The World Is Not Worthy

Arising from Sufism, the mystical and contemplative dimension of Islam, is the story of the prince and the cup of water. The prince was told he must die unless he followed the requirements of a wise man. The sage handed the prince a cup filled to the very brim with water. He then commanded the prince to carry the cup through the bustling, noisy city streets and return without spilling a single drop. The stakes were high. If he spilled even one drop, he would be executed on the spot. The prince accomplished the task. The sage asked the prince to tell what he saw as he passed through the marketplace: What did the people say? What were the shops he passed? The prince responded that he saw no one or thing. Every step was with the life-and-death importance of the task before him—his attention had been on only the cup.

For our story of redemption, prophets have been called to deliver messages from God that were often corrective, resulting in the hearers becoming uncomfortable and then often getting angry. The prophets were called to be faithful, no matter the success or the cost. One can retell the stories of Jeremiah, Elijah, and John the Baptist as summary cases for most of those called to speak up for God. Their collective stories are summarized in Hebrews 11. It says, “Others were tortured, not accepting deliverance, that they might obtain a better resurrection. Still others had trial of mockings and scourgings, yes, and of chains and imprisonment. They were stoned, they were sawn in two, were tempted, were slain with the sword. They wandered about in sheepskins and goatskins, being destitute, afflicted, tormented” (Heb. 11:35-37). And then, as if in a parenthetical punch, it finishes with “of whom the world was not worthy” (verse 38).

When we read this list of all that happened to these faithful people, we sometimes interpret the statement to mean that the world didn’t deserve the prophets. But prophets were, and are, not superhuman. Their gift is one among many, listed alongside teaching, preaching, administration, and serving (Eph. 4:11; Rom. 12:6-8). They were people—normal humans (James 5:17).

The statement “the world was not worthy” does not mean these people were perfect or inherently superior to others. Rather, it points to the failure of the world to recognize their worth. Their faithfulness and character were valuable, even when the people around them rejected or mistreated them.¹

The prophets were called to be faithful, no matter the success or the cost.

In the context of Hebrews 11, in which it describes the patriarchs, they “confessed they were strangers and pilgrims” (verse 13) and they “desired a better, that is, a heavenly country” (verse16), and Moses “refused to be called the son of Pharaoh’s daughter, . . . esteeming the reproach of Christ greater riches than the treasures in Egypt” (verses 24-26). It is not the reaction of the world but the action of the faithful that Hebrews points to. They did not value the world as worthy of their attention. As in the case of the young prince, they focused on the cup and the task of taking that through the marketplace. They didn’t see what was around them, said about them, or done to them. Could it be that in eternity prophets will be surprised, even incredulous, as we tell them their very own stories? 

Committed to the Cause

With these examples of faithfulness to the call of God as an a priori, Hebrews presses their case. “Therefore we also, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which so easily ensnares us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith, who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God” (Heb. 12:1, 2).

That cloud, referencing the stories from chapter 11, is one of witnesses (mar’toos), which is also translated “martyrs” (Rev. 2:13). Of the New Testament books Acts employs this word the most, as the early church was called to give all for the cause of Jesus. Hebrews gathers these illustrious stories of those who faithfully focused with their entire being on the cause of Jesus, then turns to those of us who remain and calls for us to keep our eyes, not on the marketplace, but “Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith,” who Himself endured and despised the cross and shame by keeping His eyes on the mission (“joy”) that remained before Him. Jesus didn’t hear the noise; He heard the joy.

 We are infatuated with comfort. We are consumed with the pursuit of avoiding anything uncomfortable. My family lived in Loveland, Colorado, for many years. Two kinds of people live in Colorado. Those who appreciate the view and those who appreciate the experience. We were drawn to the latter group.

From January through March many Sundays began before dawn as we headed to Winter Park for a day of skiing. Then, in July and August, after the snow had turned to liquid and rushed down the mountain creeks, we traded our skis for hiking boots and tackled one of Colorado’s 58 “14ers”—mountains rising 14,000 feet (4,200 meters) or more above sea level.

Some of the more technical or longer climbs required arriving at the trailhead by 2:00 a.m. and beginning the climb by headlamp. Often this meant a missed night’s sleep; oxygen-starved muscles pushing upward—and then, even worse, downward. Sometimes we were cold, sometimes exhausted, and sometimes fearful. Yet we climbed. And we’d do it again. Why? Because of the summit, the breathtaking views, and the deep satisfaction of accomplishment. Let me restate the point of the illustration. The persecution of the climb may keep some from being faithful, but it is the “view” that ultimately has the final word for those who are committed to the cause.

Eyes on the Prize

I just finished Nik Ripken’s The Insanity of God. After serving God in war-torn Somalia, the Ripkens traveled the world to listen to the stories of more than 600 believers in more than 60 countries. Nik tells of conversations in country after country with those who had to share their stories in secret apartment rooms or in the dark of the night. Then he writes, “Ruth and I have seldom encountered a mature believer living in persecution who asked us to pray that their persecution would cease. We have never heard that request. Rather, believers in persecution ask us to pray that ‘they would be faithful and obedient through their persecution and suffering.’ ”² Their focus was not on the persecution, or they would have asked to be freed from it. Rather, their determined focus was faithfulness to God. It is Hebrews 11 and 12 in high definition. The cause of God becomes all-consuming, and the difficulties from being faithful to that cause are drowned out by the view.

Jesus didn’t hear the noise; He heard the joy.

This is not described just in Hebrews 11. It is prophesied again as a reality for a faithful community in the final moments of earth’s history:

“Though God's people will be surrounded by enemies who are bent upon their destruction, yet the anguish which they suffer is not a dread of persecution for the truth's sake; they fear that every sin has not been repented of. . . . Though enemies may thrust them into prison, yet dungeon walls cannot cut off the communication between their souls and Christ. One who sees their every weakness, who is acquainted with every trial, is above all earthly powers; and angels will come to them in lonely cells, bringing light and peace from heaven. The prison will be as a palace; for the rich in faith dwell there, and the gloomy walls will be lighted up with heavenly light as when Paul and Silas prayed and sang praises at midnight in the Philippian dungeon.”³

The prophets faithfully delivered their messages with their eyes fixed on Jesus.  They didn’t hear what was said about them; they didn’t feel what was done to them. Not in a grand sense.  Not in the ways we have assumed.  They could pass through what happened only because their eyes were fixed on Jesus and the call He had given them. You cannot disgrace the graceful or humiliate the humble . . . you cannot persecute the prophet.

Their eyes were fixed on Jesus.  Our eyes are fixed on their persecution, and we are perturbed.  When we are overwhelmed by the Giver of the message and the eternal consequences, we are freed the impact of persecution or even flattery. The chorus “Turn your eyes upon Jesus . . . and the things of earth will grow strangely dim in the light of His glory and grace” may be about not just the attractions of the world but the attackions, as well.⁴

“Now all these things happened to them as examples, and they were written for our admonition, upon whom the ends of the ages have come” (1 Cor. 10:11). They lived consumed for the cause for which they had been called; their lives now serve as guiding lights for the prophetic movement called to give the final message.