He must increase
John the Baptist at the Jordan
John the Baptist had been the most magnetic preacher in Israel — crowds streaming into the wilderness, kings made nervous, a whole renewal movement gathered around him. Then Jesus began to draw the crowds away, and John's disciples came to him anxious: Rabbi, everyone is going to him.
John's answer is one of the most freeing sentences ever spoken. He calls himself merely the friend of the bridegroom, whose whole joy is to hear the bridegroom's voice; he has no interest in keeping the bride. And then: He must increase, but I must decrease.
There is not a trace of resentment in it. John had always known he was the voice, not the Word — the lamp, not the light. His greatness was to grow smaller on purpose, gladly, as the One he pointed to grew.
“He must increase, but I must decrease.”
— John the Baptist, at the Jordan — John 3:30 (WEB)
Seek, gladly, to decrease — to point away from yourself so that Christ increases.
“For you died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God.”
The craving to increase — to be noticed, credited, central — drives more of our restlessness than we admit. John's freedom came from locating his joy outside himself, in the bridegroom's voice. The interior work is to loosen your grip on being seen, to find your gladness in Christ's growing renown rather than your own, and to discover that a hidden life is not a diminished one.
This week, do one good thing and tell no one — deliberately decline the credit. Notice the discomfort, and offer it to God as a small, glad decrease.
The craving to be seen will keep you sprinting on a treadmill that never ends, insisting that if you do not lift yourself up, no one will. It is exhausting, and it is a lie. John found the lighter way: the heart that gladly points away from itself toward Christ is freer and more joyful than the self you wear yourself out inflating.
Most of our unhappiness comes from wanting to increase — to be seen, credited, central. John shows a different and lighter way: the deliberate, glad decrease of a person who has found something better to point at than himself. He could rejoice at his own eclipse because his joy was never in his own rising, but in the bridegroom's voice.
This is the secret hidden inside surrender — the self we work so hard to inflate is not where the joy is. Where are you straining to increase, and what would change if you set out, gladly, to decrease so that Christ could increase?
- Where am I straining to increase — to be seen or credited?
- Can I rejoice when someone else rises and I am eclipsed?
- What would glad decrease look like for me this week?
Lord, you must increase, and I must decrease. Free me from the weariness of being seen, and let my joy be your renown. Amen.