Philippians 3:12–14

There is a difference between something being unfinished and something being abandoned.

They can look the same if you walk by at the wrong moment.

A construction site can look chaotic. Materials are scattered. Walls are exposed. Dust is everywhere. Some things have been torn down, but the new things have not been completed yet.

If you only look at what is unfinished, you might assume everybody walked away.

But then you notice the tools are still there.

The plans are still there.

The workers are coming back.

The project may be unfinished, but it has not been abandoned.

For the last several weeks, God has been reminding us that the unfinished places in our lives are not evidence that He has abandoned us.

We began this series by discovering that even when suffering tries to convince us that hope is gone—God’s not done.

Then we learned that while we are waiting—God’s not done.

Paul showed us that Jesus did not merely reconcile us to God. He tore down walls and began building us together into one family, one people, and one house—because God’s not done with all of us.

Then Peter showed us what can happen when an exhausted and disappointed person gives Jesus another yes—because God’s not done with your yes.

But as we bring this series to a close, there is one final question we must answer:

Since God is not done with me, what should my response be?

Since God has not abandoned the work, should I abandon the process?

Since God is still shaping me, should I stop growing?

Should I stop moving?

Should I stop reaching toward Him?

No.

If God’s not done, neither am I.

That does not mean I am going to exhaust myself trying to earn His love. It does not mean I am going to perform so God will accept me. It does not mean everything depends upon my strength.

It means that because grace has taken hold of me, I refuse to give up on what grace is producing in me.

That is where we find Paul in Philippians 3.

He has accomplishments behind him, suffering around him, and uncertainty ahead of him. He has preached, planted, served, and sacrificed—but Paul still says:

“I haven’t arrived.”

Paul understands that he is unfinished, but he also knows that he has not been abandoned.

So he presses forward.

Not because he is trying to make Jesus love him.

Paul keeps reaching because Jesus reached for him first.

He keeps moving because Jesus has already taken hold of him.

I’m Not Done Because Christ Took Hold of Me

Paul begins with an honest admission:

“I have not achieved these things yet. I have not reached perfection.”

There is nothing defeated in his tone.

He sounds hungry.

Paul knows he is not finished, but he has already experienced enough of Jesus to know there is still more of Jesus worth pursuing.

He has experienced the joy of knowing Jesus Christ as Lord. After encountering Christ, all his previous achievements looked like garbage by comparison. No accomplishment, title, status, or recognition could compare to knowing Jesus.

He has also experienced the relief of gifted righteousness.

Paul had spent his life attempting to make himself righteous through obedience to the law. But in Christ, he received a righteousness he could never earn—the righteousness that comes from God through faith.

Paul did not have to earn his way onto the team.

Jesus had already taken hold of him.

And Paul experienced resurrection power.

Resurrection power did not mean Paul never experienced weakness. It meant weakness did not get the final word.

Prison could restrict his movement.

His body could be beaten.

His circumstances could press against him.

But nothing could reverse what Jesus had done in his life.

Like Paul, we have experienced enough of Jesus to have a reason to keep going.

Some of us know what it is to pursue careers, money, status, titles, and recognition, only to discover that none of them could satisfy our souls. After meeting Jesus, we learned that no promotion could match the peace of His presence, no dollar amount could purchase the security of His love, and no title could tell us who we are better than Jesus could.

Some of us were raised around performance-based love. We learned to become the perfect child, spouse, employee, parent, or Christian. We lived with an internal checklist, terrified that one mistake would make us unlovable to God and everyone else.

But the love of Christ conquered that fear.

My standing with God is not secured by my flawless performance. It is secured by the finished work of Jesus.

Some of us have encountered the ugliness of life—divorce, disappointment, betrayal, trauma, discrimination, and wounds inflicted by people we trusted. Everything within us wanted to become bitter, angry, and consumed with revenge.

But resurrection power gave us the strength to endure, forgive, heal, and change in ways human willpower could never produce.

We have experienced enough of Jesus to know that God is good.

And Jesus has a hold on us.

That is why I press on.

That is why I refuse to throw in the towel.

How can I walk away from the Savior who took hold of me?

How can I abandon the God who met me in my lowest place?

How can I leave the presence that gave me peace when everything around me was falling apart?

I’m not done because Christ took hold of me.

Watch Out for the Penalties

Paul has experienced the goodness of God, but he has not lost his self-awareness.

He is confident in Christ without becoming impressed with himself.

“I don’t mean to say that I have already achieved these things or that I have already reached perfection.”

In other words:

“I’ve made progress, but I haven’t arrived.”

God has done a work in me, but God is not done working on me.

