Thinking of Yourself Less: Reclaiming Humility in a Self-Obsessed Age

His 1980 chart-hit warbled, “O Lord, it is hard to be humble when you are perfect in every way.”

That could be the anthem of our “look at me” age. Politicians pound their chests, competing for the loudest voice in an already deafening room. The scramble for quick fame on TikTok and Instagram has created a feeding frenzy, with millions clamoring for their fifteen seconds of viral glory.

Everyone wants notice. It seems the death notice for humility is posted in an obscure corner of the internet.

Perhaps that’s because we don’t know what it is.

Many see humility as self-depreciation. It is a Charlie Brown humiliated again by the clever Lucy. Humility, according to humanity, grovels at the feet of others and begs for its life. Humility whimpers as it pronounces, “I am a nobody.”

That’s a distorted contortion of a fine concept.

Marshall Goldsmith has written that “humility is not thinking less of yourself but thinking of yourself less often.”

This kind of humility finds powerful illustration in the life…and death…of Dwight Eisenhower.

Dwight Eisenhower knew humility well.  At his death, he had served as a university president, a five-star general who commanded the Allied Armies in Europe and guided the D-Day invasion that led to the end of the war.

Then, if that was not enough, he became the president of the United States as the space race began.

A man of that stature is afforded accolades earned through years of exemplary service. Yet, when Eisenhower died, he left precise instructions for his funeral and burial. No pomp and circumstance. He directed that he be buried in a simple cloth-covered pine casket, the same kind that a private killed in battle would get. He wanted to be buried like the lowliest soldier, this man of vaunted achievement.

Humility stands erect without seeking a spotlight.  It doesn’t need someone’s praise or affirmation. Instead, the humble know who he is…someone created by God for a purpose.

The humble person knows who they are and their place in this world. He is content with making his contribution, realizing that enough like-minded people making small contributions can lead to great change.

The Apostle Paul put it this way: “For by the grace given to me I say to everyone among you not to think of himself more highly than he ought to think, but to think with sober judgment, each according to the measure of faith that God has assigned” (Romans 12:3, ESV).

A humble person recognizes that God controls all things. She knows that history, not the news cycle, measures her true stature. She knows she will face eternal judgment and acts accordingly. And here’s the paradox: the humble don’t announce their humility. Others simply recognize their quiet confidence and sense of purpose.

Imagine a different kind of social landscape—one where people listened more than they spoke, where competence mattered more than clout, where quiet service earned more respect than loud self-promotion. That world isn’t as far away as it seems. It begins with individuals who choose a different path.

Every time someone deflects credit to their team, they plant a seed of humility. Every time a leader admits uncertainty rather than faking expertise, they water that seed. Every time we celebrate someone’s character instead of their celebrity, we cultivate a garden where humility can flourish.

Eisenhower’s cloth-covered casket stands as a monument to what matters most. Not the offices held or the victories won, but the person who held those offices and won those victories. His final act of humility issued an invitation across the decades: you don’t have to be the loudest to make a difference. You just have to be faithful.

The culture may celebrate spectacle, but you can choose substance. And in choosing it, you might inspire others to do the same.