On Alexander the Great’s tombstone, the words are (allegedly) written:
“A tomb now suffices for him for whom the world was not enough”[1]
Imagine reading those words where one of the most impactful men of history lies buried. From the Balkans to the Nile to the Himalayas, he forced together a vast empire over three continents and two million square miles. And now, he’s in the dirt.
Aspiration is a tricky thing, isn’t it? We think greatness is attainable, so we work hard to gain it. But, like Alexander, as soon as we think we’ve reached “great,” we discover “greater” just beyond our reach. There’s always a nicer lawn in the neighborhood, a smarter kid in the class, a better golfer on the course, a more esteemed brother or sister in the church.
So we’re tempted to despair—the despair of the not-as-great-as-we-want-to-be. Charles Spurgeon’s epitaph on Alexander drives the warning home:
See Alexander’s tears! He weeps! Yes, he weeps for another world to conquer! Ambition is insatiable! The gain of the whole world is not enough. Surely to become a universal monarch, is to make one’s self universally miserable.[13]
Sound depressing?
It is. But it’s also clarifying. Because it helps us ask the right question: What are the ground rules for gospel greatness? If we don’t answer that, we’ll keep swinging between two familiar ditches—despair and denial.
Ground Rule #1: Don’t Lower the Standard to Protect Your Ego
Well, there is another option. We can simply lower the standard of greatness to fit what we can reliably attain!
Live a holy life? Impossible. How about a balanced and reasonably moral one? Done! Love God and others wholeheartedly? Forget it. How about a head-nod to God and tolerance toward others? Done! Obey God’s Word as the rule of my life? Too restrictive. How about leafing through it to find words that make me feel better about myself? Done!
This is the quiet “solution” we all drift toward when greatness starts to feel costly. We don’t stop wanting greatness—we just redefine it into something manageable. Something we can achieve without repentance, without surrender, without God.
But whether our dreams send us into despair or lead us to settle for near-great, there’s something with which we must contend:
Our failure to achieve greatness is far greater, and far more dangerous, than we think.
Ground Rule #2: Let God Define Greatness—and Accept His Standard
You see, the standard of greatness isn’t set by us. It’s set by God. And God doesn’t grade on a curve. He doesn’t reward a good try. Why? Because he demands perfection.
That’s the true definition of greatness, of true glory: absolute moral perfection.
Alexander could have conquered the whole world and gone on to build a city on the moon (or, perhaps Mars). But great as he was, he could never be perfect.
And here’s where this gets personal: I too want “great.” Deeply embedded in my sinful flesh is a desire to install myself as lord over all. I want my name worshiped, my glory exalted, and my fame discussed long after I’m dead.
But by pursuing my own exaltation, I fall short—tragically short—of the greatness and glory of God. As the apostle Paul puts it (far too absolutely for my preferences), “for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Rom. 3:23).
Ground Rule #3: Take Sin Seriously—Because God Does
And in the way God judges things, in our falling short of God’s greatness, we fall under his wrath. Apart from perfection, there’s no other possibility.
My quest for my own greatness leads me to a dangerous place. In our hyped-up pursuit of self-glory, we place ourselves in the path of the wrath of God.
Now, our desire for “great” is not a cut against the grain of our design. Ecclesiastes says that God has “put eternity into man’s heart” (Eccl. 3:11). We were made to want glory. We were made to ache for something lasting.
But between ourselves and that “great eternity” is a great obstacle: the wrath of God—symbolized well by the six-foot drop into the ground that’s topped with a grave warning for whoever walks on the surface.
That’s sobering. And it’s meant to be.
Ground Rule #4: Stop Chasing Greatness Through Self-Glory—Run to Christ
If we grasp after “great” in this life and in our own efforts, a tomb will suffice those, like Alexander the Great, for whom the world was not enough.
But there is another kind of greatness. There is a greatness that doesn’t end in dirt.
“For those ‘who by patience in well-doing seek for glory and honor and immortality’” (Rom. 2:7)—not by inflating their own glory, but by foregoing it, repenting and believing in Christ for forgiveness, seeking a great salvation through a great Savior…
Well, if I can riff on an old song, their tombstones might read:
“Ain’t no grave suffices to hold this body down.”
That’s not denial. That’s hope.
Because the gospel doesn’t merely scold our ambition—it rescues it. It exposes the lie that self-glory can satisfy, and it offers something better: the glory that comes from God, through Christ, to those who stop pretending they can be great on their own.
Today’s Tenacious Questions
When you evaluate your work as a leader, are you more likely to make excuses for a low performance, or to be ungrateful for what you’ve achieved? How does the gospel transform your relationship to “greatness”? What does it mean for you to “seek for glory and honor and immortality” (Rom. 2:7) the way God likes?
Prayer
Lord, the heart is a tricky thing. We either pursue the wrong things heartlessly, or we pursue the right things half-heartedly. Please forgive us as we need. Help us want the right “great,” and pursue the glory that only comes from you, and through you. Amen.
[1] Betsy Reed. (March 23, 20080. “In praise of … epitaphs.” The Guardian. https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2008/mar/24/2.
