What Does Greatness Look Like? (Mark #36)

When someone starts bragging about how great they are, I inwardly cringe and try to pull away.

But here’s what fascinates me. There’s a part of our culture that reacts like forty-eight-year-old me and recoils from that kind of boasting — and another part of our culture, the part that’s more like nine-year-old me, that absolutely revels in it.

The Bat Flip Debate

There’s a small controversy running through baseball over bat flipping. If you don’t know what that is: a batter connects, sees the ball leaving the park, and tosses his bat so it tumbles end over end.

Traditionalists find it rude and disrespectful. You’re a professional being paid millions of dollars. Act like you’ve been here before. Lay the bat down and run the bases.

And then there’s another part of the culture that loves it. They’ll turn it into a looping clip and post it everywhere. Because in that moment the batter is essentially declaring: I came up here to hit a home run, and I did it. He’s saying, right now, I am the greatest — and people love it.

There’s something in us that longs for that kind of attention. Even those of us who’d rather stay behind the scenes — who have no desire to be on a stage — still want someone to admire us, to recognize us, to respect us.

It’s just that in our hunger for that respect, some of us want to hear someone say we’re the greatest. And when nobody says it, we sometimes feel the need to say it ourselves.

Two Disciples Want to Bat Flip

Today two of Jesus’s disciples want exactly that. They want the prominent position. They want everyone to see how significant they are. So they make an outrageous request.

I’ll spoil it for you now: Jesus knocks the whole thing down. They want to build an ivory tower to display their greatness, and he removes the foundation. But that leads into a conversation about what greatness actually looks like.

Where We Left Off

Last week in Mark 10 we saw Jesus preparing to set out on a journey. Just as they were leaving, a rich man approached and asked how to inherit eternal life.

That conversation led into a discussion with the disciples about how impossible it is to enter heaven on your own — which shocked them, because they assumed this wealthy man had been blessed by God, and he had done everything right. So when Jesus said entrance was impossible, their reaction was essentially: then what’s the point?

And Jesus said that while it’s impossible for man, it is not impossible with God. We saw that Jesus went to a cross to die in our place, and it is through him that we have entrance into eternal life.

He finished by saying the first shall be last and the last first — that Jesus, the first, put himself last in order to take us, who were last, and bring us first into the kingdom.

This week Jesus doesn’t just teach it. He applies it directly to his disciples. Which means if you follow Jesus, you need to listen — because what he says to them extends to us.

Jesus Walks Out in Front

Mark 10:32 says they were on the road going up to Jerusalem, and Jesus was walking ahead of them, and they were amazed, and those who followed were afraid.

Remember, the conversation with the rich man happened only minutes ago. He’s walked away, Jesus has talked with the disciples, and now they’re picking up their belongings to head out.

They’re already unsettled. Their theology just took a hit — they thought good, wealthy men had automatic entrance to heaven.

And now something else is happening. Jesus is walking out in front.

That never happened. When Jesus traveled with his disciples he walked with them, because he was constantly teaching — explaining the kingdom of God, showing them how to live. Those were his moments with his men.

Suddenly he’s ahead of them, with determination in his stride. And it disturbs them.

If you were with us on Palm Sunday, we looked at the parallel passage in Luke and saw that Jesus knew exactly what awaited him in Jerusalem — and he went out in front anyway.

The Third Time He’s Said It

Sensing their fear, Jesus stops and lets them catch up. And he tells them plainly: we’re going to Jerusalem. The Son of Man will be handed over to the chief priests and scribes. They’ll condemn him to death and hand him over to the Gentiles. He’ll be mocked, spit on, flogged, and killed. And after three days he will rise.

This is the third time in Mark that Jesus has said this.

Anything Jesus says once deserves attention. For him to say it three times means he is trying to drill it into their hearts: I did not come merely to perform miracles. I did not come merely to teach about the kingdom. I did not come to establish an earthly throne. I came to die.

He desperately wants them to hear it.

They don’t.

The Request

Verse 35: James and John, the sons of Zebedee, come up to him and say, “Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask.”

He asks what they want.

“Grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory.”

From another Gospel we learn their mother was part of this — perhaps urging them forward. Some scholars believe James and John were actually cousins of Jesus, so there may have been a family angle: surely he’ll grant relatives a favored status.

