He Must Become Greater

“He Must Become Greater”

John 3:22–36

Preacher: Rev. Mark Bartsch

Kobe Union Church

August 24, 2025

About sixteen years ago, right before we came to Japan, I preached a message to a group of pastors. It was one of the few sermons that made the journey across the Pacific with me. I used to write all my sermons on notecards, and when we moved, they were so heavy that I tossed them all except that one.

I’ve spent some time with that sermon again this week, and let me tell you, I’m not the same person I was sixteen years ago. At least, I hope I’m not—because growth is a normal part of our life with God. As Peter tells us, we’re called to "grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ" (2 Peter 3:18). We should change, because growth calls us to change. But while we change, the Word of God never does. The author of Hebrews reminds us that "Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever" (Hebrews 13:8). Jesus is the anchor we can hold onto in this ever-changing world.

Now, when people think of John 3, their minds almost always go to verse 16: "For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life" (John 3:16). And honestly, so does mine. John 3:16 is God's mission statement, His motivation, His action plan for saving the world.

But I want to take us to a lesser-known part of the chapter—John 3:22–36. It’s the part we tend to skip, but it holds a powerful and important message. One that speaks especially to our hearts when we start to feel overlooked, underappreciated, or just plain invisible.

I started that message all those years ago with a simple question: Do you ever feel invisible? Do you ever feel like someone else is getting all the affirmation and attention, and you’re just there, doing the work, unnoticed? Sort of like how I mentioned in a sermon a few weeks ago how Martha felt. And yet Jesus said her sister picked the better way. 

It's so easy to feel underappreciated. And let's be honest, sometimes we believers don't do a very good job of affirming each other. The Scriptures call us to "spur one another on toward love and good deeds" (Hebrews 10:24). And how do we do that? We affirm people not only for what they are doing but for who they are in Jesus.

But when we start feeling sorry for ourselves, we become vulnerable to something dangerous—jealousy. It can even feel justified. "Do you know how hard I worked on this, how much of my heart I put into it, and I get nothing?" Like Cain in Genesis 4. When God accepted Abel’s offering but not his, Cain became jealous. And what did God say? "Sin is crouching at your door; it desires to have you, but you must rule over it" (Genesis 4:7).

That’s one of the most honest, real verses in the whole Bible, because spiritual jealousy is real. And it doesn’t just infect church leaders—it happens to all of us. We start to compare. We start to covet. And before long, the sin that was crouching at the door is now kicking in the door of our houses. That’s why one of the Ten Commandments—the tenth one, in fact—warns us "not to covet what others have" (Exodus 20:17). Because God knows that comparison will kill our joy, our relationships, and our ministry.

I want to tell you about a time when jealousy was crouching at my door. I had applied to seminary after feeling God’s call and applied for one of three full-ride scholarships. It covered tuition, books, and living expenses. I thought I had a pretty good chance of getting it. I had ministry experience. I was serious about my call. But I didn’t get it. And worse—I knew the three people who did. And here’s the kicker: I thought I was a better candidate than they were.

Now, I didn’t say that out loud (at least, not to them). But I thought it. And every time a tuition payment came due, I had to fight the bitterness that was crouching at my door. Stephanie can tell you—it was a real spiritual battle for me. And not just once. It’s hard to celebrate someone else’s success when you feel like you’re being left behind. But the Gospel calls us to something better. Something harder—and holier.

That brings us to John 3:22–36. Jesus has just had this nighttime conversation with Nicodemus—about how you have to be born again, about the work of the Spirit, about God’s love for the world. After that, Jesus heads out into the countryside of Judea, near the Jordan River.

There’s plenty of water, and people are coming to be baptized—just like they had with John the Baptist. But here’s the twist: now more people are going to Jesus. We know from John 4:2 that Jesus didn't baptize anyone personally, but his disciples were baptizing people. And John’s guys are counting and they feel like Jesus and his disciples are cutting into their ministry. Didn’t you know that we came here first.

And John the Baptist's disciples don’t like it. They come to John and say, essentially, “Rabbi… that guy you baptized—he’s now baptizing more people than we are.” You can almost hear the complaint: “He’s taking our ministry. He’s stealing our spotlight.” This is a powerful human moment recorded in Scripture. They saw Jesus not as the fulfillment of their master's ministry, but as a rival.

But how does John respond? "A person can receive only what is given them from heaven. You yourselves can testify that I said, ‘I am not the Messiah but am sent ahead of him.’… He must become greater; I must become less" (John 3:27–30).

Wow. Talk about humility. Talk about perspective. John knew who he was—and who he wasn’t. Do you? He wasn't the Christ; he was the forerunner. The voice crying out in the wilderness. The best man at a wedding—not the groom. John uses this wedding metaphor to explain his role. His joy came not from being the center of attention, but from hearing the groom's voice and knowing the bridegroom had arrived. “That joy is mine,” he says, “and it is now complete.” This is not a guy that feels like he is being gipped or shorted. This is a guy that knows that his cup runneth over. (Psalm 23) And he knows that he is loved and called by God.

Let’s take a moment and really sit with John’s words in John 3:30: "He must become greater; I must become less.” That verse isn’t just poetic—it’s prophetic. It’s a spiritual reset button. And it runs completely against the grain of how the world teaches us to think and live.

