Our Journey of Glory: Becoming Prophets for Others

Embracing the individuality of each child helps parents to support their dreams, needs, and passions. Yuganov Konstantin/Shutterstock

I recall a meeting in Bournemouth, UK, my home town, where someone commented on attending a great speaking engagement elsewhere—in Stratford-upon-Avon. He noted how giving a talk away from home (he was from Bournemouth, too) often enhanced the audience’s perception of a speaker’s liveliness. In Stratford, he was regarded as something of a star; attendees imagined that his events in Bournemouth would be equally electrifying. He was gratified by their compliments, of course, but also wise enough to recognize that he was just an ordinary guy. The engagements in Bournemouth were likely no different from those in Stratford; yet their reception was different.

This recollection brings to mind Jesus’s words: “A prophet is not without honor, except in his hometown and in his own household” (Matthew 13:57). The people of Nazareth questioned how the man they had known since childhood—the carpenter’s son—could now be performing miracles, teaching with authority, and claiming to be the Son of God. Their familiarity bred skepticism; their certainty about who Jesus was prevented them from seeing who he had become: We know him, so how can he be important?

James Sale, the author, speaking at the symposium for the Society of Classical Poets in New York City in 2019. Ivan Pentchoukov

Distance and Reputation

We rarely recognize talent and wisdom in our midst, preferring to marvel at those in the distance: the renowned speaker from New York, the celebrated entrepreneur from Sydney, the revered thinker from some far-flung land.

If the media confers legitimacy, we seldom question further. Yet, how often do top business magazines laud a CEO, only for their empire to crumble in scandal? The illusion of greatness, reinforced by distance, is a persistent, perceptual trick.

My own performances in Bournemouth confirms this phenomenon. When I tell people I recited poetry at the Miramar Hotel in Bournemouth, the usual response is, “So what?” or, “You would, wouldn’t you?” But when I say I appeared at the Princeton Club in Manhattan, or even in the open air in Bryant Park in New York, then people in the UK tend to take me more seriously as a poet: “Wow, that must have been something!”

The same thing happens to me as a management consultant and trainer: If I say I worked with some small local company in Dorset, then, “That’s nice!” But if I say I have been training 120 senior managers from a well-known international company, their whole South East Asia division, then the response is: “You really must be good!”

It is true to say that if I’d said I’d performed in Indianapolis, it wouldn’t have had the same ring to it. Indeed, this phenomenon was recognized in Jesus’s time. The Pharisees discounted anyone from Galilee: “They answered him, ‘You are not also from Galilee, are you?’” (John 7:52). Examine the Scriptures, and see that no prophet arises out of Galilee. In this case, it’s not just distance, but reputation also that counts. Jerusalem has a reputation, but Nazareth doesn’t. But that said, the principle generally holds true.

Stuck in the Past

Over time, I’d had to let go of certain friendships—relationships that stretched back decades. Some friends struggled to see who I’d become; they clung to the past, expecting me to fit into the old interpersonal dynamic that no longer meant anything. It was as if they wished to preserve me as they had always known me, like some bee stuck in amber or frozen in time.

If this is true of friends, it is even more so with family. They know us more intimately than anyone, and, for that reason, they may be most resistant to our growth. I visited my mother some years ago when she was approaching 90. She looked at me and, with a sigh of self-pity, said, “Jimmy, don’t grow old.” The diminutive “Jimmy”—a name I had not used for over half a century—was still, in her mind, and still represented who I was. I replied, “Too late, Mum. I already am—I’m 63.”

Parents may continue to view their adult children as juveniles. fizkes/Shutterstock

Her response was one of mild shock, as if this truth had never quite dawned on her. Her son, in her eyes, had remained the child she’d raised. Of course, my mother was very old, and such habits of mind are understandable. But it serves as a broader illustration: Some family members, some friends, struggle to see us as we are. They resist our transformations and consciously or unconsciously hold us back. Their resistance can be a genuine impediment. At its worst, in some profound sense, we can never leave home, are never allowed to leave home!

Ever Developing

The reality of who we are, however, is different; we are all in a state of becoming. To be truly alive—spiritually and psychologically—we must embrace this reality. To fix someone in a past version of themselves is to do them a disservice. Worse, it can stifle their development. And worst of all: If we fix ourselves in a past version of ourselves, we remain stuck in permanent immaturity.

The self-concept, according to Carl Rogers, has three components or elements that we need to configure or balance: our self-esteem, our self-image, and our ideal self. When we think about it, this is a trinity of time, comprising the past (self-esteem: how we feel about ourselves, which largely derives from our upbringing); our present (self-image: how we see ourselves in the present, which is now); and our future (our ideal self: how we want to be in future, who are our role models?).

Whereas young children strongly desire to be like their role models—parents, relatives, teachers, friends, film stars, pop singers, or band members—adults can completely lose sight of their idols and stagnate, settling into mediocrity.

Parents are their children's main role models. DGLimages/Shutterstock

The greatest role models of all are those men and women who represent the great spiritual values that endure, which is why they are perennially refreshing to us. Life is, in its essence, a journey of glory: the glory of becoming more human, more graceful, more compassionate, more loving, never fully arriving but always in motion. And we must remain vigilant—to recognize not only those around us who are growing but to acknowledge our own journey. The prophets are among us, but do we recognize them? More importantly, do we recognize that we, too, have a calling, a voice, an influence that can serve and uplift others?

If we do, then we are truly on our journey of becoming a prophet for others.

The Bible quotes are from the New American Standard 1995 version.

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