Greatness in the Kingdom: Matthew 18:1-6
When you were a child, you probably dreamed big. Maybe you imagined becoming an astronaut exploring the stars, a pro athlete scoring the winning goal, a movie star on the big screen, or simply “the best” at whatever you loved. Why? Because deep down, we all want to matter. We want to be someone — someone seen, someone celebrated, someone great.
And that desire never really disappears. It just shifts shape. As adults, we trade the playground for the office, the ball field for the boardroom. We chase promotions, likes, followers, the perfect home, the perfect car, the perfect social circle. We all want to feel like we’re winning — like we’re “the greatest” in some arena.
Have you noticed how early this starts? Little kids brag freely — “I can run faster than you,” “I can do ten cartwheels,” “I’m going to be famous someday!” It’s innocent and adorable when they’re small, but as adults, we become more subtle, more strategic, even if the underlying hunger is the same. This hunger — to be great — is as natural as breathing. Even Jesus’ disciples wrestled with it. In Matthew 18, they come to Him with a question we all know: “Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” (v. 1). It’s a question about status, honor, and recognition — the same question we ask ourselves today.
But Jesus’ answer shatters every worldly expectation. Instead of pointing to the powerful, the wealthy, or the religious elite, He calls a child over — someone with no status, no rights, no voice in that culture — and He says, “Unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven” (v. 3). This isn’t a mere metaphor or a cute image. The Greek word Jesus uses for “change” means to turn around completely, to be transformed at the very core. He’s calling for a radical reorientation of the heart.
To become like a child means to surrender our claims to power and control, to release our grip on status and reputation. Children in Jesus’ day had no influence, no privileges — they were vulnerable, dependent, completely at the mercy of their parents. That is the kind of humility Jesus calls us to. This calls us to remember our Wesleyan roots — John Wesley preached again and again that true Christian life is not about self-exaltation but self-emptying. It is a daily dying to self and living for God’s grace and kingdom. Our worth is not found in what we have or how many follow us but in the unmerited love of Christ that sustains us.
But Jesus takes this teaching even further. He connects greatness with how we treat others, especially those whom society ignores or undervalues. “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me” (v. 5). It’s not about climbing the ladder but stooping down to lift others up.
In a culture obsessed with power, influence, and image, this is a revolutionary call. It demands self-examination: where are we still clinging to our titles, possessions, or online personas as measures of our worth? Where do we need to humble ourselves, admit our need, and lean fully on God? And it invites us to look outward as well: who are the “little children” in our world? Who are the marginalized, the overlooked, the forgotten? Who in our families, neighborhoods, workplaces, or church communities needs to be welcomed, honored, and loved as if they were Jesus Himself?
This is the essence of the kingdom Jesus is inviting us into — a kingdom where greatness is measured not by worldly success but by humility, surrender, and sacrificial love.
As we begin the Greatest Summer Ever series, the good news is clear: you don’t have to keep chasing the world’s version of greatness. Jesus offers a better way. A way that frees you from the exhausting race for status and recognition and invites you into the freedom of grace, dependence, and genuine community.
So this summer, what if the greatest thing you did wasn’t about gaining more but about letting go? What if your greatest achievement was not climbing higher but becoming more like a child — humble, trusting, open-handed?
Where do you need to lay down your pride, your ambition, your need to prove yourself? Who do you need to welcome, serve, and love as Jesus would?
Kingdom greatness starts here. It starts with a heart willing to be changed. It starts with humility before God and others. It starts with welcoming the least, the last, and the lost. And when you live that way — trusting fully in God’s grace and loving boldly — you step into the life Jesus calls “the greatest.” Not because it makes you famous or wealthy, but because it connects you deeply with God’s heart and mission.
May this truly be the greatest summer ever — not marked by accolades or applause, but by humble faith, generous love, and joyful surrender to the Lamb who is worthy of all praise.
