What Are You Trusting?
“All I want is to know Christ and to experience the power of his resurrection, to share in his sufferings and become like him in his death.” Philippians 3:10 (GNT)
Let’s spend a few moments in Philippians 3:1–10 this week — a passage that never loses its edge.
Think about the family photo albums you’ve seen over the years. In more than a few, there’s someone standing proudly in front of a trophy case, a framed diploma, or a wall lined with hard-earned accomplishments. The posture says it all: I worked for this. This is who I am.
The Apostle Paul had a wall like that.
Writing to the church in Philippi, he seems to boldly lay out his credentials: “circumcised on the eighth day, of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew of Hebrews; as to the law, a Pharisee; as to zeal, a persecutor of the church; as to righteousness under the law, blameless” (Philippians 3:5–6, ESV).
These weren’t exaggerations. Paul truly had the résumé. If faithfulness were measured in background, discipline, and devotion, he was at the top of the list.
Then he met Jesus on the road to Damascus — and everything changed.
Paul writes, “But whatever gain I had, I counted as loss for the sake of Christ” (Philippians 3:7). The word he uses for loss, zēmia, is a business term. It belongs in a ledger. Paul is saying he looked at the columns of his life — everything he had achieved on one side, Christ on the other — and after doing the math, he moved his trophies into the red.
He presses it further in verse 8. The translations vary: “garbage,” “rubbish,” “dung.” The Greek word used here is skubalon, blunt and crude. Paul isn’t being polite. He’s standing in front of his entire wall of achievement and saying, I would throw it all out to have Christ.
The Trophy Wall Trap
Before we rush past that, notice how the passage begins. Paul warns, “Look out for the dogs… the evildoers… those who mutilate the flesh” (Philippians 3:2). He’s confronting teachers who insisted that faith in Jesus wasn’t enough — that you also needed the right rituals, the right background, the right rule-keeping.
Paul calls it a trap.
We may not wrestle with the same rituals today, but we understand the instinct. We measure our spiritual health by our prayer streak, our discipline, our record of good behavior. We compare ourselves to others. We tally our moral wins and losses.
It’s exhausting.
Jesus addressed that weariness when He said, “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28). Rest is not earned. It’s received.
Paul’s warning isn’t harsh. It’s protective. He had lived under that system. He knew its limits.
Righteousness From God
Here is what Paul chose instead:
“…and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith — that I may know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death” (Philippians 3:9–10).
Two kinds of righteousness are described here. One is built. It comes from effort, discipline, and religious performance. The other is given. It comes from God through faith in Christ.
This is the very heart of the gospel. “For by grace you have been saved through faith… it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast” (Ephesians 2:8–9).
A life built on achievement ends in one of two places: pride or despair. If you think you’ve done enough, you begin to look down on others. If you know you haven’t, you live under constant weight. Grace leads somewhere else. It leads to freedom.
To Know Him
But Paul doesn’t stop at forgiveness. He doesn’t say, “I want a clean record.” He says, “I want to know Christ.”
To know Him. To know the power of His resurrection. To share in His sufferings. To be made like Him.
Paul isn’t trading one transaction for another. He’s describing a relationship. The kind that reshapes you from the inside out. The kind that makes everything else seem small by comparison.
Charles Spurgeon once wrote, “The more you know of God, the more completely will you be satisfied with him.” Paul had tasted that satisfaction. Once you’ve known Christ like that, the trophies lose their shine.
What Are You Trusting?
It’s worth asking: what’s on your wall?
Maybe it’s your moral record — the things you’ve avoided, the standards you’ve kept. Maybe it’s your church history, your reputation, your family name. Maybe it’s years of service or Bible knowledge.
None of those things are bad. Paul’s weren’t either. The danger isn’t having them. The danger is trusting them to do what only Christ can do.
Paul’s invitation is simple: open your hands. Let your achievements be what they are — good, but not saving. And reach instead for the one thing that cannot be earned.
“Everything else is worthless when compared with the infinite value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord” (Philippians 3:8, NLT).
That’s the trade Paul made. And writing from a Roman prison, he gave no sign that he ever regretted it.
May God continuously lead your path
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