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

After the Storm

A storm tore through Lennox this week—fierce winds up to 80 mph, trees uprooted, branches scattered like matchsticks, power lines down, and debris everywhere. It was the kind of storm that shakes you. Not just the windows, but your sense of calm, your plans for the day, maybe even your confidence in how secure things really are.

But something beautiful followed: neighbors with chainsaws, strangers with trailers, folks hauling branches who hadn’t even finished clearing their own yards yet. In moments like these, you remember just how much strength there is in a community that cares for one another.

It also reminded me of Elijah.

You probably know the story—how Elijah, worn out and afraid, hid in a cave on Mount Horeb, waiting to hear from God. A mighty wind tore through the mountains, then an earthquake, and then a fire. But God was not in any of those. Instead, Elijah heard the voice of the Lord in a still small whisper.

It’s a powerful image: the God of all creation not needing to shout over the storm, but speaking gently, personally, quietly.

And yet here’s what we must remember—God doesn’t whisper anymore.

That’s not to say He’s silent. Far from it. God has spoken—and with perfect clarity. As the author of Hebrews tells us, “In these last days, He has spoken to us by His Son” (Heb. 1:2). He speaks today through His Word, which is sufficient to teach us what we are to believe concerning God and what duty God requires of us. Scripture reveals His will and His ways, not in shadows or signs, but in the fullness of truth centered on Jesus Christ.

We need not wait for another word or chase after whispers and signs, because God has already spoken everything we need for life and godliness (2 Peter 1:3). To look beyond His Word is not an act of greater faith, but of forgetfulness—forgetting that every promise of God is “Yes” and “Amen” in Christ (2 Cor. 1:20).

As Beautiful Eulogy put it in their songs “Symbols and Signs:”

“Silly us, ignore the plain, we prefer a riddle
Dying to see a miracle while holding God’s diary looking for signs

Or as the old hymn puts it:

“What more can He say than to you He hath said,
To you who for refuge to Jesus have fled?”

We don’t need to chase storms or search caves to hear from God. He has already spoken in His Son. We just need to listen—to His Word, to His gospel, to the truth that still speaks louder than any storm.

SDG