There are phrases in Scripture that, at first glance, appear almost insignificant. They slip past us unnoticed because they are so familiar.
Yet, when we begin to trace them through the pages of the Bible, they reveal a thread that runs from Genesis to Revelation—a thread exposing the oldest battle ever fought.
One such phrase is, "Come, let us..."
The first time we encounter it in its most troubling form is on the plains of Shinar.
"Come, let us build ourselves a city, with a tower that reaches to the heavens, so that we may make a name for ourselves..."
Genesis 11:4
The Tower of Babel has often been portrayed as humanity attempting to build a skyscraper into heaven, but the real issue was never architecture.
It was authority.
The people were united, organised and ambitious, but their ambition was directed towards self-exaltation rather than obedience. They were not seeking God; they were seeking significance apart from Him.
Notice their motivation.
"Let us make a name for ourselves."
They believed greatness could be manufactured by human effort. Brick by brick, they attempted to construct what only God could ever establish.
Only one chapter later, the contrast could not be more striking.
Yahweh calls Abram from obscurity and makes him an astonishing promise.
"I will make your name great." Genesis 12:2
The difference is profound.
Babel sought to seize what God freely gives. Humanity strained to build what only covenant could produce. One kingdom was built on ambition; the other rested entirely upon promise.
This tension echoes far beyond Babel.
Centuries later, another ruler speaks words that should sound strangely familiar.
"Come, let us deal wisely with them..."
Exodus 1:10
Pharaoh is not merely discussing political strategy.
He is positioning himself against the covenant promises of God. Yahweh had declared that Abraham's descendants would become a great nation, yet Pharaoh believed oppression, fear and governmental power could overturn divine decree. Like the builders of Babel, he assumed that human wisdom could outmanoeuvre God's purposes.
The language is no accident. Scripture is inviting us to recognise a familiar pattern. Whenever humanity gathers around its own wisdom and declares,
"Come, let us...",
it is often attempting to accomplish something independently of God.
Yet this pattern did not begin at Babel or in Egypt.
Long before bricks were stacked on the plains of Shinar, another voice was heard in heaven.
Through Isaiah's prophetic vision we are given a glimpse into the heart of Lucifer.
"I will ascend to the heavens... I will raise my throne... I will sit... I will ascend above the tops of the clouds; I will make myself like the Most High."
Isaiah 14:13–14
Five times he declares, "I will."
Those two words reveal the essence of pride. Sin begins whenever
"Your will" is replaced by "I will." Lucifer's rebellion was not simply about power; it was about self-exaltation. He desired the throne without submission, glory without obedience and authority without the Author of authority.
Babel became the earthly echo of that heavenly rebellion. Different people, different generation, but the same spirit.
That same spirit still whispers today.
It is heard whenever we attempt to force doors open that God has not opened. Whenever we chase influence instead of faithfulness. Whenever ministries become platforms, careers become identities, or success becomes the measure of our worth. Even good intentions can quietly drift into self-promotion if our deepest desire is to build our own name rather than honour His.
This is not a warning against building businesses, leading ministries or pursuing excellence. Scripture commends diligent work and faithful stewardship. The question is much deeper than what we are building.
It is who is building.
Are we labouring to establish our own kingdom, or are we allowing Yahweh to establish His through us?
Jesus Himself reveals the answer.
Where Lucifer sought to ascend, Christ willingly descended.
Where Lucifer grasped for equality with God, Jesus emptied Himself, taking the nature of a servant and humbling Himself even to death on a cross
Philippians 2:5–11
The Father's response is remarkable.
"Therefore God exalted Him..."
Lucifer exalted himself and was cast down.
Jesus humbled Himself and was lifted up.
The Kingdom of God has always operated in reverse to the kingdoms of men. The path to greatness is humility. The path to leadership is servanthood. The path to life is surrender.
Perhaps that is why the Scriptures continually contrast the words of men with the words of God.
Humanity says, "Come, let us build."
God says, "I will build My church."
Humanity says, "Let us make a name for ourselves."
God says, "I will make your name great."
Humanity says, "I will ascend."
Christ says, "Not My will, but Yours be done."
One voice seeks to climb.
The other chooses to kneel.
One builds monuments that eventually crumble into dust.
The other builds men and women whose lives become living stones in an eternal Kingdom.
Every generation must decide which invitation it will answer.
Will we live by the restless cry of, "Come, let us..." and "I will..."?
Or will we rest in the quiet confidence of the God who still declares,
"I will."
Badger out 🦡
