Just One Thing—Knowing Christ: Pressing Forward

 Uniting Heaven and Earth

Christ in Philippians and Colossians 

Lesson 6 - Thursday

Just One Thing—Knowing Christ
Philippians 3:10–16

In Philippians 3:10–16, Paul opens his heart and reveals the single, overriding passion of his life: to know Christ. Not merely to know about Him, but to know Him deeply, personally, and experientially. Everything else—status, past achievements, even spiritual milestones—fades in comparison to this one pursuit.

Paul begins by expressing his desire to know Christ in the fullness of His life and work: “that I may know Him and the power of His resurrection, and the fellowship of His sufferings.” Knowing Christ means sharing in His victory and His pain. The resurrection power Paul longs for is not only future glory, but present transformation—the power that raises us from spiritual death and reshapes our lives into Christ’s likeness. At the same time, Paul understands that intimacy with Christ also involves suffering. To walk closely with Jesus is to walk the same path of self-denial, sacrifice, and faithfulness that He walked. Yet even suffering becomes meaningful when it draws us into deeper fellowship with Him.

Paul is careful to clarify that he has not “already attained” or reached perfection. This is a key lesson of the passage: spiritual maturity does not mean complacency. The more Paul knows Christ, the more he recognizes how much there is still to know. Rather than discouraging him, this awareness fuels his determination. He presses on, not to earn Christ’s acceptance, but because Christ has already made him His own. Grace is not an excuse to stop growing; it is the reason we can keep moving forward.

One of Paul’s strongest images in this passage is his refusal to look back. “Forgetting those things which are behind,” he says, “and reaching forward to those things which are ahead.” Paul’s past included both apparent successes and profound failures. He had once been a respected Pharisee, and he had also been a persecutor of the church. Yet neither his achievements nor his sins would define his present walk with Christ. Looking back—especially at sins and failures—can quietly undermine faith. It can trap us in guilt, shame, or spiritual paralysis, causing us to live as though Christ’s forgiveness were incomplete.

In the Christian walk, constantly revisiting forgiven sins is not humility; it is often unbelief in the sufficiency of Christ’s sacrifice. When God forgives, He truly forgives. To keep looking back is to live as though the cross were not enough and as though resurrection power were not real in the present. Paul understood that growth requires forward vision. God’s promises are not only about heaven someday, but about new life, freedom, and transformation right now in Christ.

Paul ends this section by urging believers to have this same mindset—to walk according to the light they have already received. The Christian life is not about perfection, but direction. It is about steady movement toward Christ, eyes fixed ahead, heart anchored in grace, and confidence rooted in what God has promised.

To know Christ, then, is to live unburdened by the past and energized by the future God has secured. It is to trust that what Christ has begun in us, He will carry forward until the day of completion.

Prayer

Lord Jesus,
You alone are the treasure of our lives. Teach us to desire You above all else—to know You, Your power, and Your heart. Help us to release the weight of past sins and failures, trusting fully in Your forgiveness and grace. Keep our eyes fixed ahead, on the promises You have already given us in You. Give us courage to press on, humility to keep growing, and faith to believe that You are at work in us even now. May our one great pursuit be to know You more each day.
Amen.

The Faith of Christ: Clothed in a Righteousness Not Our Own

 Uniting Heaven and Earth

Christ in Philippians and Colossians 

Lesson 6 - Wednesday

The Faith of Christ

One of Paul’s most powerful and repeated phrases is the simple expression “in Him.” To be found “in Christ” is not merely a poetic way of describing belief; it is the heart of the Christian experience. It describes a complete change of standing, identity, and hope. For Paul, everything that truly matters flows from this union with Christ.

Ephesians 1:4 tells us that God chose us in Christ before the foundation of the world. Our salvation was not an afterthought or a reaction to human failure; it was rooted in Christ from eternity. God’s plan was always to place humanity back into right relationship with Himself through His Son. Being “in Him” means that our lives are now caught up in God’s eternal purpose, not defined by our past or our failures.

In 2 Corinthians 5:21, Paul explains how this union becomes possible: Christ, who knew no sin, became sin for us, so that we might become the righteousness of God in Him. This is not a transfer of good behavior but a transfer of status. Our sin is laid on Christ, and His righteousness is credited to us. To be “in Christ” means we stand before God clothed in something we could never produce on our own.

