Preached · August 24, 2014
Text · Philippians 3:17—4:1; Philippians 3
Get Me Out of This Car
The name of today's sermon: "Get Me Out of This Car"—escapism, hope, and good citizenship. And the question that I want to start you guys on is this: when did things get so bad that you just wanted to run away or escape?
Now, for me, this is a very vivid memory. Once upon a time, little Anthony—well, not little, but not as old as I am now—had a crush on this girl. I liked this girl. I liked her a lot. And more importantly, I thought that she also liked me. I was actually really convinced of this—so convinced, in fact, that I decided to ask her out on a date, something I had never, ever done before. Scary, scary times for Anthony. And I was so convinced that she liked me and would say yes to this question that I decided to be bold and brave and stupid and ask her in a moving car. But she was driving. And so I said, "Hey, would you like to go out on a date with me?" And she said, "Hey." Not so much. At which point I was wanting to jump out of that moving vehicle. I wanted to escape so badly. Now, of course, we stayed friends throughout the years and things worked out, and now she's my wife—but it does not negate that memory.
Now, many of us have plenty of examples of things that we just want to run away from or escape. There may be bad situations at work or in our family, an overwhelming home life, crushing debt or grief. And there are, of course, proper ways to remove ourselves from bad situations. If you're in an abusive relationship, you should leave it. If you're in debt, you should get debt counseling. If you're in the midst of grief, you should find a therapist. But there is also the bad way of getting out of bad situations, which is escapism. It's the avoidance of reality by absorption of the mind in entertainment or in an imaginative situation, activity, etcetera. And it can be very easy to retreat into this escapism. "I don't want to deal with the messiness of the friendships in my own life, but I'll rewatch this rerun of Friends." Or, "I don't want to deal with these bills, so I'll put something else on my credit card." Or, "I can't handle repairing this relationship with my spouse, so I'll see what I can find that's more fulfilling and titillating online."
But there's a theological error of escapism as well. And it can affect how we understand passages of scripture and understand the Christian response to evil in the world. So, just a couple examples of what can be escapism. A gospel that only declares that it's about going to heaven when you die. Or that famous question, "If you die tonight, do you know if you'd be in heaven?" It's a form of escapism, because it reduces the gospel down to the single question about life after death. Or it can be an attitude of just waiting for the rapture to happen: "The world's getting worse and worse, so I just can't wait for Jesus to take us all away from here." It's escapism. Or, "The world's going to hell in a handbasket, so I'll just stay wherever I think is safe. I won't deal with the world that might be in darkness or in despair. I'll just stay in my safe, comfy zone." Or, "I didn't cause the problem, so I don't need to fix the problem." It's escapism. Or maybe an attitude that says, "I don't want to be tainted by evil or darkness, so we're going to avoid living in this particular neighborhood, or going to this particular school, or being seen with these particular people." Now, there might be good and wise reasons to avoid those kinds of things, but avoiding them as a mark of being holy is a complete misunderstanding of what being holy is about. If it's escapism, if it's merely trying to avoid something, then it's not what we're called to do.
Roman Colonies
Now, I want to talk about two passages where I think escapist theology has caused us to misinterpret those passages. But before we do, we need to talk about a Roman civil war. Back in 42 BC, Julius Caesar has just been murdered by Brutus, and so Octavian, who is this stepson to Julius Caesar, has to take on the cause of Julius and fight against these murderers of Caesar. And so there is this epic civil war that lasts for several years across Europe, and it comes to a culmination in the city of Philippi. Now, there's this battle—100,000 versus another 100,000—and they fight for several days. There's two battles, and Octavian wins, and eventually becomes the first Roman emperor, Caesar Augustus. This is what Octavian says: "I sent into exile the murderers of my father, punishing their crimes regularly. And when they made war to the Republic, I twice defeated them in battle." This is the guy that you did not want to cross.
