This whole line of thinking got started a week or two ago when I read G.K. Chesterton’s essay, A Defence of Humility. Several things in this essay were thought-provoking (you can explore the Chesterton tag at the bottom of the page to see other posts on this essay), but the last sentence of the following quote was especially so:
There is one thing that must be seen at the outset of the study of humility from an intrinsic and eternal point of view. The new philosophy of self-esteem and self-assertion declares that humility is a vice. If it be so, it is quite clear that it is one of those vices which are an integral part of original sin. It follows with the precision of clockwork every one of the great joys of life. No one, for example, was ever in love without indulging in a positive debauch of humility. All full-blooded and natural people, such as schoolboys, enjoy humility the moment they attain hero-worship.
I have been told more than once that we should not try to imitate great preachers. I have even been told that I will never be one myself. A professor made sure to tell all of his students that. So be it. I leave that to God. But I wonder whether the ‘great preachers’ themselves were told that they would never be great preachers.
I was told in High School that I couldn’t be the same type of quarterback as Peyton Manning. They were right. I’m 5’9, 150. But they’re not always right. Folks told Tom Brady he could never be Joe Montana.
The admiration of heroes can indeed inspire humility. It is the recognition that others are greater than yourself. That there is a bar that you do not meet. I think of children who want to play on the indoor playground. The sign says, ‘You must be shorter than this,’ with a little line or arrow setting the bar at the appropriate height. The children are happy that they don’t meet the bar. It means that they can still play. They still have growing up to do. Happy humility, happy smallness.
(This is not to be confused with the ‘you must be this tall’ sign. That only inspires envy in the small and pride in the tall. See the Tom Hanks movie Big for an illustration of this).
The fact that the aspiring quarterback is not Tom Brady should inspire humility in him. It sets a bar. Perhaps he has the desire to meet that bar. Perhaps he has the ability. Perhaps he can actually do it. But the fact that the bar exists should, if nothing else, inspire him to play like the child on the playground. And if it has truly inspired humility in him, no matter how good he gets, he will never think that he has actually reached the full height, and so he will keep playing, and keep reverencing.
The child who finds an idol may become an idolator, but I do not think that is necessarily the case. There is a difference between attributing worth to a person and actually prostrating yourself before him (or her).
I have a small autograph collection. I added one to it recently. I felt silly. My wife encouraged me. She told me that she loves my childlikeness when it comes to my reverence for people I admire. I don’t worship any of them. But I love them. They encourage me.
Peyton Manning, whose autograph sits near me on my armoire, inspires me to be a better preacher. If I studied the Bible like he studies game film, I, and those who hear me, would be better for it. If I could read men’s souls like he reads a defense, I would be a mighty weapon in the hands of God (rather than the hands of an offensive coordinator). I know all this. And it humbles me. And I think this is good. It makes me work.
There is a certain amiableness about those who approach other men as a child, with reverence. If I approach those whom I respect in this way, it makes me teachable. Many are unteachable, or uncoachable, because instead of reverencing a hero they have learned only to reverence themselves. Instead of taking others seriously and thinking little of themselves, they take themselves seriously and think little of others.
But, of course, the problem remains that any hero might genuinely become an idol, in the biblical sense of the word. We might literally, if not with our knees then with our souls, bow down to another creature. We might exalt them in our hearts above God. And the warning of Scripture to those who raise up such idols is clear. First of all, it is an offense against God. It is a great sin and leads to judgment. And second, it will have a clear effect on our persons and lives. Take the words of Psalm 115:8:
- They that make them are like unto them; so is every one that trusts in them.
You will actually become like what you idolize. So be careful what you idolize. When it comes to hero-worship (understand here that I do not literally mean worship), it is obvious that you must pick your heroes wisely. If Christ is not supreme in your heart, if he is not your supreme object of worship, then do not be surprised that you are not more like him, or even becoming more like him. And if your becoming like your actual heroes has led you to demand the attention and respect of others, it’s probably because your heroes do the same. You worshiped the idol who commanded and demanded attention. You became like him, and now you command that others do the same for you. You are lost in your pride. Your own hand sets the bar, and no one reaches it.
Jesus worshiped no man, but he reverenced most (perhaps all). He took on their flesh. He sat at their tables. He wept at their tombs, He washed their feet. He served them as if they were greater than him. They weren’t. Hence his greatness
The Rock looked at Peter and saw a rock. God’s Beloved looked at humble John and loved him. The great Apostle looked at Paul and saw a messenger to the world. The true Temple went to the temple to pray. He who is without sin looked at sinners and saw them worthy of his forsaking all.
And so we could say for ourselves, and for our children, that the test of a healthy hero-worship is ultimately like the test of the bar at the playground. Either it makes us small and gives us freedom, or we exalt ourselves above the bar and sneer down at all those who don’t meet it. In the former, we are like a tourist in a foreign land who feels wonder at the appearance of every face that is not his own or like the child who thinks that everyone taller than him (and everyone is taller than him) must be the tallest man in the world. In the latter, we become devils and demand that Jesus himself bow before us so that he might take a little throne over our own little world.
It is fine and dandy to be giddy when you meet someone you admire. But it is a problem when you expect others to be giddy when they meet you.