Colossians 2:9 reminds us that in Christ “all the fullness of the Godhead dwells bodily.” Our faith does not rest in a partial Savior or a diminished Christ. The One we are united to possesses the fullness of divine life and power. This makes our union secure. If Christ lacked anything, our salvation would be fragile. But because He is fully God, being “in Him” means we are connected to an unfailing source of life and grace.

Galatians 2:20 brings this truth into daily experience: “I have been crucified with Christ; it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me.” To be found in Christ is not only a legal declaration; it is a living reality. Our old self—defined by self-reliance and self-justification—has been put to death. Now Christ lives His life in us, and we live by faith in the Son of God. This is what many have called “the faith of Christ”—not merely faith in Him, but faith that flows from His faithfulness and obedience, working itself out in our lives.

Philippians 3:9 brings all of this into sharp focus. Paul contrasts two kinds of righteousness: one that comes from the law and one that comes through faith in Christ. The first is “my own righteousness,” built on performance, comparison, and effort. The second is the righteousness that comes from God, received by faith. This contrast is crucial because the human heart constantly drifts back toward self-reliance. Even sincere believers can begin to measure their standing with God by how well they are doing spiritually.

Paul never forgot that his greatest danger was not open rebellion, but subtle confidence in himself. To always remember this contrast keeps us humble, grateful, and dependent. Our assurance rests not in how strong our faith feels, but in the faithfulness of Christ. When we are found in Him, our salvation is secure because it depends on what He has done, not on what we manage to do.

To be “in Christ” is to live from a place of rest rather than striving, of gratitude rather than fear. It means trusting that the same Christ who justified us also lives in us, sustaining us day by day by His faithfulness.

Prayer

Father in heaven,
Thank You for the gift of being found in Christ. We confess how easily we trust in our own righteousness and forget that our only hope is Jesus. Teach us to rest fully in what He has done for us and in us. Let His faithfulness be our confidence, His life be our life, and His righteousness be our joy. Keep us humble, grateful, and dependent on You each day. We ask this in the name of Jesus. Amen.

The Things That Matter: Seeing Clearly in a Blinding World

 Uniting Heaven and Earth

Christ in Philippians and Colossians 

Lesson 6 - Tuesday

The Things That Matter

Although we rarely like to admit it, every human being lives with a kind of spiritual ledger. Consciously or unconsciously, we keep track of what we believe gives our lives value—our achievements, beliefs, habits, failures, and successes. This ledger shapes how we see ourselves and how we think God sees us. In Philippians 3, Paul reflects honestly on his own ledger and admits that, for much of his life, it was measured by the wrong standard.

Paul’s earlier accounting system was shaped by the Jewish values of his time rather than by the deeper, heart-centered values Jesus taught. His confidence rested in heritage, rule-keeping, reputation, and religious status. By those measures, his ledger was full and impressive. Yet when Paul encountered Christ, he realized that what he once counted as gain was actually loss. His spiritual math was wrong because the measuring stick was wrong. True value, he discovered, is not found in outward credentials but in knowing Christ and being found in Him.

John 9 gives us a living illustration of this principle. A man born blind encounters Jesus and receives not only physical sight but spiritual clarity. In contrast, the religious leaders—those who believed they saw clearly—remain blind to who Jesus truly is. Jesus explains this reversal with piercing honesty: He came so that those who do not see may see, and those who think they see may become blind. The issue is not intelligence, education, or religious involvement; it is humility and openness to truth. Those who know they are blind are ready to receive sight. Those convinced of their own vision resist it.

This principle applies directly to our own lives. Like Paul and the Pharisees, we can become blind without realizing it. The world trains us to value success, productivity, recognition, comfort, and control. Over time, these values can quietly reshape our spiritual ledger. We may begin to measure faithfulness by activity, worth by achievement, and spirituality by comparison with others. In doing so, we risk missing Jesus standing right in front of us.

Spiritual blindness often looks like confidence. We assume we see clearly because we are experienced, informed, or morally consistent. Yet true sight begins with acknowledging our limits. The man in John 9 did not argue theology; he simply testified to what Jesus had done for him. His clarity came from dependence, not self-assurance. Likewise, Paul’s vision sharpened when he surrendered his old standards and allowed Christ to redefine what mattered most.

