Who Are You Building For?

We read a story and think, “Really? Did that happen? And what’s it got to do with life now?”
You’re not the only one who’s thought that.
But what if some of those “weird old stories” actually shine a light on what’s happening right now — in our world, our work, our hearts?

Let's head to Gen 11 as there is a story just like that there . . .

At one time all the people of the world spoke the same language...
“Come, let’s build a city with a tower that reaches the sky. Let’s make a name for ourselves and avoid being scattered.”
But the Lord came down, confused their language, and scattered them across the earth.
Genesis 11:1–9

A united people.

A bold plan.

A tower touching the heavens.

And then — confusion.

A sudden breakdown in communication.

Dreams halted. People scattered.

It sounds simple: people build a tower, God stops them, story ends.

But underneath, something much deeper is going on.

The Man Behind the Tower

Step back a chapter, to Genesis 10, and we meet Nimrod — whose very name means rebel.
He built his kingdom in Babylon and stretched it across the ancient world.
He wasn’t just a “great hunter” — he was a power-hungry ruler, pushing boundaries, driven to dominate.
So the Tower of Babel wasn’t a fun local project.
It was a statement — an empire built on pride, strength, and control.
It was the first recorded moment when humanity tried to build a world without God.

Bricks and Tar

The people said, “Let’s make bricks and bake them hard.”
It might sound like a technical detail, but it’s telling.

Until then, buildings were made from rough stones — each one different, unpredictable.
Bricks changed everything: neat, efficient, identical. They represented progress, technology, and power.
But there’s a warning tucked in there.
When we create things that make us faster, stronger, and more connected — the question isn’t just can we?
It’s why are we? And who are we building it for?

Babel Then — and Babel Now

Babel is more than a city. It’s a mirror. It shows what happens when people chase greatness without God in the picture.
When “making a name” matters more than knowing His name.

Today, our towers look different — glass offices, online profiles, bank balances, reputations.
But the motive can be the same: “Look what I’ve built.”

And what’s the outcome?
Disunity.
Comparison.
Exhaustion.
Noise.

Sound familiar?

It’s Babel, rebuilt — one post, one promotion, one project at a time.
When God scattered the people at Babel, it wasn’t punishment. It was protection — a loving disruption before pride consumed them.

The Gift and the Danger

God loves creativity. He designed us to build, to imagine, to make things new.
But when those gifts become about us — about control, status, or security — they turn dangerous.
We’ve learned to build faster than ever before. But if we’re honest, we’re not always building better.

The question Babel still asks is this:

“Whose name are you lifting up?”

Centuries after the story of the Tower of Babel, another man came asking Jesus, “What must I do to inherit eternal life?”
Jesus told him to let go of his wealth and follow Him — but he couldn’t.
His own little empire was too precious to give up.
(Mark 10:17–22)

Jesus’ response, then and now, is simple but searching:

Love God with everything you are, and love your neighbour as yourself.

Or in modern terms:

Stop building your own kingdom — help build Mine.

So, Who Are You Building For?

Maybe it’s your job — wanting to be seen, respected, or secure.
Maybe it’s your family — wanting control, or for things to go your way.
Maybe it’s your image — the quiet pressure to look like you’ve got it all together.

The Story of Tower of Babel isn’t really about architecture.

It’s about ambition and affection — who gets the glory for what we build.
And Jesus offers us a better foundation — one made of love, grace, and surrender, not pride and control.

Three Ways to Build God’s Way

Pause before you plan. Ask God, “Is this for my name, or Yours?”

Use what you’ve been given to bless others. Creativity, success, leadership — they’re tools for good, not trophies for self.

Choose connection over control. Build bridges, not towers. Seek understanding, not dominance.




When we hand our blueprints back to God, He doesn’t stop us building — He helps us build something worth keeping.




This article is based on the message shared by Phil Hibbert at the service on 12 Oct.




You can of course watch the full service, including the sermon on our website, here.