When Standing Isn’t Enough
The other day I realized something I’d never really thought too much about before.
Whenever we want to show someone respect, we stand. It’s almost automatic. We stand for weddings (here comes the bride!). We stand for judges (“allllll riseeee”). We stand for ceremonies. We stand for the National Anthem. We even call it giving someone a “standing ovation.” If you went to an elementary school like mine, you had to stand when another teacher or staff member entered the room. Somewhere along the way, standing became our universal sign for, "This person or thing deserves honor."
But that’s never the posture I see in Scripture when someone comes face-to-face with God. In fact, the people who actually encountered God in Scripture seemed incapable of staying on their feet.
His holiness doesn’t just earn respect. It evokes reverence.
When Peter recognized that the man sitting in his boat was more than a rabbi, he didn’t congratulate himself for witnessing a miracle. He collapsed. “Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord” (Luke 5:8). When the disciples saw Jesus transfigured before them, His face shining like the sun and His clothes dazzling white, they “fell facedown to the ground, terrified” (Matthew 17:6). When John saw the risen Christ in Revelation, he didn’t run to embrace Him or ask questions about the visions to come. “When I saw Him, I fell at His feet as though dead” (Revelation 1:17). Elijah’s victory on Mount Carmel didn’t leave Israel politely applauding God’s power. “When all the people saw it, they fell facedown and said, ‘The Lord, He is God! The Lord, He is God!’” (1 Kings 18:39). Even Joshua, the courageous leader preparing for battle, removed his sandals and bowed low when he realized he was standing before the Commander of the Lord’s army because the ground itself had become holy (Joshua 5:13–15).
There’s something about the unveiled glory of God that makes standing feel impossible.
Maybe that’s because reverence is different than respect.
Respect acknowledges greatness. Reverence recognizes holiness. It’s what happens when we suddenly become aware that we are standing before the Creator rather than another created person. No one has to teach you that posture. When God’s glory is unveiled, your heart instinctively knows it has encountered Someone infinitely beyond itself.
It’s interesting that Scripture also warns us about bowing down to the wrong things. In Daniel 3, an entire nation gathered before Nebuchadnezzar’s golden image, and at the sound of the music, everyone was commanded to fall down and worship it. The king wasn’t merely asking for respect; he was demanding reverence—the kind of surrender that belongs only to God. In a way, every idol is an imitation. Every false god asks us to give created things the posture that was designed for the Creator alone.
Whether it’s power, success, approval, comfort, or security, idols always ask us to bow.
Maybe that's because we were made to bow. Not in the sense that God delights in forcing people to their knees, but because we were created to live in awe of Someone greater than ourselves. Worship isn't something we learn to do; it's woven into who we are. The question has never been whether we'll worship. The question is who—or what—will receive the reverence of our hearts.
Okay, yeah, so maybe we don't physically kneel before golden statues anymore (or maybe you do, I don’t know), but we're still remarkably good at bowing to whatever promises us identity, security, or significance. If we're honest, we don't have much trouble bowing. We just tend to bow to the wrong things.
I can’t help but wonder what my posture says about what I worship - Not just physically, but functionally. What has the power to rearrange my life? What quietly dictates my decisions? What am I constantly trying to please, protect, or pursue? Because Scripture seems to suggest that we all bow to something. The question isn’t whether we’ll worship—it’s what will receive the reverence of our hearts. And every lesser thing eventually asks us to carry a weight it was never meant to bear.
But unlike idols, God never uses His holiness to crush us.
One of my favorite details in these encounters is what often happens next. After the disciples fell facedown in fear, Jesus came to them, touched them, and said, “Get up. Don’t be afraid” (Matthew 17:7). After John fell as though dead, Jesus laid His right hand on him and said, “Do not be afraid” (Revelation 1:17). The same God whose glory causes people to fall is also the God who reaches down to lift them back up.
That’s the beautiful tension of the gospel.
God is not less holy because He is loving. His love doesn’t diminish His majesty, and His nearness doesn’t make Him ordinary. He is still the God before whom angels cover their faces. He is still the God whose presence causes mountains to tremble. He is still worthy of every knee bowing before Him. Yet this same holy God invites us to walk with Him as sons and daughters.
We fall before Him because of who He is - We rise because of who He is, too.
His holiness brings us to our knees. His grace takes us by the hand.
bytaylormcgee
