Introduction

When we contemplate the nature of God, our minds are rightly drawn to His majesty, transcendence, and sovereignty. We speak of Him as the omnipotent Creator, the eternal King, and the uncaused First Cause, whose being is infinitely beyond our own. In our desire to honour these truths, we often hesitate to speak of ideas which risk incompatibility, such as God’s humility. The idea can feel irreverent, as if we are attempting to diminish the Almighty by attributing to Him a virtue that in humans is often born of limitation or a recognition of a subordinate status. We fear that to speak of a humble God is to make Him smaller. Yet, in this reverence, we risk overlooking an aspect of His revealed character. Divine humility is not born of weakness, but of strength; it is not a contradiction of His majesty, but the attribute through which His greatness and mercies are most clearly manifested. It reveals a power that achieves divine ends despite perceived weakness, and a sovereignty so absolute that it can freely choose to self-limit for the sake of His redemptive purpose while forfeiting nothing of His majesty.

The biblical narrative reveals a God who is not solely a distant, static monarch. Instead, Scripture introduces us to a God who willingly condescends to engage with His creation in a personal way. He reveals His humility by participating in His creation through His own promises and covenants, and He demonstrates it in the final act of entering into humanity in the person of Jesus Christ. This divine humility is not a weakness or a lessening of His deity, but an expression of His power and freedom. It is the freedom to stoop without ceasing to be God, a capacity that a lesser being could never possess. It is the overlooked characteristic of a redeeming God that does not remain distant but draws near.

Divine Condescension: The Eternal Engaging with Time

The Christian understanding of God’s eternality establishes Him as the uncreated, self-existent ground of all being, a reality that transcends time itself. This truth finds its personal expression in the biblical depiction of God’s active participation within His creation. God’s decision to create a universe bound by time and space was a sovereign act, willed from His eternal counsel, not from any necessity. Having brought the framework of time into being, God then, in a further act of will, chose to engage with it. He did not remain a distant observer of the history He had set in motion. Instead, He entered into it as an active participant. This means that God’s interactions within history—His responses to human actions, His covenants, and the unfolding of His redemptive plan—are real, sequential, and meaningful. For God to engage with creation in this way does not diminish His eternal nature; it magnifies His freedom and power. He reveals Himself as a God who is not only transcendent over time but also immanent within it. This is not a contradiction, but a reality made possible only by the willed participation of the eternal God within time: the eternal God, who is not subject to the limitations of time in His essential being, freely chooses to act and relate to His creatures within the temporal realm He made. It is this willing participation that makes a genuine relationship between God and humanity possible.

This engagement is an act of condescension, a willed self-limitation where the eternal God enters the temporal framework He established. This is demonstrated in His personal dealings with humanity, particularly with Abraham and Moses.

Consider God’s interaction with Abraham before the destruction of Sodom in Genesis 18. Having determined the city’s fate, God  pauses and reveals His internal counsel, asking a rhetorical question that unveils His relationship with Abraham: “Shall I hide from Abraham what I am about to do?” (Genesis 18:17). This is a statement of friendship; God chooses to bring His human servant into His confidence, treating him not as a subject to be commanded, but as a friend to be consulted. What follows is not a monologue, but a negotiation. Abraham, a man of “dust and ashes,” is emboldened by this condescension to stand before the Lord and intercede. He questions the Judge of all the earth, appealing to God’s own character: “Far be it from You to do such a thing… Shall not the Judge of all the earth deal justly?” (Genesis 18:25). God does not rebuke this boldness. Instead, He engages. Abraham bargains, moving from fifty righteous people down to ten, and at each step, God listens patiently and affirms His willingness to relent. The Creator of the cosmos condescends to reason with His creature.

