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The Most High Rules
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Connected by scripture or shared themes.
The Most High Rules
Continue exploring
Connected by scripture or shared themes.
Can you think of a time when you've seen someone be brazen in their pride against God — outrageously arrogant, and they just don't care?
Some of us have lived in countries with hardened, even political oppression of Christianity. We heard a few months back what it's like in Iran from Mehrdad Fatehi, telling us about how, over the years, the government has systematically closed churches down. We have mission partners visiting us at the moment who can tell similar stories. I dare say some of us in this room can too.
Thankfully in this country we don't quite face that, but we do come across a kind of cultural undercurrent of pride against God. Does it ever strike you that if you turn on the TV, it's not long before you get a poke against Christianity?
I've enjoyed watching Clarkson's Farm recently. Generally speaking, Jeremy Clarkson comes across really well — much better than I thought he did on Top Gear. He cares about his animals, treats his staff well, and cares about the difficulties facing British farmers.
But there's one moment in a recent episode where he takes out a Bible, opens it to Matthew chapter 1, and starts reading it out loud, commenting for comedic effect. There's some ignorance there — the man needs a Christian friend to sit him down and explain the gospel. But don't be mistaken: there's an undertone of mockery. He concludes his little skit by saying, "Matthew writes like I do. It's all made up as he's going along."
No. Matthew's Gospel is the inspired, infallible, perfect word of God. It's precious — more precious than jewels and rubies — and it points us towards the Lord Jesus Christ.
Many of us have heard comments from colleagues or extended family — the quiet "we don't do religion" kind of pride, or the habitual use of the name Jesus as a swear word. One friend told me about someone in their office who said, "Christianity? Oh, I don't believe all that." When asked why, they simply said, "Science." One of my coaches at the gym came out in the middle of a class with, "I can't stand that Christian expletive."
It's hard, isn't it? Why doesn't God do anything about that when people are so arrogant against him? It can feel demoralising to be living amongst it. How should I live as a Christian? What should we do?
Well, when it comes to pride that sets itself up against God — the writing's on the wall. Daniel 5 is a story about where true power lies, and it shapes how we live now in those moments when we see pride against him.
This chapter follows hot on the heels of chapter 4, where we met a proud king, Nebuchadnezzar, who got humbled. He was acting like an animal for years until God humbled him so that he would turn and praise him. Look at chapter 4, verse 37:
Now I, Nebuchadnezzar, praise and exalt and glorify the King of heaven, because everything he does is right and all his ways are just. And those who walk in pride he is able to humble.
That was the big lesson of chapter 4: God showed he's the true king by humbling a proud king.
Now in chapter 5 we meet another proud king, Belshazar — but the story ends differently. God shows he is the true king not by humbling, but by judging a proud king. And it's this perspective on divine judgment that makes all the difference when we feel this small in the face of arrogance against God.
King Belshazar gave a great banquet for a thousand of his nobles and drank wine with them. While Belshazar was drinking his wine, he gave orders to bring in the gold and silver goblets that Nebuchadnezzar his father had taken from the temple in Jerusalem... As they drank the wine, they praised the gods of gold and silver, of bronze, iron, wood and stone. (vv. 1–4)
A friend of mine is a Chelsea football fan — a complete idiot. A few years back he went to watch them play a key title-race game against Manchester City, away in Manchester. If you've ever been to one of those games, the feeling is gladiatorial; the fans hate each other. In the last minute Chelsea scored to go one-nil up and win. Everyone turned to cheer the player — except my mate, who stood up, turned to the Man City fans, and yelled, "What are you going to do about it?" (Very easy to do, of course, with a big line of police protecting you.)
That's the energy Belshazar has. In his eyes, he's won. Jerusalem and its God are defeated. He has their treasures in his trophy cabinet, and he won't just let them sit there — he brings them out to show off, getting drunk from them in front of a thousand people.
