April 26

April 26, 2009

Paul: Prisoner, Runner, Creative Accountant
a sermon on Philippians 3.4b-14
by David C. Mauldin
Westminster Presbyterian Church, Mobile, Alabama

An eighty-five year old woman was retiring from her teaching post in Sunday school after forty years. For four full decades she had taught the same youth class. Students had come and gone. She had taught the children of some of her earlier students. At times her class had been large; other times only one or two students. Her retirement was a big deal. It marked a transition in the life of that church, and so the church had planned a special celebration to honor her. Many of her former students who had moved away returned to help pay tribute to the woman who had served so faithfully for so long. Her young pastor, who had not even been born when she started teaching the class, asked her to talk a bit about her experience. “Tell us,” he said, “how you came to teach this class in the first place.” “Well,” she began, “forty years ago the youth class had no teacher, and we couldn’t find one. The pastor asked me if I would be willing to fill in until a permanent teacher could be found. I said yes; and now, forty years later, here I am.”

Be advised that this is a true story. It did not happen here or in any church I have served, but it did happen. I am telling you this story, not to discourage you from accepting a leadership role in the church—although I fear it may have that unintended consequence—but because it communicates how God calls us to service and how answering that call makes us grow in unexpected ways. When Paul writes to the Philippians, “I press on,” those who serve are in a good position to know what he is talking about. Here at Westminster, we do a lot of “pressing on.” The budget is tight. It’s hard to find volunteers. Although we have lots of children in our church family, our Sunday school classes are small. But none of that stops us. We go right on being the church: gathering together, learning and teaching, worshiping God, caring for one another, and reaching out. We press on.

When Paul tells us to “press on,” we know what that is about. We know how to do that. This sermon, therefore, is not about our need to press on. It is not really about what we need to do—as a church and as individual Christians—in order to press on. I want, instead, to talk about attitude. When I say “press on,” what do you feel? Do you think of enduring despite hardships? Do you think of persistence against long odds? Do you think it means doing something you really don’t want to do? This is not what Paul means.

My fear is that you will hear the words “press on” and your mind will register “monotonous routine” and your heart will dreg up feelings of unwanted obligation. Nothing could be further from the truth or from Paul’s intentions. To press on means to give yourself to something meaningful and lasting.

Some of you might associate “pressing on” with stoic resolve in the face of defeat. The team is losing by four touchdowns with only a minute to play. Winning is not possible, but the team continues to hustle as if the score were tied. Such an attitude may be admirable, but it is not what Paul is talking about. When Paul says “I press on” he is talking about winning. The goal is in sight. Everything else fades into the background. The goal is just ahead, with nothing between you and it except space. It is there. Almost within reach. Achievable. And you pour everything you have into the effort to reach it.

We at Westminster know something about that. Around here, you might end up in a role you would never have taken on if there were lots of other people willing to do it. But there are not, and so you do it; and somehow you discover the grace of God. You stretch yourself in a new direction, and you grow. That’s part of pressing on. As I said, though, you know how to press on. The danger is attitude. If you lose sight of the goal, or hold on to other things, you invite discouragement.

We modern Christians can learn much from the apostle Paul. His letter to the Philippians is especially useful. A careful reader is bound to be startled by two amazing things. Two aspects of this letter run so against normal expectations that we learn from them a distinctly Christian way to look at life.

The first amazing thing is … This is a joyful, upbeat letter—which Paul wrote while he was in prison on a capital charge. Philippians contains such gems as: “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice.” “Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” And “I have learned to be content with whatever I have. I know what it is to have little, and I know what it is to have plenty… I can do all things through him who strengthens me.”

This is the mature Paul—Paul, probably near the end of his life. At least his death is a distinct possibility. In chapter 1 he wrote:

It is my eager expectation and hope that I will not be put to shame in any way, but that by my speaking with all boldness, Christ will be exalted now as always in my body, whether by life or by death. For to me, living is Christ and dying is gain. If I am to live in the flesh, that means fruitful labor for me; and I do not know which I prefer. I am hard pressed between the two. [vv. 20-23]

Most likely Paul wrote to the Philippians during his imprisonment in Rome. He had actually been arrested in Jerusalem. He had made powerful enemies by preaching the Good News about Jesus and starting churches. Especially odious to some was his practice of uniting Jews and Gentiles in one body. Devout Jews faulted Paul for preaching Jesus and for disloyalty to the Law. He should be teaching Gentiles to observe the Law of Moses, not taking them as they were. Some Christians agreed with them. These were Christians with a strong Jewish background who were unwilling to leave old, familiar ways behind. They offered Jesus to others only on the condition that they accept the Law of Moses, as well as written and oral traditions, customs, and practices of Judaism. They considered Paul a blasphemous preacher of an adulterated gospel. As I said, he made enemies. And if you make enough enemies, sooner or later you run into trouble. There was a riot in Jerusalem. Paul was blamed. And the ensuing legal proceedings were a mess. Long story short, he finally exercised his right as a Roman citizen to appeal to Caesar. Paul was taking his case to the supreme court of the empire, and it gave him an excellent opportunity to pitch the Christian message to the emperor.

Then, as now, the wheels of justice turned slowly. As the Book of Acts ends, Paul is in Rome awaiting trial. He spends two years there under house arrest. He cannot go anywhere, but he can receive visitors. Then Acts ends. We do not learn what happened to Paul. The Good News has reached the capital, and that is all that matters. Paul’s fate is secondary. He takes that attitude himself in the letter he wrote to the Philippians, which he most likely wrote while a prisoner in Rome.