And there was a relational logic to it. Jesus had twelve disciples but three close friends — Peter, James, and John — and John seems to have been the closest of all. So if anyone gets those seats, it stands to reason. And James is the older brother, so of course he comes along.

Have They Been Listening at All?

But think about everything Jesus has been teaching.

A couple of hours ago they watched him tell the rich man that the first will be last and the last will be first — that the things we assume make us first, like wealth and prestige and possessions and reputation and talent, are often the very things that keep us from God, because we lean on them instead of him. And those who seem to have nothing are often best positioned to place their entire faith on God, because they have nothing else.

It doesn’t register.

And they were also there in chapter 9, when the disciples argued about who was greatest — not saying “you’re pretty good,” but each one trying to edge out the others. And Jesus corrected them directly: If anyone would be first, he must be last of all and servant of all.

So James and John were present when Jesus humbled them in chapter 9. They were present when he humbled the rich man in chapter 10. And they still walk up on the road and ask for the two most prominent seats in the kingdom.

That’s How Selfishness Works

That’s the nature of selfishness. When you spend every day making life about yourself, even genuinely humbling moments wear off. It creeps back in, you revert to old patterns, and life becomes about you again.

James and John are exactly like us. They want someone to say, “You’re great. I admire you. I respect you.” And they concluded the path to that was sitting at Jesus’s right and left hand — because surely you must be somebody if you’re seated there.

“Can You Drink the Cup I Drink?”

Jesus responds: You do not know what you are asking. Are you able to drink the cup that I drink, or to be baptized with the baptism with which I am baptized?

In Mark 14, which we’ll reach later, Jesus is in the garden of Gethsemane praying in anguish, knowing what awaits him. And he prays: Abba, Father, all things are possible for you. Remove this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will.

What does he mean by “this cup”?

In the Old Testament, especially the prophets, there’s recurring imagery of a cup whose contents are poured out — and those contents are typically God’s wrath, God’s justice, God’s judgment. The prophets warned Israel that if they didn’t change, judgment would be poured out and they’d endure something terrible.

Jesus takes that imagery and asks the Father to remove the cup, because he knows he is about to go to the cross.

Paul writes in 2 Corinthians 5 that Jesus, who knew no sin, became sin for us. So at the cross Jesus became the embodiment of sin, and God’s wrath was poured out on sin — so that sin could be defeated and we could be freed from it and brought into relationship with God.

So the cup means the pain, the anguish, and the death.

Same with the baptism. When someone is baptized, they’re identifying with the death, burial, and resurrection of Christ. So when Jesus asks whether they can drink his cup and be baptized with his baptism, he isn’t talking about wine and water. He’s talking about suffering.

“We Are Able”

They’re completely clueless. They answer, “We are able.”

I suspect Jesus shook his head. But listen to what he tells them: The cup that I drink you will drink, and with the baptism with which I am baptized you will be baptized.

And it came true.

In Acts 12:2, James becomes the first apostle killed for his faith in Jesus.

Consider the group standing there. Twelve disciples. One of them — Judas — will take his own life, leaving eleven, and his place is later filled by Matthias. And of those eleven, ten are killed for their faith in Christ. The first is James.

The one who isn’t killed is John — who is exiled to the island of Patmos, where he eventually dies alone.

These men suffered enormously for their faith. They had no idea what was ahead. Jesus did.

And then he tells them that the seats they’re asking for aren’t his to assign — those positions have already been prepared.

The Other Ten Are Furious

Verse 41: when the ten heard it, they became indignant at James and John.

Why? Because they wanted those seats.

Some are upset that James and John beat them to it. Others are offended at the sheer brashness — because Jesus had just taught that the first shall be last, so their strategy was to act humble in hopes that Jesus would hand them the positions. They were taking the humble route to prominence, but they still wanted the prominence.

They’d already had the argument about who was greatest. The desire was still sitting there.

“It Shall Not Be So Among You”

So Jesus calls them all together and says: you know that those considered rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones exercise authority over them. But it shall not be so among you. Whoever would be great among you must be your servant, and whoever would be first must be slave of all.

We have an entire faction of our culture that celebrates the bat flippers.

Think about every election cycle. Who wins? Typically the one who boasted most effectively — who promised the most and convinced us he’d set himself up best. We live in a culture that honors those who boast. A famous athlete declares himself the greatest and the crowd roars agreement.

