You know that moment when you’re standing in the kitchen, spoon in hand, and the honey jar is calling your name like a long-lost friend? One little drizzle on toast is pure joy. Two is still delightful. But by the third or fourth heaping spoonful, your stomach starts sending urgent cease-and-desist letters, and suddenly that golden sweetness feels more like a sticky regret.
Solomon, in all his wisdom, spotted this exact problem centuries ago and decided to turn it into a life lesson.
Proverbs 25:27 puts it plainly: “It is not good to eat much honey, nor is it glorious to seek one’s own glory.” (ESV)
I love how the Bible does this—takes something as ordinary as overdoing the honey and flips it into a mirror for the soul. Honey is good. God made it good. In moderation, it’s a gift. But pile it on, and it turns on you. The same goes for chasing our own applause.
We live in a world that basically hands out megaphones and says, “Promote yourself! Build your brand! Make sure everyone knows how awesome you are!” Social media is like a never-ending potluck where everyone’s bringing their best dish and waiting for the compliments. And if we’re honest, even in church circles we can catch ourselves quietly hoping someone notices our quiet service… or our not-so-quiet service. “Oh, you saw me stay late to set up chairs? Well, I mean… someone had to.” (Cue the humblebrag.)
Solomon’s point is simple and slightly hilarious: hunting for your own glory is about as attractive as watching someone mainline a jar of honey. It doesn’t look glorious. It looks a little desperate. True glory, the kind that actually sticks around, isn’t something you can force-feed yourself. It comes from somewhere else.
From a Christian perspective, this verse lands right at the heart of the gospel. Jesus never had to chase the spotlight. He washed feet. He hung out with the overlooked. He rode into Jerusalem on a borrowed donkey instead of a warhorse with a personal PR team. And when the crowds wanted to make Him king on their terms, He slipped away. Philippians 2 tells us He “humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death—even death on a cross.” And then—only then—God highly exalted Him.
There’s a beautiful freedom in that. When we stop frantically searching for our own glory, we can actually enjoy the good gifts God gives us (yes, including the occasional spoonful of honey) without turning them into a performance. We can serve without keeping score. We can celebrate others without feeling like their success steals from ours. And when real honor does come our way—because sometimes it does—we can receive it with open hands and quickly pass the credit upward.
So next time you’re tempted to polish your own halo a little too brightly, or when the honey jar is looking especially inviting, remember Solomon’s warm, slightly sticky warning. Too much of even a good thing can leave you feeling queasy. Better to leave the glory-hunting to the One who already has all of it… and who delights in sharing the sweetest parts of life with us, one humble spoonful at a time.
After all, the best kind of sweetness isn’t the kind we force. It’s the kind that overflows when we’re simply content to be His.
ta ethne 