I was in the gift shop at the Art Institute of Chicago when I spotted the film star. I grabbed some random Monet note cards and made my way to the register for a closer look. Okay, maybe shorter than he was in his films, older, too, but it had to be him.

I stepped out of line to find my husband—any good Californian would know a film star when he saw one. My husband glanced at the man. “No, it’s not him.”

Seriously? You could tell from one look? I forced him to walk around the register a couple more times to be sure. “No, it’s not him.”

Another occasion, we were outside a theater in London, trying to decide which performance of Shakespeare’sThe Winter’s Taleto attend. With neither watch nor device, we asked a man standing near us for the time. We chatted about the play—one of my husband’s favorites—and then brought our tickets.

Talk about a celebrity sighting that evening. The man we had talked to turned out to be one of the major characters in the play, and we were totally clueless that we had spoken with a real live celebrity.

Wil told me of a time when he was in college. At a park in Los Angeles, a family on vacation, probably from the midwest, sheepishly approached him. and asked for an autograph.

"What?" he asked.

"We know who you are," the mother said, her voice trembling slightly. Wil asked her who they thought he was and she said, "You're Kenny Loggins." [a popular singer at the time.]

He told the family that he wasn't Kenny Loggins. They lingered. The children looked at him, awestruck. They followed him. They approached him again. The mother broke away from the family and came up to him. "We understand that you want your privacy," she said. "We respect that, but we're just thrilled that we got to see a real celebrity. So thank you."

We live in a celebrity culture--Hollywood, Capitol Hill, the church. Merriam-Webster defines a celebrity as a famous or celebrated person.

So no one has ever confused my husband with Jesus, but one family was sure that he was Kenny Loggins.

As Christians, though more conscientious about morals and values than Hollywood and Capitol Hill, we celebrate trendy pastors, authors, speakers, musicians, athletes, actors turned Christian. And when they prove true the blunt assessment of the Apostle Paul in Romans 3:23, “For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God,” we find it easier to ignore Paul and coddle the celebrated ones who really didn’t mean to mess up.

When the prophet Nathan confronted David about his sin, David clearly stated, “I have sinned against the Lord.” That was it. He didn’t step down as king for a season of retreat and reflection, but he did write a prayer of contrition. “For I know my transgressions, and my sin is ever before me. Against you, you only, have I sinned and done what is evil in your sight.” (Psalm 51:3, 4). When he confessed, David wasn’t looking for a standing ovation from God’s people. He had his eyes on something, no, someone who was abundant in mercy and steadfast love. Someone worth celebrating.

Perhaps that’s my problem with our Christian celebrity culture. We so easily look at each other and see oversized versions of ourselves. I think of the most lauded preacher, the best-selling author, people I admire in one way or another. But honestly, none of us are really that special. We need to be more like Job when he said to God, "Behold, I am of small account. . . " (Job 40:4, ASV) As my small account self takes in the Savior, the worthy Lamb, my soul increases in its love and awe of Jesus, who exceeds our expectations, meets our every need and never lets us down.

Let's shake the "star"dust from our eyes, and gaze on the beauty, grace and light of Jesus. May people see more of him and less of us in 2023.