The Ancient Pattern Written in Our DNA

There's something peculiar about how we humans organize ourselves. Watch a troop of monkeys for an afternoon, and you'll witness an invisible architecture take shape—a hierarchy built not by decree but by instinct. The strongest climbs highest. The most capable commands attention. The most competent receives deference.

We like to think we've evolved beyond our primate cousins, yet walk into any boardroom, university lecture hall, or social media feed, and you'll see the same ancient pattern playing out. We are hardwired to construct hierarchies of competence, to identify those who seem to know more, do more, achieve more—and then, almost unconsciously, to place them on pedestals.

This isn't inherently wrong. Recognizing excellence and learning from those more skilled than ourselves drives human progress. But here's where the story takes a turn toward the sacred: What happens when the pedestal becomes a throne? When admiration transforms into worship? When competence hierarchies evolve into idolatry?

From a Christian theological perspective, this is precisely the danger that Scripture warns against—the subtle substitution of the created for the Creator, the replacement of divine authority with human achievement.

The Doctrine of the Incarnation: The Only Legitimate Throne

The Apostle John wrote something that seemed impossible: "The Word became flesh and dwelt among us." This doctrine—that Jesus Christ came in physical form—serves as Christianity's central anchor point. It's not merely a historical claim but a theological bulwark against the very human tendency toward idolatry.

Because the Incarnation establishes a singular hierarchy with Christ at the summit. If God Himself took on flesh, entered human history, and will return to complete His kingdom, then every other hierarchy becomes provisional, temporary, and ultimately subordinate. Every professor, every CEO, every influencer, every scientific genius—all exist within a larger story where only One legitimately occupies the highest position.

In the laboratory, time folded back on itself. A researcher looked up from her microscope to find herself simultaneously in the 21st century and the ancient Israelite camp at Mount Sinai. The golden calf gleamed in both locations.

When We Remove the Divine Ceiling

Here's the uncomfortable truth: nature abhors a vacuum, and so does the human heart. Remove God from the equation, and we don't stop creating hierarchies—we simply remove the limiting principle that prevents those hierarchies from becoming absolute.

Consider the modern university system. Academia has produced extraordinary breakthroughs, pushed the boundaries of human knowledge, and genuinely improved countless lives. Yet within its halls, a particular form of hierarchy often emerges: the hierarchy of intellectual achievement divorced from moral or spiritual authority.

Students don't just learn from professors; they often idolize them. Not in the sense of building physical statues (though we do name buildings after them), but in the deeper sense of granting them ultimate authority over truth, meaning, and reality. The published scientist becomes the arbiter of what's real. The tenured philosopher determines what's meaningful. The celebrated theorist defines what's possible.

The Pop Culture Pantheon

This pattern intensifies in popular culture. We've constructed an entire ecosystem designed to manufacture modern gods:

• Social media influencers who dictate lifestyle choices to millions
• Tech entrepreneurs whose visions shape society's future
• Entertainment celebrities whose opinions carry more weight than expertise
• Athletes whose physical prowess translates into moral authority

Each platform is a temple. Each trending hashtag, a hymn. Each viral moment, a revelation.

The problem isn't that these individuals have skills or knowledge—many do, legitimately. The problem is the unchecked ascent, the unlimited elevation that occurs when there's no transcendent standard saying, "This far, and no further. Only God deserves ultimate allegiance."

Israel's Ancient Mistake, Our Modern Mirror

The biblical narrative offers a haunting precedent. Ancient Israel, despite experiencing direct divine intervention—plagues in Egypt, the parting of the Red Sea, manna from heaven—repeatedly fell into idolatry. How?

The Golden Calf Incident

The most famous example occurs in Exodus 32. Moses had been on Mount Sinai receiving the Ten Commandments for forty days. The people grew anxious, uncertain, uncomfortable with an invisible God. So they demanded something tangible:

"Make us gods who will go before us."

Aaron, the high priest, collected their gold and fashioned a calf—and the people declared, "These are your gods, Israel, who brought you up out of Egypt."

Notice the substitution: they attributed their liberation not to Yahweh but to a man-made object. They replaced the invisible, transcendent God with something they could see, touch, control. They created a hierarchy with a golden calf at the top because they couldn't tolerate the tension of faith in an unseen God.

The consequence was severe: 3,000 people died that day. But the deeper lesson echoes through centuries: idolatry isn't just a quaint ancient problem—it's the default setting of human nature when divine authority is removed or forgotten.

