Category: Philippians (Page 1 of 11)

In the Lord

“I plead with Euodia and I plead with Syntyche to agree with each other in the Lord.” ~Philippians 4:2

Paul wants these two Christians at that church in Philippi to end their dispute with each other. He wants them to reconcile, to patch up their differences, to fix their relationship. But he doesn’t expect them to kiss and makeup by sheer will power or human grit. They won’t be able to reconcile on their own. This kind of reconciliation only happens in the Lord.

Paul’s asking Euodia and Syntyche to put into practice with each other what they know and experience in Christ. They should recognize their fellowship that’s forged by the blood of Jesus. They should acknowledge their mutual love that springs from God’s Holy Spirit. They should affirm their unity of purpose as co-ambassadors for the Kingdom of God. And that’s only going to happen in the Lord. That’s why Paul sounds so sure that it’s going to work. Because when people are in the Lord, surprising things happen. Those who live under the lordship of Jesus are different. We act in surprising ways.

We always forgive the one who wronged us. Not because she said she was sorry, not because he paid me back – we always forgive each other because God in Christ always forgives us. We make sacrifices for each other. Not so we can get what we want, but because the Lord made the ultimate sacrifice for us. We always serve one another. Not so we can look good, but because the Lord served us. We always give to one another, we submit to one another, we defer to one another, because Christ Jesus went to the cross for us.

He died for the sake of our relationship to him. Whatever humility, sacrifice, and service was needed to fix our relationship with God, Jesus did it. Willingly. Obediently.

Remember that love and sacrifice, Euodia. Remember that grace and mercy and forgiveness, Syntyche. And put into practice what you know and believe about Jesus.

Peace,

Allan

Taking Hold

“I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me.” ~Philippians 3:12

The holy Son of God came to this earth and put on your flesh and blood. He put on your humanity and he took on your sins. He became your sin for you. He lived here just like you so he could suffer and die for you. He gave up everything to save you and reconcile you back to God. He set aside his glory, his position, his power – he gave up everything because he loves you.

He did all of that for you. He loves you that much. Doesn’t that grab you?

If you’re just showing up at church on Sundays to sing the songs and say the ‘amens’ and eat and drink the Lord’s Supper and then you’re out the door and in your car and back home and nothing changes… If you come to church “just as I am” and you leave “just as you were” and nothing changes…

That is NOT the life Jesus died on the cross to give you. Christ Jesus did not leave his home in glory and die on Calvary to influence a couple of hours of your week. He gave himself to change your whole life. He died and lives now and forever to radically and dramatically alter every minute of every hour of your existence.

The love of Christ takes hold of you. It grabs you. It seizes you. It grips you and controls you. It squeezes you and shakes you and it will not let you go. So, yes, you want to know Christ. You want to become Christ-like. You want to be so much like Jesus that when a mosquito bites you, he flies away singing, “There is Power in the Blood!”

The love of Jesus rules us. It completely controls us. We’re held by his love like we’re in a vice. We can’t break free. So we don’t live for ourselves, we live for the Lord and for others. We conduct ourselves in a manner worthy of the Gospel of Christ. We consider others better than ourselves. We look to the interests of others. We work diligently to make our attitudes the same as that of Christ Jesus. We work out this salvation with fear and trembling, we demonstrate it, we make it real. And we recognize in all humility and gratitude that it is God who works in us, God who is shaping our will and renewing our minds, and transforming our image according to his good purpose.

Christ Jesus did not take hold of you so you could improve your golf game. Jesus did not take hold of you so you could buy a second home or win a soccer scholarship or become the president of your company. He took hold of you to transform you. He did it so you could live in a righteous relationship with him and in sacrificial service to others. His love for you compels you to take hold of it, too.

Peace,

Allan

All Who Are Mature

“Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already been made complete, but I press on… I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus. All of us who are mature should take such a view of things.” ~Philippians 3:12-15

Only those who understand their own lack of completion have reached a spiritual maturity. In other words, you have arrived only when you understand you’ve got a long way to go. Being saved means straining, pushing, pressing, adding to, attaining, striving. Our feet hit the floor every morning and we say, “How can I become more like my Lord today? How can I grow in humility, sacrifice, and service?” Because I have not yet arrived. None of us has arrived. And all of us who are mature should understand that.

