IT would sometimes seem that the worst foe to our harmony is the vexed question, Who shall be the greatest? Heads are sometimes turned by the personal homage humanity gives them. Personally they seem to be connected with demonstrations of Truth: and self-righteousness whispers, "Just see me and what I have done. Oh! it makes feel so good that I am becoming somebody." These are on the crest of a billow rushing to destruction, while in the trough are those who grieve over the absence of personal homage; here self-righteousness whispers, "I am as great and good as others, and oh! it hurts me so that I seem to be nobody."
Both classes err. They mentally contend with each other, and they rankle with envy toward those who forget themselves in the bliss of doing good, and illustrate that the greatest must of simple necessity be the greatest in the Kingdom of God. Human praise may justly attempt the honest recognition of a real benefaction; but beyond this it has nothing to do with it, for its origin is a divine impulse. Personal praise weighs nothing in the scales of God, and it hangs as a millstone about the neck of him who does not receive it in the spirit of utter selflessness.
The desire to be considered somebody is a rock on which some careers are stranding. The demeanor of the real Christian, however, cannot point to his own greatness, but is meekly suggestive of Love as the author of loveliness — of his wonderful words and works. Human estimates in no way affect the expression of Christian conduct. Its origin is God.
