“Pressing On”
Philippians 3: 4b-14
10/8/23
In J.R.R. Tolkien’s book, The Hobbit, Bilbo Baggins and that twisted creature, Gollum, are engaged in a battle of wits. Gollum challenges Bilbo to answer this riddle:
“It cannot be seen, cannot be felt,
Cannot be heard, cannot be smelt,
It lies behind stars and under hills,
And empty holes it fills,
It comes first and follows after,
Ends life, kills laughter.”
What is it?
“Unfortunately for Gollum, Bilbo had heard this sort of thing before; and the answer was all around him anyway. ‘Dark!’, he said without even scratching his head or putting on his thinking cap.” (1)
True. Darkness can be a terrifying thing. But it can also be a comforting thing as well. If you’ve ever enjoyed laying on the grass looking up at a star filled sky – you know what I mean. It can be a very relaxing thing to do. The same thing can be said for looking out over bodies of water – studies have shown that simply staring at water can help relieve stress and anxiety. The same thing goes for star-gazing, I think. Maybe you remember how many people discovered the Japanese custom of “nature-bathing” during the pandemic – intentionally getting outside and spending time in nature became very popular when we had to live in isolation for so long.
But darkness isn’t all it used to be. Some people are worried that we are in danger of losing our darkness.
According to the International Dark-Sky Association, artificial light has become such a common thing in modern life that two-thirds of the world’s population lives in areas where light pollution obscures the night sky. These days we light up everything from parking lots to construction sites, from backyards to schoolyards, not to mention football and baseball stadiums. According to the IDA, most of that light is unnecessary and wastes more than 2 billion dollars a year, not to mention its impact on humans and the environment.
In 2012, for example, the American Medical Association reported that widespread use of artificial light messes with the circadian rhythms of the human body, leading to many destructive diseases and disorders. Animals are affected as well because light pollution causes disruptions in patterns of sleep, migration and mating. In the interest of pushing back the darkness for reasons of commerce and security, we ‘re actually damaging our environment as well as our own health.
The International Dark-Sky Association is looking to change all that, however, by encouraging cities to cut down on unnecessary lighting and be more efficient with lighting that is essential. IDA now offers certifications to cities and parks which designate them as Dark-Sky locations.
Some of the best spots for truly dark skies, and especially good star-gazing opportunities, are Big Bend National Park in Texas, Cedar Breaks National Monument in Utah, Glacier National Park in Montana and our own Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness Park. (2)
It’s a curious thing – as terrifying as darkness can be, we need darkness to see light.
This is what Paul is getting at in this passage from Philippians for today. He starts out by apparently bragging a little about his achievements and qualifications before he started following the way of Jesus Christ. A rising star in the world of Pharisees, Paul brags about circumcised on the 8th day, a member of the people of Israel and the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew among Hebrews, a defender of the law of Moses and a persecutor of heresies, righteous and blameless under the law. An impeccable resume.
But then Paul turns his impressive list of accomplishments on its head and says he regards all that as rubbish. The only thing that matters to him now is his relationship with Christ.
It’s as if Paul has turned off the light pollution of his past accomplishments, the glow of his resume – and instead focuses on the light of Christ. In the darkness of the world, Christ is the bright shining star that Paul gazes at. For Paul, the darkness is not something to be feared. The darkness is a time to see Christ more clearly. The philosopher Soren Kierkegaard is famous for saying, “faith sees best in the dark.” A more contemporary voice would agree, as Joan Chittister once wrote, “never fear periods of darkness in life. They are the atrium to new phases in life, the threshold to new experience, the invitation to move on from where you are to where there is more for you to learn.” (3)
Instead of standing on his record, Paul looks forward to the privilege of suffering in the name of Jesus. That’s not something people would normally brag about. That seems sort of unsavory, maybe a little masochistic – to look forward to suffering and death
Most people would not think of bragging about the suffering and difficulty of life. That’s usually the sort of thing people try to hide and desperately try to ignore. It’s a bit like a certain woman who was trying to gain admittance to a very exclusive, upper-crusty organization that required a genealogical search and a clean family tree for at least four generations.
The woman hired a genealogist to do the necessary research, and a few days later the genealogist reported back. “I’m afraid there is a problem. It seems your maternal grandfather died in the electric chair at Sing Sing.”
“Oh no,” said the woman. “I can’t have that. Can’t you just forget about him.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
After some further discussion, the genealogist agreed to put the best possible face on the story in the final report, which read:
“Subject’s maternal grandfather worked in a state institution in upstate New York, until his sudden, untimely death.” (4)
Most people would rather hide the fact of their ancestors unsavory lives, or that they were accused of trying to overthrow the government or sentenced to death. And yet, that is what happened to Jesus, or ancestor in faith. And Paul is quite happy to brag about it all.
Here is Paul, an upright man, trying as hard as he can to become like Jesus. Here is Paul, by his words and by his example, urging us to do our best to become like Jesus as well. Paul knows he is not there yet, he knows that none of us are there yet. But he urges us to press on anyway.
At one of the churches I served, I remember the day that I was approached by one of the long-time members of the church, a real pillar of our faith community, with a question. I had just given a sermon about the life of discipleship, and giving our time to the church and doing the work of Jesus. He found me at fellowship hour and said, “I heard what you said today. I’ve been doing those things my whole life. I have served on every committee, attended every Sunday, and given faithfully. But I’m just wondering, now that I’m in my seventies – when am I done?”
At first I thought he was joking, and he was – kind of. But part of him meant it. When am I done? I answered him as truthfully as I could, “I don’t think we’re ever done.” And he was okay with that.
That’s what Paul is getting at. We’re never really done. The life of discipleship doesn’t really have a finish line. All we can do is press on.
Our following the way of Jesus involves more than merely following actions; it also involves following attitudes as well. Speaking of both our actions and our attitudes in following Christ, Dietrich Bonhoeffer once said, “Anyone who thinks his time is too valuable to spend keeping quiet will eventually have no time for God or other people, but only for themselves and their own follies.” (5)
Today Paul urges us to join him in pressing on toward the prize of the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus; the heavenly call on us of following the example of Christ, or serving others, of working for the betterment of other people, of living for Christ. We are not there yet, and we are never really done. But, like Paul, we press on.
May God be praised. Amen.
1. homileticsonline.com, retrieved 9/20/23.
2. Ibid…
3. Ibid…
4. Jeff Wedge, “Bragging Rights”, Sermons on the Second Readings, CSS Publishing Inc., 2004, p. 373.
5. Ibid…
