Read

Revelation 4:11 “You are worthy, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power, for you created all things, and by your will they were created and have their being.”

Think

There’s a reason people rise to their feet during a standing ovation. It’s not forced. It’s instinct. Something in us knows that certain moments deserve more than polite applause. When beauty, sacrifice, or brilliance fills the room, we respond—we rise, we cheer, we honor. We say with our posture, “This one is worthy.”

Worship is like that. But deeper. Quieter. Louder. Stronger. It’s the soul’s natural response to unmatched greatness. And that’s exactly where the First Commandment leads us. “You shall have no other gods before me.” Not because God is fragile. Not because he needs the affirmation. But because he alone is worthy.

In Revelation 4, we get a glimpse of heavenly worship in full motion—elders casting crowns, creatures declaring holiness, creation erupting with awe. It’s not hype. It’s not ritual. It’s recognition. “You are worthy, our Lord and God… for you created all things.” They’re not responding to a performance. They’re responding to the person of God—his power, his presence, his preeminence.

It’s cosmic clarity. He made it all. He sustains it all. He holds it all. So he alone deserves the crown.

And yet, how easily we forget.

Throughout this week, we’ve seen how the idols of old never really disappeared. They just got new names and better branding—success, comfort, pleasure, control, image, affirmation. But there’s one more layer we have to face today: not only are these idols destructive—they’re unworthy. They don’t just steal from us. They don’t deserve us.

The ancient Israelites bowed to Baal for rain, Asherah for pleasure, Moloch for advancement. They worshiped what was supposed to give them something. We do the same—just in more polished ways. We look to achievement to tell us who we are. We look to people to affirm us. We look to control to protect us. But eventually, all of them crack under the pressure.

They weren’t made to carry your worship. And deep down, you know it.

Think about the things you’ve chased in your life that promised fulfillment. How long did it last? How much did it take? How often did you find yourself back at the beginning, still hungry for something real?

Idols are like vending machines that keep your change and never drop what you paid for. They promise, but they can’t produce. And the worst part? They demand your sacrifice anyway—your time, your peace, your relationships, your joy. They drain you, then blame you for being empty.

But God isn’t like that. He’s not a taker—he’s a giver. He created all things. By his will they exist and have their being. He didn’t form you so he could control you. He formed you so he could love you—and so you could love him back. And when he says, “No other gods before me,” he’s not being territorial. He’s being truthful.

Psalm 115 paints this clearly: idols are mute, blind, deaf, motionless. And here’s the frightening warning—“Those who make them will be like them.” We become what we worship. If you worship control, you become rigid and anxious. If you worship success, you become driven and never satisfied. If you worship image, you become shallow and exhausted. But if you worship the living God—you come alive. You reflect his glory. You become more fully yourself, not less.

And this is where the First Commandment lands—not just as a restriction, but as a rescue. God is saying, “Don’t waste your worship.” Don’t pour out your soul to something that can’t speak life into you. Don’t bow to what can’t bear the weight. Don’t settle for a throne-sitter who didn’t create you, redeem you, or know your name.

Because only One is worthy.

That means your worship isn’t just about what you say or sing—it’s about what you surrender. It’s what you give your focus to. What you trust. What you obey. It’s what gets your “yes” without needing to argue for it.

And that’s where this whole week comes full circle. God didn’t just pull you out of Egypt—he called you into allegiance. Not partial, not polite—total. Not because he needs it. But because you do.

So maybe today is about recentering. Maybe you’ve realized some crowns have crept back onto your head. Maybe you’ve been tossing your worship to things that haven’t earned it. Maybe you’ve loved God and held space for other gods just in case. But when you see him clearly—like the worshipers in Revelation—you realize: he’s not one of many. He’s the only one.

And when that truth hits you—not as a concept, but as a reality—worship becomes instinct again. You rise. You surrender. You lay your crowns down. Not out of guilt. But out of joy. Because only One is worthy.

Apply

Take a step back today and ask God to help you see him clearly—not the version you’ve shrunk down to fit your plans, but the real, holy, glorious God who made you, rescued you, and is still holding you together. As you reflect, identify any “crowns” you’ve started holding tightly again—approval, accomplishment, influence, security—and choose to lay them down. Speak it out loud if you need to. Make it tangible. Let today be a holy re-centering of your worship around the only One who deserves it.

Pray

God, you are worthy—of every breath, every thought, every ounce of worship in my life. I confess I’ve chased what doesn’t deserve me. I’ve crowned idols that can’t see, speak, or save. But you’ve never failed me. You created me. You sustain me. You know me. Help me see you clearly and surrender completely. Teach me to lay my crowns down, not just once, but daily. I want to live a life that shouts what heaven already knows: only One is worthy. In Jesus’ name. Amen.