While the God-centeredness of God might lead us to expect a simple Christ-centeredness of Christ in his earthly ministry, this is largely not what we (yet) find in his state of humiliation. In End, Edwards points to John 7:18 (one of several statements from Jesus renouncing the pursuit of his own glory) as characteristic of Christ’s humbled state: “The one who speaks on his own authority seeks his own glory; but the one who seeks the glory of him who sent him is true, and in him there is no falsehood.” The incarnate Christ does not “[seek] his own glory” but the glory of his Father, “him who sent him.” Jesus sought his Father’s glory, says Edwards, “as his highest and last end.”6

“That one phrase, the glory of God” — says Jonathan Edwards — includes “all that is ever spoken of in Scripture as an ultimate end of God’s works.”1
This might be Edwards’s most memorable, and often quoted, summary of his Dissertation Concerning the End for Which God Created the World. In the final section, he argues that God’s supreme end in creation is one (not many), and that this one end is best captured as the glory of God — that is, the “true external expression of God’s internal glory and fullness.”2 God made the world, and rules all of history, to display his own glory.
So, many of us, gladly persuaded by the biblical refrain, speak reverently of “the God-centeredness of God.” As the Scriptures testify at many times and in many ways, and as Edwards catalogs and presents, our Creator righteously has a “supreme regard to himself,”3 rather than any mere humans. With patient instruction and careful reflection, biblically shaped minds often see the sense and rightness of the infinite value of the Creator compared to his creatures — yet the incarnation and human life of Jesus raises some fascinating questions.
What happens when the Creator himself, in the eternal person of his Son, takes on our full humanity, and in this way becomes a creature, with us, in the created world? How does the earthly life of Jesus, the God-man, in his so-called “state of humiliation,” from birth to the cross, relate to God’s God-centeredness? And how does this God-centeredness relate to Christ’s subsequent “state of exaltation,” beginning with the cross and resurrection, and including his ascension and sitting down on heaven’s throne?
Developing Theme
In both Edwards’s dissertation and his most celebrated work, The Freedom of the Will, he addresses (albeit indirectly) this often-overlooked aspect of our doctrine of Christ. In End, chapter 2, section 3 (on “particular texts of Scripture, which show that God’s glory is an ultimate end of the creation”), Edwards briefly notes that “Scripture leads us to suppose that Christ sought God’s glory as his highest and last end,”4 a theme to which he returns in section 6. In Freedom, Edwards draws in a relevant aspect of his christology as “a point clearly and absolutely determining the controversy between Calvinists and Arminians.”5
As we’ll see below, in both instances, Edwards leads us to consider our question diachronically, rather than statically. In other words, despite our tendency to press for a simple timeless answer, Edwards observes a progress and development of the theme across time as the incarnate Christ moves through his “state of humiliation” to his “state of exaltation.”
Today, in his exalted state, with the Son’s redemptive work complete, the glory of the Father and his Son are seen to be the one essential whole that they are, and always have been. But in the earthly life of Christ, the plan of the Father and Son unfolded in history as Jesus moved toward the cross.
Christ’s Goal in Life
First, Jesus, the God-man, lived his human life in utter dedication to his Father and his Father’s glory. Rightly did the angels proclaim, “Glory to God!” at Jesus’s birth (Luke 2:14), as the glory of the Father came to the fore in the life and ministry of the Son. In his state of humiliation, from manger to cross, the man Christ Jesus did not glorify himself, he says (John 8:54; Hebrews 5:5), but his words and deeds, and the effect and intent of his human life, were in full and glad submission to the will, and glory, of his Father. As Jesus summarizes his earthly life and ministry in John 8:49, “I honor my Father.”
The Son loves his Father (John 14:31). And he lived as man, and set his face toward the cross, propelled by his great delight in and love for his Father. Jesus instructed his disciples to so live, and bear fruit, that his Father would be glorified (Matthew 5:16; John 15:8), and he taught them to pray for the hallowing of his Father’s name (Matthew 6:9; Luke 11:2). The night before he died, Jesus summarized, in prayer, his life’s work as “I glorified you on earth, having accomplished the work that you gave me to do” (John 17:4). When Jesus sees that, at last, his “hour” has come for the cross, he turns heavenward in prayer, “Father, glorify your name” (John 12:28).
While the God-centeredness of God might lead us to expect a simple Christ-centeredness of Christ in his earthly ministry, this is largely not what we (yet) find in his state of humiliation. In End, Edwards points to John 7:18 (one of several statements from Jesus renouncing the pursuit of his own glory) as characteristic of Christ’s humbled state: “The one who speaks on his own authority seeks his own glory; but the one who seeks the glory of him who sent him is true, and in him there is no falsehood.” The incarnate Christ does not “[seek] his own glory” but the glory of his Father, “him who sent him.” Jesus sought his Father’s glory, says Edwards, “as his highest and last end.”6
In Freedom, Edwards observes that “the words [of Isaiah 42:1–4] imply a promise of [Christ’s] being so upheld by God’s Spirit, that he should be preserved from sin; particularly from pride and vainglory, and from being overcome by any of the temptations he should be under to affect the glory of this world; the pomp of an earthly prince, or the applause and praise of men.”7
So, to be clear, the God-centered God becoming man in the life of Christ does not produce one who is, in essence, a self-centered human. Jesus’s preservation from sin, says Edwards, is “particularly from pride and vainglory.” As demonstrated in rebuffing Satan’s temptations in the wilderness, Jesus did not pursue “the glory of this world.”
Rather, Edwards cites Isaiah 49:7 to show that Jesus, in his state of humiliation, is “one deeply despised, abhorred by the nation.” However, here in the same verse of prophecy comes the shift from humiliation to exaltation that will come at the cross: “Kings shall see and arise; princes, and they shall prostrate themselves” before the one who once was deeply despised.
His Near Approach to Death
As Jesus draws near to the cross, we discover a significant development. Edwards turns from John 7 to the “now” of John 12, with Jesus’s crucifixion “in a few days.”8
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Evangelism is often demanding and intimidating. Overemphasizing self-care could discourage evangelistic efforts that feel too demanding for the individual Christian. But counterintuitively, the spiritual growth and wellness of a Christ-follower are enhanced when he or she engages the lost world with the hope of the gospel. Avoiding evangelism (or simply trying to make it easier) won’t lead to flourishing inside or outside the church. Faithful evangelism, by contrast, leads to joy.