Notice the emphasis: verse 2, taken from the temple; verse 3, taken from the temple. These goblets aren't just cups. They are set apart for the worship of the Lord. Belshazar praises his gods of gold and silver, wood and stone, and his attitude is: "Lord, what are you going to do about it?"
C. S. Lewis, in Mere Christianity, has a great chapter on pride. He defines it like this:
Pride gets no pleasure out of having something, only out of having more of it than the next man.
Pride isn't about being successful; it's about being more successful than them. It isn't about being attractive; it's about being more attractive. Belshazar's pride isn't just that he's powerful — it's that he thinks he's more powerful than the Lord of heaven. If this were football, he thinks he's five-nil up with two minutes to play.
Suddenly the fingers of a human hand appeared and wrote on the plaster of the wall near the lampstand in the royal palace. The king watched the hand as it wrote. His face turned pale and he was so frightened that his legs became weak and his knees were knocking. (vv. 5–6)
In an instant, the mood of the room shatters. Imagine all the talk stopping. It's like when a balloon is blown up and then popped with a pin — that big bang, that shock. The people at the party are watching a floating, severed hand writing on a wall. Seconds ago Belshazar was all bravado; now the colour drops out of his face and his knees are knocking. It's almost comical.
So Belshazar orders the best of Babylon — the enchanters, astrologers, and diviners — to come and explain it, offering a huge reward.
Then all the king's wise men came in, but they could not read the writing or tell the king what it meant. So King Belshazar became even more terrified, and his face grew more pale. His nobles were baffled. (v. 8)
The queen hears the commotion and walks in. There's a man, she says, with a track record for this kind of thing. Notice the irony in verse 11: "there is a man in your kingdom who has the spirit of the holy gods in him" — the very God Belshazar has just been jeering.
Daniel is brought in. The king, having tried Babylon's best and the gods of stone and wood and failed, now turns to an exile whose God he's just been publicly mocking. He offers Daniel purple robes, a gold chain, and third place in the kingdom. Daniel replies:
You may keep your gifts for yourself and give your rewards to someone else. Nevertheless, I will read the writing for the king and tell him what it means. (v. 17)
Daniel begins with history:
Your Majesty, the Most High God gave your father Nebuchadnezzar sovereignty and greatness and glory and splendour... (v. 18)
The crucial word is gave. Nebuchadnezzar had a reign of sovereignty, greatness, and power. He was feared by other nations. But it was only ever given to him by God.
But when his heart became arrogant and hardened with pride, he was deposed from his royal throne and stripped of his glory... until he acknowledged that the Most High God is sovereign over all kingdoms on earth. (v. 20–21)
Nebuchadnezzar's sin was pride. God humbled him until he acknowledged that God is the true King of kings.
Then Daniel looks Belshazar in the eye:
But you, Belshazar his son, have not humbled yourself, though you knew all this. (v. 22)
The tragedy about to unfold is not that Belshazar lacked information — it's that he chose to ignore it.
Instead, you have set yourself up against the Lord of heaven... you did not honour the God who holds in his hand your life and all your ways. Therefore he sent the hand that wrote the inscription. (v. 23)
What a phrase for perspective: the God who holds in his hand your life. Think of an ant crawling around the palm of your hand — that's what the king is to God. And yet he set himself up against him.
The words — Mene, Mene, Tekel, Parsin — are currency words, like writing "pence, pound." It's actually a pun, but with a message of judgment:
- Mene: God has numbered the days of your reign and brought it to an end.
- Tekel: You have been weighed on the scales and found wanting.
- Peres: Your kingdom is divided and given to the Medes and Persians. (vv. 26–28)
Numbered, weighed, divided. Time's up for the king. Then verse 30 bluntly puts it:
That very night Belshazar, king of the Babylonians, was slain.
He's gone from "What are you going to do about it?" to slain in one evening. God shows he is the true king not by humbling this proud king, but by judging him. The hand that holds the ant has closed.
When faced with brazen arrogance — particularly from those in authority over us — we ask, "Why doesn't God do anything about this?" The first lesson is this: patience runs out.