I’m afraid we sometimes act like we’ve already arrived. We can act like there’s nothing else to learn or nothing else to do. I don’t have to study that. I already know what I believe about that. I don’t need to do this. I’ve already done my time. I’ll never change my mind about that. I’ll never try that. And curse those who might.

The Bible says that’s the immature view. The mature view is: I’ve got a long way to go. I’ve got a lot to learn. I’ve got newer and deeper things to experience. And while Paul says that mature Christians will agree with him on this, he doesn’t lash out against those might disagree. He trusts that God will make the truth clear to them at some other time (Phil. 3:15).

That tells me we shouldn’t expect every Christian to be mature. As long as the church is made up of humans, it’ll include people who don’t always think or act like adults. Paul says we trust those people to God’s care and we don’t let our disagreements disrupt our unity.

We strain toward what is ahead. We press on toward the goal to win the prize. That’s the ‘one thing.’ And that means, at some point, you’re going to have to do something you’ve never done before. Seriously. This requires exploring the new and experiencing the different. If your walk with Christ has stayed pretty much the same for the past several years, you’re going to have to do something different. If you’re no more sacrificial or no more a servant to others than you were a few years ago, you’re going to have to try something new. If it doesn’t challenge you, it won’t change you.

You want to become more like Christ. You know God’s will is that you be transformed into his image. And if it’s not happening, are you telling me you’re just going to keep doing the same thing? What’s the definition of ‘insanity?’ Doing the same things in the same ways and expecting different results. That doesn’t work! Just ask Jerry Jones! It’s clinical!

So you strain ahead and you press on toward that goal of completion, of transformation into Christ’s image. It doesn’t matter how old you are, how long you’ve been around, or how long ago you were baptized.

Can I read Scripture in a new way? Can I engage God in prayer in a different way that will result in more humility and deeper dependence on him? What can my small group do differently that will make us more sacrificial? What new thing can my Bible class do that will grow us into better servants? What new ministry can I explore that will shape me into Christ-likeness?

All of us who are mature should take such a view of things.

Peace,

Allan

One Thing

“One thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.” ~Philippians 3:13-14

This righteousness from God, this knowledge of Christ and his resurrection, I’m straining for it, Paul writes. I’m pushing for it. I press on, Paul says, because I have not yet arrived. I have not yet obtained it all or been made perfect. I’m not there yet.

The call is to keep moving forward. Our tendency, though, is to stay put. I think our tendency is to get to a good place and just kinda stay there. But that is never God’s plan.

Angels never appear to anyone in the Bible and say, “Greetings! I am an angel of the Lord! God is calling you to do nothing. Thank you.” and then disappear.

“Gideon!”
“Yes!”
“I am an angel of the Lord. Stay put. God bless.”

Staying put is never God’s plan for his people. Holding our own can be a flat-out sin.

“How’s your church?”
“Oh, you know, we’re holding our own.”

No! Being saved means straining, pressing, pushing; adding to and attaining to and striving toward. Our feet hit the floor every morning and we say, “How can I become more like my my Lord today? How can I grow in humility, sacrifice, and service?” Because I know I have not arrived. None of us has arrived.

Peace,

Allan

Big Fat Zero

“Whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them rubbish that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the Law, but that which is through faith in Christ – the righteousness that comes from God and is by faith.” ~Philippians 3:7-9

 

 

The apostle Paul knows what it’s like to seek his own righteousness by his good works and his right beliefs. He knows firsthand about trusting in his heritage and his holy deeds. He tells the Philippians he has reasons for such confidence. He claims he has more reasons than anybody else to put his faith in his works.

I’ve been circumcised, Paul says. I know what that means. Not only that, my father is from the royal tribe of Benjamin. My dad named me after Israel’s first king. I speak both Hebrew and Aramaic. I’ve memorized the Holy Scriptures. I have diplomas from the highest rated synagogue schools. I studied under Gamaliel – he personally signed my dissertation. And I’m a Pharisee. You can’t find a more devout, more orthodox keeper of the Law than me. You can’t find anyone more enthusiastic, more on fire for our God and his commands and our traditions. I have no tolerance for commandment breakers. You want to talk about keeping every single letter of the Law? You want to compare legalistic righteousness according to doctrine and interpretation and teaching and practice? Buddy, I am it! Perfect! Blameless! Faultless! All the rituals! All the feasts! All the prayers! All the washings! I am righteous!

