I Will Not Kneel

This last one always stirs something deeper. It’s not a temptation of hunger or spectacle—it’s the pull of position, of recognition, of being seen and elevated. The devil offered Jesus everything this world says matters: power, glory, kingdoms, the whole curated vision of success. And what strikes me is how Jesus responds—not from some distant divinity, but from the ground. As a man.
He doesn’t argue. He doesn’t negotiate. He names what’s real: worship belongs to God, and service does too.
There’s something in that—an anchoring. This temptation isn’t just ancient; I’ve felt it. The desire to be known, to be lifted high, to matter in ways the world tracks. But Jesus doesn’t reach for it. He doesn’t grasp. He stays true, stays oriented. And in that orientation is liberation.
There’s a whisper in His response: “I know what power looks like. I know what glory is. And it’s not this.”
So today, I return again. Not to chase the kingdoms. Not to worship at the altar of visibility. But to serve, quietly. To worship without spectacle. To belong to what is real.