Hold verse 30 in your mind — that very night he was slain — and listen to these familiar words about God:
The LORD is slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness. (Exodus 34)
Love is patient. (1 Corinthians 13)
The word for patience in the Greek means long-tempered or long-fused. Think of a barrel of dynamite with a very long fuse running to it. God is long-fused with sinners because he wants people to come to him in repentance and faith and to receive mercy and be saved.
But that patience runs out. Like Belshazar, our days are numbered. We are mortal. We will be weighed in judgment before a holy God, and by nature, as sinners, we deserve to be found wanting.
Praise God, he is slow to anger. He sent his Son, the Lord Jesus Christ, to be weighed for our sin, for his days to be numbered so we could have eternal life, for his body to be broken so we could know resurrection hope. He sent his Son to be slain in our place on the cross.
Here is where a tragic misunderstanding can creep in. Don't mistake God's patience for weakness. Don't mistake his abounding love for being toothless.
The comedian Ricky Gervais has fallen for this exact mistake, saying: "A Christian telling an atheist they're going to hell is as scary as a child telling an adult that they're not getting any presents from Santa." Tragic error. There is a point when God's patience with sin runs out. That lit fuse is long, but it has an end point. For every human being — from presidents and rulers to your next-door neighbours, second cousins, and Netflix comedians — there is a day of judgment. When we look at the proud and powerful and wonder why God doesn't act, the answer is: he will. Belshazar is the foretaste.
All Souls is a place where you are really welcome, wherever you're at in exploring faith. This is not a pressured or rushed environment — there are big questions that need careful time and thought.
But the word of warning is this: don't put off making a decision forever. Becoming a Christian can be as simple as A, B, C:
If, when you think about it, your answer to all three is yes, then you are ready. Today could be the day.
But for some there's a moment when you realise, "Yes, I admit I'm a sinner; yes, I believe Jesus died for my sins — but I don't want to change. I want to keep calling the shots in my life." The mortal danger there is the danger of pride. If that's you today, please hear this lesson from Belshazar: God's patience runs out. If tonight your life were demanded from you, what decision would you wish you'd made?
When the proud and arrogant make me feel this small, how should I view them?
First, power comes from God. Look at verse 18: "the Most High God gave your father Nebuchadnezzar sovereignty and greatness..." — gave.
Contrast God's power with human power. It's like the difference between the light of the sun and the light of a full moon. The sun gives off light from itself, independent of anything else. The moon can only reflect the sun's light. God has power in and from himself, independently of anyone or anything. Human power is always dependent.
Who's the most powerful person on earth — the wealthiest, or the ruler of the biggest superpower? Even they depend on others. The super-wealthy need the rest of us to agree that gold, bank balances, and shares are worth something. Any ruler needs the people to agree to their laws and a police or military to enforce them. Ultimately, all their power comes from God — a given, like the light of the moon.
Because power comes from God, rulers are accountable to him. It's been less than a week since the Prime Minister resigned. One question buzzing around any leader's head is, "How did I do?" Who do you listen to — a favourite media outlet, a columnist, your family? But any ruler in history, whether they realise it or not, will ultimately be weighed before God and his standard.
So rulers should rule with humility, not pride. Imagine the moon saying, "Look at my beautiful light — I don't need you, sun." Madness. Those who have received power have no reason to be arrogant, and every reason to hold power with humility.
It's right to pray for our leaders — that they would humbly know the Lord Jesus as their personal Saviour and standard, be protected from pride, and honour the God who holds their life in his hand.
This shapes how we use our power too — as a father or mother, a worker or employer, a life-group leader, a volunteer at a free English class or with Serve the City, a member of the PCC, or a minister. There's no place for pride — "I have this because of my brilliance; look how good I am." No. All power comes from God, and the gifts we each have are given by God. The right posture is joyful humility: Lord, how can I use who you've made me, where you've placed me, and what you've given me to honour you?