Now, Octavian, Caesar Augustus, ends up with this 100,000-strong army. What do they do? They don't have jobs anymore. There's no more civil war. What do you do with all of these veterans? And so he decides to create a colony there in Philippi. Now, colonies are a little bit different than maybe what you're expecting. A colony, from a Roman perspective, is meant to do three things. Number one, it's meant to propagate or maintain Roman culture. And so, Philippi is in the northern part of Greece. Rome, at this point in history, has not had a strong influence there quite yet. And so Caesar Augustus plants a colony of his veterans here in Greece so he can spread Roman culture around the world. Number two, it's meant to maintain Roman rule. If you want to keep the barbarians out, then who better to leave in the city than a bunch of hardened veterans from war? And the third thing that it's meant to do is spread Roman religion.
And Roman religion was mostly polytheistic. They worshipped a whole lot of gods. And some of them you could take, and some of them you could leave. But there was one god that you could not leave out of Roman religion, and that was Caesar himself. And he had three titles—these are in Latin. He is Divi Filius, the Son of God. He is Dominus, Lord. And he is Soter, Savior. These are the three titles that Caesar demanded that his people give to him: the Son of God, Lord, and Savior. And so this colony in Philippi was meant to spread these three ideas: the culture, the rule, and the religion of Rome.
Now, as a colony, if things got really bad, if the barbarians were at the gates, so to speak, and you could not fight them off any longer, then you had the privilege of calling upon Rome, of calling upon Caesar, of calling upon your Dominus, your Soter, your Lord and Savior, to come and rescue you from the barbarians. And so, essentially, Philippi is meant to serve as a mini-Rome, an outpost for Rome, a stand-in for Rome—to be Rome where Rome couldn't be. To be a citizen of Rome, therefore, in Philippi, doesn't mean "I can't wait to live in Rome." It means "I can't wait to bring Rome with me wherever I go." If you're a citizen of Philippi, and therefore a citizen of Rome, it does not mean "I can't wait to go to Rome"—no, that defeats the entire purpose of being a colony. It means "I love bringing Rome with me wherever I go."
Now, around a hundred years later, there's this guy named Paul. And in 49 and 50 AD, Paul is on his missionary travels—he's a Christian, and he goes around planting churches—and he plants a church here in Philippi, this colony of Rome, this outpost of everything that Rome is meant to be. In 56 and 57, he visits twice more. You can see this in Acts 16 and in Acts 20. And then in 61 and 62, Paul is imprisoned, probably either in Rome or in Ephesus, and he writes a letter to this church that he has planted in the colony of Philippi.
Imitate Me
And so this is where I want to turn our attention this morning. If you have your Bibles, I invite you to turn them on and go to Philippians chapter 3, verses 17 through chapter 4, verse 1. And don't worry, it's on the screen. And what I want to do this morning is go through this kind of verse by verse and explain: what is Paul talking about? How would the people of this colony understand his language, his words? So this is verse 17. Paul writes this:
Join together in following my example—literally, imitate me—brothers and sisters, and just as you have us as a model, keep your eyes on those who live as we do.
So Paul is writing to this church, and his main message, his focus, is: imitate me and others like me. Now, we have to remember, where was Paul when he is writing this? He's writing this from prison. He is a suffering servant. So the call to "imitate me" does not just mean make a bunch more Christians. It doesn't just mean live a really good moral life. Paul is talking about suffering for the sake of the gospel. Paul is writing this in prison, writing to the church that he planted, saying, "Be like me." And so maybe we get a hint that the Philippians may be struggling with persecution. Maybe they are being pushed against by their culture because they are trying to be unlike their culture. Maybe Paul is saying, "You are called to suffer."
Enemies of the Cross
In the next verse he writes this:
For as I have often told you before and now tell you again, even with tears, many live as enemies of the cross of Christ.
