Recovering the Joy Behind “Jesus, Others, Yourself”

If you grew up in church, you’ve probably heard the old Sunday school lesson:

J.O.Y.

Jesus first.
Others second.
Yourself last.

It’s simple. It’s memorable. And, like many old Sunday school lessons, it contains more wisdom than our generation sometimes gives it credit for.

Recently I came across an article reflecting on that familiar acrostic. The author raised an important concern. For many Christians, “put yourself last” has been twisted into something the Bible never intended. Some have neglected their health, ignored healthy boundaries, or believed that caring for themselves was somehow selfish.

That concern is legitimate.

For too many years, I didn’t appreciate the unique way God made me. I didn’t value the gifts He had entrusted to me or the dignity that comes from bearing His image. There is nothing inherently unspiritual about caring for yourself. Eat well. Rest. Exercise. Wear clothes that fit. In my case, enjoy a freshly shaved bald head instead of looking like you forgot what a razor was for. Stewarding your body and mind is part of stewarding God’s gifts.

Jesus assumes this much when He commands us to “love your neighbor as yourself” (Mark 12:31). The command assumes a healthy, ordinary care for ourselves. Scripture never glorifies self-hatred.

But I wonder if, in correcting one error, we’ve drifted toward another.

It Starts with Jesus

The old Sunday school acrostic begins with the right place.

Jesus first.

Not simply because He deserves first place, though He certainly does. Jesus comes first because He is the source of everything that follows.

“We love because He first loved us” (1 John 4:19).

Christian love is always responsive before it is active. Before we are commanded to love, we are invited to receive love. Before we are sent into the world to pour ourselves out, Christ pours Himself out for us.

This is why the Christian life doesn’t begin with trying to become a more loving person. It begins by resting in the astonishing reality that, in Christ, we are already deeply and unconditionally loved. The Father isn’t waiting for us to earn His affection. Through Jesus, we have already been welcomed, adopted, forgiven, declared righteous, and made His children.

That changes everything.

Imagine your life as a cup. Apart from Christ, we’re constantly carrying around an empty cup, hoping someone else will fill it. We look to our spouse, our children, our friends, our ministry, our church, or our accomplishments to tell us we’re enough. Others become responsible for giving us what only our Creator can provide.

Even worse, our culture often tells us to “look within yourself,” as though the answer to our emptiness is buried somewhere inside us.

The gospel offers something entirely different.

Our cup is filled by Christ.

His love, His acceptance, His grace, and His righteousness become our security. We no longer need to squeeze significance out of everyone around us because we’ve already received it from the One whose opinion matters most.

Then something beautiful happens.

When life bumps into us, other people get wet.

Love spills out because that’s what’s already filling the cup.

Putting Jesus first isn’t merely the first item on a priority list. He is the fountain from which everything else flows. Others are no longer people we need to complete us; they become people we’re free to serve. We’re not empty people desperately looking for someone else to fill us, nor are we trying to manufacture love from somewhere deep inside ourselves. We are people who have been filled by Christ and now overflow with His love into the lives of others.

That is why Paul’s call in Philippians 2 isn’t impossible. Humility isn’t produced by gritting our teeth. It grows naturally in hearts that are already secure in the love of Christ.

Paul Pushes Us Further

When Paul writes to the Philippians, he doesn’t merely tell us to have healthy self-esteem. He pushes us into territory that our therapeutic age finds a little uncomfortable.

“Do nothing out of selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility consider others as more important than yourselves.”
— Philippians 2:3

Do you see it?

Humility isn’t humility without comparison.

Paul isn’t simply saying, “Don’t think you’re worthless.” Neither is he saying, “Think everyone has equal value.” He actually tells believers to count others as more significant than themselves.

That doesn’t fit neatly into modern self-help categories.

It certainly doesn’t mean becoming codependent. It doesn’t mean rescuing everyone around you while neglecting your God-given responsibilities. Jesus Himself withdrew to pray. He slept. He ate meals with friends. He accepted hospitality. He cared for His body even as He poured out His life.

The goal is not self-neglect.

The goal is something much better.

The Freedom of Self-Forgetfulness

Tim Keller captured this beautifully in The Freedom of Self-Forgetfulness. He writes,

“The essence of gospel-humility is not thinking more of myself or thinking less of myself, it is thinking of myself less.”

That sentence has helped countless Christians because it rescues humility from becoming self-hatred.

Keller also observes,

“The thing we would remember from meeting a truly gospel-humble person is how much they seemed to be totally interested in us.”

That’s exactly where Paul is leading us.

Biblical humility isn’t obsessing over how bad you are. It’s becoming so captivated by Christ that you’re finally free from obsessing over yourself altogether.

But Philippians doesn’t stop there.

Paul doesn’t simply tell us to think of ourselves less. He tells us what fills the space that self-forgetfulness creates: genuine concern for others.

When the tyranny of self is broken, our attention turns outward. We begin noticing the lonely person no one else is talking to. We become quicker to serve than to be served. We listen more carefully. We celebrate someone else’s success without secretly comparing it to our own. We ask, “How can I help?” before asking, “What’s in it for me?”

This isn’t psychological technique.

It’s Christ.

The Mind of Christ

Paul doesn’t simply command humility. He immediately grounds it in the person of Jesus.

“Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus…” (Philippians 2:5)

Then follows one of the greatest descriptions of Christ in all of Scripture. Though He existed in the very form of God, He did not regard His divine privileges as something to grasp or exploit for His own advantage. Instead, He emptied Himself by taking the form of a servant. He humbled Himself in obedience to the Father, even to the point of death on a cross.

This is why Christian humility can never be separated from the gospel.

Paul isn’t giving us a new personality trait to cultivate. He isn’t saying, “Try harder to be humble.” He’s inviting us to share the very mindset of Christ. The more captivated we become by the One who gave Himself for us, the more natural it becomes to give ourselves for others.

The order matters.

Jesus first.

Not because He merely occupies the highest place on our list of priorities, but because everything we become flows from our relationship with Him. We love because He first loved us. We forgive because we’ve been forgiven. We welcome because we’ve been welcomed. We serve because the King Himself became our servant.

This is why the Christian life isn’t driven by guilt but by gratitude. It isn’t sustained by willpower but by worship.

As we learn to receive Christ’s love, we become less demanding of everyone around us. We no longer need our spouse to constantly reassure us, our friends to validate us, our children to fulfill us, or our church to recognize us. Those relationships remain deeply important, but they no longer bear the impossible weight of giving us an identity they were never designed to provide.

That freedom changes how we enter every room.

Instead of wondering whether people noticed us, we begin noticing them.

Instead of calculating what we’ll receive, we begin asking what we can give.

Instead of protecting our status, we become willing to take the lower place because we know our standing with God is already secure in Christ.

That is not natural.

It is supernatural.

Perhaps that’s what the old Sunday school acrostic was trying to teach all along.

Jesus. Others. Yourself.

Not because you are worthless.

Not because your needs don’t matter.

Not because Christians should neglect themselves.

But because when you have discovered that you are already fully known and fully loved by Christ, you are finally free to stop making yourself the center of every story.

And that may be one of the greatest gifts the gospel gives us.

Not simply better self-esteem.

Not even less self-esteem.

But, as Keller puts it, the freedom of self-forgetfulness.

A life so full of Christ that, when the world bumps into you, His love spills over onto everyone else.