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Only One Name

By Todd Birtcher  ·  September 1, 2026

In an era dominated by viral algorithms, red carpets, and curated public personas, it is remarkably easy to place fellow human beings on pedestals.

Instagram, TikTok, YouTube, X, Facebook—every one of them is engineered to make certain people feel larger than life, and to keep them in front of us until they do. The feed measures a human being in followers, subscribers, views, and likes, then hands us that number as if it were a verdict on their worth. Spend enough time there and it starts to feel like a verdict on ours, too. That’s the second half of the trap: the platforms don’t only invite us to revere the people with the numbers, they invite us to go chasing numbers of our own—posting for the metric, checking it, adjusting who we are in public until the count moves.

Celebrity culture constantly invites us to attribute transcendent value to human talent, charisma, and visibility. Whether we’re admiring athletes, actors, musicians, creators, or high-profile ministry leaders, fascination can quietly cross the line into reverence. And for a follower of Jesus Christ, getting swept up in stardom—or quietly building a pedestal of our own—fundamentally misaligns our perspective on worth, purpose, and worship.

The anatomy of modern pedestals

Elevating human beings is not a modern invention, but contemporary media has industrialized it. The danger is rarely an overt rejection of God. It’s a subtle drift, where our attention, admiration, and emotional investment become disproportionately tied to people.

Scripture confronts this tendency directly. In the early church, believers quickly began dividing themselves along the lines of charismatic leaders—some claiming Paul, others Apollos, others Cephas. Paul’s response cuts through the illusion:

What, after all, is Apollos? And what is Paul? Only servants, through whom you came to believe—as the Lord has assigned to each his task. I planted the seed, Apollos watered it, but God has been making it grow. So neither the one who plants nor the one who waters is anything, but only God, who makes things grow.

— 1 Corinthians 3:4–7

He reinforces it a chapter later with a piercing question: “What do you have that you did not receive? If then you received it, why do you boast as if you did not receive it?” (1 Corinthians 4:7). Any talent, platform, intellect, or vocal range is an unearned gift from the Creator. Admiring the vessel while forgetting the Artisan misses the point of the gift entirely.

The apostles refused it outright

The men who had the best claim to a following understood the spiritual hazard of receiving personal veneration—and they wanted no part of it.

When the Roman centurion Cornelius met Peter, he fell at his feet in reverence. Peter pulled him up immediately: “Stand up; I too am just a man” (Acts 10:25–26). Later, in Lystra, an astonished crowd tried to offer sacrifices to Paul and Barnabas after a miraculous healing. The apostles tore their clothes and rushed into the crowd shouting, “Friends, why are you doing this? We too are only human, like you” (Acts 14:14–15).

Godly leadership and genuine spiritual maturity always deflect awe back to God. And wherever a culture encourages us to treat creators, influencers, or leaders as untouchable figures, Scripture offers a stark reality check:

The subversive model of Christ

Jesus never pursued worldly acclaim. When crowds sought to crown Him king by force after the feeding of the five thousand, He withdrew to a mountain alone to pray (John 6:15). He intentionally chose fishermen and despised tax collectors as companions, washed the dirt from His disciples’ feet, and redefined greatness entirely:

The greatest among you will be your servant. For those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.

— Matthew 23:11–12

The foundational pattern of the Christian life is found in that self-emptying (Philippians 2:3–8): the One who held ultimate authority made Himself nothing, taking the form of a servant. When our standard of greatness is modeled on a crucified Savior, the world’s metrics—follower counts, platinum records, executive titles—lose their intoxicating power.

Cultivating a Kingdom perspective

Living faithfully in a culture of influence doesn’t mean rejecting art, excellence, or leadership. It means seeing them accurately, through a biblical lens.

When the majesty and holiness of Jesus occupy their rightful place in our hearts, the world’s brightest stars don’t need to be despised. They simply fade into ordinary, beloved people.

Peter said it plainly, standing before the same rulers and elders who had just arrested him for preaching it:

Salvation is found in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given to mankind by which we must be saved.

— Acts 4:12

No other name. Not the one trending this morning, not the one on the marquee, not the one with the verified check and nine million followers—and not ours, however large we manage to make it. There is only one name worthy of our unreserved awe, devotion, and allegiance.

Where to go from here

Topics: Faith  ·  Culture  ·  Bible Study

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