Now, what does the cross of Christ represent? I propose that it means the cruciform life, suffering on behalf of others. To become an enemy of the cross, therefore, isn't just as clear-cut as rejecting Jesus or rejecting the gospel. It means rejecting a way of life that's called to suffering. Rejecting suffering as if it's something to be avoided at all costs. It's about rejecting Jesus's way of living. The cruciform life is the life given on behalf of others.
And this is what Paul says about suffering in Philippians. He says, "God has graciously granted you, O church of Philippi, the privilege not only of believing in Christ, but of suffering for him as well." He says, "Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves." He says, "Let this same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus. He emptied himself. He took the form of a slave. He humbled himself, become obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross." And so what Paul is saying to this church is: don't become an enemy of that way of living. Don't become opposed to a life that's called to suffer on behalf of others. Let the same mind be in you that was in Jesus, the Jesus who emptied himself on our behalf. When you get the opportunity to suffer alongside someone or in their stead, and you reject that, Paul is saying, be suspicious of yourself.
Now, if you become an enemy of the cross, this is what it looks like in the next verse. He says:
Their destiny is destruction, their god is their stomach, and they glory in what is their shame. Their mind is set on earthly things.
So we see three things that Paul is saying is true about enemies of the cross. And to kind of simplify this, I've reduced this to three basic words. First, if destiny is their destruction, that means they are focused on accumulation. Their destiny, their fate, what their goal or their end is about—it's about things that end up destroyed. And so the word for this is accumulation. When we focus our lives and our intentions and our goals all about the gathering of things, of stuff, of things that will end up destroyed, that may be a hint that we are an enemy of the cross. What's the goal of our money? More things? If the pile of stuff we own is bigger than the pile of stuff we've given away, we might have an issue.
The second thing that Paul says about these enemies of the cross is that their god is their stomach. In other words, they are slaves to their appetites. Titillation. And we could throw a lot of images on this screen, but I decided to stick with that rather tempting bag of cheese noodles. What are cheese noodles? I'd love to try one. Anyway—titillation. This idea of being a slave to your appetite. This is the way the world puts it: "Do what makes you happy. Whatever feels good, do that. Follow your heart. Go with your emotions, Luke," is what Obi-Wan Kenobi would say. But Paul says this is a sign that you are an enemy of the cross. If your god is your stomach, if the thing that you worship, the thing that you set your mind upon, that you spend your time on, is simply what you want when you want it, you may be an enemy of the cross—the way of life that says suffer for the sake of others.
Thirdly, their glory is in their shame. Deprivation—being depraved. And I can think of no better image than the Transformers series, because the world has spent 3.4 billion dollars watching these movies, and there is no better proof that we are depraved people. That's just my opinion. Maybe you disagree—that's probably the one email I'll get this week: "I love the Transformers movies." In other words, are you proud of things that you should be embarrassed by? Are you so eager to boast about the things that you should be ashamed of? This could be the third sign that you have become an enemy of the cross.
All these things have in common that they are a form of escapism, of using things or imagination to avoid the issues, the problems of this world—in order to escape, in order to not have to deal with them, in order not to have to feel.
Our Citizenship Is in Heaven
So how does Paul respond? What is Paul's solution for this? Here comes the key word. This brings up our citizenship:
Our citizenship is in heaven, and we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ.
So this brings up three questions. Number one, where is our citizenship? Paul answers it for us: it's in heaven. Citizenship now should make a little bit more sense. We're not citizens of Rome or this nation or this empire or this world. We are citizens of the abode of God, of heaven. And to be a citizen, remember, doesn't mean, "Oh, I can't wait to get to Rome." It means "I can't wait to bring Rome with me wherever I go." To be a citizen of heaven is to not look forward to going to heaven, but rather extending heaven's rule here on earth. Not Rome's culture or values or rule or gods, but the culture and reign and values of the one true God.
