Gain and Loss
page detail from Philippians, 1611 KJV Bible (Replica Edition) photo by jch
Paul’s Letter to the Philippians 3:4b-11
More than that, I regard everything as loss because of the surpassing value of knowing Christ … –Philippians 3:8a
The Apostle Paul, in this third chapter of his letter to the Philippians, describes the goal of his life, and the path that he is taking to get there. He reminds me of a tour guide who, when travelers are overwhelmed with new information and unfamiliar territory, calls attention to the most important things, and points to the path you should take.
Paul’s friends in Philippi received his letter as the wise advice of a good guide. In a period of rapid change, during which early Christians felt lost in the woods of competing perspectives, Paul was able to sort out the meaningful from the trivial. He pointed the way from the path of death to the path of life.
Paul’s guidance features harsh words for religious guides that New Testament scholars identify as the “Gnostics.” The word “Gnostic” comes from the Greek word meaning “to know.” During the time of the early Church, Gnosticism was more a broad movement and less a particular well-defined group. A common characteristic of Gnostic thinkers was the belief that spiritual goals are achieved through a special form of knowledge available only to a special select group of like-minded individuals.
Paul reacts strongly against the Gnostic influence. Based on his own life experiences, he calls the spiritual value of human knowledge into question. In support of his position, he challenges any Gnostic to match his religious heritage and achievements.
About his heritage, Paul reminded the Philippians that even before he was able to think for himself, his life was a model of Jewish piety. He was part of the chosen race from birth, of the tribe of Benjamin, highly regarded in Hebrew history because of its exemplary faithfulness to God. He was circumcised the eighth day according to the letter of the law described in Leviticus 12.
About his achievements, Paul described himself as a “Hebrew of Hebrews.” He was a distinguished scholar, a member of the Pharisees, the most conservative and strict sect within Judaism. Having been mentored by the renowned teacher Gamaliel, Paul was an expert in the details of the Law of Moses, as well as the rich traditions of rabbinic interpretation.
About his zeal, he described himself as a persecutor of the Church. About his righteousness under the law, he described himself as faultless. In terms of human knowledge, Paul could boast like very Jews of his time, and make the claim that he had faithfully attempted to serve God.
From the Book of Acts, we know that there came a moment when Paul had a strange and mystical awakening experience. On the way to Damascus to imprison Christians, in a powerful vision, Paul met Jesus Christ. Suddenly, he discovered everything he thought he knew had not brought him one step closer to God.
In retrospect, Paul realized that his former life as Saul led him down the wrong trail. It put him in a position in which he was so spiritually blind that he persecuted God’s messiah, and murdered his disciples. With the benefit of his new perspective, Paul said, “Whatever gains I had,” he says, “these I have come to regard as loss because of Christ.” Paul’s guidance challenges us to reflect upon our own sense of gains and losses. In life, what is gain? What is loss?
Preacher and theologian Fred Craddock once wrote a meditation about his family’s struggles to clean out the garage (something like my current struggle to clean out a storage unit). He says that somewhere along the way, the formula for measuring the useful utility of an object changed. He and the family were taking care of what was worn out or useless to anyone by storing it in the garage. When anyone tried to take some of it to the dump, they were scolded for tossing out something of potential value. But every now and then something of potential value, something good, just had to be tossed.
Suppose a man in an expensive suit sees a child drowning, says Craddock. He jumps in to help, and removes the valuable suit in the water so that he has enough strength to swim to and rescue the child. Craddock imagines the pioneer crossing a mountain range in poor weather, the horses ready to give up, and into the ravine the pioneers tosses furniture, or a chest of precious cargo – dishes, books. He says his trips to the local dump are something like that.
Craddock said it was like that for the Apostle Paul, too. In a bragging contest, Paul could have beaten many a religious leader about the value of his family, his genealogy, his synagogue, his resume, his accomplishments, his standing in the community. And yet he said, in Craddock’s folksy free translation: “I count all this as garbage … I took it to the dump.”[1]
Craddock was a making a point about an ever-present danger. Christians can accumulate so much baggage – so many different perspectives, so many competing loyalties, political, philosophical, affinity-group, and otherwise – that sometimes they end up majoring in the minors. Sometimes, they keep the unimportant and even unhealthy, and throw out the things that are best, truest, and most life giving.
The past few weeks in our Lenten study, we’ve learned about the life and witness of Pastor Dietrich Bonhoeffer. He once said that many people define the word “grace” in a way so comfortable for them that it ends up meaning something different than the writers of scripture intended. Their “grace” may rooted in a mental assent to a certain set of doctrinal statements, checking off the items on a confirmation-class checklist in order to join the church. But without a change in behavior or priorities that places Christ first, then, says Bonhoeffer, this is “cheap grace.” We must first examine the life of Christ, said Bonhoeffer, to see how grace demands a whole-hearted commitment. Only then will we begin to see God’s will for our life; only then will we begin to walk in God’s ways.
In his own particular way, Paul warned us that we must not start with philosophies and political ideologies, letting them dictate what our life goals should be and how to get there. Rather, we must start with God who comes to us in Jesus Christ, and let his life story shape in us true “knowledge.”
What does it mean to “know” Christ? What is this “knowledge”? According to Paul, knowledge is something different than a set of beliefs that we memorize, or a book of doctrines to which we must subscribe. Knowledge of God is much more like the human relationships that we love and cherish, the relationships between brothers and sisters, parents and children, lover and beloved ….
“Do you know what Paul thought?” asks Craddock. “Paul thought that if you are going to be a Christian, then you should be like Jesus. So then, what do you do with your pride? What do you do with your own agenda? What do you do with your own selfishness? What do you do with your own independence? What do you do with your own calendar to which you may or may not add a little church? You take it to the dump in order that you may be like him …. This unusual man Paul had the idea that the ideal Christian life would be to be like Jesus: to love, to care, to give, to serve, to suffer, and to sacrifice like he did. “I am not there yet,” he said. “I do not mean for you to get the idea … that I have arrived …. Oh no. But I’ll tell you this: being like Jesus is the main thing on my mind.”[2]
May it be so among us.
NOTES
[1] Fred Craddock, “Throwing Away the Good Stuff,” The Cherry Log Sermons, Louisville: WJK Press, 2001, p. 96.
[2] Fred Craddock, “Throwing Away the Good Stuff,” The Cherry Log Sermons, Louisville: WJK Press, 2001, p. 97.
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