This Graced Life: Glory

Why does God need glory? Why does He ask for it? And why does He, on the other hand, in Christ, preach meekness for humans in the Beatitudes?

It seems a paradox: a God who says that it is better to give than to receive nonetheless reserves the right to glorification for Himself.

Humans seek glory at every turn, and the kind of glory we seek could also be described by that mysterious phrase "the glamour of sin". I think of it every time I see one of those Hollywood-style weddings which are in fashion, the kind which make a feature of antique cars or horses and carriages to transport the bridal party, as if getting married were the sacramental equivalent of Oscar night in Los Angeles. That's glory-seeking at a most obviously inappropriate time. If ever there were a moment deserving of a sober assessment of personal weakness, it's at the start of a marriage.

God traditionally condemns human glory-seeking. People are encouraged to pray in private, to avoid drawing attention to their holiness. The right hand is encouraged not to know what the left hand does (Matthew, 6). The son who actually did what his father asked, as opposed to the one who sought glory by promising to do it, is the one who Jesus acclaims (Matthew, 21).

On the other hand, we are asked to give glory to God the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.

I think it's because by glorifying God, humans learn what is needed to make this a better world.

We are born to worship. We don't feel complete without an object of affection. Some of us worship food, some cars, some music. Rock bands attract adoration. We feel the need to love other people.

What we worship makes us what we are. There is a direct link between the grunge music that's around and the nihilistic spirit amongst the population of young people. The music is nothing; they are nothing. It feels comfortable.

But what do we glorify when we glorify God? Creativity; love; power as an act of service.

In other words, virtues to which we aspire as human beings. Our adoration of Him thus becomes a means by which we chart a path to betterment.

The cynical temptation is simply to see glorifying God as a form of flattery; you know: "If I say nice things to Him, about Him, He won't zap me or send me to hell."

However, quite specifically God in Jesus spurns "lip service". The glory He wants is not in words; it is in action. What action? Mercy, kindness, peace-making, charitable works. "Love God with all your heart, soul, mind and strength" is not an invitation to "suck up"; it is a call to re-orientate our whole being; and the active demonstration of such repentance is always close behind: "...and love your neighbour as yourself" (Matthew, 12). Anyone who says he loves God and does not love his brother is lying.

It's a hard thing to be genuine in glorifying God. Even now as I write these words I fight the desire to attain some glory for having written them. "Blessed are the pure in heart" is the hardest beatitude of all. In Murder in the Cathedral, T.S. Eliot perfectly captured Thomas a Becket's last temptation - to martyr himself for his own glorification in posterity - when he warned against doing "the right deed for the wrong reason".

We virtually need to admit to God our self-seekingness as we glorify Him. We almost have to say to Him, "I'm doing this for myself, but I'd prefer it if I weren't." The best words of all are "God be merciful to me, a sinner." But even then we are sufficiently self-aware to know that we could be shading our "humility" with a new colour of attention-seeking: "Look at me God; I got it right, didn't I?" How happy indeed, the ones who really are pure in heart. Most of us have mixed motives all of the time. Jesus "knew their hypocrisy" it was said of the duplicitous crowd trying to trick Him (Mark, 12). What if He looked into your eyes or mine?

We live in an age rampant with self-glorification. It is virtually impossible to break through to the Christian virtue of modesty so surrounded are we by an almost demonic crush to be noticed. It almost requires a revulsion of media attention, of advertising, of promotion and of self-promotion, of praise, of compliments - a sloughing off, if you will - before we can stand spiritually naked and accept our dependence on God.

And that's another reason to glorify God: to remind us of the human quality of dependency, of which we are so often so casually forgetful.

It is interesting that when we are praised, however, it is often a feeling of awkwardness which overtakes us. We crave to be at the centre (however each individual defines it) and yet when the moment comes, we instinctively squirm as if we are not deserving of it. We know ourselves too well; I think we may be worried that if we are put on a pedestal we won't be able to keep all our armor in place and our guard will slip, and we may even for a moment expose our greed for glory. All our mental resources are required to appear humble. It is a complex, awkward moment.

A part of the complexity is also that our conscience complains to us within, because we know that only God has a perfection deserving of unqualified praise.

As the habit of glorifying God has diminished in an out-of-control culture of greed, so has immodesty increased. And with it, hardness of heart. And with hardness of heart has come an insensitivity to the need for confession, which is a process for admitting we really are "just human", and a way of acknowledging that glorification really only does us good if it isn't directed at us.