Philippians 3:4b-14
Falling into God
James Sledge October
5, 2014 (Stewardship1)
Seminary
students sometimes have a bit of nerdy fun translating today’s Philippians
passage. When Paul says the immense value of knowing Jesus has made all he once
valued “rubbish,” the word he uses has a bit more shock value. One Greek
dictionary defines it simply as “dung, excrement.” And so at least one
seminarian in any class will inevitably translate it using a four letter word I
can’t repeat here.
But
what is it that would make Paul so thoroughly reassess his former life? Despite
how large Paul looms over the New Testament, I’m not sure the Church – and
especially the Protestant Church – has always had the best answer.
Heavily
influenced by Martin Luther, Protestants have typically understood Paul’s
experience, and so salvation and conversion, as rescue from some failed past.
This was Luther’s personal experience. As a priest, he was racked by feelings
of guilt, sure he could never follow Jesus well enough or confess his failings fully
enough to be acceptable. But Paul’s writings on grace, on how restored relationship
with God is a gift and not earned, freed Luther from his guilty past.
Five
hundred years later, Luther’s notion of faith and salvation as this sort of rescue
still exerts great influence on Protestant theology and thought, even if it fails
to connect with many in pews. One reason lifelong Presbyterians, Episcopalians,
Lutherans, etc. say they’ve never had a “conversion experience” is because they
understand it as rescue, but they’ve never really thought they needed rescue,
having grown up in the church.
But
it turns out that Martin Luther’s faith experience did not mirror Paul’s. Unlike
Luther, Paul never felt oppressed by God’s law. He wasn’t seeking freedom from
guilt and worry. In our reading this morning, he describes himself so, “…as
to righteous under the law, blameless.” That doesn’t mean he thought he
was perfect. It simply means he tried diligently to live a life ordered by
God’s law, and could be forgiven when he failed.
But
now that he is “in Christ,” Paul views everything from his past in a new light.
And many of us have had a similar experience even if we’ve never had a
religious conversion: the experience of falling in love.
Think
about what happens when someone falls head-over-heels in love. It is life
altering, totally reshuffling plans and priorities. Things that formerly were important
suddenly take a back seat. This is not rescue from a failed past. The old life isn’t despised
or escaped. Rather, something new and wonderful has reprioritized everything.
Falling
in love isn’t usually a long, drawn-out, incremental thing, not something that begins
as a child and slowly comes into flower. It is a conversion. People don’t say,
“Oh, I grew up in a loving home so I don’t really know what it means to fall in
love.” Growing up in a loving home is an
advantage for people when they do fall in love, but falling in love is something
new and different, a wonderful thing quite unlike anything before.
This
is what has happened to Paul. No doubt he regrets once persecuting followers of
Jesus, but he does not see his past as some terrible thing he escaped. He is
proud of his rabbinical, Jewish background. He still thinks of himself as a
Jew. He quotes his Jewish Scriptures regularly. “Yet,” he writes, “whatever
gains I had, these I have come to regard as loss because of Christ. More than
that, I regard everything as loss because of the surpassing value of knowing
Christ Jesus my Lord”
To my ear, if you take out “Christ
Jesus” and replace it with “you,” it sounds like a love poem. “Whatever I once
had I have come to regard as loss because of you. More than that, I regard
everything as loss because of the surpassing value of knowing you.” You could put
that in a Valentine’s Day card.
At
this point I should probably confess that this sermon took a turn I had not
expected or intended. This was supposed to be a stewardship sermon. Paul’s
letter seemed to have real stewardship possibilities. It speaks of “The
surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus…” For Jesus to be such a high
priority would seem like a great starting point for talking about supporting
the work of the church. After all, people who are really committed to Jesus and
make him a top priority tend to give generously to the church, not unlike how
people who fall in love want to do
things for and give things to the one they love.
But
how do you preach falling in love? No one ever got talked or convinced into
falling in love. And I don’t know that it’s any different when we’re talking
about falling in love with Jesus. So perhaps the best I can do is to say, don’t
be afraid to fall in love.
There
are reasons to be afraid. People caught up in religious fervor have committed
great evils in the name of faith. It also can be scary to lose control. The same
can be said about romantic love. Romantic passions can motivate envy, jealousy,
abuse, and other terrible acts. Some have even labeled “in love” a form of
temporary insanity. Still, most of us are willing to take a chance on romantic
love. But we seem less inclined to risk the sort of passion Paul knows. Perhaps
falling in love with another person is less scary because it’s with an equal,
another human, but falling in love with God risks losing ourselves in something
so much bigger than us and so risks losing control on a whole other level.
But I am convinced that we
do not become fully alive, we do not become fully human, until we lose
ourselves in the vast otherness and bigger-than-us-ness of God.
_________________________________________________________________________
I receive a daily email devotion from Richard Rohr who, like
Paul, seems to have passionately fallen into the immense grandness and love of
God. This was in a recent devotion.
But
after any true God experience, you know that you are a part of a much bigger
whole. Life is not about you; you are about life. You are an instance
of a universal and even eternal pattern. Life is living itself in you. It is an
earthquake in the brain, a hurricane in the heart, a Copernican revolution of
the mind, and a monumental shift in consciousness. Frankly, most do not seem
interested.
Understanding that your life is not about you is the connection
point with everything else. It lowers the mountains and fills in the valleys
that we have created, as we gradually recognize that the myriad forms of life
in the universe, including ourselves, are operative parts of the One Life that
most of us call God. After such a discovery, I am grateful to be a part—and
only a part! I do not have to figure it all out, straighten it all out, or even
do it perfectly by myself. I do not have to be God.
It is an enormous weight off my back. All I have to do is participate!
My holiness is first of all and really only God’s, and that’s why it is certain
and secure—and always holy. It is a participation, a mutual indwelling, not an
achievement or performance on my part.
After this
epiphany, things like praise, gratitude, and compassion come naturally—like
breath and air. True spirituality is not taught; it is caught once
our sails have been unfurled to the Spirit. Henceforth, our very motivation and
momentum for the journey toward holiness and wholeness is just immense gratitude—for
already having it![1]
True
spirituality, like true love, is caught rather than taught. But we do need to
embrace it, to be open to it, not to be so frightened of it that we try to hold
it at arm’s length lest is sweep us up. And when we do catch true spirituality,
when we fall into God and find ourselves “in Christ,” I wonder if stewardship
sermons are even necessary.
[1] From
Richard Rohr’s September 15, 2014 devotion, “You Are about Life.” Learn more at
The Center for Action and Contemplation
website, https://cac.org/
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