The Pattern Repeats

Throughout Israel's history, the cycle continued:

• They abandoned God for Baal and Asherah (Judges)
• They demanded a human king to be "like the other nations" (1 Samuel)
• They turned to alliances with foreign powers instead of trusting God (Isaiah)
• They elevated religious tradition above relationship with God (Matthew)

Each time, the pattern was identical: substitute something created for the Creator, elevate human competence above divine authority, construct hierarchies without God at the summit. And each time, the biblical record shows, Israel paid dearly—through conquest, exile, and spiritual emptiness.

The university auditorium shimmered, and suddenly every chair contained both a modern student and an ancient Israelite. The professor at the podium wore simultaneously a tweed jacket and a golden miter. Nobody noticed they were worshiping in precisely the same posture.

The Competence Trap in Modern Science

Let's examine how this plays out specifically in scientific communities—places that have produced genuine human flourishing but also, paradoxically, can become breeding grounds for modern idolatry.

Science, properly understood, is a method: a systematic approach to understanding natural phenomena through observation, hypothesis, and experimentation. But when scientists become secular priests and scientific consensus becomes doctrine, we've crossed from methodology into ideology.

The Elevation of the Expert Class

In contemporary culture, we've created what might be called the "Expert Class"—individuals whose credentials grant them near-absolute authority in public discourse. This wouldn't be problematic if their authority remained limited to their area of expertise. But observe what actually happens:

A renowned physicist opines on philosophy, and millions listen as though physics credentials translate to philosophical wisdom. A celebrated biologist declares metaphysical truths about the non-existence of God, extending scientific methodology into realms it was never designed to address. A popular psychologist's personal worldview becomes prescriptive for how millions should live.

The issue isn't that these individuals are sharing perspectives—it's that in the absence of a divine hierarchy, their competence in one domain metastasizes into absolute authority across all domains.

When Peer Review Becomes Sacred Text

Academic publishing has its own priestly class. The "peer-reviewed study" has become modern culture's equivalent of "thus saith the Lord"—an unquestionable authority that ends debate. Again, peer review serves a valuable function. But when it becomes the only acceptable source of truth, when it implicitly claims authority over moral, spiritual, and existential questions, it has become an idol.

The Christian perspective would argue: scientific knowledge is real and valuable, but it's not ultimate. It exists within a larger framework where a transcendent narrative provides context and checks human claims of finality.

Unconscious Worship: How Idolatry Operates Below Awareness

Here's what makes modern idolatry particularly insidious: most people don't consciously choose it. We don't wake up and decide, "Today I'll worship a human being instead of God." Instead, it happens gradually, almost imperceptibly, through the small acts of deference we perform daily.

The Scroll of Allegiance

Consider your social media habits. Whose voice immediately carries weight for you? Whose post do you share without critical examination? Whose opinion settles debates in your mind? Whose correction would devastate you?

These aren't neutral preferences—they're indicators of who occupies the throne in your personal hierarchy. And if that person is anyone other than Christ, Christian theology would suggest you're practicing a subtle form of idolatry.

The Academic Altar

In universities, the same dynamic operates. Graduate students often develop quasi-religious devotion to their advisors. Entire fields revolve around the interpretations of key figures—whether Marx in economics, Freud in psychology, or Dawkins in atheistic biology.

The question isn't whether these thinkers contributed valuable insights. Many did. The question is: Have they been elevated to a position of ultimate authority that properly belongs only to God?

A business conference transformed mid-session. The keynote speaker stood at a pulpit that hadn't been there moments before. The audience held hymn books disguised as conference programs. The worship song was titled "Disruption and Scale."

The Heart's Hierarchy: Why We Build Thrones

But let's push deeper: why do we do this? Why are humans so prone to constructing hierarchies and placing created things at the summit?

The Vacuum of Ultimate Meaning

Blaise Pascal wrote about a "God-shaped hole" in the human heart. Christian anthropology suggests we're created for relationship with the divine, and when that relationship is absent, the space doesn't disappear—it gets filled with something else.

In a secular framework, competence hierarchies naturally expand to fill the meaning vacuum. If there's no God providing ultimate purpose, we seek it from those who seem to have figured life out: the successful entrepreneur, the published academic, the admired influencer.

The Certainty We Crave

There's another dimension: epistemological anxiety. We live in a complex, often confusing world. Having experts we can trust provides psychological comfort. But this healthy desire for guidance can metastasize into unhealthy dependence.

When we make scientists, professors, or public figures into authorities on everything, we're not just seeking information—we're seeking certainty, meaning, and moral direction. We're asking them to play a role that, in Christian theology, only God should play.

The Tribal Instinct

Finally, there's our tribal nature. Humans are group animals. We form communities around shared authorities—whether religious leaders, political figures, or intellectual heroes. These authorities provide group identity, social cohesion, and collective purpose.

