Whether we like it or not—God doesn’t give us a choice—when we declare ourselves followers of Christ, when we accept His glorious gift of grace, mercy, and forgiveness, we’re also stepping into the “uniform” of a Christ-follower.
What does that look like, though?
Is it a coat and tie for men on Sunday morning, and a properly long dress for the ladies? The right haircut, the right amount of makeup and jewelry?
Not even close.
I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with any of those things—if that’s how you choose to present yourself, that’s your call. But those things aren’t part of the uniform of a Christ-follower. If they were, most of Jesus’ disciples—and Jesus Himself—wouldn’t pass the dress code.
A Countercultural Uniform
Jesus specifically chose people who did not conform to the world’s expectations for “religious” people. Why?
Because His kingdom doesn’t operate by worldly standards. His is a kingdom where the inside matters more than the outside, and where the heart determines the uniform.
When Jesus rebuked the religious leaders of His day, He didn’t do it for wearing the wrong robes or saying the wrong prayers. He rebuked them because, while everything looked polished on the outside, they were spiritually dead inside. As He put it:
“Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You are like whitewashed tombs, which look beautiful on the outside but on the inside are full of the bones of the dead and everything unclean.”
That’s a gut punch. But it’s also a clear indicator: the uniform of a Christ-follower has nothing to do with appearances—and everything to do with action and intention.
So What Does the Uniform Look Like?
Over the course of my journey with Jesus, I’ve come to understand that the real uniform isn’t about what we wear or how we look; it’s about how we love—and why we love.
Jesus tells us plainly:
“A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples…”
Not love as the world defines it—fleeting, transactional, self-serving love. But love that looks like Jesus: sacrificial, unrelenting, and extended even to those we’d rather not love.
It means loving your neighbors—even the ones who won’t cut their grass.
It means showing grace to that driver who cuts you off—or drives 10+ miles per hour under the speed limit (I’m working on those myself).
It means loving those who don’t think like you, vote like you, or believe like you.
It means seeing the brokenness behind bad behavior and treating it tenderly instead of smashing it on the ground.
What It Means to Wear a Uniform
Whether it’s a soldier, a police officer, or an athlete on a sports team, a uniform communicates something before a word is spoken.
It signifies identity—this person belongs to something larger than themselves.
It implies accountability—their behavior reflects on the team or institution they represent.
And in the military especially, a uniform demands meticulous attention to detail. Why? Because sloppiness doesn’t just reflect poorly on the individual—it reflects poorly on the entire force. In some cases, it can even cost lives.
When you wear the uniform, you don’t just represent yourself.
It’s the same for us as followers of Christ.
We’ve been given a new identity, we belong to something far greater than ourselves, and our words and actions reflect not just on us—but on Jesus Himself. That’s why Paul reminds us:
“We are therefore Christ’s ambassadors, as though God were making His appeal through us.”
Ambassadors. Representatives. People are watching.
Why It Matters
Here’s the thing: if people know you’re a Christ-follower (and hopefully they do), they’re watching. Not in a creepy way, but in a “Does this Jesus thing really make a difference?” kind of way.
When we treat others as Christ would, people get curious. They wonder what’s different about us—and that curiosity can open a door to faith.
But the reverse is also true.
When we act poorly—and worse, when we justify our behavior “in the name of Jesus”—we risk pushing people away from Him. That breaks God’s heart, and it breaks my heart, because I’ve seen it happen.
When Christians Behave Badly
My younger daughter has been deeply wounded by people who called themselves Christians—at key moments in her faith journey. These encounters drove a wedge between her and God. My wife and I continue to pray and gently guide her back into a relationship with Jesus, but there’s a lot of scar tissue.
Even in my own life, I was hurt by so-called Christians during my time at a Christian university. It rocked my faith early on.
But over time, I’ve matured. I’ve stopped judging God by the behavior of His followers.
It took me a while, but I finally realized how absurd it was to think I could judge Him—the One who sees the whole picture when I barely see a small section.
I’ve also learned to be slower to judge others. I don’t know what battles they’re fighting. They may be acting out of deep wounds or even spiritual deception—meaning, maybe they think they’re doing what they’re doing to glorify God, but they’re really following the prompting of the evil one.