In recent years, a new vision of human flourishing has entered the church: self-care. “Self-care” is now one of the most common terms used to discuss personal and spiritual health, and it means different things to different people. It can be used to reference basic needs like sleep and exercise, or bingeing a new show, or prayer retreats in the woods.
On the surface, self-care seems like an unarguable commitment—of course we need to care for ourselves. But when cultural messages about self-care aren’t reframed by biblical principles of mutual care, this can negatively affect us personally, and a church’s culture corporately. The church that prioritizes care for self over care for others will suffer shallow relationships, a misunderstanding of sanctification, and complacency in evangelism.
Balance Self-Care and Mutual Care
The gospel’s beauty shines when we no longer live for ourselves but lovingly care for others out of a transformed heart (2 Cor. 5:11–21). After all, spiritual growth begins in the heart, but it manifests through intentional expressions of care for others (Col. 3:1–4:6).
There’s no either-or here. Our churches should prioritize the healthy development of the self but do so cautiously, lest we neglect the beauty and belonging that come when a local church practices the New Testament’s one-another commands.
Growth Needs Friends
Self-care without mutual care seldom produces deep and vulnerable relationships. It instead promotes isolation and self-protection. If this tendency is unaddressed, a church can become a place filled with individuals but not brothers and sisters.
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What we see on social media cannot be construed as what is broadly true, sociologically speaking. However, social media can be incredibly insightful, as it allows us to encounter people who are different than us and challenge our preconceived notions about a people, group, or subject. It enables us to connect with people we normally wouldn’t in our local communities who have the potential to positively impact our view of the world.

It’s worth asking: What is social media good for? It’s not good for everything, and in many ways, it is, in fact, bad for us. I think it’s important that we continue to sound the alarm about the problems social media (and technology, more broadly) poses to our flourishing as we continue to progress further and further into the digital age and more generations are raised with devices. That said, social media isn’t all bad. There are things that it is good for. I thought it would be worth mentioning a few of those things.
Networking
David Fincher’s 2010 Oscar-winning movie isn’t called The Social Media; it’s called The Social Network. It wasn’t that long ago that we referred to these social websites as networks rather than media. That’s because their primary function wasn’t to mediate content to us, but to connect us with other people. To this day, this remains the best use of the social internet.
Patrick and I first met over Twitter (ummm, X) and worked together for six months before we ever met in person. I’ve made many other meaningful relationships because of social media, but that’s mainly because social media was the starting point, not the ending point. The relationships that have been the most meaningful have progressed from tweets to texts to calls to Zoom calls, and sometimes meeting in person. Some of these relationships have had a tremendous impact on my life, leading to job opportunities, significant worldview shifts, and just general encouragement and helpful feedback. The best reason to be on social media remains connecting with actual people.
Exposure
If you’re an artist, activist, writer, or any other kind of content creator, you no longer have to wait for the gatekeepers to choose you. You can find an audience and speak directly to them. It’s not easy, but it’s possible. With consistency, determination, and skill, you can bypass the traditional avenues of being discovered and have your voice heard by those who want to hear it. It doesn’t take that many, either.
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