Philippians 3:12-4:1 · Pressing on Toward the Goal
Enemies of the Cross
Philippians 3:17 - 4:1
Sermon
by Steven E. Albertin
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Whenever I lead an inquiry class for those who want to learn more about my congregation and the faith we confess, I try to keep things very simple and boiled down to the basics. I call it an inquiry class because by exploring their questions I hope to help them to see what is at the heart and core of the Christian faith.

What is that heart and core? It is revealed by a shocking answer to a simple question. It is a question that every human being asks: What do I have to do to be saved? It is a question that gets asked in a variety of ways in a multitude of circumstances: What must I do to have a worthwhile and meaningful life? What do I have to do to have a life that matters? Can I do anything of eternal significance? What must I do to be happy? These questions all seem to be different but, in fact, they are all asking the same fundamental question: What do I have to do? The shocking answer that the Christian faith offers to that question is ... nothing! I don't have to do anything to be saved or to have a meaningful and purposeful life or be happy or be somebody. Why? Because God has already given me that in Jesus Christ! It is a pure gift. What I can never achieve on my own, God freely gives me with no strings attached, no conditions to be filled, or obligations to be met.

Immediately there are always those in the class who raise their eyebrows. If they are especially bold, they might even protest. Even lifelong Christians in the class might be uncomfortable with this answer. "But, pastor, I have to do something, don't I? At least I have to believe, don't I?" But I stick to my guns and keep on insisting on the nothing.

The problem is with the question. It assumes that we have to do something. Yes, faith is important. Yes, it is only by faith in Christ that we are saved. But faith is something that we get to do, willingly, freely, joyfully in response to what God has first offered us in Jesus Christ.

There is an underlying fear shared by all of us that such a message goes just too far. If I don't have to do something to be saved, then I can do anything. What is to prevent me from just going out and doing anything I please, having a grand old time sinning and carousing knowing that it really doesn't make any difference because God is going to save me anyway? It's like that streetwise corner newsboy who upon hearing the gospel shouts, "God loves to forgive sins. I love to commit them. Isn't the world admirably arranged?"

In the face of such an "anything goes" kind of attitude, there are those who go running to "law and order," to the rules and regulations, convinced that people will always abuse such freedom for their own selfish gain. You have to crack down on them. You have to keep them in line. You just have to lay down certain duties and obligations, otherwise they will turn the Christian faith into one big joke. But as we all know, sometimes the best of intentions ends up creating results we never expected. A noble attempt to prevent chaos turns the Christian faith in to a "bunch of do's and don'ts." We thought we had good news to offer but all the rules create only a bunch of guilt ridden do-gooders who never can escape their sense of failure. Or we create a bunch of hypocrites who are very good at lying to themselves and to anyone else who is foolish enough to believe that they don't have any skeletons in their closets.

It seems that we are trapped between a rock and a hard place, between "letting it all hang out" and "nailing it all down."

It is just this sort of problem that Saint Paul addresses in today's second reading. The congregation at Philippi was one that he dearly loved and it gave him great joy. But it seems that the congregation is threatened by those in their midst whom Paul calls "enemies of the cross of Christ." In very harsh language he describes them as those whose "end is destruction, their god is the belly, and they glory in their shame, with minds set on earthly things." Who are these terrible "enemies of the cross" of Christ?

Scholars have debated this question ad infinitum. On the one hand, there are those who see them as libertines, the "let it all hang out" crowd. For them "anything goes" in the name of Christian freedom. They indulge in every sort of excess and immorality, all in the pursuit of their own self-gratification. In pursuit of their own pleasure they have little concern for the welfare of others.

On the other hand, there are those scholars who see the "enemies of the cross" as Jewish Christians who insist that followers of Jesus must still adhere to the law of Moses. In other words, one must become a Jew before he could become a Christian. "Their god is their belly" when they insist on enforcing all the Jewish food laws. And "their glory is in their shame" when they demand circumcision for every male. They believe that the performance of such "earthly things" guarantees them their salvation.

