Why We Desire Glory

While attending Mass growing up, two phrases always captivated me.

The first was how Scripture describes King David: a man after God’s own heart. David trusted God, worked for Him, and repented when he sinned. That description taught me something important early on—that God does not abandon those who truly desire Him.

The second phrase came at the end of the Parable of the Talents. When the master returns and finds that two servants have multiplied what they were given, he says to them:

“Well done, good and faithful servant.”

Those words recognize both the servant and his actions.

As someone who desired fame, what more could I want than for the God of the universe to know me?

A Desire I Couldn’t Name

At the time, I couldn’t name this desire. What I later came to recognize as an idol of fame initially felt like vanity. I wanted to be known and appreciated for my gifts. I wanted someone to recognize them.

But the deeper question was this: recognized by whom?

Did I want praise from the world? If I’m honest—yes. But I also knew that worldly praise was unstable. People cheer one day and turn the next. Christ enters Jerusalem to shouts of joy on Sunday and is crucified by Friday.

I wanted something more solid than that. Something more real. I just didn’t yet know how to articulate it.

Lewis and the Meaning of Glory

This is where The Weight of Glory by C. S. Lewis clarified what I was feeling.

Lewis begins by acknowledging that Scripture promises us glory in heaven—an idea that initially feels strange. Glory seems to mean fame or luminosity. Fame sounds like competition, and glowing doesn’t feel particularly compelling.

But Lewis presses deeper.

Fame, properly understood, is not about being known by many. It is about being known by the right one. What we truly desire is not the approval of the crowd, but the approval of God. We want God to know us fully and still delight in us.

That desire feels almost audacious. We—dust and weakness—daring to hope that God might say to us, “Well done.”

And yet, Lewis argues, if this desire were impossible, it would not exist.

God has created us with desires that correspond to real fulfillment. Hunger points to food. Thirst points to water. This desire for glory points to something real as well. It is not sinful by nature—it is simply often misdirected.

Ordering Our Desire

When we seek approval from people, we chase shifting standards and temporary rewards. We are tempted to compromise what we know to be true, good, and beautiful to serve the moment.

The desire itself is not the problem. The object of that desire is.

Lewis offers a helpful image: a child who desires to please his parents. The child obeys not for reward, but out of love. When the parent praises him, that praise becomes a reward in itself.

This is how our relationship with God is meant to work.

We act out of love and obedience—not to earn favor, but because we already belong. And when God delights in us, that delight is not a payment. It is the fulfillment of the relationship.

Freedom Through Right Desire

Lewis helped me see that my desire for glory was not something to be crushed or denied—it needed to be rightly ordered.

I was not wrong for wanting to be known. I was wrong about who I wanted to know me.

When that desire was reoriented toward God, it became freeing. I no longer had to chase approval from a world that could never give lasting peace. I was free to serve, to build, and to act for an audience of One.

A Question for the Week

This week, take time to reflect on this question:

Who are you trying to please?

Your answer reveals where your desire for glory is pointed—and where it needs formation.

If you haven’t read The Weight of Glory, I encourage you to do so. It’s not long, but it has a way of clarifying what the heart already knows.

Forge Ahead

Anvil: the place of formation.
Arrow: the mission we’re sent on.

The world needs more men formed in virtue. Forward this to a brother who’s ready to grow.

Want more? Subscribe to Anvil & Arrow and join a community of men committed to forging strength, virtue, and legacy.