06/01/2026
“Though you were little in your own eyes, are you not the head of the tribes of Israel? The LORD anointed you king over Israel.” (1 Samuel 15:17)
Growing up, I was taught that humility was essential to a life that follows Christ Jesus. To truly glimpse who God is—to see, even dimly, a supreme, omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent God who left the splendor of heaven to die for us out of a love so vast it is beyond my ability to grasp it truly. It leaves only one fitting response.
Humility.
To come into contact with, or even imagine, that kind of holiness and that kind of love is overwhelming. It reorders everything!
To be humble was to be rightly positioned before God—to deeply know that I was not the center, not the source, not the authority. If I am small, I can never be the center. Humility was safety. It kept the lines clear between Creator and created, between Giver and receiver, between source and vessel.
Then I went to school, and I learned a different language.
I was taught to believe in myself. And believing in myself often meant—subtly, but steadily—that there was nothing outside of me to account for my success. My grades were no longer the result of the Lord who inspires, the God from whom all wisdom flows (James 1:5). They became the product of my intelligence, my effort, my discipline. I was taught to trust my abilities while quietly ignoring their source.
I was taught to be confident. Decisive. Self-assured.
And in many ways, this was necessary. Teachers rewarded confidence. Good grades rewarded competence. Doubt was quietly discouraged. Self-sufficiency was praised as maturity. Over time, the line between using the abilities God gave me and believing the abilities came from me became increasingly blurred. There is a subtle danger in success—not in growth itself, but in forgetting who is driving it. What begins as gratitude can slowly turn into ownership. What starts as stewardship can quietly shift into authorship. And if we are not careful, confidence stops being a tool and starts becoming a foundation. Scripture never condemns ability.
But it consistently warns us about the risk of source confusion.
To remain small in our own eyes is not to deny gifting, intelligence, or growth. It is to remember—consistently and intentionally—that the source is never us. God is the source. God is the flow. God is the authority above our reasoning and the wisdom beyond our plans (Proverbs 3:5–6).
Remaining small in our own eyes means that, even when we decide, we do so under God. Even when we lead, we lead submitted. Even when we act boldly, we do not confuse boldness with independence.
The moment we begin to see ourselves as the source, something shifts. Decision-making becomes self-protective. Obedience becomes conditional. Prayer becomes consultation rather than submission. And slowly—often imperceptibly—something other than God begins to drive us.
Anything that replaces God as the source becomes a god (Exodus 20:3).
Saul’s mistake was not that he lacked ability or that he lacked opportunity. But he stopped being small in his own eye. Saul feared losing people more than losing obedience (1 Samuel 15:24). He trusted his judgment over God’s command (1 Samuel 15:9–11). He offered sacrifice instead of submission (1 Samuel 13:11–14). And when God no longer answered him, Saul did not repent—he sought another source (1 Samuel 28:6–7). Saul made himself large, and in doing so, displaced God from the center.
David chose differently. When Michal, Saul’s daughter, despised David for dancing before the Lord, David did not defend his dignity. He lowered himself further: “I will celebrate before the LORD. I will make myself yet more contemptible than this, and I will be abased in my own eyes.” (2 Samuel 6:21–22). David never confused calling with ownership. He never mistook ability for authority. He could stand confidently before giants and still abase himself before God. His strength flowed from dependence, not self-elevation. Humility, then, is not thinking less of ourselves—it is never thinking of ourselves as the source. It is the daily choice to keep God elevated above our reasoning, our instincts, our fear, and our success. It is the quiet discipline of remembering who initiates, who sustains, and who ultimately directs the outcome.
To remain small in our own eyes is not weakness.
It is clarity.
It is safety.
It is worship.
And perhaps it is the only posture that keeps our confidence from turning into a crown we were never meant to wear.
God does not need my explanation—He desires my obedience.
God does not need my defense—He desires my trust.
God does not need my sacrifice if my heart is resisting His word (1 Samuel 15:22).
Saul lost the kingdom because he made himself large.
David kept God’s favor because he was willing to become smaller.
As we step into a new year, 2026—with new goals, new responsibilities, and new opportunities—may we remain small in our own eyes clear about who leads and who sustains. Let us be careful for nothing (Philippians 4:6). “He has shown you, O man, what is good; And what does the LORD require of you but to do justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God?” (Micah 6:8)