Only God sees their heart. I can’t.
Right Action, Wrong Reason?
Now here’s the twist Jesus throws in (because He always takes it deeper):
It’s not just what we do that matters—it’s why we do it.
We’re not called to love people just because it’s the rule, or because it earns us points in heaven. We’re called to love because He first loved us (1 John 4:19).
Out of gratitude that He loves us in spite of our mess. Out of a heart healed by mercy.
Jesus told a parable about a servant who was forgiven an enormous debt, only to turn around and demand a small repayment from another servant. His master was furious. (See Matthew 18:21–35.)
We’ve been forgiven much. And Jesus wants our actions to reflect that—not as payment, but as response.
Trying to earn our way into heaven by “good deeds” misses the point entirely:
In the economy of God’s Kingdom, right behavior with the wrong motive is still wrong behavior.
Only God truly knows the heart—but we can pray for Him to reveal our motivations, to purify them, and to help us grow into people who reflect Jesus both in action and intention.
One Final Thought
I know this was a lot—but following Jesus isn’t supposed to be easy. He never promised that it would be.
When He said His yoke is easy and His burden is light (Matthew 11:30), He wasn’t saying the path would be painless. He was saying that, compared to the crushing weight of legalism and guilt, life with Him brings rest and restoration—because we walk it with Him.
And that’s the best part. He promised not ease, but His presence.
So yes, we represent Him. And that’s a heavy responsibility. A difficult uniform to wear well.
But we don’t carry it alone.
“To them God has chosen to make known among the Gentiles the glorious riches of this mystery, which is Christ in you, the hope of glory.”
Christ in you. Not just beside you, not just above you—but in you.
That’s what transforms us. That’s what makes us better representatives. That’s what helps us wear the uniform well and proudly. And that’s the source of the hope we carry into a hurting world.
This Memorial Day weekend, I find myself reflecting on those who’ve gone before me—those whose sacrifices have shaped the world I live in, the freedoms I enjoy, and the faith that gives my life purpose.
As an American, I pause with deep gratitude to honor the brave men and women who have given their lives in service to this country. From the beaches of Normandy to jungles in Vietnam, from the deserts of the Middle East to caves and crags in Afghanistan, countless individuals have laid down everything to preserve our freedoms and protect our way of life.
Many of them were young—barely more than boys and girls. Some had families. Some had dreams they never got to pursue. But they stood in the gap. They didn’t know my name, yet they fought for my freedom. That kind of selflessness humbles me. It’s worth remembering not just once a year, but as often as we enjoy the liberties their courage secured.
Freedom costs a lot. It has been paid for with blood, and I am thankful.
Grateful as a Follower of Christ
And I’m also grateful in a different way—as a follower of Jesus Christ.
I think about the early disciples and apostles, who left everything to follow a Rabbi from an obscure town. Many of them were persecuted, beaten, imprisoned, and killed—yet they carried the Good News to the ends of the earth. Because of their faithfulness, the message of Jesus didn’t stop in Nazareth or Jerusalem. It spread across nations, across centuries, and somehow—miraculously—it found its way to me.
I think about Paul, writing letters of encouragement and correction from a prison cell.
I think about Stephen, who forgave his executioners even as they stoned him.
I think about missionaries throughout history—some of whom gave up comfort, country, and even their lives to make sure people they would never meet could one day know Jesus.
Their sacrifice helped open the door to my salvation, and I don’t want to take that for granted.
Hebrews 11 & the Legacy of Faith
In Hebrews 11, the author lists a long line of faithful men and women—some celebrated, some unnamed—who lived and died without seeing the full promise, but trusted anyway. The chapter ends with this powerful reflection:
These were all commended for their faith, yet none of them received what had been promised, since God had planned something better for us so that only together with us would they be made perfect.
We run the race today because they ran it before us.
Carrying the Torch
Whether it’s the freedom I enjoy as a citizen or the faith I cling to as a believer, I know it didn’t come cheaply.