Some book titles are so good you feel you don't even need to read the rest. One on my shelf is Shepherding a Child's Heart — what a perspective on parenting. Or how about When People Are Big and God Is Small by Ed Welch?
When the powers over us seem big and scary, and God looks weak and toothless — that's exactly what Daniel 5 gives us perspective on. If we'd been a fly on the wall at Belshazar's feast, we'd have agreed: he's so powerful, so aggressive in his pride. But that's not the perspective God gives us. God wants us to see the proud as he sees them.
Notice how the story is written — it's meant to be funny. In verse 6 the most powerful man in the world turns pale, his knees knocking together like a pantomime. God could have chosen any means to deliver his message of judgment, but in his humour he sends a floating hand — and it leaves the king pale and weak.
This is here to encourage us to laugh at arrogance that sets itself up against God. Yes, as Christians we give to Caesar what belongs to Caesar; there's an appropriate honour due to rulers (as 1 Peter says, and we'll consider more next week). But Daniel 5 says: don't get carried away by the hype. By this stage, Belshazar was Daniel's sixth king in Babylon. Kings come, they rule, they go, and they get judged. That's the reality for all people — including those who brazenly set themselves up against the God who holds their life in his hands. We come, we go, and we get judged.
Jesus Christ is our only hope for that day of judgment.
He was slain that we could have life forever. So when you see the pride and arrogance out there, don't be discouraged. It may look as if God isn't in control — but he is. Submit to him whatever the cost. He alone gives authority and takes it away. Is it worth the cost when it's hard? Yes — because Jesus Christ is Lord, and one day everyone, including the proud, will know it.
Next week, in chapter 6, that principle will be put to the test as Daniel is thrown to the lions.
Our Father, we acknowledge that our life and our ways are in your hands. Thank you, Lord, that you are patient with us, that Jesus Christ was slain and weighed for our sins. Thank you for your abundant patience and mercy with sinners like us. Father, help us, when we see brazen arrogance that sets itself up against you, to have the patience of Christ and the perspective of Christ — knowing that you are the true King, and one day all the earth will know it. Amen.
Can you think of a time when you've seen someone be brazen in their pride against God — outrageously arrogant, and they just don't care?
Some of us have lived in countries with hardened, even political oppression of Christianity. We heard a few months back what it's like in Iran from Mehrdad Fatehi, telling us about how, over the years, the government has systematically closed churches down. We have mission partners visiting us at the moment who can tell similar stories. I dare say some of us in this room can too.
Thankfully in this country we don't quite face that, but we do come across a kind of cultural undercurrent of pride against God. Does it ever strike you that if you turn on the TV, it's not long before you get a poke against Christianity?
I've enjoyed watching Clarkson's Farm recently. Generally speaking, Jeremy Clarkson comes across really well — much better than I thought he did on Top Gear. He cares about his animals, treats his staff well, and cares about the difficulties facing British farmers.
But there's one moment in a recent episode where he takes out a Bible, opens it to Matthew chapter 1, and starts reading it out loud, commenting for comedic effect. There's some ignorance there — the man needs a Christian friend to sit him down and explain the gospel. But don't be mistaken: there's an undertone of mockery. He concludes his little skit by saying, "Matthew writes like I do. It's all made up as he's going along."
No. Matthew's Gospel is the inspired, infallible, perfect word of God. It's precious — more precious than jewels and rubies — and it points us towards the Lord Jesus Christ.
Many of us have heard comments from colleagues or extended family — the quiet "we don't do religion" kind of pride, or the habitual use of the name Jesus as a swear word. One friend told me about someone in their office who said, "Christianity? Oh, I don't believe all that." When asked why, they simply said, "Science." One of my coaches at the gym came out in the middle of a class with, "I can't stand that Christian expletive."
It's hard, isn't it? Why doesn't God do anything about that when people are so arrogant against him? It can feel demoralising to be living amongst it. How should I live as a Christian? What should we do?
