for the world-renowned violinist he is. They also might have noted the violin he played—a rare Stradivarius worth over $3 million. It was all part of a project arranged by The Washington Post—"an experiment in context, perception, and priorities—as well as an unblinking assessment of public taste. In a banal setting, at an inconvenient time, would beauty transcend?"

Just three days earlier, Joshua Bell sold out Boston Symphony Hall, with ordinary seats going for $100. In the subway, Bell garnered about $32 from the 27 people who stopped long enough to give a donation.

Graeme Keith, treasurer of the Billy Graham Association and Billy's lifelong friend, says:

I was on an elevator with Billy when another man in the elevator recognized him. He said, "You're Billy Graham, aren't you?"

"Yes," Billy said.

"Well," the man said, "you are truly a great man."

Billy immediately responded, "No, I'm not a great man. I just have a great message."

In The Last Days Newsletter, Leonard Ravenhill tells about a group of tourists visiting a picturesque village who walked by an old man sitting beside a fence.

In a rather patronizing way, one tourist asked, "Were any great men born in this village?"

The old man replied, "Nope, only babies."

The Jewish poet and storyteller Noah ben Shea tells a parable that serves as a valuable reminder of the roles we play in life:

After a meal, some children turned to their father, Jacob, and asked if he would tell them a story. "A story about what?" asked Jacob.

"About a giant," squealed the children.

Jacob smiled, leaned against the warm stones at the side of the fireplace, and his voice turned softly inward.

"Once there was a boy who asked his father to take him to see the great parade that passed through the village. The father, remembering the parade from when he was a boy, quickly agreed, and the next morning the boy and his father set out together.

"As they approached the parade route, people started to push in from all sides, and the crowd grew thick. When the people along the way became almost a wall; the father lifted his son and placed him on his shoulders.

"Soon the parade began and as it passed, the boy kept telling his father how wonderful it was and how spectacular were the colors and images. The boy, in fact, grew so prideful of what he saw that he mocked those who saw less, saying, even to his father, 'If only you could see what I see.'

"But," said Jacob staring straight in the faces of the children, "what the boy did not look at was why he could see. What the boy forgot was that once his father, too, could see."

Then, as if he had finished the story, Jacob stopped speaking.

"Is that it?" said a disappointed girl. "We thought you were going to tell us a story about a giant."

"But I did," said Jacob. "I told you a story about a boy who could have been a giant."

"How?" squealed the children.

"A giant," said Jacob, "is anyone who remembers we are all sitting on someone else's shoulders."

"And what does it make us if we don't remember?" asked the boy.

"A burden," answered Jacob.

In The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, Christian author J. R. R. Tolkien portrays the classic conflict between good and evil set in a mythical land called Middle Earth. After a great battle in ancient times, the Dark Lord Sauron was temporarily defeated and his most dreaded weapon, the Ring of Power, was lost for many ages.

A character named Bilbo Baggins found the ring and, unaware of its true identity, passed it on to his nephew Frodo as part of an inheritance. Frodo Baggins (Elijah Wood) plays the central role in the story—and he is an unlikely hero. Full of humility and hesitation, he embarks on an epic quest to destroy this most powerful tool of the Dark Lord.

At one point the rulers of the nations have gathered in a council to decide what to do with the ring, which sits before them on a stone pedestal. The fate of the world hangs on their decision. Under the strain of the decision and the seeming impossibility of the task, bitter infighting breaks out in the council.

"The ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom," says the head of the council. "Only there can it be unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm from which it came. One of you must do this."

But one council member objects, "One does not simply walk into Mordor. Its black gates are guarded by more than just orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep, and the great eye is ever watchful. It is a barren wasteland, riddled with fire and ash and dust. Not with 10,000 men could you do this. It is folly!"

The council members begin to protest, bicker, and accuse, standing and pointing at each other, until a small voice is heard that silences them all. Frodo stands and says, "I will take it. I will take it! I will take the ring to Mordor."

The members of the council are stunned into silence, and one by one they pledge themselves to be a team supporting Frodo. Thus is born "The Fellowship of the Ring."

Frodo, the smallest, least powerful, and humblest of them all emerges as the greatest, because he's willing to do what must be done, regardless of the sacrifice.

Elapsed Time: 1:29:00-1:31:30

Content: Rated PG-13 for battle scenes and frightening images.

God cannot be grasped by the mind. If he could be grasped, he would not be God.

Beware in your prayer, above everything, of limiting God, not only by unbelief, but by fancying that you know what he can do.

Greatness in the kingdom of God is measured in terms of obedience.

Our soundest knowledge is to know that we know God not as indeed he is, neither can we know him; and our safest eloquence concerning him is our silence, when we confess, without confession, that his glory is inexplainable, his greatness above our capacity and reach.

In order that we finite beings may apprehend the Emperor He translates His glory into multiple forms--into stars, woods, waters, beasts, and the bodies of men.

We all want to be great, but we don't want folks to know we want to be great.