This pattern of humility is repeated with Moses, the only man in the Old Testament explicitly said to have spoken with God “face to face, as a man speaks to his friend” (Exodus 33:11). After Israel’s sin with the golden calf, God’s judgment was ready to consume the nation. Yet, He condescends to allow Moses to intercede. Moses appeals not to God’s mercy alone, but to His reputation and His covenant promises. In response, “the LORD relented from the disaster which He had threatened to bring on His people” (Exodus 32:14). Their friendship was such that Moses later makes the request, “I pray You, show me Your glory!” (Exodus 33:18). Again, God condescends. He does not rebuke the request but agrees to make His “goodness” pass before Moses, protecting him from a glory no mortal can see and live. These interactions with Abraham and Moses reveal a God whose sovereignty includes both the power to issue unilateral decrees from a distance and the humility to choose relational dialogue.

Swearing by Himself

Beyond direct encounters, a pattern of God’s humility is revealed in the way He formally binds Himself to His creation through covenants. It is important to understand that God is under no external obligation to enter into such relationships. As the sovereign Creator, He is self-sufficient and not bound by any necessity outside of His own nature. His decision to establish these covenants is an act of His sovereign will, a self-determined decree flowing from His character and purposes. This is a theme in the biblical narrative, seen in His promises to Noah, Abraham, and David. These covenants, by their nature, involve promises of land, descendants, and protection—realities that are only meaningful within a temporal and historical context. This act of covenant-making underscores God’s commitment to His creation, a commitment He freely chose to make. His freedom is therefore shown not merely in the absence of external constraints, but in the power to voluntarily limit Himself for His own redemptive purposes.

The certainty of these covenants is underscored by an act of self-commitment: God swearing an oath. The book of Hebrews highlights this in relation to Abraham:

“For when God made the promise to Abraham, since He could not swear by no one greater, He swore by Himself, saying, ‘I will surely bless you and I will surely multiply you.’ And so, having patiently waited, he obtained the promise.” (Hebrews 6:13-15).

For humans, an oath invokes a higher authority to guarantee a promise. But God, being the highest authority, has no one greater to swear by. His decision to swear by His own being is an act of condescension. He stoops to the level of human legal and relational constructs to provide clarity about how He will act. While this passage in Hebrews specifically refers to Abraham’s promise, it reveals a principle applicable to all of God’s covenants. Whenever God enters a covenant, He, by His own sovereign decree, constrains Himself. The unconditioned God voluntarily binds Himself to deal with humanity within the specific confines of how He has declared He will act. This self-limitation provides a foundation of certainty. He establishes the rules of engagement and then pledges His character to abide by them. This gives His creatures a reliable basis for their relationship with Him, knowing with certainty how He will respond to both faithfulness and unfaithfulness. Covenants such as the one given through Moses in Deuteronomy make this clear, outlining not only promises of blessing for obedience but also warnings of judgment for disobedience. The oath-bound nature of God’s covenant means He will be faithful to His word in both mercy and in judgment.

This act is one of humility because it is for the benefit of humanity, providing a clear standard of truth. The unconditioned Being, accountable to no one, willingly places Himself under no obligation other than that of His own word. He binds Himself by His own character—His holiness, faithfulness, and power to ensure that His promises and warnings are not just statements of intent, but realities. This commitment does not mean there is only one possible way for God to act. His character provides the boundaries; for example, He cannot be unjust. Yet, a scope for a wide range of possible actions within those boundaries is necessary, otherwise God ceases to be a free agent. If His nature determined only one possible course of action in every circumstance, He would not be God, but a pre-determined automaton with no freedom of will, merely executing a script dictated by His own attributes. For God to be God, there must be freedom. His dialogue with Abraham illustrates this: both destroying Sodom immediately and sparing it for the sake of the righteous are consistent with His just character. The act of covenantal promise is a further self-limitation within this scope of freedom. By agreeing to spare the city for ten righteous people, God, in His freedom, voluntarily constrains Himself to one specific course of action out of many just alternatives, all for the sake of his friend. This self-imposed bond, born of His freedom, is not a sign of weakness, but an expression of His reliability. It is the act of a sovereign who chooses to give His people a firm foundation for understanding Him.