The key to keeping our eyes focused on what truly matters is continual surrender to Christ and His Word. We must allow Jesus to challenge our assumptions, recalibrate our values, and rewrite our ledger. This happens as we remain rooted in Scripture, sensitive to the Spirit, and honest about our need for grace. When Christ becomes the center, lesser things lose their grip, and eternal priorities come into focus.

Seeing clearly is not a one-time event; it is a daily choice. Each day, we decide whether we will measure life by the world’s values or by the truth revealed in Jesus. When we choose Christ, our vision sharpens, our ledger changes, and our lives begin to reflect what truly matters.

Prayer

Lord Jesus,
We confess that we often measure our lives by the wrong standards. Open our eyes to see what truly matters and reveal where the world has shaped our values more than Your truth. Remove every form of spiritual blindness born of pride, fear, or distraction. Teach us to keep our eyes fixed on You, to value what You value, and to live each day with eternity in view. Rewrite our spiritual ledger by Your grace, and help us to walk in humble, grateful obedience.
Amen.

Paul’s “Past Life”: When “Good Enough” Isn’t Enough

 Uniting Heaven and Earth

Christ in Philippians and Colossians 

Lesson 6 - Monday

Paul’s “Past Life”

In Philippians 3:4–6, the apostle Paul opens a window into a chapter of his life that once defined his identity and fueled his pride. If anyone could have claimed spiritual credentials, Paul says, it was him. He lists them carefully: circumcised on the eighth day, a true Israelite from the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew of the Hebrews, rigorously faithful to the law as a Pharisee, zealous enough to persecute the church, and outwardly blameless in legal righteousness. These were not small accomplishments. In the religious world of Paul’s day, they represented the very best a person could offer. By every visible standard, Paul had lived a “good” life.

Yet Paul recounts these things not to boast, but to expose how deceptive human goodness can be. What once formed the foundation of his confidence, he now counts as loss compared to knowing Christ. His past life was morally disciplined, religiously serious, and socially impressive, but it was still centered on self—self-achievement, self-righteousness, and self-trust. Paul’s story forces us to pause and examine our own.

When we are asked to describe the “good” in our own lives—past and present—we might point to our upbringing, education, church involvement, moral behavior, generosity, or reputation. Perhaps we avoided major public sins, worked hard, raised a family, or served faithfully. These things are not meaningless; they may even be commendable. But Paul’s testimony presses a deeper question: What are we trusting in? Are these “good” things shaping our gratitude to God, or are they quietly becoming the basis of our confidence before Him?

To understand why Paul ultimately rejected law-based righteousness, we must compare Romans 7:7–12 with Jesus’ teaching in Matthew 5:21–22 and 27–28. In Romans, Paul explains that the law itself is holy, just, and good. The problem is not the law; the problem is the human heart. The law exposes sin, names it, and reveals how deeply rooted it is within us. Commands such as “You shall not covet” uncover desires we did not even realize were sinful until the law shone its light on them. Rather than saving us, the law shows us our need to be saved.

Jesus makes the same point in the Sermon on the Mount, but He presses it even further. He refuses to let righteousness remain at the surface level of behavior. Murder, He says, begins with anger. Adultery begins with lustful intent. In doing this, Jesus strips away any illusion that keeping the law is merely about outward obedience. The law reaches into thoughts, motives, and desires. When measured by Jesus’ standard, even those who appear morally upright stand exposed.

This is the crucial point both Jesus and Paul make: the law reveals God’s perfect standard, but it cannot produce the righteousness it demands. At best, it can restrain behavior; it cannot transform the heart. That is why Paul insists that “faith in Christ” (Philippians 3:9, NKJV), not the law, is the only source of true righteousness. Righteousness is not something we achieve by flawless obedience; it is something we receive by trusting in Christ, who alone has fulfilled the law perfectly.

When we ask ourselves, “How well do you keep the law, at least in the way Jesus said we should?” the honest answer humbles us. We may avoid outward acts of violence or immorality, yet still wrestle with anger, pride, envy, lust, or bitterness. Measured by Jesus’ standard, our best efforts fall short. This realization is not meant to drive us to despair, but to dependence. The law leads us to Christ by showing us that we cannot save ourselves.