This weekend, I’ll celebrate and rest and enjoy time with my family—but I’ll also remember. I’ll give thanks for those who gave everything—on the battlefield and in the mission field—so that I could live free and live changed.
And I’ll ask myself: What am I doing with the freedom I’ve been given?
Am I using it to serve others? To tell the truth? To love like Christ?
May we never forget the ones who went before us—and may we honor them by living with the same courage, conviction, and selflessness they showed.
Most of us who follow Christ are deeply familiar with the promise of eternal life. It’s one of the most foundational truths of the Christian faith—that through Jesus’ sacrifice, we are forgiven, redeemed, and granted life forever with God in heaven, in paradise.
That’s exciting, to say the least. Not to mention the idea that it sounds way better than the alternative.
But then sometimes, Jesus talks about something that He refers to as abundant life, or having life to the full (depending on the translation):
He says this in the present tense, as though there is something more for His followers than just eternity with Him in paradise (as if that’s not enough!). Something right here, right now.
So, what does He mean by that? That’s what I’d like to explore this week.
Life… More Abundantly
The Greek word used here for “life” is zoē, which means not just biological existence, but the highest quality of life—real, genuine, active, and blessed. And “to the full” (perissos) means overflowing, more than enough, exceeding expectations.
Here’s one thing that comes to my mind when I hear this: we’re not talking about a big, fancy wine glass filled a quarter of the way with decent wine. No, friends, we’re talking about a big, fancy wine glass filled so full that it’s spilling all over the place. And the wine itself is exquisite, better than anything you’ve ever tasted.
So what is this abundant, overflowing life to the full that Jesus is talking about? And how do we live in it before we ever set foot in heaven?
I’d like to share some thoughts on how this journey has been for me.
More Than Heaven—Peace Here and Now
One of the greatest blessings I’ve experienced in my walk with Christ is His peace. Not just a fleeting sense of calm, but the deep-rooted shalom—the wholeness, harmony, and spiritual well-being that can carry you through life’s toughest storms. And I’ve experienced my fair share of storms–from stressful jobs, to losing jobs, to losing loved ones, and many others along the way.
And yet, as I’ve grown in my relationship with Jesus, I’ve learned (of course, not perfectly) how to take Jesus up on this offer that He made to His disciples, and to us:
That promise has held me up through countless moments of uncertainty and stress. As I mentioned, I’ve walked through many stormy seasons, and yet time and again, God’s peace has met me in the middle of it. This is not the kind of life we endure—it’s the kind of life we overcome, because Jesus has already overcome the world (John 16:33).
He is training us and has shown us how to be overcomers.
Gratitude That Transforms
Another part of the abundant life Jesus gives us is the ability to live with gratitude. Not forced thankfulness, but genuine joy in the blessings we’ve been given—especially when they’re easy to overlook.
Christ has taught me to recognize beauty in the ordinary: a flowering hibiscus in my garden, a bike ride this afternoon with my wife, a giant grin or endless chatter from my two grandsons. Abundance isn’t about having more—it’s about seeing the morein what we already have, in the world around us.
That posture of gratitude has made my life truly rich, even when material resources were scarce.
The Right Perspective Changes Everything
Finally, abundant life means living with a kingdom perspective. Life on earth can be incredibly difficult. Jesus never said it wouldn’t be. But He did promise that when we align our view with God’s purposes, it changes the way we see our circumstances.
When I lift my gaze above the current challenge, when I remember that the King of the universe is not only aware of my situation but actively working all things for my good (Romans 8:28), it reframes everything. What once seemed impossible now becomes endurable—even meaningful.
It has taken me a long time to get to this posture of heart, but I’ve finally come to believe strongly that even when it seems like there is no way to get through or around whatever challenge I’m facing, God will find a way, or make one that I had never imagined.
So What About You?
Are you living with the expectation of eternal life but missing out on the abundant life available today? Or are you already engaging with this idea of living life to the full here and now?
Jesus didn’t come just to prepare a place for us in heaven—He came to transform our hearts, our outlook, and our daily lives today.
“Now this is eternal life: that they know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom you have sent.”