The debate between the scholars is interesting but ultimately it doesn't matter. In fact, both groups are "enemies of the cross." In fact, there may have been members of both groups in the congregation in Philippi that Paul had in mind when he wrote this. Like two dogs fighting each other, biting at each other's throat, they are mortal enemies with nothing in common ... other than their desire to destroy the other. That is exactly the point! They are fighting each other, but they have their tails tied together. They both share the same assumption: they have to win; they have to be right; they have to succeed ... and it is up to them to do something about it.

They are just like us living their lives under the tyranny of the have to. Isn't that the way we all live our lives? In fact, we have no choice. There is no escape. We have to justify our lives, carve out our own niche, be somebody, win! We cannot but live our lives any other way than by serving our own self-interest. On the one hand the libertine tries to "save" himself through all sorts of self-indulgence. On the other hand, the moralist tries to "save" himself through all sorts of discipline. They do it with a passion that betrays its ultimate source: the empty and searching heart that feels compelled to have a life that counts. There is no escaping the sense that they must, that they have to do something or else they will disappear into oblivion.

Paul would say in terms of today's reading that we cannot escape serving our "belly." We have to always eat. Some people in this world eat to live. We live to eat, to feed our "belly." We live in a society that glamorizes conspicuous consumption. For as much as we love the delights of a flashy lifestyle or the thrills of our latest gadget, we still crave being right. Our "belly" demands that we feed its cravings and desires. We cannot escape its gnawing hunger, its demand for always more and more. We cannot live otherwise.

And what is the result? Paul says "their end is destruction." What is the result of a "belly" that can never be satisfied? We end up destroying ourselves.

The biggest epidemic in our society today, a society where we can never get enough, is obesity. We eat too much of the wrong foods, always hoping to satisfy our hunger, and it kills us. We get hypertension, heart disease, and diabetes, the diseases, ironically, of affluence! The affluence that billions of the world's hungry crave, ironically, is killing us.

Our economy may already be in a recession partially aggravated by the burst of the housing bubble. Too many people in pursuit of satisfying their "belly," never convinced that they have "enough," always feeling that they have to have more and more, lied about their incomes, took on mortgages they couldn't handle, and were all too willing to receive loans they never should have received. Lenders, also, were unable to resist the cravings of their "belly." In pursuit of a more robust bottom line they made loans that never should have been made. Foolishly believing that the "bubble" could expand forever, they were unprepared for the burst that was inevitable.

We live in a society that glamorizes immediate gratification. Commitments are ridiculed. Loyalty is scorned. Pleasure is a right. We have to satisfy our "belly." But what are the results? Paul's words sound prophetic. "Their end is destruction." Over half of all births in our society are to single mothers. Over one in two marriages crumbles. Children come into this world unwanted. People flee to the suburbs to escape social problems but only end up creating clogged freeways and more pollution. What kind of society are we creating? What kind of future will we have with such massive social dysfunction? "Their end is destruction."

We would like to think that Paul is pointing his finger at all the people out there. In this season of Lent we are reminded that the finger is also pointed at us. There is no escape. So we mark ourselves with ashes. We drape our sanctuary in the mournful shades of purple. We refuse to sing "Alleluia" for six weeks. We confess that we are simply getting what we deserve.

We realize that when Paul speaks of "enemies of the cross," he is talking about us. Clinging to our pious deeds, obsessed with having to prove ourselves and be right, unable and unwilling to leave behind the cravings of our "belly," we are finally thumbing our noses at the cross. We don't really need Christ and his cross. We like the challenge of the have to and the ought to because we think we can do it. We are proud of our accomplishments: our incomes, our beautiful homes, our children who are always on the honor roll, our latest promotion, our four-star schools, our beautiful church (or at least the new one that is rising out in the parking lot). Who needs Jesus ... except to maybe fill in the blanks, cover the mistakes, and pick us up when we slip? After all, who is perfect? We have to be appropriately modest because we all know how everyone is turned off by arrogance. God forbid that we should not be liked!

