What We Cheer For

There is something holy in the roar of a crowd, and something haunting. It’s the sound of humanity united, if only for a moment.

A stadium breathtakingly erupts as a finish line is crossed, a buzzer-beater arcs through the air, a body is broken in the brutal pursuit of victory. Elsewhere, a congregation rises as one, voices knitted together in harmony and praise. Online, a digital wildfire spreads as millions share a video, a soundbite, an outrage; applause rendered in clicks and code.

We are, it seems, made for praise.
But not all cheers are equal.
Not all victories are good.
Not all applause is righteous.

And too often, the Church, meant to be a beacon, finds itself lost in the haze of the spectacle; confused about what to celebrate, what to resist, and what it truly means to be a peculiar people in a world addicted to the roar.

The Applause of the Age

There is a temptation in every generation to be swept along by the current of the crowd. We see it in the dust of the ancient world, as Israel demanded a king to be “like all the other nations,” cheering for a crown they would come to regret. We see it most starkly in the streets of Jerusalem. The same crowds that welcomed Jesus with palms and hosannas, hailing Him as a king, were the same voices that, only days later, cried, “Crucify Him!”

Their cheers were loud.
Their allegiance was cheap.
Their hearts were far from Him.

Today, we are not so different. The stages have changed, but the human heart remains the same.

We cheer for underdogs and celebrities, for charismatic leaders and perfectly-crafted slogans. We amplify statements that affirm our tribe and signal our belonging. We add our voices to the chorus of outrage without first weighing the quiet burden of truth. We have learned to confuse volume for value, and a trend for the truth.

And in the noise, we sometimes find ourselves cheering for the very things that grieve the heart of God.

What Are We Discipling Ourselves Into?

The things we celebrate shape us. They catechize our hearts. Every cheer is a small liturgy, a ritual that teaches us what to love, what to value, and what to ignore. When we applaud, we are saying, “This matters. More of this.”

So what are we teaching ourselves?

If we cheer for strength without compassion, we learn to despise the weak.
If we cheer for success without character, we begin to overlook the cost of integrity.
If we cheer for partisan wins over principled truth, we train ourselves to crave conflict.
If we cheer for wealth without generosity, we come to worship what perishes.

In a world driven by performance, hot takes, and tribal loyalty, it becomes harder to hear the slow, steady rhythm of the Spirit. It becomes easier to forget the call to humility, the long obedience in the same direction, and the quiet, unshakeable strength of truth.

The early Church did not grow through spectacle, but through sacrifice. It advanced through mundane service. It thrived on a strange, countercultural love that made no earthly sense; a love that washed feet, welcomed the outcast, and prayed for its persecutors.

What would it mean for us to cheer for that again?

Faithfulness Over Fame

What if our applause was reserved for the unseen and the unsung?
What if we stood and cheered for the quiet parent who prays in the dark for their prodigal child?
What if we celebrated the addict who, known only to God and their sponsor, chooses sobriety for one more day?
What if our social media feeds reposted stories of local reconciliation instead of national rage?
What if we honoured the church volunteer who cleans up coffee cups long after the service is over?
What if we stopped chasing the world’s applause and started living lives worthy of the one audience that truly matters?

This is not a call to silence our joy. God is not against celebration, He wired the cosmos for it. But He is deeply concerned with what we elevate, what we praise, and what we allow to form our hearts.

Because at the end of it all, every crowd eventually quiets. The lights dim. The trends fade. The moment passes.

And what’s left is not the echo of the cheer, but the person we’ve become.

Cheering from the Right Stands

As followers of Christ, we are not just fans in the bleachers of history. We are witnesses. We are ambassadors. We are disciples.

And disciples don't just echo what the world loves. They are called to look for, and to cheer for, what God is doing; especially when no one else sees it.

They celebrate mercy when the world demands vengeance.
They honour truth when the world settles for a narrative.
They champion hidden faithfulness when the world only values public success.
They stand, sometimes alone, and point to a different kind of victory, saying: This is the way of Christ. Walk in it.

So the next time you find yourself in a crowd (online, in church, in the wider culture) pause for a moment before you join the roar. Listen past the noise. And ask:

What are we truly cheering for?
And in the cheering, who are we becoming?