The question is not whether having a platform is immoral, or whether we can bear any measure of renown. Scripture itself settles the matter: God often chooses to lift the lowly. David was the shepherd boy who became king. Joseph, sold into slavery by his brothers, ended up ruling Egypt. The orphan Esther became a queen, and Moses was chosen by God to lead the Israelites out of slavery. The list is long, and the Author is the same.

Yet, I can’t help but wonder, particularly in our glittering age: Was the human soul made for fame? Everything in me whispers no.

Look at the shining constellations of our day — Hollywood’s galaxies, the music industry’s supernovae. How many have stood before cameras and confessed, half-smiling, that they “sold their soul”? How many movies, songs, or influencers exalt lawlessness — casual lust, chemical escape, the coronation of pride? Wealth pours in like rivers of gold, only to be dammed up in private pleasure. Attention falls like rain, and personalities curdle into poison. And the loudest voices among them champion the very radical ideologies God calls abominations: the mutilation of the body He wove through transgenderism, the shedding of blood He forbids through abortion, to name a few.

I wish I could say this darkness was only prominent within secular culture. And yet, even those who claim to be Christian have taken some serious falls. Consider Michael Tait, the former lead singer of Newsboys. His scandal seemed to erupt overnight, and the shockwaves left fans reeling and Christians disturbed. Years of hidden chains — drugs, drink, allegations of homosexual conduct. Others, luminous on Sunday stages, have bowed the knee to the spirit of the age: rainbow flags waved from pulpits, “my body, my choice” chanted as gospel. Pastors with megaphones and millions who look up to them have been unmasked as adulterers, predators, and thieves of innocence.

No, it’s not that fame is inherently evil. Attention is not the enemy — the heart is. So, here’s my case: humans weren’t meant for it. Specifically in this fallen world, we’re so easily besmirched. But far more importantly, if our chief end is to glorify God and enjoy Him forever, then does it not stand to reason that He should receive all the fame? Surely, it’s possible for us to be good stewards of any attention or fame we may be granted. But really, the spotlight is designed for Christ, “for from Him and through Him and for Him are all things” (Romans 11:36). When we take that glory for ourselves, far too often, we become prideful and greedy. The gaze drops from heaven to earth, and the soul’s hunger — meant for the Bread of Life — gnaws at crumbs of applause. “The crucible is for silver, and the furnace is for gold, and a man is tested by his praise” (Proverbs 27:21).

And so, for those who do receive earthly fame, there’s a pressure that comes alongside it: conform or combust. Pressure truly is a silent assassin. Why is it that so many celebrities sell their souls to the devil or things that are of the devil? Why is it that so many famous Christian artists fall into scandals or compromise? In a fallen world, fame has a way of putting so much pressure on us that we conform — or break. And I can only assume, if God calls one to fame, only He is able to preserve them through it. But it requires daily prayer and discernment on our part. And as some theologians have put it, the human heart is an “idol factory.” Receiving fame, much less craving it, puts us in a position of valuing man’s approval over God’s. Was this not the root of the earliest sins seen in Lucifer and Adam, this desire to “be like God”?

We were not made to be worshipped. We were made to worship. We were not made to be served. We were made to serve. We were not made to be somewhat known by some. We were made to be fully known by God.

And there, in the hush of these truths, stands Christ. Radiant in humility, He’s the King who washed feet, the Lord who was despised, and the Name above every name who emptied Himself to the point of a criminal’s cross. His glory does not compete with ours; it completes us. In the blaze of His fame, our little candles do not go out but are caught up into an eternal flame. I won’t attempt to put it more eloquently than Pastor Paul Washer did: “Why would we want fame, when God promises us glory? Why would we be seeking the wealth of the world when the wealth of heaven is ours? Why would we run for a crown that will perish with time, when we’re called to win a crown that is imperishable?”

Our greatest desire should be Christ. After all, He is our highest good. And the highest calling we could ever endure is to be a servant at the foot of the cross. Accolades and compliments pale in comparison to being loved by God; to being a child of the Father Almighty. I truly appreciate the way Casting Crowns put it in their song, “Only Jesus”:

“Make it count, leave a mark, build a name for yourself. Dream your dreams, chase your heart, above all else, make a name the world remembers. But all an empty world can sell is empty dreams. I got lost in the light when it was up to me to make a name the world remembers. But Jesus is the only name to remember. … All the kingdoms built, all the trophies won, will crumble into dust when it’s said and done. ‘Cause all that really mattered: Did I live the truth to the ones I love? Was my life the proof that there is only One Whose name will last forever? … I don’t want to leave a legacy. I don’t care if they remember me. Only Jesus. … I’ve only got one life to live. I’ll let every second point to Him. Only Jesus.”

The human soul was made to magnify the triune God, not to be magnified by the world. Fame is a mirage; only the glory of God satisfies forever. So, the platforms may rise and fall as Providence decrees. But every soul, especially those of us in Christ, must forever and always bow the knee to Christ in humble reverence. May our lives be a mirror that reflects His glory, and a song that sings His name.

If today was your last day on earth, whose name do you want the world to remember: yours or His? Whether you chase fame, cradle it, or cast it aside, perhaps that is the question we all must ask ourselves. And may our answers be reflected not just in word, but also in the lives we live — with our gaze fixed upward and our fingers pointed at the cross.