Well, when it comes to pride that sets itself up against God — the writing's on the wall. Daniel 5 is a story about where true power lies, and it shapes how we live now in those moments when we see pride against him.
This chapter follows hot on the heels of chapter 4, where we met a proud king, Nebuchadnezzar, who got humbled. He was acting like an animal for years until God humbled him so that he would turn and praise him. Look at chapter 4, verse 37:
Now I, Nebuchadnezzar, praise and exalt and glorify the King of heaven, because everything he does is right and all his ways are just. And those who walk in pride he is able to humble.
That was the big lesson of chapter 4: God showed he's the true king by humbling a proud king.
Now in chapter 5 we meet another proud king, Belshazar — but the story ends differently. God shows he is the true king not by humbling, but by judging a proud king. And it's this perspective on divine judgment that makes all the difference when we feel this small in the face of arrogance against God.
King Belshazar gave a great banquet for a thousand of his nobles and drank wine with them. While Belshazar was drinking his wine, he gave orders to bring in the gold and silver goblets that Nebuchadnezzar his father had taken from the temple in Jerusalem... As they drank the wine, they praised the gods of gold and silver, of bronze, iron, wood and stone. (vv. 1–4)
A friend of mine is a Chelsea football fan — a complete idiot. A few years back he went to watch them play a key title-race game against Manchester City, away in Manchester. If you've ever been to one of those games, the feeling is gladiatorial; the fans hate each other. In the last minute Chelsea scored to go one-nil up and win. Everyone turned to cheer the player — except my mate, who stood up, turned to the Man City fans, and yelled, "What are you going to do about it?" (Very easy to do, of course, with a big line of police protecting you.)
That's the energy Belshazar has. In his eyes, he's won. Jerusalem and its God are defeated. He has their treasures in his trophy cabinet, and he won't just let them sit there — he brings them out to show off, getting drunk from them in front of a thousand people.
Notice the emphasis: verse 2, taken from the temple; verse 3, taken from the temple. These goblets aren't just cups. They are set apart for the worship of the Lord. Belshazar praises his gods of gold and silver, wood and stone, and his attitude is: "Lord, what are you going to do about it?"
C. S. Lewis, in Mere Christianity, has a great chapter on pride. He defines it like this:
Pride gets no pleasure out of having something, only out of having more of it than the next man.
Pride isn't about being successful; it's about being more successful than them. It isn't about being attractive; it's about being more attractive. Belshazar's pride isn't just that he's powerful — it's that he thinks he's more powerful than the Lord of heaven. If this were football, he thinks he's five-nil up with two minutes to play.
Suddenly the fingers of a human hand appeared and wrote on the plaster of the wall near the lampstand in the royal palace. The king watched the hand as it wrote. His face turned pale and he was so frightened that his legs became weak and his knees were knocking. (vv. 5–6)
In an instant, the mood of the room shatters. Imagine all the talk stopping. It's like when a balloon is blown up and then popped with a pin — that big bang, that shock. The people at the party are watching a floating, severed hand writing on a wall. Seconds ago Belshazar was all bravado; now the colour drops out of his face and his knees are knocking. It's almost comical.
So Belshazar orders the best of Babylon — the enchanters, astrologers, and diviners — to come and explain it, offering a huge reward.
Then all the king's wise men came in, but they could not read the writing or tell the king what it meant. So King Belshazar became even more terrified, and his face grew more pale. His nobles were baffled. (v. 8)
The queen hears the commotion and walks in. There's a man, she says, with a track record for this kind of thing. Notice the irony in verse 11: "there is a man in your kingdom who has the spirit of the holy gods in him" — the very God Belshazar has just been jeering.
Daniel is brought in. The king, having tried Babylon's best and the gods of stone and wood and failed, now turns to an exile whose God he's just been publicly mocking. He offers Daniel purple robes, a gold chain, and third place in the kingdom. Daniel replies:
You may keep your gifts for yourself and give your rewards to someone else. Nevertheless, I will read the writing for the king and tell him what it means. (v. 17)
Daniel begins with history:
Your Majesty, the Most High God gave your father Nebuchadnezzar sovereignty and greatness and glory and splendour... (v. 18)
The crucial word is gave. Nebuchadnezzar had a reign of sovereignty, greatness, and power. He was feared by other nations. But it was only ever given to him by God.