The Ultimate Expression: The Humility of Christ

The ultimate expression of God’s humility is found in the incarnation of Jesus Christ. The Apostle Paul captures this in his letter to the Philippians, a passage that is a foundation for understanding Christ’s humility:

“Have this attitude in yourselves which was also in Christ Jesus, who, although He existed in the form of God, did not regard equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied Himself, taking the form of a bond-servant, and being made in the likeness of men. And being found in appearance as a man, He humbled Himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.” (Philippians 2:5-8).

To grasp the weight of this passage, we must consider its components. When Paul says Christ “existed in the form of God” (en morphe Theou), he is not speaking of outward appearance but of the essence of deity. Christ possessed the nature and all the attributes of God. His equality with God was not a status He needed to seize or cling to (harpagmos); it was His by nature. His first act of humility was therefore a choice: the choice not to exploit His divine status for His own advantage, but to willingly set aside its privileges. This led to the act of “emptying Himself,” a concept known as kenosis. This does not mean He subtracted His deity or became less than God. Rather, it was a veiling of His divine glory and a submission of His divine will to the will of the Father. He chose not to independently exercise His divine prerogatives—His omniscience, omnipotence, and omnipresence—but to live within the limitations of human existence, in dependence on the Father and in the power of the Spirit. He who upheld the universe by His power became an infant. The Word who spoke creation into being learned to speak human words. The Giver of life became subject to hunger, thirst, and weariness.

This act of emptying was accomplished by “taking the form of a bond-servant.” The same word for “form” (morphe) is used, creating a contrast. He who possessed the nature of God took on the nature of a slave, one whose existence is defined by service to another. The Creator entered His own creation, not as a king demanding service, but as a servant offering it. This humility defined His entire life, from His birth to washing His disciples’ feet, and it culminated in His death on a cross. This was the final step in His humiliation. The Lord of Glory, the author of life, submitted to the most shameful form of execution, a death reserved for criminals and bearing the weight of a divine curse. It is important to understand that this engagement with humanity was not a temporary state. His death was not the end of His humanity, but the gateway to its glorification. He was resurrected as a man, did not cease being a man, and ascended into heaven as a man. His humanity was not a costume He discarded after the crucifixion. The resurrection was a bodily event; He returned in a glorified human form. He will return to earth again as the God-man, and as Paul declared on Mars Hill, God will “judge the world in righteousness through a Man whom He has appointed” (Acts 17:31). His humanity, therefore, has not ceased at death but persists forevermore, eternally uniting God and humanity in His person.

Relational Humility: Christ Our Brother

The incarnation altered the relationship between God and humanity, moving it from one of a Creator and distant subjects to one of familial connection. The Son of God  became the God-man, Jesus Christ, fully God and fully man. In this eternal union, He establishes a new reality for believers. The implications of this are stated by the writer of Hebrews:

“For both He who sanctifies and those who are sanctified are all from one Father; for which reason He is not ashamed to call them brethren.” (Hebrews 2:11).

This statement captures the essence of this relational humility. It establishes a contrast: “He who sanctifies” is Christ, the holy Son of God, the source of purity. “Those who are sanctified” are believers, who were by nature sinners, the objects of that sanctifying work. The text declares that they are all “from one,” a reference to their now shared human nature. Because Christ took on our “flesh and blood” (Hebrews 2:14), He fully entered into humanity, making our origin His own. This shared identity is the basis for a solidarity so significant that the writer can make the claim: Christ “is not ashamed to call them brethren.” The humility here is not just that He became human, but that He is not ashamed of the association. Considering the rebellion, weakness, and sin inherent in fallen humanity, He would have reason to be ashamed. Yet, His identification is an active and willing declaration. The Creator of the universe, the Holy One of Israel, looks upon redeemed sinners and does not distance Himself, but now in Christ, claims them as family.