Since football season is upon us, let me put it this way: it is possible to wear the right uniform, belong to the right team, and still commit a penalty that costs you forward progress.

Paul identifies two spiritual penalties that can keep us from moving toward the goal: excessive celebration and holding.

The first penalty is excessive celebration.

In football, excessive celebration happens when someone becomes so consumed with what they just accomplished that they lose perspective. Sometimes they celebrate before the play is over. Sometimes they act as if one successful moment means the entire game has been won.

That is the danger Paul is resisting.

Paul has experienced resurrection power. He has preached the Gospel and planted churches. Yet he still says:

“I haven’t arrived.”

Some of us are celebrating progress as though it were perfection.

“I’ve been in church for twenty years. I don’t have to work on how I treat people. That’s just my personality.”

Excessive celebration.

“I already have a job. I don’t need to ask whether God is calling me toward something deeper.”

Excessive celebration.

“We have been married this long. I don’t need to keep learning how to listen, apologize, communicate, and love my spouse better.”

Excessive celebration.

“I’ve already overcome so much. Surely there cannot be anything else in me that needs healing.”

Excessive celebration.

There is nothing wrong with celebrating how far God has brought you. You should thank God for every step of progress.

But never become so impressed with how far you have come that you stop listening for where God is calling you next.

Pride is not the only penalty that stops forward movement.

Some people are stuck because they keep celebrating their best play. Others are stuck because they cannot stop replaying their worst one.

Paul says:

“Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead…”

Paul had a past that could have trapped him.

Before he preached the Gospel, Paul persecuted the Church. He stood in approval while Stephen was killed. Paul had done things that could have disqualified him in his own mind—even after Jesus called him.

That brings us to the second penalty: holding.

Holding occurs when you grab something you were supposed to release—and it costs you forward progress.

Forgetting the past does not mean pretending it never happened. It does not mean refusing to learn from it. It means I will not allow what happened behind me to determine whether I can obey God in front of me.

“I can’t enter a healthy relationship because of what I did—or because of what someone did to me.”

Holding.

“I can’t walk in my calling because too much time has passed.”

Holding.

“I can’t become involved in ministry because someone might discover who I used to be.”

Holding.

“I can’t embrace a new season because I am still punishing myself for what happened in the last one.”

Holding.

Some of us keep wondering why we cannot move forward, but we are still holding what God told us to release.

When I keep replaying the last play, I am not mentally present for the next one.

But here is the hope: Jesus did not take hold of an imaginary, perfected version of Paul.

Jesus knew Paul’s entire history.

He knew his pride.

He knew his violence.

He knew his failures.

He knew every place in Paul that still needed to be transformed—and He took hold of him anyway.

Jesus also knew exactly who He was calling when He called you.

He knew your strengths, weaknesses, history, habits, wounds, drops, and fumbles—and He still took hold of you.

When you commit a penalty, Jesus does not throw you off the team. He calls you to the sideline to correct you, restore you, remind you who you are, and send you back into the game.

“I called you.”

“I saved you.”

“I took hold of you.”

“I placed My Spirit within you.”

“And I’m not done with you.”

Release the last play.

Listen for His voice.

Get back into position.

And get back in the game.

I’m Not Done Because Christ Is Calling Me Forward

Once Paul releases what is behind him, the question becomes:

Where is he going?

Paul says:

“I am reaching forward to those things which are ahead.”

Paul does not release the past so he can stand still. He releases what is behind him so he can reach toward what God has placed ahead of him.

There is a powerful tension in Paul’s testimony.

He is writing from prison, but he is talking about pressing forward.

He is living in chains, but he is reaching toward a prize.

Paul teaches us that our present condition does not have to cancel our future direction.

He knows there may be more suffering ahead. He understands that following Jesus will continue to cost him something. But Paul is not merely trying to escape prison.

He is reaching toward the person God is transforming him to become.

Paul is not the only one being called forward.

Spiritual maturity is ahead of us.

Present peace is ahead of us.

Kingdom purpose is ahead of us.

And ultimately, complete life with Christ is ahead of us.

Spiritual maturity is ahead of me. I can admit where I need to grow because I am no longer defensive about being unfinished.

Peace is ahead of me. God’s love does not wait until I am finished—but His love also refuses to leave me unfinished.

Kingdom purpose is ahead of me. I can use my time, gifts, healed places, and even the lessons from my wounds to love my family, serve my community, strengthen the Church, and fulfill God’s calling upon my life.

And ultimately, complete restoration is ahead of me. There is coming a day when my struggle with sin will end, my body will be renewed, my pain will be healed, and I will see Jesus face-to-face.

That is where I am headed.

Paul’s phrase “reaching forward” creates the picture of an athlete extending everything toward the goal.