But when his heart became arrogant and hardened with pride, he was deposed from his royal throne and stripped of his glory... until he acknowledged that the Most High God is sovereign over all kingdoms on earth. (v. 20–21)
Nebuchadnezzar's sin was pride. God humbled him until he acknowledged that God is the true King of kings.
Then Daniel looks Belshazar in the eye:
But you, Belshazar his son, have not humbled yourself, though you knew all this. (v. 22)
The tragedy about to unfold is not that Belshazar lacked information — it's that he chose to ignore it.
Instead, you have set yourself up against the Lord of heaven... you did not honour the God who holds in his hand your life and all your ways. Therefore he sent the hand that wrote the inscription. (v. 23)
What a phrase for perspective: the God who holds in his hand your life. Think of an ant crawling around the palm of your hand — that's what the king is to God. And yet he set himself up against him.
The words — Mene, Mene, Tekel, Parsin — are currency words, like writing "pence, pound." It's actually a pun, but with a message of judgment:
- Mene: God has numbered the days of your reign and brought it to an end.
- Tekel: You have been weighed on the scales and found wanting.
- Peres: Your kingdom is divided and given to the Medes and Persians. (vv. 26–28)
Numbered, weighed, divided. Time's up for the king. Then verse 30 bluntly puts it:
That very night Belshazar, king of the Babylonians, was slain.
He's gone from "What are you going to do about it?" to slain in one evening. God shows he is the true king not by humbling this proud king, but by judging him. The hand that holds the ant has closed.
When faced with brazen arrogance — particularly from those in authority over us — we ask, "Why doesn't God do anything about this?" The first lesson is this: patience runs out.
Hold verse 30 in your mind — that very night he was slain — and listen to these familiar words about God:
The LORD is slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness. (Exodus 34)
Love is patient. (1 Corinthians 13)
The word for patience in the Greek means long-tempered or long-fused. Think of a barrel of dynamite with a very long fuse running to it. God is long-fused with sinners because he wants people to come to him in repentance and faith and to receive mercy and be saved.
But that patience runs out. Like Belshazar, our days are numbered. We are mortal. We will be weighed in judgment before a holy God, and by nature, as sinners, we deserve to be found wanting.
Praise God, he is slow to anger. He sent his Son, the Lord Jesus Christ, to be weighed for our sin, for his days to be numbered so we could have eternal life, for his body to be broken so we could know resurrection hope. He sent his Son to be slain in our place on the cross.
Here is where a tragic misunderstanding can creep in. Don't mistake God's patience for weakness. Don't mistake his abounding love for being toothless.
The comedian Ricky Gervais has fallen for this exact mistake, saying: "A Christian telling an atheist they're going to hell is as scary as a child telling an adult that they're not getting any presents from Santa." Tragic error. There is a point when God's patience with sin runs out. That lit fuse is long, but it has an end point. For every human being — from presidents and rulers to your next-door neighbours, second cousins, and Netflix comedians — there is a day of judgment. When we look at the proud and powerful and wonder why God doesn't act, the answer is: he will. Belshazar is the foretaste.
All Souls is a place where you are really welcome, wherever you're at in exploring faith. This is not a pressured or rushed environment — there are big questions that need careful time and thought.
But the word of warning is this: don't put off making a decision forever. Becoming a Christian can be as simple as A, B, C:
If, when you think about it, your answer to all three is yes, then you are ready. Today could be the day.
But for some there's a moment when you realise, "Yes, I admit I'm a sinner; yes, I believe Jesus died for my sins — but I don't want to change. I want to keep calling the shots in my life." The mortal danger there is the danger of pride. If that's you today, please hear this lesson from Belshazar: God's patience runs out. If tonight your life were demanded from you, what decision would you wish you'd made?