Abundant life isn’t just about what we receive—it’s about who we know. And how that relationship changes everything.
What to Do Now
Take some time this week to reflect:
Where am I not living in the abundance Jesus promised?
Have I been missing the peace, gratitude, and perspective He offers?
How can I invite Jesus into the here-and-now parts of my life—not just the eternal ones?
Ask Him to open your eyes to the fullness of life He came to give.
And if you’ve experienced moments of God’s abundant life in surprising or unexpected ways, I’d love to hear your story in the comments. Or tell others—it’s a great way to convey how knowing Jesus has transformed your life.
Let’s encourage each other to walk not only toward heaven—but in the joy, peace, and richness of God’s presence today.
When I was small and fevered, Eyes heavy, body weak, She stayed up late beside me, With cool hands and whispered words, Read me stories into the night, Until the monsters lost their grip. She made me better.
When I said, “I can’t,” When fear clutched my lungs like a fist, She saw more in me than I could, Spoke belief into my soul, Tied my shoes, nudged me forward— Refused to let me quit. She made me better.
When I crossed the line, When my words were sharp or selfish, She didn’t look away. With firm love and tear-brimmed eyes, She corrected, shaped, forgave, Taught me that love sets boundaries. She made me better.
She’s gone—but not gone. I see her in the mirror, Hear her in my words, Carry her in my compass When I’m not sure what’s right. Wherever I go— She is with me.
And now I see her legacy Through the eyes of other mothers:
My wife, Loving our kids with a fierce, unshakable joy, A honey badger wrapped in grace, Fighting for their hearts, Holding them when they break. She makes them better.
My daughter, With Mom’s wisdom tucked in her pocket, Now raises little ones of her own, Sharing wonder and warmth, Passing on the quiet strength Of those who came before. She makes them better.
Even Jesus had a mom. She wasn’t perfect—how could she be? But she loved Him, Cradled the Savior of the world, Taught Him how to walk and speak. And maybe—just maybe— Mary made Him better.
When I thank God for my blessings, I’m grateful for the mothers, Who bind wounds and shape souls, Who pray over cribs and never give up on us, Who show us, more than anyone else, What God’s love looks like Wrapped in human skin.
To every mom, stepmom, grandmother, mother-figure, or spiritual mom—thank you for the way you love, serve, and shape the world one soul at a time.
And to those remembering a mother who is no longer here, may today be filled not only with tears, but with warm memories, quiet joy, and the enduring presence of her love.
If this poem touched you or reminded you of a mother in your life, I’d love to hear your story in the comments below. Let’s celebrate them together.
Moms don’t just raise us—they shape us. And through their love, we catch a glimpse of the heart of God.
There’s a peculiar detail tucked into the Resurrection story in Luke 24 — and every time I read it, I stop and think, Wait… what just happened?
It’s the moment on the road to Emmaus, where two followers of Jesus, one named Cleopas and the other unnamed, encounter the risen Christ but don’t recognize Him. He walks with them. Teaches them. Unpacks Scripture from Moses to the Prophets — the ultimate Bible study from the Word Himself.
I wrote a blog post about this five years ago, early in my blogging journey, called “Stumbling Toward Emmaus“. But I didn’t focus on the moment I want to unpack today. Here it is.
Unrecognized Jesus, Cleopas, and his unnamed friend arrive at their destination. Cleopas and his friend invite this stranger to stay for dinner. When Jesus breaks the bread… they seeHim.
And then — poof !— He vanishes.
Then their eyes were opened and they recognized him, and he disappeared from their sight.
What?? Why would Jesus disappear the very moment they realized who He was?
This feels like biblical nonsense. But as I said in the introduction to this series—nothing in Scripture is there by accident. So what is God trying to teach us in this odd little moment?
Did He Really Disappear?
It’s easy to picture this scene through a Hollywood lens: bright light, stunned expressions, and Jesus vanishing into thin air. But maybe there’s more happening than a miraculous disappearing act.
The resurrection marked a shift — Jesus was preparing His followers for the next chapter. He would soon no longer be with them physically, but that didn’t mean He would abandon them. In fact, He was getting them ready to recognize His presence without seeing Him.
