What God Holds in High Regard

Have you ever been humbled? I certainly have.

Back in college, while Mya (my now wife) and I were dating, we were both involved in student leadership. One semester we led the men's and women's ministries on campus.

We organized events together, discipled students, and honestly, I thought we had both done an incredible job.

At the end of the semester, the school held an awards banquet to recognize outstanding student organizations and leaders.

As they described the Student Organization of the Year, I quietly thought to myself, I’ve got this. Then the announcement came.

"The Student Organization of the Year is... the Women's Ministry!"

I remember thinking, Well... that's okay. Surely I'll win Student Leader of the Year!

I was confident. I thought I had earned it.

A few moments later they announced, "Student Leader of the Year goes to... Mya!"

I quickly realized that if I couldn't beat her, I better marry her! Thankfully, I've been winning awards by association ever since.

That evening taught me a lesson I've never forgotten: Those who exalt themselves will eventually be humbled.

As we've journeyed through Philippians 2, I've become convinced that this chapter contains one of the greatest concentrations of teaching on humility in the entire New Testament.

Paul commands believers to be humble. He points us to the perfect humility of Jesus. Then he finishes the chapter by introducing two ordinary men whose lives quietly modeled what humility actually looks like. Timothy and Epaphroditus.

Their names may not be as recognizable as Peter or Paul, but their examples are just as powerful. One truth ties their stories together:

God holds humility in high regard.

Timothy teaches us that humility is selfless. 

Paul says something remarkable about him: "I have no one else like Timothy, who genuinely cares about your welfare." What a compliment.

Paul doesn't praise Timothy's preaching ability. He doesn't celebrate his leadership gifts or his intelligence. He simply says that Timothy genuinely cared about people.

Not for appearances. Not because it was expected. Not because it looked good. He actually cared. I wonder if that's becoming increasingly rare.

Jesus warned that in the last days "the love of many will grow cold." It's hard not to see that happening around us. We've become experts at looking after ourselves while becoming strangers to our neighbors.

A tragic story from London illustrates this reality.

In 2019, a woman named Sheila Seleoane died alone in her apartment. Her body wasn't discovered until more than two years later. Neighbors noticed foul odors. Mail piled up. Rent went unpaid. Still, no one checked on her until authorities entered the apartment for an unrelated reason.

It's heartbreaking. But perhaps the story isn't only about Sheila.

Perhaps it's about what happens when we stop looking out for one another. How many people around us are quietly carrying burdens that no one notices? How many neighbors, coworkers, classmates, or even family members are longing for someone to simply care?

I don't think people question whether Christians love Jesus. I think they're wondering whether we love them. Humility asks different questions.

Who needs encouragement today? Who can I pray for by name? Whose burden can I help carry? Who have I overlooked?

Real humility shifts our attention away from ourselves and toward the people God has placed in front of us. Timothy reminds us that humility is selfless.

Then Paul introduces another man. Epaphroditus.

Paul describes him with five titles: brother, fellow worker, fellow soldier, messenger, and minister. Yet the statement that stands out most is this: "Honor people like him." Why?

Because he "risked his life for the work of Christ."

If Timothy shows us that humility is selfless, Epaphroditus teaches us that humility is sacrificial. Humility always costs something.

It requires us to lay down our preferences, our comfort, our reputation, our schedule, and sometimes even our dreams.

The challenge is that most of us don't mind sacrificing occasionally.

We'll make one big sacrifice every now and then. We'll volunteer for the special event. We'll give generously during a special offering. We'll go the extra mile once in a while.

But God shapes us far more through daily sacrifice than occasional sacrifice.

Think about the Grand Canyon.

Stretching nearly 280 miles long and over a mile deep, it's one of the most breathtaking places on earth. It wasn't carved by one dramatic event. It was formed by the steady flow of the Colorado River over thousands of years.

Little by little. Day after day. Year after year. And humility works the same way.

• Every time we choose forgiveness over offense… 

• Every time we give generously...

• Every time we listen instead of interrupting...

• Every time we serve without recognition...

• Every time we put someone else's needs ahead of our own...

God is carving the character of Christ deeper into our lives.

Transformation usually doesn't happen in one spectacular moment.

It happens through thousands of quiet acts of obedience.

Michelangelo once described creating his famous statue of David by saying that he simply chipped away everything that wasn't David.

That's a beautiful picture of what the Holy Spirit does in us.

Humility is allowing God to chip away everything that doesn't look like Jesus.

Our pride. Our selfishness. Our need for recognition. Our insistence on being first.

Bit by bit, He shapes us into the image of Christ. 

Pride makes us feel taller than everyone else, but it positions us for a fall. Humility often makes us feel smaller, but it positions us for God's grace.

And Scripture consistently reminds us which one God honors.

God holds humility in high regard.

May He help us become people who do the same.