Paul enjoyed a long, happy relationship with the Christians in Philippi. They were a church not entirely different from us. Paul had started the church there on one of his missionary journeys. It was the first church Paul founded in Europe. He had moved beyond his comfort zone, and the Philippian Christians had responded. This gave them a special bond. When Paul was in need, they were always there for him. Other churches had disappointed him in one way or another, but the Philippians had not. Paul opened his letter to them, “I thank God every time I remember you,” and he was not just making pretty words.

They know Paul’s situation, and it hurts them. They do not want him to die, which is probably what happened. Paul chose a singularly poor time to go before the emperor. Nero was the emperor, and about this time he was blaming the great fire in Rome on the Christians in order to shift blame from himself. We do not know with certainty, but Paul’s imprisonment probably ended with execution.

Given these circumstances, why such joy? Why such confidence? The answer is Paul’s single-minded devotion to his goal. He wanted to know Christ and the power of his resurrection. Paul could think of no better way to do that than to share in Christ’s suffering. He was willing to lose everything for the sake of Christ and the Good News. What mattered to Paul was his relationship to Jesus; and his experiences, painful though they often were, were bringing him closer to his Lord.

Paul wrote, “I press on toward the goal for the prize.” This is an athletic metaphor. Paul’s life is a race. The goal is in sight. The prize awaits. The goal is the resurrection. The prize is knowing Christ. Now of course Paul knew Christ, the same as you and I know Christ. But Paul knew there was something more. He wanted to take hold of the thing for which God had taken hold of him in the first place. He wanted the future God had prepared for him. He wanted to experience the fullness of God’s promises.

He was confident. He was joyful. His experiences were leading him toward the goal. Whatever happened to him from this point was inconsequential. What mattered was the goal, and Paul pressed on toward it.

His hope, of course, was that the Philippians would look at their lives the same way. None of them, and none of us, are on trial for our lives because of our faith. Like Paul, however, we have a race to run. A goal is before us. A prize awaits. As we strain toward this goal—as we press on—our experiences will bring us closer to Jesus Christ. We will know him better. We will share something of his suffering. And we will know also the power of his resurrection.

The second amazing thing is … Paul writes off as a loss all his advantages and strengths. The traditional way to doctor the books is to hide losses and thereby artificially increase profits. The traditional way to talk about a change in one’s life—a conversion—is to reevaluate things. “What I thought was good was actually bad, and what I considered to be bad turned out to be good.” You hear this from people who come to Christ out of a wild past. At one time in their lives, partying was all they lived for. Now they see the binge drinking and drugs as harmful, and they know the value of things like prayer. Their experience reflects the power of God’s work in human lives, but Paul was beyond that. He doesn’t write off just the bad things in his former life. He writes off the good.

As our passage opened he talked about all the advantages he had, and it is an impressive list. The only truly bad thing there is that he persecuted the church, but he did so with the best of intentions. Paul had always been a religious man who tried in all that he did to please God. He knew the scriptures. He believed all the right things. He did all the right things. He had a lot going for him.

For example, he was from the tribe of Benjamin, an ancient and honorable tribe of God’s people. Surely that cannot be bad. He might say, “I used to think my ancestry was very important—I was proud of where I came from—but now it is no longer important to me. I find my identity in Christ now.” And we would understand. But we struggle to see how it becomes a loss. Even if it is not a good thing, how could it be bad? The worst it could be is “indifferent, inconsequential.” But it is a good thing, and that is the point.

Paul is prepared to write off everything—good and bad alike—as loss because of the surpassing value of knowing Christ. His language is strong here. If you don’t read Greek, you miss the profanity in the passage because English translations always soften it up. Speaking of the way he has lost all things, Paul says in verse 8 that he regards tham as “refuse.” Refuse is not nearly strong enough to express what he really says. We have a word for it, but as our services are a family sort of affair, I’m not going to say it. If you end up behind an obscene person in traffic, you might see this word on a bumper sticker, next to the word happens. Yes, Paul actually used that word in a letter to his favorite church, and it ended up in the Bible. At least he did not use it gratuitously. He meant what he said. Compared to knowing Christ, everything else in his life—the good and the bad alike—was mere … refuse.

The bottom line is: Paul takes the ledger books of his life, and in the assets column he writes, “knowing Christ Jesus my Lord.” In the liabilities column, he writes, “everything else.” With creative accounting like that, no one on Wall Street would hire this guy. (If he wanted to work as an accountant, he’d have to get a job with the federal government.) But Paul understands something: the surpassing value of knowing Jesus Christ. He is like the man in the story Jesus told about the Pearl of Great Price [Mt 13.45-46]. A merchant went in search of fine pearls, and he found one particular pearl so rare, so exquisite that he went and sold everything he had to buy it.

As you evaluate our own life and make decisions, how you value things makes all the difference. What is bad? What is good? And how do they compare with knowing Jesus Christ?

We at Westminster know something about pressing on. Each of us has the goal before us and the prize waiting. The image of a race breaks down, though, because a runner runs alone, and we do not. Paul did not. He leaned on his friends in Philippi, and we lean on one another.

The secret to pressing on together is focus on the goal: to know Christ and the power of his resurrection. We do not let anything, even things that are otherwise good, even religious things, distract us from this goal. We strain toward it. And suffering? We are not overly concerned about that because we see our suffering as a way to get closer to Jesus.

The Christian life is about winning, but we know that winning is not measured by things like budget or buildings or attendance—though these are good things. It is about knowing Christ and the power of his resurrection. So we press on. We go right on being the church. And somehow, as time passes, we know our Lord better and love him more. Amen.

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