He Must Increase, I Must Decrease" — But What About Me?

I found myself reflecting deeply on John 3:30 today: “He must increase, but I must decrease.” It’s one of those scriptures that feels simple on the surface, but when you really sit with it—when you let it breathe in your spirit—it unearths something raw and holy.

At first glance, it seems like a call to disappear, to lose all sense of self so Christ can reign. But as I sat with it, something deeper emerged. I realized I don’t want to disappear—I want to mirror Christ. I want to be His hands, His feet, His eyes, His voice. I want to reflect Him, not be erased by Him.

And yet... I’m still human.

This isn’t imposter syndrome. It’s not that I feel like I’m faking this walk with God. It’s the fear that in striving to be like Christ, I’ll lose myself—or worse, I’ll become the very thing I’ve been rescued from. You know that old Batman quote? “You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain.” Yeah. I’ve been the villain. In some ways, I still am. Not by desire—but by humanity. I make mistakes. I miss the mark. But my heart never wants to miss it. My heart longs to reflect the righteousness, mercy, and love of Jesus in every step I take.

The tension is real: How do I decrease so He can increase, while still growing in my ability to trust, to love, to build relationships, to live? How do I shrink my ego without silencing my purpose? And how do I let go of control without feeling like I’ve abandoned who I am?

Here’s what God whispered in that quiet moment: Decreasing doesn’t mean disappearing. It means becoming aligned.

When John the Baptist said those words, he wasn’t giving up his voice—he was giving up his platform. He knew his purpose had been fulfilled in preparing the way for Christ. He was stepping back so the true Light could shine. That’s what it means to decrease. To lay down our obsession with self-made importance and allow the Spirit to shine through us with greater clarity.

And here’s the beautiful paradox: as I decrease in self-importance, I increase in Kingdom value. As I let go of ego, I make more room for grace. As I release fear, I grow in faith. As I yield, I’m not losing identity—I’m being restored to the truest version of who I was always meant to be.

The fear of becoming the villain doesn’t have to paralyze me. Because in the Kingdom, even villains get redeemed. In Christ, the arc is always bending toward grace.

So, if you’re teetering on that line—longing to be more like Christ, but afraid of what it will cost—just know this: God is not asking you to vanish. He’s asking you to reflect. He’s not diminishing your worth; He’s defining it through His lens.

Let Him increase. Let yourself decrease. And in doing so, discover the version of you that looks the most like Him.