The Beauty of Decreasing: When Christ Becomes All
In a world chasing platforms and praise, John’s whisper still calls us: “He must increase, but I must decrease.” This
is not defeat—it’s deep surrender, and it’s the only path to true purpose.
John 3:30 – “He must increase, but I
must decrease.”
There comes a point in every
believer’s journey where God asks a difficult question—not, “Are you willing to
serve Me?” but,
“Are you willing to disappear, so that I might be seen more clearly?”
John the Baptist didn’t just preach
repentance. He lived it. He didn’t just prepare the way for Jesus—he moved out
of the way. His words, “He must increase, but I must decrease,” weren’t
just poetic. They were prophetic. They cut against every human instinct for
recognition, success, and influence.
They are still cutting today.
When
You’re No Longer in the Center
Have you ever felt invisible? Like
your voice doesn’t matter anymore?
Maybe you’ve poured into others, only to watch them rise while you remain in
the shadows. You trained them, served them, prayed for them—and now their names
are being celebrated while yours is forgotten.
That’s exactly what John’s disciples
feared when they came running to him in panic:
"Rabbi, the man you testified about is baptizing… and everyone is going
to Him!" (John 3:26)
To them, Jesus’ rise felt like John’s loss.
But not to John.
His joy was full—not because he was
still visible, but because Christ had become more visible.
“The friend of the bridegroom rejoices greatly at the bridegroom’s voice.”
(v. 29)
John saw what few do: we are not the center of the story. Jesus is.
The
Subtle Hunger for More
We don’t often say it aloud, but
sometimes our serving, preaching, or even praying is driven by the quiet hunger
to still be seen. Even in ministry, pride wears religious clothes.
We cling to titles, platforms, or approval. We resist being overlooked,
replaced, or forgotten. And slowly, almost unknowingly, our prayer becomes: “Let
me increase—at least a little.”
That’s why John’s words feel like
holy fire.
“He must increase. I must decrease.”
He didn’t say, “Let Him grow
alongside me.”
He didn’t say, “Let Him rise after I’ve done my part.”
He said: “Let me shrink until only Christ is visible.”
Letting
Go of the Stage
When David stepped aside for
Solomon, he didn’t argue. He handed over the blueprints and blessed his son’s
future.
When Moses reached the mountain and saw the Promised Land, he didn’t protest being
kept out—he bowed to the will of God.
Even Jesus, in the Garden, prayed not for increase but for surrender: “Not
My will, but Yours be done.”
Contrast that with Saul, who
couldn’t handle another man receiving praise.
Or Diotrephes in 3 John 9, who loved to be “first.”
Or even Martha, who, in her busyness, forgot that it wasn’t about
performance—but presence.
When the hunger for control or
visibility takes root, we stop making room for God.
But when we decrease, Christ can truly increase—in our homes, in our words, in
our silence.
The
Hidden Glory of Obscurity
Sometimes, God will hide you—not
because you’re unworthy, but because He’s doing something deeper.
Joseph sat in a prison before he was ever trusted with a palace.
Elijah hid by a brook.
Paul spent years in Arabia after his conversion.
Jesus lived thirty silent years before three loud ones.
We often equate fruit with fame, or
success with visibility. But some of the most powerful people in God’s kingdom
are the ones no one sees.
If you feel hidden right
now—unknown, overlooked, bypassed—it may be the mercy of God protecting your
soul from pride and preparing you for greater glory.
A
Prophetic Warning
But if we refuse to decrease—if we
cling to platforms, popularity, and self-made ministry—God will resist us.
He will not share His glory. He will not build on pride.
Many have started in the Spirit and ended in self, and their fall was not
sudden—it was the slow erosion of surrender.
Let this be our turning point.
Prayer:
Lord, forgive me for craving the
praise of men more than the presence of Christ.
Teach me to embrace obscurity if it makes room for Your glory.
Strip me of self-centered ambition and let me serve in hidden places with joy.
Make my heart a sanctuary where You are always first.
Increase, Lord—until You are all that remains.
Final
Whisper:
Let go of the spotlight—
It was never meant to heal you.
Step back from applause—
It cannot fill you.
Decreasing is not disappearance—
It’s discipleship.
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