None of this is inherently wrong. The problem emerges when these human authorities become absolute, when questioning them feels like heresy, when alternative perspectives are not just disagreed with but existentially threatening.

The Biblical Alternative: Hierarchy With a Divine Ceiling

Christian theology offers a different framework—not the elimination of hierarchies, but their proper ordering.

Authority as Stewardship

In the biblical view, human authority figures—parents, teachers, leaders, experts—are stewards, not sovereigns. They hold delegated authority, which means:

• Their authority is real but limited
• They're accountable to God for how they use it
• Their competence doesn't make them ultimate

This creates a healthy hierarchy where excellence is recognized and competence is respected, but no human ever occupies the throne that belongs to Christ alone.

The Protection of Transcendence

Having God at the summit of all hierarchies serves a protective function. It prevents any human authority from becoming totalitarian. It creates space for prophetic critique. It allows us to learn from experts without making them infallible.

The historian Lord Acton famously wrote, "Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely." But absolute power can only exist where there's no higher authority checking it. The doctrine of Christ's supremacy is a political, social, and intellectual safeguard against human tyranny.

The Return: Living With an Eternal Perspective

Christianity doesn't just claim that Jesus came in the flesh—it asserts He will return. This doctrine of the Second Coming completes the anti-idolatry framework.

Provisional vs. Ultimate

If Christ is returning to judge and restore all things, then every current hierarchy is provisional. Today's celebrated professor is preparing for examination by a greater Teacher. Today's powerful CEO will give account to a higher Authority. Today's influential voice will be measured against the Word who spoke creation into being.

This doesn't diminish human achievement—it contextualizes it. Your work matters, your competence has value, your influence can do good—but it's all situated within a larger story where only One deserves the final word.

The Already/Not Yet

Christian theology speaks of the "already/not yet" tension: Christ's kingdom has already begun but isn't yet fully realized. This means we live in a unique moment where:

• Human hierarchies still operate (and should, properly)
• But they're always being interrogated by kingdom values
• And they're always preparing for ultimate reordering when Christ returns

The conference room shimmered one final time. The golden statue in the corner didn't disappear—it simply faded into transparency, and everyone could finally see the throne behind it that had been there all along.

Practical Application: Dismantling Our Personal Idols

So what does this mean practically? How do we recognize and resist the idolatry of competence hierarchies in our own lives?

Questions for Self-Examination

1. Whose approval do I crave more than God's? If a particular person's opinion has more power over your self-worth than your understanding of God's love, that person may have become an idol.
2. Where do I seek ultimate answers? When facing life's big questions, do you turn first to Scripture and prayer, or to the latest thought leader's TED Talk?
3. What voices are beyond critique in my mind? If there's a teacher, expert, or influencer you literally cannot question without feeling disloyal, you may have crossed from respect into worship.
4. What would devastate me more: God's disappointment or my mentor's? Our emotional responses reveal our true hierarchies.

Reshaping Our Hierarchies

The goal isn't to eliminate respect for competence or learning from those more skilled than ourselves. Rather, it's to properly order our allegiances:

• Learn from professors, but test everything against Scripture and conscience
• Respect experts, but hold their claims accountable to transcendent truth
• Appreciate influencers, but remember their platforms are temporary
• Honor leaders, but recognize their authority is derivative, not absolute

Building a Christ-Centered Hierarchy

In practical terms, this means:

• Starting each day reminding yourself that Christ alone is Lord
• Consuming media with a critical eye, asking "What authority is being claimed here?"
• Engaging in education as a student, not a devotee
• Following influences while maintaining ultimate allegiance to Christ
• Participating in culture as a citizen of heaven first, earthly kingdoms second

The Freedom of Proper Worship

Paradoxically, placing Christ alone at the top of our hierarchies creates enormous freedom. When no human has ultimate authority over you, you're free to:

• Learn without fear of questioning
• Disagree without existential anxiety
• Change your mind without losing your identity
• Recognize limitations in your heroes without despair
• Respect competence without surrendering your conscience

True worship of God liberates us from the tyranny of human authorities, not because humans have nothing to teach us, but because they're not ultimate. They're fellow pilgrims, further along the path perhaps, but still journeying toward the same destination where Christ waits to evaluate us all.

As the vision faded, the business professionals returned to their conference, the students to their lecture halls, the social media users to their screens. But something had shifted. They could see now—really see—the invisible thrones they'd constructed. And they had a choice: continue building monuments to human achievement, or recognize the One who legitimately holds the highest place.

The question remains: Who sits on the throne of your heart?

The answer matters not just for eternity, but for how you navigate hierarchies today—because what we worship always shapes what we become.