It is like a ball carrier being met at the goal line.

Defenders are pulling against him. Bodies are pressing around him. Everything is attempting to stop his forward momentum.

But he keeps his legs moving.

He leans through the contact.

He stretches the ball toward the goal.

Paul says, “That is how I am pursuing Christ.”

I have things pressing against me—but I’m still reaching.

I have pressure around me—but I’m still moving.

I have not crossed the finish line—but I refuse to stop short of the goal.

I’m Not Proving—I’m Pursuing

At first, this may sound like a contradiction.

If Jesus loves me, my righteousness is based upon His finished work, and I do not need to earn God’s acceptance, why does Paul tell me to strain, stretch, run, and press?

Am I resting in grace or running with intensity?

The answer is both—because grace changes the reason I run.

We are not running for acceptance.

We are running from a place of acceptance.

When I run for acceptance, fear and pride drive me. I am trying to prove that I belong, prove that I am worthy, prove that I am a good Christian, and prove that God should love me.

But when I run from a place of acceptance, love and grace draw me.

I am not trying to convince God to choose me.

Christ has already taken hold of me.

I’m not proving.

I’m pursuing.

When I’m proving, I’m attempting to establish my worth.

When I’m pursuing, my worth is already secure in Jesus.

When I’m proving, I’m worried about my score.

When I’m pursuing, I’m focused on getting closer to Jesus.

When I’m proving, I need everyone to see how well I’m running.

When I’m pursuing, I only need to keep my eyes on Christ.

I do not run so Jesus will love me.

I run because Jesus already loves me.

I do not pursue Christ to make myself valuable.

I pursue Christ because He has already taken hold of me and made me His own.

That gives me the freedom to run with spiritual hunger.

I have tasted His presence, and I want more.

I have experienced His peace, and I want more.

I have seen His power change my life, and I want more.

I have come to the table of His goodness, and I intend to keep coming back.

This truth also changes how we respond when we fall.

Performance responds with shame, self-loathing, and hiding.

Performance says, “I failed again, so God must be finished with me.”

Grace does not make light of sin. Grace gives me the courage to confess it, turn from it, receive mercy, get back up, and continue pursuing Jesus.

Grace says:

“I fell, but my righteousness is still based upon Jesus.”

“I need to repent, but I do not need to run away.”

“Christ took hold of me knowing I would need mercy, correction, and transformation.”

I am free to run hard because I am no longer afraid that one dropped ball will get me thrown off the team.

The Goal Is Jesus

Paul closes by saying:

“I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.”

Paul sees a goal.

Paul sees a prize.

And Paul hears a call coming from above.

The God who took hold of Paul is now calling Paul forward. That call pulls his life heavenward and will ultimately bring him into the completed presence of Jesus.

We can learn how to live with purpose here on earth. We can pursue spiritual power, walk in our calling, and use our gifts to serve others.

But this world is not our final destination.

The upward call is God’s heavenly invitation to keep becoming like Jesus until the day we stand in the complete presence of Jesus.

It reminds us:

“You do not belong to the culture of shame anymore.”

“You do not have to live under the control of your past anymore.”

“Your citizenship is in heaven.”

“Keep coming higher.”

“Keep moving forward.”

“Keep becoming who I called you to be.”

One day, whether through death or through the return of Christ, we will cross the finish line.

The struggle will be over.

Faith will become sight.

These bodies will be renewed.

We will stand in the presence of Jesus completely healed, completely whole, and fully conformed to His image.

And by His grace, we want to hear:

“Well done, good and faithful servant.”

That is where I am headed.

I’m not done—not because I trust my effort, but because I trust His grace.

I’m not done—not because of what I can accomplish, but because of what Jesus has already accomplished in me.

I’m not running to prove that I belong.

I’m running because Christ has already made me His own.

I’m not proving.

I’m pursuing.

I’m pursuing greater maturity.

I’m pursuing deeper peace.

I’m pursuing Kingdom purpose.

I’m pursuing the presence of Jesus.

When pride tells me I have already arrived, I will say:

“I’m not done.”

When shame tells me I can never move forward, I will say:

“I’m not done.”

When life hits me at the line and tries to stop my forward momentum, I’ll keep my legs moving. I’ll lean through the pressure. I’ll stretch toward the goal.

And if I fall, grace will help me get back up.

Because Christ took hold of me.

Christ is still holding me.

Christ is still changing me.

Christ is still calling me forward.

The finish line is not a promotion.

The prize is not a possession.

The goal is not a platform.

The goal is Jesus.

So I’m forgetting what is behind.

I’m reaching toward what is ahead.

I’m pressing toward the goal.

God’s not done—and neither am I.