But Paul realized all that added up to a big fat zero. Nothing. He’s got nothing. All his life’s work, all his commandment-keeping, all it earned Paul was a righteousness of his own, not God’s righteousness. And God’s righteousness is the only righteousness that counts.

Like an auditor, like an accountant, Paul takes all his assets, all the good things, all the good works he’s done, who he is ethnically and nationally, where he lives, how he was raised – he takes all those good things and he transfers them into the liabilities column. The things he always assumed assured him of righteousness, the black ink on the left hand side of the books, he moved over to the right hand side in red. These are losses.

I’ve got a life ledger, too. I know about my good works and my right beliefs.

Raised by godly parents in the godly state of Texas. Third generation member of the Pleasant Grove Church of Christ, where I spent my childhood and formative years. My grandfathers and father, my uncles and cousins – almost all of them are elders and preachers and song leaders and deacons and teachers in God’s Church. Baptized into Christ, by immersion, for the forgiveness of sins, at the age of accountability, in church, on a Sunday morning – “Trust and Obey” was the invitation song. Dallas Christian. Oklahoma Christian University. Austin Graduate School of Theology. Two semesters of Greek! Deacon. Bible class teacher. Men’s ministry. Service projects. Communion to shut-ins. Hospital visits. Feeding the poor. Gospel preacher.

That’s my book. How much holiness does that earn me? How much righteousness do I have because of all that?

None. Nothing. A big fat zero.

Paul realized he had to lose his religion to gain the righteousness of God. And if we can’t do the same thing, we’re in trouble.

Our doctrine. Our traditions. Our practices. Our beliefs. Our good works. Our weekly Lord’s Supper. Our baptism rituals. Our food-packing and missions-giving. Our worship. The name on our sign. None of that makes you or me righteous. They’re all good things, wonderful things. But none of it makes us right with God.

I want to know Christ. This is more than a motto. This is our salvation. Christ Jesus has become for us our holiness, righteousness, and redemption (1 Corinthians 1:30). This is everything.

Now, Paul did not count his heritage or his good works as rubbish. He didn’t stop keeping God’s commands or renounce his schooling. He didn’t seek circumcision reversal surgery. Those things are not worthless. His FAITH in those things is worthless. Confidence in his own law-keeping and ritual following is rubbish. Faith in his heritage and his practices – that’s a loss, not a gain. Paul realized, as we all must, that his own righteousness cannot save him. He can only trust the righteousness that comes from God through faith in Christ. Us, too.

Peace,

Allan

Made Himself Nothing

“Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus: Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself and became obedient to death – even death on a cross!” ~ Philippians 2:5-8

Jesus did not consider his equality with God something to be used for his own benefit. Jesus saw his position and power as a way to serve others. A way to serve all. He became a servant. The Greek word in the text is actually “slave.” Deprived of the most basic human rights. No rights. No freedom. No choice. No voice. He gave up all that for the sake of others. In his own words, Jesus came not to be served, but to serve.

Our Lord never exercised his rights. He never asserted his rights.

This is so important for us to consider. As citizens of the United States of America coming off a three-day weekend celebrating the country’s independence, we should reflect on our priorities as they fall into line behind those of our Lord.

Jesus never fought for or defended his rights. He never lobbied for his rights or complained about his rights. He didn’t worry about losing his rights or step forward to keep his rights.

Christ Jesus, our King, gave up his rights. All his rights. He denied his rights.

And he invites us to do the same. He invites us to imitate him.

“If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.” ~ Mark 8:34

Jesus left everything. He considered the glory he shared with the Father in heaven nothing. He came here to suffer, to be deserted by his family and friends, to be tortured and executed  like a criminal for people like you and me. For all people.

And he didn’t have to. Jesus had the authority. He had the power. The armies of heaven were at his disposal. He had ten thousand angels on speed dial. Jesus and his followers could have marched to Rome in the morning, overthrown the government that afternoon, hang Caesar from the highest tree and still been home in time for dinner. Jesus could have given each of his apostles his own country and they could have run the government the way it needs to be run. But, instead, he gave up his rights and died. He gave himself up.

And he summons us to do the same.

Peace,

Allan

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