Humility is seeing reality as God sees it. That’s the short answer. But it’s not what most people expect to hear.
We’re used to thinking of humility as “not thinking too highly of yourself” or maybe putting yourself down in front of others. That’s not what the Orthodox Church means. St. Isaac the Syrian said that genuine humility means knowing yourself and others as God knows them. It’s about truth, not false modesty.
Here’s the thing. When you stand before God in prayer, you can’t pretend. You know you’re dust without His grace. You know every good thing you’ve ever done came from Him working through you. That’s not low self-esteem. It’s just accurate.
The humble person doesn’t grovel or hate himself. He’s confident within his God-given limits. He knows his duties and his place. He doesn’t overstate what he can do, but he doesn’t understate it either. There’s a balance there that comes from standing constantly in God’s presence and referring everything back to Him.
Think about the tax collector in the temple, beating his breast and saying, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner.” He went home justified rather than the Pharisee who listed his accomplishments. That prayer, “Lord, have mercy”, is woven throughout our services because it’s the posture of the humble heart. We say it dozens of times in every Liturgy. We can’t stop saying it because we can’t stop needing it.
The Mother of All Virtues
The spiritual fathers call humility the foundation of everything else. It’s the wall and roof that protects all the other virtues. Without it, pride sneaks in and destroys whatever good you’ve built. You fast? Pride makes it about your willpower. You pray? Pride turns it into a performance. You serve? Pride wants the credit.
But humility keeps you honest. It reminds you that you’re the first and greatest of sinners, not in some generic way where everyone says the same thing, but in your own unique way. St. Andrew of Crete understood this. In his Penitential Canon (we sing it during Great Lent), he confesses his sins as unlike any other person’s. That’s not self-hatred. It’s taking personal responsibility before God.
And here’s what’s strange: this doesn’t lead to despair. The humble person trusts that God will exalt those who are faithful in little things. Christ promised it. Be faithful over a few things, and you’ll be set over many. Enter into the joy of your Master. Humility opens the door to that joy.
What It’s Not
Coming from a Baptist or non-denominational background, you might’ve heard a lot about “dying to self.” That language can be helpful, but it can also get twisted. Humility isn’t about thinking you’re worthless. You’re made in God’s image. You’re being saved. You’re becoming a partaker of the divine nature through grace, that’s theosis, our whole goal.
Low self-esteem comes from comparing yourself to others or believing what cruel people have said about you. Humility comes from comparing yourself to God and realizing the gap, but also realizing He’s bridging it. There’s hope in humility. There’s despair in self-hatred.
I’ve met folks here in Southeast Texas who work offshore or in the plants, doing dangerous work that requires real confidence and skill. They can’t afford false humility on a rig. They need to know what they can do. But the humble ones know their limits, ask for help when they need it, and don’t take credit for the whole crew’s success. That’s closer to what we’re talking about.
How You Grow in It
You don’t acquire humility by trying to feel humble. You acquire it by standing in God’s presence. By praying. By confessing your sins to your priest and hearing him say, “God forgives you.” By receiving the Eucharist and knowing you didn’t earn it.
You grow in humility by serving the least person as if they were Christ Himself. Our salvation hinges on this. When you hunger and thirst for righteousness, and that’s not a mild preference but a desperate need, you start to see everyone through different eyes.
The fathers say humility is one of the last steps on the ladder of spiritual perfection, just before dispassion and love. You can’t love properly without it. Pride gets in the way. But when you’re humble, you can love others despite their sins because you’re so aware of your own. You stop judging. You start forgiving.
Metropolitan Kallistos Ware writes about this beautifully in “The Orthodox Way.” If you’re exploring Orthodoxy and want to understand how humility fits into the whole spiritual life, that book is worth your time. Come by the church and Father can point you to a copy.
Humility isn’t the end goal. Union with God is. But you can’t get there without it. It’s the narrow gate. And once you start walking through it, you realize it’s not cramped at all. It’s the wide, proud way that chokes you. Humility sets you free to become who God made you to be.
