I want to know Christ… (Philippians 3:10).
Because he’s a person, you know.
Not an idea
a philosophy
a religion
an icon
a subject
a set of writings to study and memorize.
He’s a person, like you and me.
OK…not like you and me…but he is a person.
The perfect model of all personage.
And like any person, he wants to know and be known.
To love and be loved.
He wants relationship.
With you.
I know, right? But make no mistake, he does.
Because you are his Beloved.
Happy Monday.
…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 3:9).
Because my righteousness…isn’t.
Oh, it might look like kinda like righteousness–occasionally, a little, if you squint–but I’m not really fooling anyone.
Neither are you, Beloved.
But the righteousness that comes by faith, the one that the Father sacrificed his son to obtain for you, the one that Christ bled and died and suffered the horrors of the cross to share with you, the one the Holy Spirit lives and works in and through you to teach you to wear–
that one’s the real deal.
And it is now yours.
So wear it proudly, and in great humility.
Wield it with great strength and brokenness.
Rejoice over it with great joy and weeping.
Accept it as the free gift that cost everything.
Happy Friday, Beloved.
…that I may gain Christ and be found in him… (Philippians 3:8-9).
To be found in him…
I’m not entirely sure what that means.
In Colossians, Paul says that our lives are now hidden with Christ in God. Here he says that we may be found in Christ. How does that work? Is Paul simply being poetic, when he really means that we will be with him?
Maybe…but I doubt it.
We often say that Christ is in us, that we have “asked Jesus into our hearts.” And yet we are also in him. Frankly, that’s more than this little brain of mine can manage. Perhaps you can explain it to me, Beloved.
I think I will spend the rest of my life wondering what that line means.
And the rest of eternity finding out.
But 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… (Philippians 3:7-8).
Such beautiful words.
I can read them, recite them–hey, put them to music and I will gladly sing them.
But…can I mean them? Because reputation, power, the praise of men–it’s pretty heady stuff. Can I mean those words, down to the core of my being?
Can you, Beloved?
Something tells me that, in the day that we speak those words without a breath of hesitation, we will find some serious peace.
Perhaps today?
I’ll pray for you, Beloved. You pray for me.
If anyone else thinks he has reasons to put confidence in the flesh, I have more: circumcised on the eighth day, of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew of Hebrews; in regard to the law, a Pharisee; as for zeal, persecuting the church; as for legalistic zeal, faultless (Philippians 3:4-6).
What’s your resume look like?
Your spiritual resume, I mean. Were you born to the right parents? Did you study at the right schools? Go on the right mission/vacation trips? Lift your hands at the right concerts? Do you attend the right church, where you serve in the right departments and dress the right way and talk to the right people about the right subjects? Do you give the right amount of money to the right places and vote for the right people and march in the right causes?
Do you write a blog that features daily devotions?
Ouch
Look, I’m not saying those things aren’t good, even godly, even glorifying to the Lord. I am saying that we’d better not count on them. The moment we start looking at our deeds as anything other than the natural overflow of Christ in our lives, the moment we actually start to think that we did something all by ourselves that was awesome and impressive and godly…
You know the line about filthy rags, right?
So check your resume this morning, Beloved. Because, in reality, there’s only one item that should be on it.
And you know what that is.
Happy Tuesday, Beloved.
Watch out for those dogs, those men who do evil, those mutilators of the flesh. For it is we who are the circumcision, we who worship by the Spirit of God, who glory in Christ Jesus, and who put no confidence in the flesh… (Philippians 3:7-8).
Paul is not happy.
He’s not afraid to let you know.
I like that.
In this passage, Paul is ticked off at a group of teachers who are telling new believers that they must follow the traditions of Judaism, particularly circumcision. For some it’s a power thing–having control of the rituals gives these false teachers authority over new converts. For others, it may simply be a faulty understanding of grace. In either case, the message they’re teaching is that Christ Jesus is not enough.
You need Jesus + rituals.
You need Jesus + accomplishments.
You need Jesus + stuff.
Frankly, if it’s “Jesus +…” it’s not really Jesus at all.
You can see why this pushes Paul’s buttons.
And what of you, Beloved? Are you stuck in “Jesus +” mode? Are you trying to check items off an endless spiritual list, hoping to achieve what you’ve already been given?
Don’t answer that too quickly.
In fact, maybe you should let God answer that one for you.
I’ll leave you two alone to talk it over.
For the sake of your name, O Lord, forgive my iniquity, though it is great (Psalm 25:11).
For the sake of your name.
Not mine.
Because my name, frankly, is not worth saving.
But my name is so loud in my own ears
it drowns out your voice
your wisdom
your word.
Perhaps the only way I can serve you is to stand as the object of your mercy.
That will be enough
and more.
Good and upright is the Lord; therefore he instructs sinners in his ways. He guides the humble in what is right and teaches them his way (Psalm 25:8-9).
I’m a teacher.
I teach.
I teach the excellent students, and the ones I lovingly call “pathetic lumps of flesh.” I offer what I have to both, because both need it.
And eversomuchmoreso with God. He offers his wisdom to sinner and saint, because both desperately need it.
Why does he do this? I mean, I get teaching your followers, but why waste wisdom on the wicked? Well, it’s right there at the beginning of the verse:
Because he is good.
Also, I think God remembers something that I tend to forget:
The sinner?
The humble man?
They are both me. Just depends on when you catch me.
Happy Thursday, Beloved
Remember, O Lord, your great mercy and love, for they are from of old. Remember not the sins of my youth and my rebellious ways; according to your love remember me, for you are good, O Lord (Psalm 25:6-7).
Selective memory is a beautiful thing.
I love David’s honesty here. He’s asking God to conveniently forget the less savory aspects of his life, and to remember only that he loves David. My grandma had that ability to pick and choose what she remembered. We thought it was dementia–perhaps it was a spiritual gift.
Anyway, here’s the amazing thing. God does it. When God looks at David, he puts on his love goggles and does not see the sin and rebellion and foolishness. He sees only his Beloved.
He does the same when he looks at you and me.
How do I know this?
Well, we’re here, aren’t we?
Happy Wednesday, Beloved.
Show me your ways, O Lord, teach me your paths; guide me in your truth and teach me, for you are God my Savior, and my hope is in you all day long (Psalm 25:4-5).
This is a psalm asking for deliverance. David is in a world of hurt–stressed, ill, and under attack by slanderous enemies. I totally expect to find David asking for deliverance, healing, retribution, even forgiveness.
I didn’t expect this.
David asks God, in the midst of all this yuck (pardon the deep theological terminology) to teach him to be more like God.
Um…wow.
I wish I could tell you that, in the midst of deep physical and emotional crisis, I would ask God to make me more godly. Alas, I am more likely to ask him to heal me and cause my enemies to explode.
If you decide to stop reading me now, I understand. But, there I am.
Beloved, I hope that God never allows great pain and sorrow into your life. I don’t care if it would make you more godly–I love you too much, and I’m just too selfish. But, if the yuck of this sinful, broken world has to slop over into your life, I pray that God would use it to show you his ways, teach you his paths, and basically make you more like him.
But for crying out loud, don’t go looking for trouble, OK?
Happy Tuesday, Beloved.