“He must become greater; I must become less.” — John 3:30
Lately, I have found myself reflecting on the life of John the Baptist, and what strikes me most is how willingly he embraced obscurity.
John was not a man who seemed concerned with fitting in. His diet was unusual. His clothing was unconventional. His lifestyle was isolated. Even his preaching was direct and uncompromising. While many seek acceptance, John sought obedience. While many chase recognition, John pursued purpose.
He stood in the wilderness eating locusts and wild honey. He wore garments made of camel’s hair. He preached repentance boldly and unapologetically, regardless of how his message was received. Yet beneath all these outward expressions was something far more remarkable: a profound humility.
When speaking about Jesus, John declared that he was not worthy even to untie the straps of Christ’s sandals. Imagine that. Here was a man chosen by God to prepare the way for the Messiah, a man whom Jesus Himself praised, and yet John viewed himself as unworthy of performing the most menial task for Christ.
As I reflected on this, I began to wonder if John understood something that many of us struggle to grasp.
Perhaps he understood the reward of humility so deeply that he never pursued it.
Scripture teaches that those who humble themselves will be exalted. Yet John never appears motivated by the promise of exaltation. He seemed entirely consumed by the mission itself. His focus was not on what humility might earn him; his focus was on making room for Christ.
In a strange and beautiful way, perhaps John was humble enough not to even consider himself worthy of the reward that humility brings.
His life wasn’t an exercise in self-deprecation. It wasn’t false humility or performative modesty. It was the genuine surrender of a man who understood that the Kingdom was bigger than himself.
John’s purpose was never to build his own platform.
His purpose was to point to another.
Every sermon, every sacrifice, every strange choice of lifestyle served one purpose: to prepare hearts for Jesus.
And when Jesus finally appeared, John did something many people struggle to do—he stepped aside.
He decreased.
He allowed the spotlight to move away from him.
He allowed his influence to diminish so that Christ’s influence could increase.
What a challenge for a generation that is constantly encouraged to build a brand, grow a following, and protect a reputation.
John reminds us that there is freedom in not needing to be noticed.
There is freedom in being faithful when no one applauds.
There is freedom in serving a purpose greater than personal recognition.
The Kingdom of God has always been advanced by people who were willing to be forgotten so that Christ would be remembered.
John’s life teaches us that true humility is not thinking less of ourselves because we are worthless. Rather, it is thinking of ourselves less because we have become captivated by something infinitely greater.
Perhaps the greatest reward of humility is not eventual promotion, recognition, or influence.
Perhaps the greatest reward is simply being close enough to God’s purpose to play our part in His story.
John understood this.
He embraced obscurity, not because he lacked value, but because he had discovered something more valuable than being seen.
He had found his purpose.
And for the sake of that purpose, for the sake of the Kingdom, he was willing to decrease.
May we have the courage to do the same.