Right after they recognized Him, they say:
“Were not our hearts burning within us while he talked with us on the road and opened the Scriptures to us?”
Even after His bodily ascension, Jesus promised His presence. And not only that—He promised the Holy Spirit, who would be with them and in them.
“And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another advocate to help you and be with you forever—the Spirit of truth… you know him, for he lives with you and will be in you.”
“But the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you all things and will remind you of everything I have said to you.”
In other words, Jesus was preparing His followers for life after the Resurrection—a life led by the Spirit, not just by sight. This Emmaus moment is a transition point, teaching us to see Jesus with the eyes of our hearts.
Why Emmaus? Why Them?
There’s something beautifully subversive about Jesus choosing to reveal Himself—not to Peter or John or His family—but to Cleopas and an unnamed companion. These weren’t the apostles or religious leaders. They were ordinary followers, disoriented, discouraged, and wandering.
And Jesus met them on the road.
He didn’t appear at the temple. Or atop the Mount of Olives. He came alongside two confused people walking away from Jerusalem, and walked with them, unrecognized.
Why?
Maybe to remind us that He meets us in our questions. In our confusion. In our disillusionment. In our walk away from hope.
And He’s patient enough to walk with us until our eyes are opened.
So… Why Did He Disappear?
Because they no longer needed to see Him to know Him.
The breaking of bread had revealed His identity. The Scriptures He explained had revealed His mission. Their burning hearts had testified to His presence.
He vanished — but He hadn’t left them. He was still with them. Just in a new way.
For Us Today
This story may feel like biblical nonsense on the surface—but it holds such a powerful truth:
We don’t always see Jesus. But that doesn’t mean He’s not there. The burning in your heart—the Spirit stirring in your soul—that’s Him. The Word opened to you, the bread broken, the friend who walks beside you—that’s Him, too.
And He promised He will never leave you.
So as we stumble toward Emmaus in our own lives—wondering what’s next, questioning what just happened, aching to see Jesus—we can remember: He’s walking with us already.
Even if we don’t recognize Him at first.
What about You?
Have you ever experienced a time when you didn’t “see” Jesus—but later realized He had been with you all along?
I’d love to hear your thoughts.
Also—since this is part of the Making Sense of Biblical Nonsense series—if this reflection resonated with you, or you have other Bible passages that have always puzzled you, let me know. I’d love to explore them in future episodes.
Until next time, may your heart burn within you as He walks beside you — even if your eyes haven’t caught up just yet.
Before we dive into today’s topic, I want to take a minute to introduce this new series. Let me start by clarifying that I would never dare label anything in the Bible as “nonsense.” The Bible is the Inspired Word of God, true and trustworthy from beginning to end.
That said, if I’m being honest, I’ve stumbled across many passages throughout my journey with Jesus that have, at first glance, seemed confusing, puzzling… even nonsensical.
Early in my walk with Christ, I would often wrestle with a confusing verse for a few minutes, then shrug my shoulders and move on, thinking, Well, maybe someday this will make sense. As my faith deepened, I learned to pray in those moments, asking the Holy Spirit to reveal what God wanted me to see.
Sometimes clarity came quickly. Other times? Not at all. And I’ve come to be at peace with that.
Here’s Why
God tells us through His prophet Isaiah that His ways are higher than our ways and His thoughts higher than our thoughts (Isaiah 55:8-9). If the Creator of the universe fits neatly into my human understanding, then He isn’t much of a God, is He?
So, I think it’s OK with God if certain parts of the Bible don’t make sense to us—in other words, if we think they’re nonsense, as long as we never stop trying to understand them, and as long as we don’t discard the rest of the Bible just because some parts of it are hard to understand (as I believe many secular people have done, to the extent that they have even explored the Word of God for themselves).
Anyway, I now believe that every confusing passage will unfold its meaning when God knows I’m ready to receive it—when I need it most.
To be clear, this series is not about poking holes in Scripture. I remain steadfast in my belief that the Bible is the infallible Word of God, the Absolute Truth, even if it contains passages that don’t make sense to me.
