Are We Blinded by the Spotlight and the Lure of Recognition

Spotlights do not make a person meaningful; they only reveal who sits on the throne of their life.

When I wrote my first blog post, "From the Old to the New," I said that I had been away from social media for a while and did not miss my own voice returning. I meant that.

I no longer really long for the spotlight, or for someone to hear me, like me, approve of me, or react to what I write, say, or do. From time to time, that desire to be something in the eyes of others still raises its head—but I no longer give myself over to it.

I was a referee for thirty years and ended my career about seven years ago. I was never at the very top of the refereeing world, but I experienced the spotlight enough to know what it feels like when it lands on you for a moment—when you make a decision and everyone sees you.

I have experienced the same as a speaker. I have stood in situations where tens, hundreds, or even thousands of people were listening what I say. That feeling—when people laugh or are moved to tears—it can be intoxicating. It is something one can seek again and again. One can even live for it.

I know this because I have lived there.

That powerful feeling of wanting to be something in the eyes of others—the desire to stand out, to be different, to be better than others at what you do. To be valued.

And all of this can easily be dressed up as "helping others."
But that is not what it is.

All of it is the wisdom, glamour, and glory of a fading world—like a shooting star that disappears.

It is the spirit of this age, constantly whispering to me:
I am more important than others.
I deserve more.
I am better.
I should be seen and heard.
Because I am special, and I have a special gift to give to others.

Neither you nor I should believe that lie—because it is a lie.
It may feel good, but it is not something to think or dwell on it.

You and I are not more important than others.
Our personalities are not more special than anyone else's.
We are not better than others.

If I have a gift, it is not for me—it is for others sake and to glorify Jesus.
Even if I sing, play, or speak more beautifully or skillfully than others, it does not make me better or special.

I am not to be bowed to because of my gift, nor does it make me privileged in any way.

If I start thinking that way, I need to stop—truly stop.
Because if I continue down that road, I am walking toward destruction.

I must stop and humble myself.
Lay my gift down.
And refuse to put it on display until I can truly see beyond my own navel.

I have noticed that more and more Christians—and Christian congregations—on social media revolve around themselves. Worship songs, sermons, and prophecies focus on human needs, emotions, and experiences. Everything seems to revolve around what I get, what I feel, what I am.

Jesus came for me.
Angels are for me.
Heaven is for me.

This is not Christianity.
This is humanism.
Self-centeredness.

As long as a person revolves around themselves, they are not living a mature Christian life. To put it more gently: we are spiritual infants, in need of milk, not yet adults in Christ.

"He died for all, that those who live should no longer live for themselves…"
(2 Corinthians 5:15)

"Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves." (Philippians 2:3)

"Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but think of yourself with sober judgment." (Romans 12:3)

I do not believe people need to be constantly praised so their self-esteem will hold together or so they will not become depressed.

A person does not grow from praise.
A person grows from belonging.

A person should grow up in a family—spiritual or biological—where they are loved because they belong, not because of what they achieve, succeed at, or what gifts they have.

In such a family, a person learns to live in an atmosphere of love where their worth is not negotiable. They know their place. They know what they are—and what they are not yet. They are allowed to grow without the need to prove themselves to outsiders.

In a family, both correction and affirmation are shared.
Truth and love walk together.
Growth happens through guidance, correction, and patience—not flattery.

That is why the opinions of those outside the family should not carry decisive weight. They do not know the person, do not bear responsibility for them, and do not love them. A person cannot easily be bought with praise or destroyed by insults when their trust does not rest on strangers' opinions, but on what they know to be true and what their own people know and say about them.

Christianity does not call us to be visible, but to die to ourselves, so that Christ may become visible.

It is time to understand that this is not about us.
It is about Him.
Christ.
Jesus.
His kingdom.
The glory and honor of His name.

We have all prayed:
"Your kingdom come.
Your will be done."

This is not about us.
We have been saved by Him and for the sake of His name and His glory.

When the spotlight has been absent, I have begun to notice what has taken its place. Growth has not happened through big decisions or visible solutions, but through small steps that almost no one notices.

In the quiet, a few people have become surprisingly close.
We have done small things together. Shared everyday life. Been present. Done ordinary things for one another without any need to show or prove anything.

At the same time, I have grown in another direction in the quiet:
learning to fight without noise, to keep my mouth shut when it would be easy to defend myself, and to love even those who have wronged me.

When we do things together, we learn to know one another—and at the same time, we learn something about ourselves. Character grows there. Patience. Listening. Responsibility for others.

Spotlights did not grow me this way.
They gave a voice to selfishness—and took away my hearing.

True connection is born only where there is no need to be seen and where one is willing to place others before oneself.

"Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up."
(1 Corinthians 8:1)

"Clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility… and over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity."
(Colossians 3:12–14)

"If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge… but have not love, I am nothing."
(1 Corinthians 13:1–2)

Spotlights always fade in time.
What remains is this:
for whom have I lived?
For myself—or for Love?