The Battle for the Ideal Man
What is the measure of a man? This question has echoed across the ages—from ancient prophets to modern philosophers. For some, like Friedrich Nietzsche, the answer lies in the invention of a new kind of man altogether—a “Superman” who rises above morality, crushes weakness, and redefines good and evil through sheer willpower. His Zarathustra descends from the mountains not with a word from God, but with a message that God is dead—and that man must now become his own savior.
But Scripture offers a radically different vision. When Moses descended from Mount Sinai, his face shone—not with self-made glory, but with the reflected holiness of God. He was not a man declaring himself divine, but a servant who had spoken with the Lord “face to face, as a man speaks to his friend” (Exodus 33:11). The ideal man is not one who exalts himself, but one who bows low in reverence before his Creator.
Dr. Martyn Lloyd-Jones once said, “The ultimate trouble with man is not intellectual, it is moral. Man wants to be his own god.” And this, in the end, is what divides Moses and Zarathustra. One is called by God to lead and obey; the other invents meaning in rebellion. This is a battle not just of philosophies, but of destinies.
Zarathustra and the Übermensch: A Man Made of Smoke
Friedrich Nietzsche’s Thus Spoke Zarathustra is a manifesto for the death of God and the rise of the “Übermensch” — the “Superman” or “Overman” who is strong enough to cast off all traditional values and create his own morality. Zarathustra is Nietzsche’s prophetic figure, descending from the mountain not to bring God’s Word, but to announce that man must become more than man. “Man is a rope,” he declares, “stretched between the animal and the Übermensch—a rope over an abyss.”
This abyss is moral nihilism—the void left when God is rejected and man becomes his own measure. There is no law from above, no divine image to reflect, only a future to conquer through power, autonomy, and self-invention. It is the echo of Eden’s ancient lie: “You shall be like God.”
Dr. Martyn Lloyd-Jones warned against precisely this kind of thinking:
“Man in sin always wants to make himself a god… and that is the greatest sin of all.”
Zarathustra is not a hero; he is a mirror of fallen man’s rebellion—an attempt to ascend by severing all ties to the holy. But without God, the superman becomes smoke—weightless, unstable, and ultimately perishing. The rope Nietzsche speaks of is frayed, and the abyss is real. What we need is not ascent through willpower, but revelation from above.
Moses: The True Man of God
Moses stands as a towering figure in redemptive history—not because of personal greatness, but because he was a man who walked with God. Scripture introduces him not as a philosopher, warrior, or revolutionary, but as “the servant of the Lord” (Deut. 34:5). His greatness was not in casting off divine authority, but in submitting to it. When he came down from Mount Sinai, his face shone—not with self-created glory, but because he had stood in the presence of God (Exodus 34:29).
Dr. Martyn Lloyd-Jones emphasized this repeatedly in his preaching:
“The glory seen in Moses was not the result of effort, meditation, or genius—it was the result of communion with God.”
Moses was a man utterly dependent on the Lord. When offered the Promised Land without God’s presence, he refused: “If Your Presence does not go with us, do not bring us up from here” (Exodus 33:15). Unlike Zarathustra, Moses did not forge ahead in his own strength—he pled for mercy, interceded for a rebellious people, and humbled himself under God’s mighty hand.
Even his death was marked by divine intimacy. Deuteronomy tells us that “the Lord buried him” (Deut. 34:6), and that no prophet like him arose again—until Christ. Moses did not transcend manhood; he embodied what manhood should be: a humble vessel of the Word, made radiant by the glory of Another.
The Glory from Above vs. the Will from Within
At the heart of the contrast between Moses and Zarathustra lies a deeper theological divide: Where does true glory come from? For Nietzsche’s Zarathustra, glory arises from within—by the force of will, by rejecting weakness, and by transcending the old morality. His path is self-assertion. His creed is self-exaltation. His god is himself.
But Moses, by contrast, is not climbing a mountain to discover himself—he is summoned by God to receive what man could never imagine or attain on his own. The glory that radiated from Moses’ face was not a reward for personal strength. It was grace. It was the result of divine encounter, not human achievement. As Paul writes in 2 Corinthians 3:7, “the Israelites could not gaze at Moses’ face because of its glory, which was being brought to an end.”
Dr. Martyn Lloyd-Jones puts it this way:
“There is all the difference in the world between a man who is trying to make himself great and a man who has been made great by God.”
Zarathustra calls men to strive upward by their own strength. But Moses bows low and is lifted by the hand of the Almighty. One seeks a crown through self-will. The other receives it through obedience. The one boasts in the flesh; the other hides in the cleft of the rock until the glory of God passes by. One shines with pride, the other with grace.
The Law and the Lie: Moral Authority vs. Moral Nihilism
When Moses descended from Mount Sinai, he carried with him two tablets of stone—engraved by the very finger of God (Exodus 31:18). These were not suggestions or evolving social constructs; they were absolute moral laws, rooted in the holy character of the Creator. God did not ask Moses to invent morality—He revealed it. Moses stood before the people as a mediator, not a moral innovator.
