Heaven’s Hall of Fame
Mount Rushmore, which I guess the Presidential Hall of Fame
In a conversation with a friend, we discussed the thought: there’s a Hall of Fame for everything—tow trucks, insurance, even cockroaches. But the real question is sharper:
If there were a Christian Hall of Fame, who would be in it—and by what standard?
We know what modern culture calls success: platform, audience size, influence, and growth. And we can feel how easily that logic seeps into Christian life. Social media quietly becomes an unofficial scoreboard. Public recognition starts to feel like spiritual significance.
But Scripture’s “Hall of Faith” (Hebrews 11) doesn’t reward visibility. It rewards trust—often costly trust. The Bible’s heroes are not always impressive by cultural metrics; sometimes they are faithful in suffering, faithful in obscurity, faithful when there is nothing to gain.
Are we celebrating faith… or celebrating communication talent?
A Better Kind of Hero
We talked about a largely forgotten pastor, Richard Greenham—faithful, steady, not prolific, not famous. He equipped other pastors who became more well-known than he was. And yet his life exposes a category the Christian imagination desperately needs: the hero who never becomes a brand.
That same kind of hidden faithfulness shows up today in missionaries laboring in hard places, serving small communities, caring more about disciple-making than recognition.
Lynn Vincent’s line in the article crystallizes the whole point: heaven’s Hall of Fame is marked not by climbing upward, but by obscurity, sacrifice, and servanthood—and maybe public Christians should spend more time learning how to be less.
God’s Strategy Offends Our Strategy
Philippians gives a surprising example. Paul is in prison—apparently sidelined, apparently limited. But he insists the gospel is advancing anyway, even reaching the imperial guard and “Caesar’s household.”
That flips our instincts. We assume the kingdom advances through visibility—bigger platforms, louder voices, stronger branding. But God advances his kingdom through weakness, confinement, and suffering. If God can reach Caesar’s household by chaining up the apostle, then our definitions of “effective strategy” need to be humbled.
Acts tells the same story. Persecution scatters believers, and the scattering becomes the means of mission. Philip—the behind-the-scenes servant—becomes a front-line missionary because hardship forces the church outward. The gospel goes forward in the face of adversity. It always has.
Partnership That Goes With People
We end by returning to “partners.” Paul’s gratitude in Philippians isn’t only about money. Partnership is a shared mission—encouragement, presence, sacrifice, “let’s go together,” not merely “we’ll support you from a distance.”
That kind of partnership is what my friend and I tasted in Guatemala: pastor training, shared life, arms around shoulders, the quiet joy of standing with believers who won’t be celebrated by the world but are dearly known by God.
A Closing Practice: Read Faithfulness
We recommend two books because we need better models than the algorithm provides:
Colin Hansen, 12 Faithful Men—portraits of pastoral endurance and humble service.
From Jerusalem to Irian Jaya—a wide-angle history of missions filled with names you know and many you don’t.