In our culture—and let’s be honest, in our hearts too—we’re taught to build our brand, grow our platform, and make a name for ourselves. Even in ministry, there’s this subtle pressure to gather followers, to be noticed, to hear that affirmation that tells us we’re doing a good job. We might not say it out loud, but we feel it deep down: “I must become greater.”

But John flips that. He doesn’t say, “I need to protect my ministry.” He doesn’t say, “Let me hold onto my influence.” No—he says the goal isn’t self-promotion but Christ-exaltation.

John’s whole ministry was built on this truth. He wasn't in it for the spotlight. He didn’t try to hold on to followers or control the narrative. John knew his purpose was to prepare the way for the Messiah. When he saw Jesus before he baptized him, he understood his place—saying, "I am not worthy to untie His sandals. Behold, here comes the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world." This phrase, "Lamb of God," is a profound theological statement, connecting Jesus directly to the sacrificial system and the Passover lamb. John saw Jesus not just as a prophet but as the fulfillment of God's redemptive plan. John was okay becoming a background singer—so that the Messiah could be heard. 

We want Jesus to be glorified (Yes), but sometimes we also want a little bit of that glory to rub off on us. We want to be like James and John, asking to be seated at the right and left hand of the Savior. We want to be seen as faithful, wise, hardworking, and respected. Noticed! But John challenges us to let go of that.

So, what does this actually look like in our lives?

• It looks like celebrating when someone else’s ministry grows—even if ours isn’t.

• It looks like serving quietly, without needing to be praised.

• It looks like pointing people to Jesus, not to our own opinions.

That’s what it means to say, “He must become greater.” It’s not just good theology—it’s good discipleship. It’s the essence of what it means to follow Jesus. Our calling is not to build our own kingdom; we pray every Sunday, “Thy Kingdom Come, Thy will be done.” Not my will be done. And that’s hard when we’re feeling insecure, overlooked, or underappreciated. It starts to creep in.

We all have moments when we feel like John’s disciples, wondering why someone else is getting the attention, the growth, the recognition. But God calls us to be more like John content with our place in God’s kingdom.

Now here’s what absolutely blows my mind. Jesus Himself points the humility of John—as true greatness. In Matthew 11:11, Jesus says, "Truly I tell you, among those born of women there has not risen anyone greater than John the Baptist…” Let that sink in for a moment.

Greater than Abraham. Greater than Moses. Greater than David. Greater than Jacob, Isaac—even Elijah, who called fire down from heaven.

Jesus isn’t saying John had a flashier ministry. What He’s pointing to is John’s heart—his humility, his clarity of calling, his joy and zeal.

John knew who he was—and who he wasn’t. I will ask again, “Do we?”

“I’m not the Messiah,” John said. “I’m just the voice in the wilderness.” So here’s the twist: the way to become great in God’s eyes is to be obedient to our role. In movies, there’s a saying, “There are no small parts, only small actors.” This means that every role—no matter how seemingly minor—is important, and what really matters is how you play your part. It’s a reminder that in God’s kingdom (and in life), every contribution counts, no matter how big or small. Even if people do not see, God does. It is the widow’s mite principle (Luke 21). Everyone sees the large sums going in, but Jesus sees the faithfulness of the one. Great was her faithfulness, and Jesus saw it.

That doesn’t mean you think less of yourself—it means you think more of the kingdom of God. Trusting that God will care not just for your physical needs but also your emotional needs.

So maybe the question we need to ask isn’t, “How can I be great?” Maybe it’s, “How can I be faithful like John—in my life, in my words, in my attitude, and in my ministry?” That’s the legacy John left. And that’s the invitation for us too.

It was a hard lesson for John’s disciples to understand. It is a hard lesson for us to understand. Sixteen years ago, I wrestled with this passage as a younger man preparing to leave my comfort zone and come back to Japan. I had ambition and maybe a bit of insecurity too. Now, all these years later, I still wrestle with some of those feelings—but I see more clearly what John saw: It’s not about me. It’s not about us. It’s about Him.

So, let’s not let jealousy crouch at the door. Let's actively push it away by remembering what John knew: that his purpose was not to build up his own name, but to point to the Name above all names.

Our joy can be complete, too. It’s found not in what we do for God, but in who God is for us. It's found in the simple, profound truth that we are loved, called, and seen by the Creator of the universe. When we let go of the need for the spotlight and instead point it toward Jesus, we don’t lose anything. We gain everything. We gain a joy that is full, a peace that endures, and a purpose that is eternal. Because ultimately, this isn't a game of who gets the most followers. It's a love story. A love story where the one who is everything, the true Lamb of God, has come to make us whole.

Let’s pray.

Discussion Questions 

1. The text from John 3:22–36 presents a powerful example of how to respond when someone else seems to be getting more attention or success in ministry. How can we apply the truth of "He must become greater; I must become less" in our own lives, especially when we feel overlooked or underappreciated?

2. John the Baptist's humility and joy came from knowing his specific role in God's plan, not from being the center of attention. How can we cultivate a heart that finds contentment and joy in our unique calling, even if it feels small or insignificant, rather than comparing ourselves to others?

3. The message describes how jealousy can "crouch at the door" of our hearts. What practical steps can we take to combat the temptation to compare ourselves to others and instead focus on faithfully fulfilling the role God has given us?