This series is about walking together through some of the verses that may have left us scratching our heads—digging deeper, praying for insight, and trusting the Spirit to reveal truth in His perfect timing. I pray that it encourages you—and reminds you that struggling to understand a passage doesn’t mean your faith is broken. It simply means you’re growing, and that you’re persisting in your journey with Him, even through the challenging and confusing parts.
And now, onto today’s post, the first episode:
How Can You Possibly Be Born Again?
One of the most famous — and initially confusing — conversations Jesus ever had was with a man named Nicodemus, a Pharisee and member of the Jewish ruling council. In spite of being part of a group of religious leaders who always seemed to be trying to discredit Jesus instead of recognizing Him for who He was, Nicodemus actually seemed to be seeking the Truth and trying to discern whether Jesus really could be the promised Messiah. It’s recorded for us in chapter 3 of John’s gospel.
Nicodemus comes to Jesus at night, curious but cautious. And Jesus doesn’t waste time or mince words, seeming to sense Nicodemus’ seeking heart:
“Very truly I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God unless they are born again.”
It’s a fair question! If you or I were hearing this for the first time, we’d probably ask something similar. And that’s exactly the point: Jesus used a shocking metaphor to crack open a truth that Nicodemus—and all of us—desperately needed to grasp.
To be “born again” is not about biology. It’s about spiritual rebirth. I know the term “born again” has been overused, to the point where we probably skate right past it, no longer pausing to ponder what this really means.
So, let’s unpack it a bit and see if we can re-infuse the term with the rich and deep meaning Jesus intended for it.
When a baby is born, it enters an entirely new world — one it had no power to create, and one it cannot survive in on its own. It cannot understand that world, nor can the baby control it.
Everything must be provided for a newborn baby: nourishment, protection, love, guidance. Birth is a radical break from what came before. It’s no wonder that one of a baby’s first actions outside the womb is to scream its head off. I always wonder if they’re trying to say, “Put me back! I liked things the way they were!”
But you can’t do that. Birth is a beginning. A starting-over. A brand-new life.
Jesus was telling Nicodemus—and telling us—that following Him isn’t about tweaking our old life, polishing it up a bit, or trying harder to be good. It’s about receiving a completely new life from God. A life so new that it requires a spiritual birth, as real and as complete as our physical birth.
We sometimes hear people say, “I’m trying to be a better person” or “I’m working on getting my act together.” But Christianity isn’t about self-improvement or cleaning up your act. It’s about dying to the old self—and being born again into the new.
Jesus uses other confusing metaphors to describe this, too:
Dying to ourselves (Luke 9:23)
Taking up our cross and following Him (also Luke 9:23)
We’ll unpack those powerful yet confusing ideas more fully in a future episode of this series.
But for today, the key is this: Being born again means surrendering the idea that we can fix ourselves—and receiving, by faith, the brand-new life that only God can give.
If this post resonated with you, or even if it stirred new questions, I’d love to hear from you!
And since this is the first episode of Making Sense of Biblical Nonsense, I’d also love your feedback about the idea of the series itself. If you like it, let me know — and if there are particular passages that have always left you scratching your head, suggest them! I’d love to explore them together in future episodes.
You can leave a comment below or send me a message — I’d be honored to hear your thoughts.
Until next time, keep seeking, keep asking, and keep trusting that in His perfect time, God will make all things clear.
…or so we thought. He even said it: “It is finished”. We buried Him in a borrowed tomb, Sealed it with immovable stone. Dead is dead.
Right?
But wait! Some say the tomb is empty. Angels tell us that He's not here. How can that be?
Who is this Man, Who walks out of His grave?
I mean, wasn’t it a little strange, This Savior of ours talking about Dying and rising from the dead, Warning us that we would mourn While the world rejoices, but then Our grief would turn to joy? Was He our Sacrificial Lamb of God, Pulling our sins from the depths so He could take our punishment, or Judah’s Lion, roaring unafraid In evil’s face, defeating death and hell and Our addictions?
What does He mean, Light in the darkness, The Bread of Life, Wellspring of Living Water, quenching all thirst?
Yeah, not everything He says and does Makes sense.
