He Must Increase I Must Decrease

In the kingdom of God, we often encounter paradoxes—truths that seem to contradict each other yet hold profound wisdom. One of these is found in John 3:30, where John the Baptist declares, "He must increase, but I must decrease." At first glance, this statement challenges our natural inclinations. We live in a world that celebrates personal advancement and self-promotion, yet John speaks of decreasing so that Christ might increase. It is a call to embrace humility and surrender, a theme that is woven throughout Scripture.

This paradox reminds me of the biblical principle that the last shall be first, and the first shall be last (Matthew 20:16). Or the idea that one must lose their life to save it (Matthew 16:25). Even strength being made perfect in weakness (2 Corinthians 12:9) reveals God's upside-down logic. These contradictions invite us to step into a deeper understanding of God's ways, leaving behind our earthly logic to find a sacred space where the divine whispers. How do we hold these opposing truths together without tearing them apart?

The Beautiful Contradiction

In the hustle and bustle of daily life, where success is measured by how much we achieve, the idea of willingly becoming less seems counterintuitive. Imagine a world where people at the grocery store allow others to cut in line, or drivers in traffic willingly slow down to let others merge. This is not how we're conditioned to act.

John the Baptist’s words challenge our natural inclinations. In a society that often measures worth by status or influence, his declaration feels like a contradiction to our deeply ingrained desires. He invites us to move beyond the visible markers of success and embrace a deeper, more profound truth.

As mothers, we understand John's sentiment in our own way. Between diaper changes and dishes, there's a quiet surrender of self for the sake of our children. The sacredness of our vocation shines in these moments when we lay aside our desires to meet the needs of our family. Here, the kitchen table becomes an altar where we offer our time and love, echoing John's call to decrease so that love and grace might increase.

But here's where it gets interesting: This paradox is not just a concept to ponder but a reality we are called to live. Decreasing in the world's eyes often reveals a hidden strength and wisdom found only by those willing to embrace the beauty of contradiction.

Our Struggle with Mystery

As humans, we naturally resist mystery. We crave resolution and clarity, often finding ourselves uncomfortable with the unknown. I remember the confusion I felt when I left my corporate career to become a stay-at-home mom. It seemed counterproductive to give up a successful career, but my heart knew it was the right path, even if my mind struggled to comprehend why.

Culturally, we idolize certainty. We fill conversations with logical arguments and strive to resolve tensions swiftly. Yet, life often presents us with puzzles that defy simple solutions. In Hispanic culture, we find comfort in traditions that celebrate both joy and sorrow, like Dia de los Muertos, where we honor the deceased amidst vibrant festivities, embracing the mystery of life and death.

In our personal lives, this paradox of decreasing so Christ can increase manifests in everyday struggles. During financial stress, when every penny is accounted for, the call to trust in God's provision feels almost impossible. In relationship conflicts, the tension of pride and humility teeters on a delicate balance, asking us to put aside our ego for the sake of love.

The plot thickens: Our resistance to mystery often reveals our deeper struggle with control. We want to manage outcomes and predict the future, but God asks us to trust, even when the ending is unclear. This tension stretches us, shaping our souls as we navigate the unpredictable dance of life. Like Mary, who pondered the mysteries of her heart, we too are invited to dwell in the tension, holding the questions without demanding immediate answers.

Living the Paradox

Biblical figures offer us vivid examples of living within the paradox of increasing by decreasing. Consider the Apostle Paul, who speaks of a thorn in his flesh, a weakness that kept him grounded in grace (2 Corinthians 12:7-10). His strength was unveiled through his acknowledgment of weakness, teaching us that surrender is not defeat but the beginning of transformation.

Mary, the mother of Jesus, embodies this paradox beautifully. Her fiat, "Let it be done to me according to your word" (Luke 1:38), was an act of profound surrender. In her humility, the grace-filled mystery of the Incarnation unfolded. She decreased in worldly status, embracing the hidden life of Nazareth, while nurturing the Savior who would increase and redeem the world.

Jesus Himself provides the ultima