Resurrection over Recognition: The Way Up Is Down

by Dave Miller

On the road to Jerusalem, the crowds around Jesus swelled with excitement. His ministry was growing, miracles were happening, and the movement felt unstoppable. It’s in that very moment James and John, the “sons of thunder,” make a bold request: to sit on Jesus’ right and left when He comes into His glory. But Jesus’ response cuts through their ambition. He says, “You don’t know what you’re asking. Are you able to be baptized with the baptism I am baptized with?” They answer yes. And Jesus replies, “You will indeed be baptized with that baptism, but to sit at My right or left is not Mine to grant. It is for those for whom it has been prepared by My Father.”

Then He gives the key: “The Son of Man came not to be served, but to serve, and to give His life as a ransom for many” (Mark 10:45).

The Subtle Danger of Kingdom Ambition

Like James and John, many of us enter ministry with a genuine desire to follow Jesus and advance His kingdom. But if we’re honest, we often carry a hidden hope that as we build His kingdom, He’ll notice our kingdom too. We build, serve, and sacrifice, but deep down we’re hoping Jesus will see the size of our contribution, the reach of our influence, or the fruit of our labor and say, “That’s the one who deserves to sit close to Me.”

But this isn’t how the kingdom works. Jesus Himself never grasped for the throne. The Gospel of John shows us a Savior who continually yielded to the Father, trusting exaltation would come only through obedience and death. “The Father loves Me because I lay down My life,” Jesus says, “only to take it up again” (John 10:17).

Building Beneath the Cross

When we subtly fight to build our own kingdom, even beneath the banner of Jesus, we turn ministry into competition instead of collaboration. We stop serving like sons and start ruling like kings. We measure ourselves against our brothers and sisters instead of dying to ourselves alongside them.

The symptoms are easy to spot:

Control over contribution – We’d rather be in charge than simply faithful.

Competition over collaboration – We want to prove our worth rather than empower others.

Uniformity over diversity – We want things done our way instead of celebrating the unique ways God expresses His kingdom through others.

Recognition over resurrection – We want to be raised up before we’ve truly died.

Jesus’ model is the opposite. He surrendered the right to determine His place and trusted the Father to exalt Him in due time. That is what true kingdom living looks like.

Servants, Not Sovereigns

If we’re not careful, we end up building a sub-kingdom within the Kingdom, serving Jesus but with a divided heart. Yet the invitation of the gospel is not to build a name for ourselves under His lordship, but to die to self entirely and let the Father determine our place. The path upward is still downward.

When we truly serve, without controlling outcomes or seeking credit, we enter the freedom of the kingdom Jesus describes. The Father alone assigns positions of honor, and He does so according to His will, not our résumé. Our part is to follow the Son—to serve, to suffer, and to trust the Father’s faithfulness to raise us up in His timing and His way.

The Worth of the King

The worth of Jesus demands total submission, but not because we are afraid or forced. We submit because when we see Him as He truly is, our hearts are undone. When we look at what He has accomplished and what Scripture promises He will accomplish, when we see His patience, His long-suffering, His gentleness, His joy, His fervency, His resilience, and His courage—everything in us says, “I want to follow that King.” His glory, His grace, and His grandeur are beyond comparison. We see Him and think, “That’s the one I want to line up behind.” So we come not as power-seekers but as servants and ambassadors who gladly say, “I don’t care what my status in the kingdom is; I just want a place.”

To participate in any form, under any assignment, is a privilege beyond measure. His worth compels our obedience, and His majesty commands our devotion.

Conclusion: The Death of My Kingdom

The greatest test of faith is not how much I build for Jesus, but how much I’m willing to die with Him. My task is not to secure a seat near the throne but to carry a cross. My security rests not in the success of my ministry but in the Father who sees, remembers, and raises. To give up my own kingdom pales in comparison to the kingdom of great worth—it’s like trading in garbage to receive the eternal weight of glory.

So may I stop asking Jesus to bless my kingdom, and instead let mine die under His feet, so the Father alone is glorified in the kingdom that cannot be shaken.