Philippians 2:5-11 is likely one of the earliest hymns of the Christian church. Read it in the original language and it moves with the rhythm and structure of a song — something meant to be sung or recited by believers who needed to remember who Christ is and what He has done, whether Paul composed it himself or is quoting something the early church already knew by heart. Either way, it wasn't written to stir a vague emotional appreciation for Jesus. Paul writes it to a church he loves, a church that needed to be united, to count others as more significant than themselves, and to look not only to their own interests but to the interests of others. And to drive that home, he doesn't give them an argument. He gives them this hymn.
The command sitting at the front of it is direct: "Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus" (Philippians 2:5). Not just admire Jesus. Not just talk about Jesus. Take on His actual mindset — the way He thought, the way He gave Himself up. That's not an easy thing to ask, in a world that tells you at every turn to look out for yourself first. So look at what this hymn actually reveals: who Christ is, what He did, and what it costs to think the way He thought.
Equality with God, Held with Open Hands
"Who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped."
Philippians 2:6
To be "in the form of God" means Jesus shares fully in God's own essence and being — not a created being, not a lesser divine figure, but truly and eternally God, equal with the Father, co-eternal and co-glorious. And yet, Paul says, Jesus did not consider that equality something "to be grasped" — a word that means to seize, to clutch, to hold onto by force. The King James renders it beautifully: He did not think it robbery to be equal with God. He never had to grasp at what was already His.
That word choice is doing deliberate work, because it's the exact opposite of what happened in the garden. Adam was offered the chance to be like God, and he reached for it — grasping at the fruit, trying to seize equality with God by his own power rather than submit to God's rule. That grasping was pride and rebellion, and it broke fellowship with God for the whole human race. We follow the same pattern more often than we'd like to admit: wanting authority without submission, wanting to redefine morality to suit our own feelings rather than submit to Scripture, resisting suffering as though any hardship is a violation of our rights. Every one of those is Adam's same old sin in new clothing — grasping at a status that was never ours to take. Jesus, by contrast, held His divine glory with open hands and let it go, freely, for people who kept grasping at what wasn't theirs.
He Emptied Himself by Addition, Not Subtraction
Verse seven says Jesus "emptied himself by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men." This is worth being precise about: Jesus did not empty Himself by losing His divinity. He never stopped being God for one moment. He emptied Himself by addition — adding humanity, adding hunger and thirst and tiredness, taking on lungs and breath and skin, while remaining fully who He always was. The eternal Son, co-equal with the Father, stepped into His own creation.
And He didn't come down partway. If God were going to become a man, you might expect a king or a president. Instead He was born into a poor family, in a small village, under foreign occupation, and worked a common trade under flawed earthly authorities. Isaiah says He had no form or majesty that we should look at Him, a man of sorrows, acquainted with grief. He didn't grasp for a throne. He picked up a towel and washed feet. He didn't demand service. He became a servant.
Jesus didn't come partway down. He came all the way down, not because He had to, but because He chose to.
Paul isn't telling us this to produce admiration alone. He's telling us so it reshapes how we actually live. Don't cling to your status. Don't protect your comfort. Be willing to serve people who aren't watching, in ways that don't make you look good, because Jesus stooped downward, not upward, and that downward shape is the actual shape of the Christian life.
Obedient to the Point of Death, Even Death on a Cross
The humility doesn't stop at the incarnation. Verse eight goes lower still: "being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross." This wasn't forced on Him and it wasn't an accident. Jesus said plainly that no one takes His life from Him; He lays it down of His own accord. And He didn't simply die; He died the most shameful, publicly humiliating death the Roman Empire could offer, stripped, beaten, mocked, and hung on a tree under a curse the Old Testament pronounces on exactly that fate — so that sinners like us could be forgiven.
"He was pierced for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his wounds we are healed."
Key PointIsaiah 53:5The humility doesn't stop at the incarnation.
That's the shape of Christian obedience too, uncomfortable as it is to hear. We want to obey God when it's easy, safe, and makes us look good. Jesus shows us obedience that costs something and hurts. He didn't suffer for His own sin; He had none. He suffered for yours. That's the gospel underneath this whole hymn: Christ humbled Himself to take your place.
Therefore: Exalted Above Every Name
Verse nine turns on a single word: "Therefore, God has highly exalted him." Christ's exaltation wasn't a change of plans or a random reward. It was the direct result of His humility, His obedience, His death. Because Jesus stooped lowest, God lifted Him highest — to supreme honor, supreme glory, supreme authority, with no one in heaven, on earth, or under the earth standing above Him. That's the upside-down pattern of God's kingdom running through the whole of Scripture: whoever humbles himself will be exalted.
Paul then applies to Jesus language lifted straight out of Isaiah 45, where Yahweh Himself declares that every knee will bow to Him and every tongue will swear allegiance to Him. This is not poetic flourish. It's a bold declaration that Jesus shares the divine name and the divine glory itself — not just the suffering servant, but the sovereign King; the Lamb who was slain and the Lion who reigns. To confess Him as Lord is to say He doesn't merely occupy part of your life. He rules it, owns it, commands it, and deserves the whole of your allegiance.
Some mock Him now. Some ignore Him. But one day every knee will bow — some in joy, some in judgment. Don't let the loftiness of that promise distract from the point Paul actually made this hymn for: not a high view of Jesus paired with a high view of yourself, but a high view of Jesus paired with a low view of yourself. Not just glory on the horizon, but humility today. Count others as more significant than yourself. Serve, don't grasp. Obey, don't demand. Take up your cross and follow the one who wore a crown of thorns and now wears the crown of heaven.
Rather Listen?
This article draws on the sermon “Philippians 2:5-11,” preached from Philippians 2:5–11.