Question two: what do we eagerly await? Not to go to heaven—that wouldn't make sense if we're heaven's citizens. We await someone from there, which means to here. Because that's what the verse says, remember: we are citizens of heaven, and we await a Savior from there. And who do we think that is? Well, number one, if you think that Christianity is about getting off earth and spending eternity in heaven, then I would invite you to be prepared to be lonely, because heaven is making its way to earth. In other words, Christianity is not about getting you into heaven. It's about getting the heaven inside of you out into the world.
The church—you and me—we are a colony of heaven on earth. When people look at the church, they should see what heaven looks like. And heaven, the place where God is, is where Jesus came from—the Jesus who suffered on behalf of others, who became like a servant to a needy, desperate, dying world. So heaven is not this squeaky-clean place where we go to avoid suffering at all costs. Jesus, who is the full revelation of God the Father, got his hands dirty, washing the disciples' feet, hanging out with the down-and-out of the world, and was disrespected and eventually murdered by who we would consider polite society. We are meant to be a colony of that kind of life, the life that is willing to live among the broken in order to offer them love.
So who do we eagerly await? We await the actual begotten Divi Filius, Dominus, and Soter—not Caesar, but King Jesus, the Son of God, our Lord and Savior. Our allegiance, therefore, is not to empires of this world. It's not to Caesar or a nation or a political party, or anything or anyone that claims that they can save the world. Our allegiance is to be singular and complete—to the true King, to Jesus.
So here we see, then, that hope is the antidote to escapism. Escapism avoids suffering because it doesn't know that there's a cure for it. Hope rejoices within suffering because it looks forward to when all is made right. Escapism gets weaker as hardship gets stronger. Hope is strongest when hardship is the most difficult. Escapism is like closing your eyes to avoid the darkness. Hope is like a torch in a cave: it shines brightest when the darkness seems impenetrable. Paul writes in verse 15, he says: […]
Hold the Line
So therefore, Paul concludes in chapter 4, verse 1: "Stand firm in the Lord in this way." Now, "stand firm" is the Greek word stēkō, which we obviously get the word "stay." And it's a military term. It would be the term used by a general when Rome's military would be standing outside the walls of Philippi and the barbarians are just pouring over the hills onto the plain. And the general would yell: […]
And so Paul says, if it is true that we are not to be enemies of this cross, that we are not to be enemies of the way of life of Jesus—if it is true that we are citizens of heaven, that we are a colony of heaven on earth—then when we face persecution and trial and hardship and pain, then hold the line, because the Savior is coming. That is what Paul is saying to this church.
So, to paraphrase, this is Paul's message: Brothers and sisters, imitate me as I imitate the way of Jesus, the cruciform life, which is the way of suffering alongside and on behalf of others, of being rejected by the world for what we stand up for and believe in. Don't become an enemy of Jesus's cross, the symbol of our hope, freedom, and the cruciform life which we are called to live. That's just the way of escapism—of accumulating all you can, of obeying all your appetites, of using your so-called freedom to do whatever you want. No, the fact of the matter is that we are a colony of heaven on earth. People should know what heaven looks like when they look at us. Our hope is in the fact that our Savior and Lord is not Caesar, not our government, not our culture, but our hope is in King Jesus, who is coming from heaven to earth to establish his eternal kingdom. Because of that, when you face persecution, trial, and suffering, and pain because of your hope in Jesus—hold the line, because the King is coming back. In other words, stay in the car; the girl may end up marrying you.
Many Rooms
Now, how do we know that we are a colony of heaven on earth? Because Jesus told us exactly that—in yet another passage which we have massively misunderstood. And so, very briefly, I want to take you to the book of John chapter 14. John chapter 14 is this final discourse, this final speech that Jesus is giving to his disciples. And his disciples are beginning to pick up on the fact that Jesus may be leaving. Jesus may be going to a cross. And so Jesus gives this message to his disciples who need a little bit of hope. And this is what he says—this is from the King James:
In my father's house are many mansions; if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to myself, that where I am, there you may be also.