Paul’s past life teaches us that even the best human goodness cannot replace Christ. What matters most is not what we bring to God, but whom we trust. Faith in Christ shifts our confidence away from our record and places it firmly in His. From that place of grace, obedience becomes a response of love rather than an attempt to earn acceptance.

Prayer

Gracious Father,
We thank You for Your holy law, which reveals Your character and exposes the truth about our hearts. We confess that, like Paul, we often place confidence in our own goodness, achievements, and religious efforts. Show us where we have trusted ourselves instead of You. Help us to see our lives through the light of Christ’s teaching, and to recognize our deep need for His righteousness. Teach us to rest fully in faith, not in our performance, and to walk in grateful obedience born of love. May knowing Christ become our greatest treasure, now and always.
In Jesus’ name, amen.

Rejoicing in the Lord: Joy That Holds Steady When Life Shakes

 Uniting Heaven and Earth

Christ in Philippians and Colossians 

Lesson 6 - Sunday  

Rejoicing in the Lord

Read Philippians 3:1–3

Paul opens Philippians 3 with a command that is both simple and demanding: “Rejoice in the Lord.” This is not a suggestion based on favorable circumstances but a spiritual discipline rooted in who Christ is and what He has done. Paul writes these words from prison, reminding us that Christian joy is not fragile or dependent on comfort. It is anchored in the Lord Himself.

In these verses, Paul sounds both positive and negative notes, and they are closely connected. Positively, he calls believers to joy and confidence in Christ. He speaks of rejoicing as something “safe,” a safeguard for the soul. Rejoicing in the Lord protects believers from drifting into self-reliance or spiritual pride. It keeps the heart centered on Christ rather than on performance, tradition, or personal achievement.

Negatively, Paul issues a sharp warning against those who place confidence in the flesh—those who trust in outward religion, human effort, or religious credentials. His strong language highlights the danger of substituting human works for Christ’s sufficiency. The negative warning exists to preserve the positive reality: true joy cannot survive where trust in self replaces trust in Christ. The two notes belong together. When believers stop rejoicing in the Lord, they almost inevitably begin to rejoice in something else—often themselves.

Paul also clearly describes who believers are. They are those who “worship God in the Spirit,” who “rejoice in Christ Jesus,” and who “have no confidence in the flesh.” This description shifts the focus from what believers do to where their confidence rests. Christians are not defined by external marks of religion but by an inward, Spirit-led relationship with God. Their joy is Christ-centered, and their confidence is Christ-dependent.

Life, however, has a way of testing this truth. Difficulty is universal. Even when things appear to be going well, uncertainty, loss, and disappointment are never far away. When life is hard, rejoicing can feel unnatural, even impossible. Yet Paul does not say rejoice in circumstances, success, or ease. He says rejoice in the Lord. That means there is always something solid to rejoice in: Christ’s unchanging character, His finished work on the cross, His present intercession, and His promise to complete what He has begun.

What, then, should we rejoice about when life is heavy? We can rejoice that we are known by God, forgiven in Christ, and held by grace rather than by our own strength. We can rejoice that our identity is secure, our future is promised, and our suffering is not meaningless. Even in sorrow, joy remains possible because it rests on eternal realities, not temporary ones.

What often stops us from rejoicing is not the absence of reasons but the presence of distractions. Fear, self-focus, guilt, comparison, and misplaced confidence in the flesh can all choke joy. When we fix our eyes on ourselves—our failures, our limitations, or even our successes—we lose sight of Christ. Rejoicing returns when confidence shifts back where it belongs: away from self and fully onto Jesus.

Paul’s call is clear and deeply pastoral. Rejoicing in the Lord is both an act of worship and an act of trust. It is a daily choice to anchor the heart in Christ rather than in circumstances, feelings, or human effort.

Prayer

Lord Jesus,
You know how easily our joy fades when life becomes difficult or uncertain. Forgive us for the times we place confidence in ourselves instead of in You. Teach us to rejoice in You alone—Your grace, Your faithfulness, and Your saving work. When our hearts are heavy, lift our eyes to eternal truths. When fear or distraction steals our joy, draw us back to Yourself. Help us worship by the Spirit, rejoice in Christ Jesus, and rest fully in Your sufficiency. Amen.