Seeing Beyond the Glitter: Choosing the “Cup of the Carpenter”

I was tempted to begin with a spoiler warning, but honestly… Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. came out on 1989, if you haven't seen it by now, that’s on you.

At the film’s climax, Indy and the films baddies Elsa and Walter Donovan finally reach the Holy Grail. Before him: a long stone table covered with dazzling cups — golden chalices, jewelled goblets, ornate vessels of every kind. And among them, almost hidden, sits a simple wooden cup. Elsa and Walter , dazzled by the glitter, choose a magnificent cup… and it destroys Walter instantly. Indy chooses the rough, unimpressive wooden cup — “the cup of the carpenter” — recognising the true Jesus behind the appearances.

Both are staring at the same treasure. One sees glamour; the other sees truth. The difference between life and death is the ability to discern what really matters.

Jesus teaches the same lesson in Luke 21. The lectionary starts at verse 5, but the scene really begins at verse 1, where Jesus notices the widow offering her two small coins. The rich give large sums from their abundance; she gives everything she has. Jesus praises her, not for the amount, but for the heart behind it.

Immediately afterwards, the disciples begin admiring the temple’s impressive stones and costly decorations. It’s as if they’ve missed His point entirely. Jesus responds bluntly:

“The time will come when not one stone will be left on another.”

The disciples are dazzled by what they can see. Jesus is trying to teach them to see what lasts.

False messiahs, wars, disasters — these aren’t signs to analyse but reminders that worldly security is fragile. Don’t be captivated by what glitters. Don’t pin your hope on things destined to fall. Keep your eyes on the kingdom that endures.

Thomas Cranmer understood this. In the Preface to the Book of Common Prayer he insists that ceremonies are useful only insofar as they help us worship in spirit and truth. Outward show — whether robes, ritual, or ornate chalices — adds nothing to God’s pleasure if the heart is cold. Worship that dazzles on the outside but is empty within is no offering at all.

This isn’t just about Sunday worship. It’s about the choices we make every day.

When Esther and I first moved to Milton Keynes, I was struggling in a job I disliked. Then Deloitte called. More money, a company car, private healthcare, qualifications — the works. On paper, it glittered. But the role itself? Helping wealthy expats minimise tax. It offered comfort but no purpose.

In the interview, when asked, “Why do you want this job?” I realised I didn’t. I was chasing the shiny package, not God’s calling. I turned it down. In time, I found work that aligned with my gifts, served others, and honoured God. It paid less — but the meaning was immeasurably greater.

We all face similar crossroads:

• Do we choose the relationship that flatters us, or the one that shapes us?

• Do we choose convenience, or the discipline that deepens our faith?

• Do we choose comfort, or generosity?

  
  

None of these choices are small. Each one quietly reveals what we truly value.

In the end, we’re all standing where Indy stood: surrounded by glittering options, some tempting, some impressive. But only one cup gives life — the one that reflects the heart of Christ.

God sees past appearances. He isn’t impressed by gold chalices, polished services, or perfect routines. He’s looking for faith, humility, devotion, and obedience. Hearts surrendered. Lives aligned with His purposes.

When we loosen our grip on the things that dazzle and tighten our grip on the God who endures, we choose the treasure that lasts. That’s the message of Luke 21: true life is found not in glitter, but in God Himself.