When the proud and arrogant make me feel this small, how should I view them?
First, power comes from God. Look at verse 18: "the Most High God gave your father Nebuchadnezzar sovereignty and greatness..." — gave.
Contrast God's power with human power. It's like the difference between the light of the sun and the light of a full moon. The sun gives off light from itself, independent of anything else. The moon can only reflect the sun's light. God has power in and from himself, independently of anyone or anything. Human power is always dependent.
Who's the most powerful person on earth — the wealthiest, or the ruler of the biggest superpower? Even they depend on others. The super-wealthy need the rest of us to agree that gold, bank balances, and shares are worth something. Any ruler needs the people to agree to their laws and a police or military to enforce them. Ultimately, all their power comes from God — a given, like the light of the moon.
Because power comes from God, rulers are accountable to him. It's been less than a week since the Prime Minister resigned. One question buzzing around any leader's head is, "How did I do?" Who do you listen to — a favourite media outlet, a columnist, your family? But any ruler in history, whether they realise it or not, will ultimately be weighed before God and his standard.
So rulers should rule with humility, not pride. Imagine the moon saying, "Look at my beautiful light — I don't need you, sun." Madness. Those who have received power have no reason to be arrogant, and every reason to hold power with humility.
It's right to pray for our leaders — that they would humbly know the Lord Jesus as their personal Saviour and standard, be protected from pride, and honour the God who holds their life in his hand.
This shapes how we use our power too — as a father or mother, a worker or employer, a life-group leader, a volunteer at a free English class or with Serve the City, a member of the PCC, or a minister. There's no place for pride — "I have this because of my brilliance; look how good I am." No. All power comes from God, and the gifts we each have are given by God. The right posture is joyful humility: Lord, how can I use who you've made me, where you've placed me, and what you've given me to honour you?
Some book titles are so good you feel you don't even need to read the rest. One on my shelf is Shepherding a Child's Heart — what a perspective on parenting. Or how about When People Are Big and God Is Small by Ed Welch?
When the powers over us seem big and scary, and God looks weak and toothless — that's exactly what Daniel 5 gives us perspective on. If we'd been a fly on the wall at Belshazar's feast, we'd have agreed: he's so powerful, so aggressive in his pride. But that's not the perspective God gives us. God wants us to see the proud as he sees them.
Notice how the story is written — it's meant to be funny. In verse 6 the most powerful man in the world turns pale, his knees knocking together like a pantomime. God could have chosen any means to deliver his message of judgment, but in his humour he sends a floating hand — and it leaves the king pale and weak.
This is here to encourage us to laugh at arrogance that sets itself up against God. Yes, as Christians we give to Caesar what belongs to Caesar; there's an appropriate honour due to rulers (as 1 Peter says, and we'll consider more next week). But Daniel 5 says: don't get carried away by the hype. By this stage, Belshazar was Daniel's sixth king in Babylon. Kings come, they rule, they go, and they get judged. That's the reality for all people — including those who brazenly set themselves up against the God who holds their life in his hands. We come, we go, and we get judged.
Jesus Christ is our only hope for that day of judgment.
He was slain that we could have life forever. So when you see the pride and arrogance out there, don't be discouraged. It may look as if God isn't in control — but he is. Submit to him whatever the cost. He alone gives authority and takes it away. Is it worth the cost when it's hard? Yes — because Jesus Christ is Lord, and one day everyone, including the proud, will know it.
Next week, in chapter 6, that principle will be put to the test as Daniel is thrown to the lions.
Our Father, we acknowledge that our life and our ways are in your hands. Thank you, Lord, that you are patient with us, that Jesus Christ was slain and weighed for our sins. Thank you for your abundant patience and mercy with sinners like us. Father, help us, when we see brazen arrogance that sets itself up against you, to have the patience of Christ and the perspective of Christ — knowing that you are the true King, and one day all the earth will know it. Amen.
