Have you ever found yourself putting the spotlight on your own actions to make sure that they are seen and your accomplishments acknowledged? I know I have. I flash back to my time in the Army when the Brigade Commander was ranking all company commanders across the battalions as part of the annual performance reviews. I wanted to increase my shot at a top ranking, so I did my own mini-campaign of making sure the Brigade Commander knew how well my company had performed during tank gunnery compared to the other companies in the battalion, how well we had done in field exercises, and other actions of note to separate my performance from the rest of my peers. It is not something I am proud of in retrospect. I am relatively sure that it did not help my standing, and I am confident that it actually hurt my relationships with my fellow company commanders. At the time, my focus was on what I needed to do to position myself for the next promotion. My short sightedness caused me to burn some bridges in the process. I have attempted over the intervening years to reconnect with some of my peers from that era but have not been totally successful at it. For the record, I did not get the top ranking. I clearly did not follow this admonishment from Paul, and looking back, this was an unnecessary action that reflected poorly on the faith I proclaimed then and now.
There’s something deeply human about wanting to be seen, to be respected, even admired. We measure ourselves by the talents we bring, the things we’ve accomplished, or the roles we hold. But in Romans 12:3, Paul gives a warning to those who follow Christ: don’t think too highly of yourself. That’s not a suggestion to think less of ourselves but to think truthfully—through the lens of grace.
The gospel turns the world’s idea of greatness upside down. In a culture that often says, “Promote yourself,” Jesus says, “Humble yourself.” Where the world says, “Stand out,” Jesus says, “Serve others.” And Paul says, “Be honest in your evaluation of yourself.” Why? Because everything we have—our gifts, opportunities, strengths—they’re all from God. None of us is self-made. Our value doesn’t come from comparing ourselves to others but from being part of God’s body, with each of us playing a unique, grace-given role.
Humility isn’t thinking we’re worthless. It’s knowing that our worth comes from Christ—not our performance, our position, or our popularity. And because our worth is secure in Him, we don’t need to elevate ourselves over others. We can live freely, serve joyfully, and celebrate others sincerely. In the body of Christ, there’s no room for prideful competition or quiet comparison. There’s only space for honest evaluation—recognizing our gifts without boasting and recognizing others’ gifts without envy. Humility opens the door to healthy community, deep unity, and powerful impact.
But here’s the challenge: humility doesn’t come naturally. It grows out of the gospel. When we remember that we were lost and Jesus found us, that we were broken and He made us whole, pride loses its power. When we realize we’re not the hero of the story—Jesus is—we are freed to stop pretending and start participating in the bigger story He’s writing. Paul wrote Romans 12 after 11 chapters of rich, mind-blowing theology about God's mercy and grace. So, when he says, “Don’t think you are better than you really are,” he’s not trying to cut us down—he’s lifting us up into a new way of living: a life shaped by grace, grounded in truth, and marked by humility.
Whether you’ve followed Jesus for years or are just beginning to explore faith, the invitation is the same: Look at yourself honestly. Not through the lens of pride or insecurity, but through the faith God has given you. When we live that way, we not only live well—we live in a way that draws others in.
Humility isn’t weakness. It’s strength, surrendered. And in God’s family, that’s exactly what love looks like.
Reflection Questions:
Here are some questions to reflect on as you look at this verse and the rest of Romans 12:
Have you ever found yourself putting the spotlight on your own actions to make sure that they are seen and your accomplishments acknowledged? I know I have. I flash back to my time in the Army when the Brigade Commander was ranking all company commanders across the battalions as part of the annual performance reviews. I wanted to increase my shot at a top ranking, so I did my own mini-campaign of making sure the Brigade Commander knew how well my company had performed during tank gunnery compared to the other companies in the battalion, how well we had done in field exercises, and other actions of note to separate my performance from the rest of my peers. It is not something I am proud of in retrospect. I am relatively sure that it did not help my standing, and I am confident that it actually hurt my relationships with my fellow company commanders. At the time, my focus was on what I needed to do to position myself for the next promotion. My short sightedness caused me to burn some bridges in the process. I have attempted over the intervening years to reconnect with some of my peers from that era but have not been totally successful at it. For the record, I did not get the top ranking. I clearly did not follow this admonishment from Paul, and looking back, this was an unnecessary action that reflected poorly on the faith I proclaimed then and now.
There’s something deeply human about wanting to be seen, to be respected, even admired. We measure ourselves by the talents we bring, the things we’ve accomplished, or the roles we hold. But in Romans 12:3, Paul gives a warning to those who follow Christ: don’t think too highly of yourself. That’s not a suggestion to think less of ourselves but to think truthfully—through the lens of grace.
The gospel turns the world’s idea of greatness upside down. In a culture that often says, “Promote yourself,” Jesus says, “Humble yourself.” Where the world says, “Stand out,” Jesus says, “Serve others.” And Paul says, “Be honest in your evaluation of yourself.” Why? Because everything we have—our gifts, opportunities, strengths—they’re all from God. None of us is self-made. Our value doesn’t come from comparing ourselves to others but from being part of God’s body, with each of us playing a unique, grace-given role.
Humility isn’t thinking we’re worthless. It’s knowing that our worth comes from Christ—not our performance, our position, or our popularity. And because our worth is secure in Him, we don’t need to elevate ourselves over others. We can live freely, serve joyfully, and celebrate others sincerely. In the body of Christ, there’s no room for prideful competition or quiet comparison. There’s only space for honest evaluation—recognizing our gifts without boasting and recognizing others’ gifts without envy. Humility opens the door to healthy community, deep unity, and powerful impact.
But here’s the challenge: humility doesn’t come naturally. It grows out of the gospel. When we remember that we were lost and Jesus found us, that we were broken and He made us whole, pride loses its power. When we realize we’re not the hero of the story—Jesus is—we are freed to stop pretending and start participating in the bigger story He’s writing. Paul wrote Romans 12 after 11 chapters of rich, mind-blowing theology about God's mercy and grace. So, when he says, “Don’t think you are better than you really are,” he’s not trying to cut us down—he’s lifting us up into a new way of living: a life shaped by grace, grounded in truth, and marked by humility.
Whether you’ve followed Jesus for years or are just beginning to explore faith, the invitation is the same: Look at yourself honestly. Not through the lens of pride or insecurity, but through the faith God has given you. When we live that way, we not only live well—we live in a way that draws others in.
Humility isn’t weakness. It’s strength, surrendered. And in God’s family, that’s exactly what love looks like.
Reflection Questions:
Here are some questions to reflect on as you look at this verse and the rest of Romans 12:
God, thank You for the grace that humbles me and lifts me up at the same time. Forgive me for the times I’ve thought too much of myself—or too little. Help me see myself and others through the lens of Your truth. Teach me to walk in humility, not by trying harder, but by remembering all that You’ve done for me. Let Your grace shape how I live, how I serve, and how I love. Make me a person who builds others up, not someone who competes for approval. Show me my role in Your body and help me live it out with joy and humility. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
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