Even so, We celebrate Him who Taught us to love others by Returning to us who abandoned Him, Making us breakfast in the midst of our hopelessness, Restoring the one who denied knowing Him. Taught us to love God by Revealing His glory through surrender, Convincing us that even death obeys our Father, Showing us that resurrection is God’s answer to loss,suffering. Taught us to love ourselves by Giving us grace before we cleaned up, Naming us brothers and sisters, not traitors, Giving us new life and purpose beyond our failures. Has overcome my brokenness, Is overcoming my brokenness, Will always overcome our brokenness.`
No, none of this makes sense, But here we are. Truth rarely fits in a box. It is finished, and yet We’re just getting started. Somehow, He is risen! Through God’s power to make all things new, He is risen indeed! And because of that— So are we.
Crucify Him! Away with Him! Who is He to come in the Name Of the Lord?
We strip His garments off To shame the so-called King. We shout, we sneer, we raise our fists— But did we ever really know the One we condemned? Who does He think He is?
I mean, wasn’t it a little strange, This Savior of ours— Silent before His accusers, Carrying His own cross, Climbing not a throne of gold, But a hill of death? What sort of savior is that? He can’t even save Himself…
But not everything He does Makes sense anyway.
Even so, We mock Him who Told us to love others with impossible demands: Love my neighbor as much as I love myself, Hang out with people who aren’t like me, Pray for my enemies. Told us we should love a God who Let my loved one die, Lets bad things happen to good people, Doesn’t answer my prayers like I think He should. Told us to love ourselves even though We don’t always do or say the right thing, We can’t live up to His standards, We cling to our addictions more than Him. Spoke uncomfortable, inconvenient truths, Set captives free but couldn’t free Himself, Let our brokenness nail Him to the cross.
What a waste, What a fool! He claimed to be God, but God doesn’t die. It is finished…
Hosanna! Blessed is He Who comes in the Name Of the Lord!
We lay our cloaks down To honor our saving King, We sing, we shout, we raise our palm branches— But do we really know the One we praise? Who is this?
I mean, wasn’t it a little strange, This King of ours— Riding not a war horse, But a borrowed donkey, Entering not through the Eastern Gate, The gate of victorious kings, But through the Sheep Gate, The entrance for sacrificial lambs?
But not everything He does Makes sense anyway.
Even so, We celebrate Him who Taught us to love others by Showing us, Touching the untouchable, Washing the filth from our feet, from our hearts. Taught us to love God by Showing us, Talking to Him, listening for His voice Helping us see how much He loves us. Taught us to love ourselves by Restoring dignity to me, to broken people, Calling you and me His children, not outcasts, Reminding us that God made us in His image. Set us free with keys of truth, Released us from our bondage, Shattered the lies we’ve learned to live with.
What a King, What a Savior! May He reign forever! Hosanna!
No, I’m not talking about myself. That title is a nod to a humorous old country song—but it takes on a whole new meaning when I think about Jesus.
Lately, thanks in part to watching The Chosen (my favorite TV show), I’ve been paying closer attention to the way Jesus interacts with people in the Gospels. Again and again, I see someone who relates to others from a place of radical humility. There is no trace of arrogance, no hint of, “I created you, so get it together” or “I’m better than you.” Instead, I see someone who enters into the pain and struggles of others, someone who truly sees them and lifts them up as though they are His equal.
And that amazes me. Because Jesus is the greatest Person who has ever lived or ever will live. He created humanity from a lump of clay. He made you and me and everything we can see. He is God incarnate. It doesn’t get any greater than that. If anyone had the right to assert superiority, it was Him. Yet He chose humility.
Why? Why is that important?
That’s what I’d like to expore today.
The Humility of Jesus
Jesus’ life and ministry were marked by humility from the very beginning. He was born not in a palace but in a stable (Luke 2:7). He lived as a carpenter’s son in a backwater town. When He launched His ministry, He didn’t choose to associate with the powerful, but with fishermen, tax collectors, and sinners.
In Philippians 2:5-8, Paul captures this beautifully:
In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus: Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death—even death on a cross!