And Jesus says: not so with you.

Because people who chase recognition and prominence tend to trample others to get there. And once they’ve secured the fame, the power, the money, they lord it over everyone else and push them down — because the only way they feel elevated is by keeping others low. They make others last in order to be first.

Jesus says: you want to be great? Serve. You want to be first? Be a slave.

And the word he uses isn’t a slave who was sold. It’s a bondservant — someone who willingly enters that position because they want to help someone else.

Which is why Paul writes in Philippians 2 that we should do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than ourselves — each of us looking not only to our own interests but to the interests of others.

What Good Mothers Already Know

When I lay out my preaching calendar each fall, I map the whole year. And it did not occur to me that this passage would land on Mother’s Day.

Now I’m grateful it did — because what Jesus is describing is precisely what good mothers do.

Good mothers put themselves last so their children can be first.

In our home I can’t count how often the kids got a hot meal while my wife’s food had gone cold by the time she finally sat down. The kids got their baths; Mom was fortunate to find five minutes for a shower. The kids joined every activity and sport while Mom drove them everywhere and set aside her own hobbies and interests — maybe she’ll return to them when the kids are older, or out of the house.

It’s exhausting. It’s hard.

So mothers, hear this: you’re doing well. As you keep sacrificing for your children, you are doing exactly what Jesus called us to. This is greatness — putting yourself last and considering your children’s needs before your own. That is Christlikeness.

But this isn’t only for mothers. Jesus is standing there with a group of young men in their late teens and early twenties, teaching them exactly the same thing.

His Mission Statement

Because this was his own mission. You know how businesses have mission statements? Jesus gives us his in verse 45:

For even the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.

Throughout Mark we’ve watched Jesus display extraordinary power. He healed the blind, the deaf, the lame. He stopped a storm with a word. He fed five thousand people with a boy’s lunch.

And on top of that, the teaching. Mark tells us Jesus taught with an authority no one else had — and notice the first part of that word: author. Jesus is the author of the Scriptures. Who better to teach them?

And yet with all that power and authority, Jesus does not arrive demanding a throne. He doesn’t walk into a crowd demanding they bow. He doesn’t demand wealth or recognition or any of the things our world insists are essential.

Instead: he came not to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.

So How Do You Respond?

Here’s my question. When you hear Jesus state his mission — I came not to be served but to serve, and to give my life — what’s your response?

If you’re not a follower of Jesus, I hope your response is surrender.

Jesus went to a cross to die for your sins. He loves you and does not want you separated from God — but your sin separates you, because God is perfectly holy and sin cannot enter his presence. That’s why Jesus went to the cross to take your sin. He came to give his life as a ransom for you.

So I hope today is your spiritual birthday. Confess your sin and give your life to Jesus: because you gave your life for me, I now give myself fully to you.

And if you make that decision, let us know — not so we can count anything, but so we can celebrate with you and help you follow Christ. This isn’t about getting anyone to recite a prayer. It’s about helping you become who God has called you to be. Our world desperately needs people who will love like Jesus loved and live like Jesus lived, and that journey starts today.

And If You Already Follow Him

The question still stands. How will you respond?

If this is Jesus’s mission and we’re meant to live like Jesus lived, then when he says he came not to be served but to serve, one response is obvious: serve. Go and give your life to putting others first.

You can serve with us at the food bank. You can serve here on Sundays. But the kind of service Jesus is describing is daily. So the real questions are: How can you serve in your own home? At school? Among the people you work with? In your neighborhood? How can you serve people from your past, and people in your present?

If you want to live like Jesus lived, you must live a life of service. It is not about you. And when you live that way, other people are lifted up — and they end up discovering Jesus.

A Second Response: Worship

But there’s a second response. We don’t only hear his mission statement and conclude we should serve. We look at it and worship.

When we realize Jesus gave himself as a ransom for us, it should leave us in awe. He is on that road to Jerusalem knowing exactly what’s coming — and he goes anyway, because he loves you.

So take the bread and the cup and let it fill you with awe. Let it be worship.

Because Jesus Christ, the true First, put himself last — so that you and I, sinful human beings who were last, could be lifted up and made first, and brought into the kingdom of God.