In the grand story of redemption, there are some who shine—not because they seize the spotlight, but because they gladly step aside for the glory of another. Two such figures are Saul’s son Jonathan and the prophet John the Baptist. Though separated by centuries, their lives carry a similar melody: a quiet, joyful surrender to the rise of a greater King.
And in both, we find a picture of the gospel’s strange and beautiful paradox — that greatness in God’s kingdom comes not through grasping power, but by laying it down.
Jonathan: The Crown Prince Who Let Go
Jonathan was next in line to the throne of Israel. As Saul’s son, royal privilege was his birthright. But when David entered the scene, anointed by God and destined for kingship, Jonathan made a decision that defied every worldly instinct.
Instead of resenting David, Jonathan loved him.
“Jonathan made a covenant with David because he loved him as himself. He took off the robe he was wearing and gave it to David, along with his tunic, his sword, his bow, and his belt.”
(1 Samuel 18:3–4, BSB)
It was an act of covenant loyalty, yes — but also of profound humility. Jonathan was, in effect, laying down his claim to the throne and acknowledging God’s choice. He saw what his father Saul refused to see: the kingdom belonged to David.
Jonathan’s heart rejoiced in David’s rise, even if it meant his own decline. His loyalty was not to his own name, but to the purposes of God. And in this, he gives us a living parable — a quiet echo of another herald who would come to prepare the way.
John: The Voice Who Pointed to the Word
Centuries later, another man stood in the wilderness. He too was born into divine calling. He too gathered crowds and spoke with power. And like Jonathan, he had every opportunity to hold the spotlight. But when Jesus appeared, John the Baptist didn’t compete — he pointed.
“I am not the Christ,” he said plainly (John 1:20).
He knew his role. He was not the groom, only the friend of the groom. He was the voice, not the Word. The forerunner, not the King.
And so, with joy in his heart, he declared:
“He must increase; I must decrease.”
(John 3:30, BSB)
This wasn’t resignation — it was delight. John’s joy was complete because Christ had come. Like Jonathan, he had found his place in the story — not as the hero, but as the humble herald.
Christ: The King Who Alone Must Increase
Both Jonathan and John point us to Jesus — not only in how they step aside, but in why they do so. They saw something glorious in the One who was rising.
Jonathan recognized David’s anointing and rejoiced in it. John saw the Lamb of God and declared it. And in both cases, their humility serves to magnify the greatness of the King.
Jesus is the greater David — the anointed One who will reign forever on the throne of righteousness. He is the true fulfillment of every covenant, the one whom prophets prepared the way for, and the King before whom every crown must fall.
He does not share His glory with another (Isaiah 42:8), not because He is insecure, but because He is infinitely worthy.
So when Jonathan takes off his royal robe, and when John gives up his disciples to follow Jesus, they are doing what every heart is called to do: surrender to the supremacy of Christ.
He Must Increase in Us
This isn’t just a history lesson — it’s a heart check.
We all have thrones we like to sit on. Ministries, reputations, relationships, identities we’ve built. We are all tempted to be Sauls — clinging tightly to our place, our control, our crown.
But the Spirit of God calls us to be like Jonathan and John — to rejoice in the rise of Jesus, even when it costs us. To say with sincerity, “He must increase. I must decrease.”
That is not weakness — it is worship.
It’s the cry of a heart that has seen the beauty of Christ and wants nothing more than to see Him exalted, even at great personal cost.
An Appeal to the Saints
Beloved, where does Christ need to increase in your life?
Where are you holding too tightly to influence, recognition, or control? Remember Jonathan, handing over his sword to David. Remember John, pointing the crowds away from himself to the Lamb of God.
Let your joy be full in exalting Jesus.
The Christian life is not about preserving your name — it’s about proclaiming His. It’s about finding your rest not in how high you rise, but in how clearly Christ is seen through you.
An Appeal to the Lost
If you have not yet bowed the knee to King Jesus, hear this: He is not just a teacher or a prophet. He is the anointed Son of God — the greater David, the Lamb who takes away the sin of the world.
The only way to truly live is to decrease — to turn from self, from sin, from your own claim to the throne — and trust in Christ alone.
He died in your place, rose again in power, and calls you to come, not to earn a place, but to receive mercy.
Come to Him. He alone must increase. And in Him, your life will find its true meaning and joy.
Conclusion: Decreasing for His Glory
Jonathan and John both teach us that the highest honor in life is not to be the king—but to point to the King. To gladly decrease so that Christ may be seen. To trade our crowns for His glory.
May that be the prayer of every believer’s heart:
“He must increase. I must decrease.”
Because when Jesus is exalted, the heart finds its deepest joy.
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