Is God Humble? Understanding Divine Condescension

Is it right to say that God is humble?

At first blush, that sounds wrong—maybe even irreverent. God is the Almighty, the self-existent One, the great “I AM.” He is perfect in all His attributes and lacking nothing in Himself. He depends on no one, answers to no one, and exists for His own glory.

And yet, this same God “regards the lowly” (Psalm 138:6). He dwells “in the high and holy place, and also with him who is of a contrite and lowly spirit” (Isaiah 57:15). He “gives grace to the humble” (James 4:6). And in the person of His Son, He took “the form of a servant,” humbling Himself to the point of death—even death on a cross (Philippians 2:7–8).

So what are we to make of this? Is there, in the nature of God, an attribute of humility?

Humility and the Divine Nature

If by humility we mean acknowledging one’s smallness or submitting to one greater, then no—God is not humble. To suggest otherwise would confuse the Creator with the creature. God cannot be lowly, because there is none higher; He cannot defer to another, because there is no greater will than His own.

But Scripture does reveal something that looks very much like humility: the voluntary stooping of the Almighty in love.Theologians have called this divine condescension.

The Westminster Confession of Faith (7.1) puts it beautifully:

“The distance between God and the creature is so great, that although reasonable creatures do owe obedience unto Him as their Creator, yet they could never have any fruition of Him as their blessedness and reward, but by some voluntary condescension on God’s part…”

This condescension is not humility in the sense of self-abasement, but the gracious self-giving of a God who is infinitely full and freely shares His goodness. God’s “humility,” then, is not the lowering of His greatness—it is the display of His greatness in mercy.

The Humility of God in Christ

In Christ, this divine condescension takes on flesh. The Son of God did not become humble because He lacked glory, but because His glory is most clearly seen in humble love.

Jesus’ washing of His disciples’ feet was not out of weakness or shame—it was the perfect revelation of who God is. “The humility of God is His majesty,” as Karl Barth once wrote. That’s not a denial of divine transcendence but a recognition that the glory of God shines most brightly in His willingness to serve and save.

This is why Paul tells us in Philippians 2 that Christ’s humiliation is not the loss of divine glory, but its fullest expression. The One who “was in the form of God” did not cling to His status, but gave Himself for us. The humility of Christ is not something less than deity—it is deity in motion toward the undeserving.

The High and Holy God Who Stoops

Our culture tends to see humility as weakness and greatness as self-promotion. But the God of Scripture reverses this. His greatness is not diminished by His stooping; it is displayed in it. His power is not compromised by His mercy; it is proven through it.

To say “God is humble,” then, is not to bring Him down to our level, but to stand in awe that He would come down at all. He stoops to save, not because He must, but because He wills. And that willing condescension—the high God dwelling with the lowly—is the heartbeat of the gospel.

The cross is the ultimate revelation of divine humility: infinite majesty clothed in servanthood, infinite holiness bearing sin, infinite love poured out for sinners.

When we see that, we begin to understand both the greatness of God and the nature of true humility. Our humility is not a virtue detached from Him—it is the echo of His own gracious heart in us.

SDG

Consistently Inconsistent Praise

“I will bless the Lord at all times; his praise shall continually be in my mouth.”
Psalm 34:1

I read these words and my first thought was, “Were that it were so!”

David’s resolve is bold: to bless the Lord at all times, to have His praise continually on his lips. But if I’m honest, that’s not the song on repeat in my life. My lips are often filled with other things—complaints, anxieties, frustrations, and the occasional sarcastic remark (sometimes even funny ones). Praise is there, yes, but not continually.

And that’s the sting of this verse. It reminds me of what should be true, while exposing what often is true.

But maybe that’s the point.

David penned this psalm after one of the lowest, strangest moments in his life—pretending to be insane before Abimelech just to escape with his skin (1 Samuel 21). Not exactly a mountaintop experience of victory. And yet, from that place of humiliation, he says, “I will bless the Lord at all times.” Even here. Even now.

That’s where this verse begins to reshape me. Praise is not something reserved for the sunny days when everything clicks. Praise is meant for the shadows too—for the hospital waiting room, for the sleepless night, for the moment when your strength is gone and all you can do is groan. Why? Because God Himself doesn’t change.

Think of the reasons you and I have to bless the Lord:

  • His character—steadfast love, perfect justice, unchanging faithfulness.
  • His work of redemption—Christ crucified and risen, sins forgiven, death defeated.
  • His daily mercies—breath in our lungs, bread on the table, the Spirit dwelling within us.

These reasons don’t come and go with the weather. They are continual. Which means our praise should be, too.

Now, let’s be clear: this is not a call to fake it. God doesn’t need our plastic smiles and forced hallelujahs. But it is a call to reorient our speech, to let praise set the direction—even when we don’t get it perfect. The goal isn’t perfection of praise, but direction of praise.

So here’s the encouragement: start small. Begin and end your day with a simple word of thanks. When you feel a complaint bubbling up, pause and see if you can turn it into gratitude. Open the Psalms and borrow their words when yours feel weak. And trust that God, by His Spirit, will keep tuning your heart so that His praise will be more and more in your mouth—until the day it will be so, perfectly, in glory.

“Were that it were so.” Someday, it will be. And even now, by grace, it can be more than it is.

SDG