I haven’t found “the key” to living a faithful Christian life. After 48 years of following Jesus, I still discover regularly how much further I have to go and how much room I have left to grow. Following Jesus is something young children and wizened saints can both do. Christian faith is not complicated, but it is complex. It doesn’t boil down to a single concept, or even just a few.
For several years now, though, I’ve kept returning to one idea: humility is a non-negotiable part of discipleship.
Throughout the Gospels, we hear it again and again. Jesus said the first shall be last, and the last shall be first. He said his disciples must become like little children. He said he came not to be served, but to serve and to give himself away. He said those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.
In Philippians 2, Paul challenges us to take on the mind of Christ, the mind of a servant, obedient even to death for the sake of others. He goes further still, urging us toward something many will find outlandish: that in humility we should regard others as more important than ourselves. Humility isn’t a minor theme tucked into a few verses. It is a thread running throughout Scripture.
I once heard Erwin McManus, founding pastor of Mosaic Church in Los Angeles, suggest something that has stayed with me for years. If humility is a virtue, and God is the most virtuous being in existence, then God must also be the most humble being in existence.
I find that worth sitting with: the One who is sovereign over all has chosen a posture of humility and servanthood.
What Humility Actually Looks Like
Calling humility a core principle of discipleship doesn’t mean I’ve mastered it. Far from it. It remains an aspiration I keep returning to, and a challenge that keeps returning to me.
It looks like listening when you’d rather speak, especially when you want to win an argument.
It looks like curiosity when you’re prone to think you already know all you need to know.
It looks like receiving correction without immediately explaining why the other person is mistaken.
It looks like apologizing without qualification, and without quietly waiting for the other person to apologize too.
It looks like doing something helpful when no one will notice, thank you for it, or even know it was you.
It looks like flexibility of heart: being willing to change your mind, letting someone else’s experience challenge your assumptions, and admitting that your perspective, however sincerely held, is still partial.
Humility doesn’t mean pretending we have no gifts, convictions, or wisdom. It doesn’t require us to diminish ourselves or deny what God has done in us. Humility isn’t thinking we’re worthless. It is learning to think truthfully about ourselves: loved by God, gifted by grace, limited in understanding, dependent on others, and always in need of mercy.
Maybe that is why humility is so difficult. It asks us to release the versions of ourselves we work so hard to protect. We want to be right, capable, admired, and in control. Jesus invites us into another way, one in which we don’t have to defend our importance because our worth is already secure in the love of God.
Where It Begins
This is where humility becomes more than good manners or an admirable personality trait. Christian humility begins with grace. We bring nothing to God that God hasn’t first given us. We don’t rescue ourselves. We are received, forgiven, restored, and sustained by love.
I still can’t offer “the key” to a faithful Christian life. But I increasingly suspect that humility opens many of its doors. It makes room for repentance because we can admit when we’re wrong. It makes room for community because we recognize how much we need one another. It makes room for growth because we remain teachable. Most of all, it makes room for Jesus, whose strength was revealed not through self-exaltation, but through self-giving love.
After 48 years, I still have much further to go. Maybe that isn’t a failure of discipleship. Maybe it is one of the places discipleship begins.
