Seven years ago, we were forced to leave our church home. I'd grown up there; my children had grown up there; but, things had changed. They'd stopped preaching from the Bible. In fact, when I used the phrase, "inerrant Word of God" to refer to the Bible, I was corrected. Apparently, the word "inerrant" as it applies to Scripture is offensive. When the discussion moved to Creation, I was told, "Well, we just don't know how the universe was created." Then came the sermon about praying for the dead that they might be raised to life in heaven. Later! Here's the thing, though -- it hurt to leave. I was angry we'd been given no choice. I was angry heretics had taken over the place I loved, where I was happy worshiping and serving. I thought there'd never be a church that would measure up, and I couldn't fathom calling any other church, "home."
The first time we walked into our now, and "oh!-wouldn't-it-be-wonderful-if-forever" church home, I wanted to cry. A friendly woman met us at the door, and I didn't want to like that. We walked into the hall where people were talking and laughing as they ate breakfast, and I didn't want to talk, or laugh, or eat. I wanted my old Sunday morning back. How foolish I was! In this family, we were accepted from the door; we have been loved on in ways I never dreamed; we have grown in our relationships; we have been taught and led, and as I said, I'd be happy if we stayed here forever. I cannot, for the life of me, think of one thing that would cause me to pine for our old church, and I cannot believe our place in this family is only seven years old. Our time here has been priceless.
In Philippians 3:7-14, Paul had experienced a similar transition and, as a result, a similar transformation. When it came to Judaism, Paul called himself "a Hebrew of Hebrews:" he was all in. He was a law expert, a Pharisee. He was most zealous, working to imprison or eliminate those who disagreed with Jewish law. He'd been so dedicated to obeying and serving the law, he called himself "blameless" by his efforts. He wore his achievements as a garment of righteousness. But, Paul left behind his life of religion and was no longer who he used to be. His life of structure and security, prestige, performance, and authority; the life he'd been born into, had been comfortable living, was no more. He had been forced out when he met Jesus on a road going to Damascus. There was no way he could stay in his old life; there was just far too much about it that was wrong. Years later, as he wrote to the church at Philippi, Paul said the things he once valued were nothing to him. Compared to the excellence of knowing Christ, every self-serving, self-righteous thing he had loved was trash. He longed for his identity to be that of Christ alone: "Look at me and see what the Lord has done." And he pressed on toward becoming perfected in Christ. He had by no means arrived, as he once thought; there was still so much more for him to learn, and so much more of his old flesh that needed to put to death that he might reflect Christ more and more each day. His transition, from worshiping the law of God to surrendering to the Son of God, brought about an outward transformation. And he wasn't going back. Paul wrote thirteen of the the twenty-seven books of the New Testament, took the gospel to the world on three missionary journeys, mentored other Christian leaders and saints, and eventually died a martyr. The ripples of his life are immeasurable and the value of God's work through him is priceless.
Change can be hard, especially when it comes to leaving the people and places with which we are accustomed. When God leads the way, however, when the transition is by His design, greatness can happen. Transformation can happen. And the things we once loved can lose their value, while the things God gives are priceless. Obey Him and trust Him for the outcome.
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