Emptying Yourself for the Sake of Jesus and Others

He awoke earlier than the rest of us. The night before had been filled with sleepy stumbles into the baby’s room, laying him next to me to nurse, changing diapers, and placing our swaddled newborn back in his crib. He had every reason to bury his face in his pillow and ignore daybreak. But we were completely dependent on him. All three of us.

Our two-year-old woke ready to eat and play. After filling his little tummy, my husband came to check on me. Like a mouse in a sticky trap, I was trying to get out of bed on my own but the pain was too excruciating. Tears of frustration had gathered in my ears. The birth of our second son had rendered me unable to walk, unable to run to my baby when he cried, and unable to do much of anything for myself.

Without hesitation, my husband pulled me up through the searing pain, reminding me I wasn’t alone in this. He rolled my walker over to the bed in front of me. I scooted myself to the couch and sat down. My husband brought me everything I needed—ibuprofen, water, food, burp cloths, and coffee. Finally, he placed our baby in the crook of my arms to nurse.

In those traumatic, yet somehow beautiful days, I watched my husband do everything for us. He folded laundry, made meals, changed diapers, played cars with our oldest, went grocery shopping, did the dishes, swept the floor, and gave baths. He did all of it! He wasn’t just the caretaker of our boys, but of me. And he never once complained. He had emptied himself on behalf of his wife and children and I have never seen a man act more like Jesus in my life.

The advent season reminds us of what it means to be poured out on behalf of others. When the apostle Paul refers to Christ's emptying himself, he pulls our gaze first to the baby in the manger (Philippians 2:7). There, we not only see Jesus modeling this type of sacrifice, but we see it beautifully conveyed through the other characters in the story as well.

Mary, Mother of Jesus

You likely know the story of Mary, the young woman who would be the mother of Jesus. The one who said to the angel after he told her she would conceive by the power of the Most High, “Behold, I am the servant of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word” (Luke 1:38). What Mary surrendered to in this moment was so much more than simply giving her body as a vessel. She was submitting to a lifetime of scrutiny and judgement. Other Israelites would question her virginity and purity, assuming she had slept with a man before marriage. She would be an outcast in many ways. According to the law, she could have been stoned to death. Her trust in the Lord is honorable. She willingly emptied herself and found it to be a wonderful gift:

“My soul magnifies the Lord,
and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
for he has looked on the humble estate of his servant.
For behold, from now on all generations will call me blessed;
for he who is mighty has done great things for me,
and holy is his name.” (Luke 1:46–49)

But with the favor of the Lord comes great sacrifice, too. Mary would one day watch and weep from below as her son, her Lord, was crucified. Every mother knows she must raise her son to let him go one day—that he would no longer nurse at her breast or need to be carried on her hip. Mary knew this too. 

But she likely didn’t know that Jesus would die on the cross at the age of 33. As her son hung on the cross as a public spectacle, perhaps her mind remembered the angel telling her that the baby who took up residence in her womb would one day “reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end” (Luke 1:33). Mary must have wondered how this could be as she watched him die. She would have to let go of her son in such a way that it would crush her. She would, once again, be poured out for the sake of the gospel. Yet, in the crucifixion of her son—and the crushing of her heart—she would be freed from her sin. The greatest grief in her life was her greatest hope.

Sometimes when we choose servitude under the submission of God, we will have to be emptied out for his sake in ways we wouldn’t dream of. But it is always a blessing to be emptied of ourselves and filled up with Christ.

The Prophet of the Most High

He was the baby who jumped for joy in the womb over Jesus. The man who was born to pave the way for Christ: John the Baptist. John was the prophet of the Most High (Luke 1:76). Isaiah 40:3 spoke of him saying, “A voice cries: ‘In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord; make straight in the desert a highway for our God.” We find him doing just that, calling out in the wilderness of Judea, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand” (Matthew 3:2). John continually called out for repentance, and baptized those who came to him saying,  

“I baptize you with water for repentance, but he who is coming after me is mightier than I, whose sandals I am not worthy to carry. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.” (Matthew 3:11)

Soon after he spoke these words, John was given the privilege of baptizing the Son of God. He who was unworthy to carry Jesus’ gritty sandals had a front row seat to the Father declaring from heaven above, “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.”

Later, John’s disciples came to him with concern over the growing popularity of Jesus. Less and less people were coming to John for baptism. His response was, “He must increase, but I must decrease.” John’s whole existence revolved around making Jesus known. And decrease he would. His very life would be the cost. John would be imprisoned and eventually beheaded at Herod’s command (Mark 6:29). John the Baptist was a man who was after God’s kingdom—not his own—from the moment he was born (Luke 1:15).

More of Him, Less of Us

As I journey through each day as a stay-at-home mom, with all my struggles, worries, and desires, I wonder if my thoughts and actions reveal a heart attitude like that of Mary and John, or even my husband? I’m continually met with the convicting rebuke of the Spirit that I am often seeking my own comfort and kingdom rather than emptying myself for the sake of Christ and others. It seems, even in one of the most humbling jobs on earth (motherhood), I can still be incredibly selfish.

My self-reflection has helped me to see that we all need God to free us from our own tendency to be full of ourselves. We all need God to fill us with his Holy Spirit instead. We can pray for help in offering ourselves to God as his willing servants, trusting him with whatever that means for our lives. May we be poured out for the sake of others. May we decrease as he increases. More of you, Lord, less of us.