Contrast this with Nietzsche’s Zarathustra, who declares that the old values are dead and that man must now create his own. “What is good? Whatever increases the feeling of power. What is evil? Whatever springs from weakness.” Here lies the foundation of Nietzsche’s moral nihilism: without God, there is no fixed law. Right and wrong are merely tools of the strong, shaped by the will to power.
Dr. Martyn Lloyd-Jones saw this as the most dangerous lie of modern man:
“The law of God humbles us, it convicts us, and it drives us to Christ. But the man who rejects that law makes himself his own god—and that is the essence of sin.”
Zarathustra’s gospel is a gospel with no sin, no standard, and no Savior. But the law that came through Moses is a mirror that shows us our guilt—and points us to grace. It is not a cage, but a compass. It condemns so that it might lead us to the One who fulfilled it perfectly: Jesus Christ.
Christ, Not the Superman
If Moses reveals the shape of godly manhood, then Christ fulfills it in perfection. He is not a man who casts off the law but one who “did not come to abolish the Law or the Prophets, but to fulfill them” (Matthew 5:17). He is not driven by the will to power but by the will of His Father. The path of Christ is not upward self-exaltation but downward humility: “He humbled Himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross” (Philippians 2:8).
Zarathustra’s Superman scorns such humility. For him, pity is weakness and sacrifice is foolishness. But for Christ, meekness is strength. In His Sermon on the Mount, the true image of manhood is displayed: “Blessed are the poor in spirit… the meek… the merciful… the pure in heart” (Matthew 5:3–8). As Dr. Martyn Lloyd-Jones put it in his commentary on this passage:
“The world says, ‘Assert yourself.’ The gospel says, ‘Deny yourself.’ The world says, ‘Be strong, stand up for yourself.’ Christ says, ‘Blessed are the meek.’”
Zarathustra offers a man who rules. Christ offers a man who serves. Zarathustra seeks dominion. Christ stoops to wash feet. The one climbs upward in vain pride; the other descends in glorious humility. And because of that descent, God has highly exalted Him (Phil. 2:9). In the end, it is not the Superman who reigns—but the Son of Man.
Revival or Ruin: What We Need Today
Our generation is caught in a quiet crisis. We are surrounded by the language of empowerment, self-realization, and “becoming your best self”—but it is all the recycled philosophy of Zarathustra. The modern world tells us to look within, to define truth for ourselves, to cast off all restraint and “live our truth.” We are told that weakness is shameful and that dependence is bondage. But this is not progress—it is ruin.
Dr. Martyn Lloyd-Jones diagnosed this condition long before our time:
“Man’s greatest need is not education or information. His greatest need is a new heart, and only God can give it.”
What we need is not stronger men, but broken men made whole by grace. We need men who tremble at God’s Word, who ascend not the mountain of ego but the hill of the Lord with clean hands and a pure heart (Psalm 24:3–4). We do not need another Zarathustra—we need faithful men like Moses. We need men who seek God’s glory, not their own.
And ultimately, we need revival. Not just in the culture, but in the church. Revival comes not when man lifts himself up, but when he bows low. Lloyd-Jones declared, “The ultimate answer is the presence of God among His people.” And that Presence comes not to those who boast in their own strength, but to those who cry out, “Show me Your glory.”
Choose Your Mountain
At the end of it all, we are faced with a choice—not just a philosophical one, but a deeply spiritual one. Will we ascend the mountain of self like Zarathustra, declaring our autonomy and casting off the cords of divine authority? Or will we, like Moses, climb the mountain at God’s command, remove our shoes in reverence, and plead, “Show me Your glory” (Exodus 33:18)?
The mountain of Zarathustra is high and proud—but it is hollow. It offers no law, no gospel, no atonement. It leads not to life, but to madness. Indeed, Nietzsche himself, the prophet of the Superman, spent his final years in insanity—a tragic irony for one who declared the death of God and the birth of a new man.
By contrast, the mountain of Moses trembles with fire and thunder, but it is where God speaks. It is where man learns his place, not by casting off his creatureliness, but by embracing it. And even Moses—great as he was—points beyond himself. As Hebrews 3:5–6 tells us, “Moses was faithful in all God’s house as a servant… but Christ is faithful over God’s house as a Son.”
This is the true and final glory: not that man becomes a god, but that God became a man. And in Christ—the greater Moses—we see the perfect image of manhood: humble, holy, obedient, sacrificial, radiant with the very glory of God (John 1:14).
So the question remains: Which mountain will you choose? The peak of pride, where you stand alone in your illusion of power? Or the mount of revelation, where you fall on your face and are lifted by grace?
In the end, it is not Zarathustra who stands in glory, but Moses—because Moses stood with God.
And Christ alone shines brighter still.
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Grace and peace,
Jake G
Reformed Faith Insights 