Now, some of us may be familiar with this idea of heavenly mansions. We may have heard it in funerals. We may have had hymns about mansions of delight, or, according to maybe pop religion, smaller or bigger mansions depending on how good or how bad you were. Now, newer translations have updated this to say, "In my father's house there are many rooms," or "dwelling places." But the question remains, what are these rooms? Do we get them when we die? When we go to heaven?
Well, the Greek word is monē—not the painter. And it's connected to the Greek word to remain or to abide. And specifically, the word monē is used one other time in the New Testament—in the exact same chapter, in the exact same speech that Jesus is giving. And this is what he says, words of Jesus: "Anyone who loves me will obey my teaching. My father will love them, and we will come to them, and make our monē with them." In other words, anyone who loves Jesus and imitates his way of life will become the very dwelling place of God.
Oftentimes, the assumption is that we will get these rooms when we die or get raptured or whatever. But that's not what Jesus is saying. He says, "I go to prepare a place for you, and I will come again to receive you." I've once heard it said that if God created the world in six days, and it was this nice, and this big, then think of how nice and big our mansions will be if it's taking Jesus 2,000 years to prepare them. Do you really think that's how this works? That Jesus is up in heaven slaving away at getting our eternal mansions ready, like some cosmic housekeeper?
What is Jesus talking about? His death and resurrection. He says, "I go to prepare a place for you." And he did. He went to the cross. And he declares just five chapters after this passage, "It is finished." In other words, the room is prepared. And then Jesus is resurrected, as he promised. He came again. He returned to receive us to himself. These rooms in John 14 are not the promise of escapism—that hopefully one day everything will just fade away. It's the promise that right now, the reality is, we have access to the very living God living in us.
Our very own deacon Mark Coleman put it this way: "If I have received my Savior, then I have received my room. I know the way, because it's him living in me. Here again, I have to say thank you for God's grace, because I do not always act as though I'm living in the house. I sometimes act as though I'm trying to work my way to go into that room instead of living there now."
In other words, the triune God—Father, Son, and Spirit—are offering to us to make our home with them, and they in turn will make their home in us. We in God and God in us. The church—you and me, this people—we are the temple of God. And yes, indeed, there are many rooms: you and you and you and me.
Conclusion
So, of course, our citizenship is in heaven. Of course, we are a colony of heaven on earth, because we contain the living, triune God within our very being. We are not a religion of escapists, simply pining away for when God scoops us all out of here so we can watch the world burn from a safe distance. No. If it is true that where the church is—that where we are—is where God is, then where the church is is where we should find those who are willing to suffer beside, along with, and instead of others. We should not shy away from the pain and darkness of this world, but rather shine like the stars that we are into the dimness. If our lives are to reflect the cruciform life of Jesus, then we should expect to find ourselves spending our days alongside the hurting, the broken, the outcast, the orphan, the widow, the victimized, the enslaved, the imprisoned—and in the end, perhaps even be hated for it.
Brothers and sisters, your citizenship is in heaven. Your allegiance is to Lord Jesus, not Lord Caesar. So hold the line. By the grace of God that indwells and empowers you, transform this world into more and more colonies of heaven, until the glorious day when our King returns and finishes the task for all eternity.
Would you stand and pray with me? Our gracious King Jesus, we do await the day when you come from heaven to earth to make all things new and right again. But because of this hope, God, may we be the kinds of people who do not stand idly by, but take action to hold the line, to be your colony here. And for me, God, and for my brothers and sisters before me, would your Holy Spirit empower us to be your colonies of heaven on earth, that when people look at us, they see Jesus. When people look into our lives, they see the cruciform way of life, that we are willing to suffer on behalf of others. God, we thank you that you are drawing our lives into your life, that you are in us, and that we are safe in you. We pray these things in your name. Amen.
This is a transcript of the sermon as preached, lightly edited for readability.