Jesus humbled Himself, even when it cost Him everything. This is the kind of humility, of sacrificial love, that God wanted us to see when He hatched His plan to rescue and redeem the world.
Humility in Action
One of the most powerful examples of Jesus’ humility comes in John 13, when He washes His disciples’ feet. This was a task reserved for the lowest servant in a household. Yet the Son of God, the greatest Man who ever lived, knelt down, wrapped a towel around His waist, and scrubbed the filth from the feet of those who would shortly abandon Him.
“Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet. I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you.”
Another example is how Jesus treated the woman caught in adultery (John 8:1-11). He didn’t shame her. He didn’t lecture her. He defended her dignity and gently told her to go and sin no more. He restored her—the opposite of what the religious leaders had in mind to do with her.
Time and again, Jesus humbled Himself to lift others up. Whether it was healing lepers, touching the unclean, dining with outcasts, or offering forgiveness, He consistently put others first.
Humility in a Self-Exalting World
In today’s culture, humility often gets lost. Or worse yet, it is discouraged. Social media, resumes, and personal branding all encourage us to showcase our strengths, achievements, and highlight reels. It’s easy to fall into the trap of self-promotion.
But through Jesus’ example, the Kingdom of God turns that upside down. In Matthew 23:12, Jesus says:
“For those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”
As C.S. Lewis writes in Mere Christianity, true humility isn’t about self-deprecation, as so many people tend to consider humility these days. A common paraphrase of his point puts it this way:
“Humility is not thinking less of yourself, it’s thinking of yourself less.”
Attributed to C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity
All of this gets to the heart of why God thought this was an important characteristic to model for us: it’s about seeing others as God sees them, stepping into their shoes, and offering grace, compassion. The best way we can share God’s love to others is by putting their needs above our own.
That takes loads of humility.
Following the Humble King
But as followers of Christ, we are called to model our lives after His. Of course, that’s never easy. God knows this is a challenge for us. I think that’s why it was so important to Him that Jesus model this behavior for us, show us that we can live lives of humility.
He also knows we’ll mess it up more often than not. But He extends us more grace than we can ever imagine, and asks us to try to do better next time.
Wrestling with Humility
I have to confess here that this has always been a struggle for me. Thankfully, God has blessed me with family members and friends who are so much better at this than I’ll ever be. Through their examples and frequent “gentle” reminders from my journies through the Bible, I am often reminded that this is the way Jesus calls us to interact with those around us.
In case it’s helpful to you, here are some of the questions I ask myself when I am struggling to embrace humility:
When I’m tempted to judge someone else, can I recall to mind a time when I struggled with the very issue that just tripped them up?
Am I willing to serve others without recognition?
Can I celebrate others without comparing myself?
Will I admit when I’m wrong and ask for forgiveness? (my wife will attest to how especially hard this one is for me…)
Do I listen more than I speak?
Can I picture where I’d be, what kind of person I’d be if God hadn’t extended me grace more times than I can count?
When I’m tempted to think of myself or my accomplishments as great, can I picture how “great” I or my accomplishment would be if God hadn’t given me the abilities and opportunities He has? In other words, how “great” would I be if God hadn’t blessed me the way He has?
These are examples of the the daily opportunities I have to walk in humility, just as Jesus did. Do any of these hit close to home for you?
Call to Action
What would it look like for you to embrace humility—the humility that Jesus demonstrated—today?
Maybe it means apologizing first, even when you’re not entirely at fault. Maybe it means celebrating someone else’s success without envy. Or maybe it’s simply choosing to listen more intentionally, putting someone else’s needs ahead of your own.
Take a moment and ask Jesus:
Lord, where in my life do You want to cultivate more humility? Help me to follow Your example, to serve others, and to love without needing to be seen.
Then pay attention to where He leads you. Because in His Kingdom, the humble are the ones who reflect His glory best.
If you’ve seen humility modeled in a powerful way or have a story about how God has used humility to grow your faith, I’d love to hear it in the comments. Let’s continue this journey together—following our humble, loving Savior, who truly is great.
Master's Canvas - Writing & Photography by David K. Carpenter 