Do nothing out of selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility consider others as more important than yourselves. —Philippians 2:3
Let’s go on a series of field trips. What we’re looking for is true humility. First, let’s go to your nearest federal prison. My suspicion is that being locked in a nine-by-twelve for several years might have a way of bringing the men inside to their knees. If staring at a concrete wall for a few decades doesn’t bring contrition, then what possibly could?
We meet with one inmate after another, but not only do we find little humility; we have never met so many innocent men in one afternoon! These guys are the pathetic victims of capricious parents or girlfriends, unfair circumstances, or an unjust system. “Boy,” I say to you wistfully as we walk to the parking lot, “this isn’t what I expected from men whose convictions are a matter of public record.”
The next week we rendezvous again. This time we’re visiting a professor at a small Bible college, somewhere in the Midwest. This man has quietly been teaching young students to love and serve Christ and to reverence His Word. We arrive at what looks to be a terribly unpretentious campus, littered with clean but modest frame buildings. A man who knows about our visit greets us as we step into the small lobby of the visitors’ center. He leads us to a small room with four or five straight-back chairs.
We thought we were coming to visit with one man but as it turned out, it was a handful of men. To our amazement and delight, our afternoon is like a visit with angels. “Guilty?” these men respond to our question about their qualifications to teach Bible students. Even though each one had multiple graduate degrees, they lowered their eyes when we tried to compliment them on their accomplishments. “We are sinners, broken men as ashamed as we can be. Thank God for His grace. What would we do without it?”
As we ride back to town, we discuss our experiment. “Isn’t it incredible,” I finally say, “that men who have every reason to be humbled by their deeds are strident?” “And,” you reply, “those who have literally given their lives to teaching, studying, prayer, and godly deeds seem overwhelmed by their unworthiness?”
Let’s take one more short “field trip.” For this one, you can stay right where you are. Instead of going somewhere, please read the following words: “Do nothing out of selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility consider others as more important than yourselves. . . . Adopt the same attitude as that of Christ Jesus, who, existing in the form of God, did not consider equality with God as something to be exploited. Instead he emptied himself by assuming the form of a servant” (vv. 3, 5–7).
And then it hits us. Even though we want to be humble, no matter how hard we try, our circumstances will never create humility. The prison inmates proved that even public humiliation doesn’t do the job. But then we think about the men who set aside prominence and fame and determined to follow Christ, even at the expense of life’s pleasures. They had found the secret. They had decided to humble themselves. This they did by placing themselves in God’s holy presence, seeking His grace and pardon, and serving others. In doing this, they had discovered how desperately sinful they were.
And then there was Jesus. Here was the Creator of the universe, the one who had every right to strut His stuff through life, showing off His awesome power. Instead, He laid it aside and “humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death—even to death on a cross” (v. 8).
Because of this decision to be humble, Jesus’s heavenly Father gave Him what the most presumptuous among us want in the first place—exaltation to the highest places.
Nothing will ever make us humble except a visit to the presence of God and a decision to consider others better than ourselves. This will be the best field trip of all.