By becoming human, Christ qualified Himself to be a “merciful and faithful high priest” (Hebrews 2:17), one who understands our struggles because He has experienced the human condition firsthand. This empathy bridges the infinite gap between God and humanity. We are invited not just into a position of forgiven subjects, but into a familial bond with our divine Saviour. This concept was not just a theological conclusion of the apostles but a reality in Jesus’ own ministry. He looked at His disciples and declared, “For whoever does the will of My Father who is in heaven, he is My brother and sister and mother” (Matthew 12:50). He intentionally redefined family around a shared relationship with the Father. This reached its pinnacle when He told His disciples, “No longer do I call you slaves… but I have called you friends” (John 15:15). In a world built on social hierarchies, this was a revolutionary statement. The Lord was calling His followers His friends and His family. This is the humility of relationship, a condescension that elevates humanity and assures us of a Saviour who is not distant, but near.

The Stumbling Block of a Humble God

The Apostle Paul famously wrote that the message of “Christ crucified” was “a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles” (1 Corinthians 1:23). The first-century Jewish expectation was largely for a triumphant, political Messiah who would restore Israel’s national glory and power. A Messiah who was executed by the state, dying a death the Torah associated with a divine curse, was a theological and nationalistic contradiction. For the Greeks, influenced by philosophies that prized impassibility, the idea of a transcendent God entering the material world, experiencing human emotion, and suffering a humiliating death was absurd. The cross was a contradiction to their expectations of how God should act.

In the same way, some theological positions today stumble over a similar perceived contradiction: the idea of an eternal, almighty, and transcendent God who truly and meaningfully participates in the creation He has made. Just as the early Jews and Greeks struggled with the humility of the Son, some theological frameworks struggle with the condescension of the entire Godhead. Out of a valid and necessary desire to protect God’s absolute sovereignty, transcendence, and immutability, there can be a reluctance to fully embrace the biblical picture of His genuine, temporal engagement. This can lead to a view where God’s interactions in history—His dialogues with Abraham, His relenting at the plea of Moses, His covenants—are seen as something less than real. They are sometimes explained away as mere “divine accommodation,” where God speaks metaphorically but does not genuinely engage, or as a divine play-acting for human benefit that is not truly reflective of His eternal reality.

The risk in this approach is that in protecting God from any perceived change or limitation, we inadvertently make Him a prisoner of a philosophical version of His own attributes. It can redefine His sovereignty not as the freedom to act, but as an inability to act in certain ways—specifically, an inability to condescend and self-limit. This view must not diminish the grandeur of God’s characteristics. His humility is not a limitation on His power, but an expression of it. True sovereignty includes the freedom to stoop. The God of the Bible is a living, relational God who, in His freedom, chose to create, to engage, to bind Himself, and to become one of us. To neglect this humble, condescending aspect of His nature is to miss the heart of the biblical revelation. It is to stumble over the same block as the first-century world, failing to see that the display of divine majesty is found in the depths of divine humility.

Conclusion

The humility of God is a central and recurring theme in the biblical story of redemption. It is a revealed characteristic that, when understood correctly, magnifies the very majesty we seek to honour. This humility is revealed first in God’s willingness to engage personally with humanity, seen in His reasoning with Abraham and His friendship with Moses. It is demonstrated in His decision to bind Himself by His own promises through covenants, where the unconditioned God voluntarily places Himself under the obligation of His own word to provide unwavering clarity for His people. Most perfectly and finally, this humility is embodied in the incarnation of Jesus Christ. The eternal Son, who existed in the very form of God, did not cling to His divine privileges but emptied Himself, taking the form of a servant and becoming obedient to death on a cross. Therefore, understanding God’s humility does not diminish His majesty; it gives it a depth and beauty it would otherwise lack. It reveals a God whose power is so immense that He can freely choose to heal in humility, whose sovereignty is so absolute that He can bind Himself by His own word, and whose mercies are such that He would become one of us to redeem us. It is in this divine humility that we see the true depth of His character and the immeasurable wonder of His grace—a grace that did not remain distant but drew near.