Philippians 2:3–11
3 Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. 4 Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others. 5 Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, 6 who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, 7 but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. 8 And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. 9 Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, 10 so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, 11 and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.
(ESV)
Christmas Humility
The essence of Christmas is humility. All the elements of the incarnation press us up against the hard edges of Jesus’ humility.
God uses a virgin, just a teenager. Christ is born in a manger, that humble feeding trough, away from human comfort, out of doors, nowhere near flickering fires of a hearth.
Rough shepherds welcome Jesus. With startled sheep, they awake from slumbers on the hillside, tousled, rumpled, unprepared for an explosion of angelic praise.
All the elements of Christmas point there. A teenage mother. Lowly shepherds. A manger. Humility.
So here is the inescapable, striking thought. God is humble. God himself is humble. But how could God be humble? Creator of the universe, striker of stars, rotator of the sun and moon, eternal artist who paints each sunset, hangs the pictures of time, frames the borders of each galaxy. Humble?
Yes, humble.
Jesus’ humility is contrasted with his rightful power and position and glory. From the rim of heaven, he dives toward the earth, sailing downward, twisting through the layers of the cosmos until he plunges, supernaturally, into the womb of the virgin; he waits then, seconds, days, months slipping by, totally dependent as Mary weaves his heart, eyes, lungs, quietly composing every tendon and cell.
He leaves heaven and invades earth.
But Christmas humility requires a response. If Jesus is humble, we too should be humble. This is the logic of Philippians 2.
Philippians is written to a church, a church that is discouraged. Paul is in jail. Their hope is flagging. Conflict has flared. Paul rouses this church, reminding them of the descending humility of Jesus. They are one with him! They can have the same “mind” as Jesus, the same downward mobility.
To challenge them to humility, Paul reminds the church of how Jesus abandoned heaven, abandoned his rights of equality with his Father, and poured out his claims of power and took on the form of a servant. Paul points to Jesus’ obedience, lifts up the cross, and then reminds of Jesus’ exaltation.
Christmas obedience, according to Paul in Philippians, requires two responses, both exemplified by shepherds, Mary, and anyone who else came to the edge of the manger. Bent knees and exclaiming tongues.
Christmas humility—our humility because of his humility—requires a posture of worship, knees on the dirt floor of a barn in Bethlehem, voices shouting praise to the skies, with the angels, with the shepherds, and to anyone who will listen.
Have this mind among you which was also in Jesus. Humility. Let your tongue and your posture, let everything about you this Christmas, exalt Jesus for his humility.
Jesus the King, Jesus the helpless child, perfectly pictures his essential humility. The essence of Christmas is humility because the essence of the incarnation is humility. So, with our brothers and sisters, in our community, neighborhoods, families, in a world puffed up with its own power, let’s choose humility. Knees in the dirt, voices lifted high—he is the King!
Jon Dennis