Paul told the Philippian church in his letter, “Finally, my brothers, rejoice in the Lord. To write the same things to you is not trouble to me and is safe for you.” (3:1). Don’t we all need repetition? What does He tell me, again, again, again:
“Rejoice in the Lord.”
Then come his reminders about the insufficiency of the flesh. You and I could likely list a long string of ways our flesh is insufficient (strength and mobility, mental and emotional capacity, changes brought by age/stress/injury). But Paul isn’t talking about perceived weaknesses in this segment (see 2 Corinthians 12, where he teaches how our weakness showcases the strength of God). He’s talking about the seeming-strengths. Even the religious-looking ones. How about this for a modern-day “Paul” background:
-born to believing parents, and prayed over in-utero
-raised in the church, part of a generations-faithful family
-memorized hundreds of Scripture verses and participated in all the children’s programs
-graduated Bible school and seminary
-zealous missionary work, taking on evil in every corner of the world
-strictly adherent to all the rules of society and of the church
It all looked really good. Certainly carried an air of respect among the high-rollers of Jewish society.
Until Jesus closed Saul’s eyes to all he knew himself to be, and opened his eyes to the LIVING GOD: who finds no merit in sin-saturated, breath-brief flesh.
Then, years later, this same Paul reminds the others he has led after Christ: “put no confidence in the flesh… whatever gain I had, I counted as loss for the sake of Christ…. for His sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order 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 comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith.” (Phil 3:3b, 7-9)
So He reminds us: rejoice in the Lord. All of those things that marked his life began as really good. Gifts from God, to have heritage, instruction, zeal. But our self-reliant pride ever so subtly reshapes our motives. Then we find that every effort we could put forth to please God or win His affection… is rubbish. Every identity we cling to that makes us proud of ourselves or gain the approval of others is rubbish. The only thing we really have, that is not passing in the fires, is what we are given in Christ. In Him we have the pleasure and perfect approval of the Father. In Christ we are righteous (can we even understand what that means?).
And there are stretches along this journey where He presses us hard, and calls into question all the things we’ve named ourselves by and held to as dear. He challenges our perspectives, exhausts our stores, calls our gaze up, and so gently leads us through even the darkest places: to gain Him. To find Him there.
We walk many roads deep in the valley of brokenness. This is where we press in to the gentle Shepherd, for where else can we go? There is death all around, terror and despair and stark vulnerability. And He brings to life what David experientially knew: I will fear no evil, for You are with me. (Psalm 23:4) We have spent anywhere between minutes and years afraid, wavering between our run-and-hide, and desperately searching for the Presence of our Shepherd. So He leads us to the places of such deep dependency on His righteousness, His strength, His protection, His provision, His hope, His steadfast love that extends them all.
By His mercy He removes the non-essential, purges the excesses, cuts the fat, sobers the mind, introduces us to the end, and greets us with tenderness. To such extreme measure that Paul told the Colossians, “you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God.” (Col 3:1) United with Him, knit into Him, absorbed and consumed by Love, hope, peace. Why do we feel the “consumed” part so painfully? Because we put so much confidence in the flesh. I put so much confidence in the flesh. But the patient One sits with me, sometimes encouraging me through my fears, sometimes prying my fingers off of what emptiness I cling to, and sometimes simply removing the deceptive item of desire altogether. Then I grieve… until I realize my hands are full of Him. And He holds me.
But these three remain: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is Love. (1 Cor 13:13). Not my love that motivates my passion for Jesus and for the world… but the truest love. So we have come to know and believe the love that God has for us. God is love, and whoever abides in love abides in God, and God abides in him. (1 John 4:16).
Oh, that He would root us deeply in His love. This is my prayer for you, in the valley. For me, on the long stretches of faithfulness-called-forth. Only let us hold true to what we have attained (Phil 3:16)
For this reason I bow my knees before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth is named,
that according to the riches of His glory He may grant you to be strengthened with power through His Spirit in your inner being,
so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith — that you, being rooted and grounded in love,
may have strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth,
and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.
Now to Him who is able to do far more abundantly more than all we ask or think, according to the power at work within us,
to Him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen.
-Ephesians 3:14-21