The problem gets worse. When we insist that there are parts of our lives that are pretty darn good after all and can stand on their own, we are living dangerously. We are thumbing our nose at God. We are telling God, "Thanks but no thanks for Christ and his cross. We don't need them." Are we serious? Do we know with whom we are messing? We are inviting God to give us what we deserve. We should not be surprised that our end is our destruction.

That is not a particularly appealing fate. We were sure that when Paul referred to the "enemies of the cross of Christ" he was talking about all those other folks. When we realize that Paul is talking about us, we want to run and hide. Instead Paul invites us to "join in imitating me." On the one hand this sounds incredibly arrogant on the part of Paul. Just last week we heard how this guy's life was such a mess, pockmarked with failures, rejections, shipwrecks, beatings, and loss. Do we really want to imitate this? On the other hand this sounds like just another have to, like just another appeal to our "belly" that is eternally craving to be somebody.

But this is something entirely different. When Paul asks us to "imitate" him, this is not a have to. It is a get to! Paul is not asking us to imitate his virtuous life. He is keenly aware of his shortcomings and failures. "For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do" (Romans 7:19). "Yet whatever gains I had, these I have come to regard as loss because of Christ" (Philippians 3:7). Instead Paul is inviting us to imitate his trust of "the cross of Christ."

That cross is everything. God could have simply given us what we deserve. We continue to bring upon ourselves daily destruction. Just look at the newspaper, watch cable news, see a good film, read a good book, or listen to what those closest to us are really telling us about ourselves, and we will see the deadly fate to which God is handing us over. The cemeteries are filled with evidence. But that is not the fate God desires to give us. God is determined to love us. God's love will not be thwarted, even by our "bellies" and our stubborn desire to always go our own way. God sends Christ to bear the wreckage of our sin and suffer the judgment we deserve. He carries them to the cross where he bears the fate we deserve.

It is no accident that the cross is the focal point of this worship space. It is at the cross where God does the unthinkable. There God chooses not to give his enemies (enemies of the cross like us) what we deserve. No, instead God chooses to bear what we deserve, paying the price, biting the bullet, for us ... and our salvation.

When we gather here to eat and drink, to be washed and "born again," to receive the words of peace and consolation, it is under the cross. For it is here at the foot of the cross that we are given the status we crave. The hunger in our "bellies" is satisfied. Here God welcomes us home with the hug we thought we could find elsewhere. Here God dresses us in the finest clothes, kills for us the fatted calf for the feast in our honor, puts a ring on our finger, and declares to the whole company of heaven that the lost have come home. Those who once had been his enemies are now not just his friends but his beloved sons and daughters.

When Paul invites us to imitate him, it is an invitation in the best sense of the word. It is an invitation to a party where we will receive a gift and enjoy a blessing. This is no burden. This is no demand we have to meet or else. On the contrary, this is a get to, a privilege, an honor, a blessing that we will surely want to make our own.

When we do, we discover that we get to live our lives differently. Paul uses an interesting image to portray that here. He reminds us that even though we live in this world, "our citizenship is in heaven." When our life has been changed by the cross, we no longer belong to this world. Because we are citizens of heaven, we get to live in this world as foreigners, immigrants, strangers, never again to feel at home, no longer able to truly fit in. We will never be able to totally assimilate, but we will always be like the immigrant who is never able to shake his foreign accent. We gather on Sundays here in our ethnic neighborhood, to eat our ethnic foods, to practice our ethnic customs, to sing our ethnic songs, and to speak the foreign language of grace, mercy, and forgiveness.

We live "in" the world but are never "of" the world. When we leave this place, we will always be out of step. We will never quite shed our strange customs and practices. We can live with less. We can say "No" to conspicuous consumption. We don't need to hoard but can give ourselves away in lives of service to those with less. We welcome the stranger. We do what is right and not just what is expedient. We turn the other cheek. We go the extra mile. Why? Because our "bellies" are full. At the cross it has been satisfied. We are no longer hungry. We know who we are. We who once were enemies of the cross now embrace it.

This ... is now the shape of our lives! (make the sign of the cross) In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Sermons for Sundays in Lent and Easter: But!, by Steven E. Albertin