Straining Towards the Goal - Philippians 3:12-16

Every one of us is chasing something.

Some are chasing success—climbing ladders, building careers, and hoping at the end of it all to hear someone say, “Well done.” Others are chasing comfort—dreaming of the day when life finally slows down, the pressure lifts, and everything feels “good enough.” Still others are chasing approval—working tirelessly to be seen, valued, and loved by people who, if we’re honest, can never truly satisfy the deepest longings of our soul.

But what if the Christian life isn’t about finally arriving at comfort, success, or respect? What if it’s about running—straining—not for something temporary, but for something eternal? What if God never meant for you to settle into spiritual autopilot, but to live with a holy dissatisfaction—a contentment in Christ that still hungers for more of Him?

This morning, Paul invites us into that kind of life. Not a life of frantic striving to earn God’s favor, but a life of Spirit-empowered pursuit because we already have it. In our passage this morning Paul speaks like a runner who won’t quit the race.

Our pursuit of holiness should be marked by three things: First, we should experience a holy restlessness (v. 12), second, we should have a holy pursuit (vv. 13-14), and lastly, we should have a holy focus (vv. 15-16).  

The question before us this morning is simple: Are we running? Or are we settling?

Holy Restlessness: We Haven’t Arrived (v. 12)

Last week, where we left off Paul was talking about, “not having a righteousness of [his] own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ…”

He ends the previous thought by describing being united to Jesus Christ by faith, and now he transitions to explaining what that faith should look like.

Look at verse 12 with me: “Not that I have already obtained this or am already perfect, but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own.”

Paul is acknowledging to the Philippians something very important: he’s not perfect. Which may have come as something of a shock to the church in Philippi because Paul was after all their fearless leader. He was an Apostle, with a capital “A.” He was a church planter, missionary, and servant of Jesus Christ. 

If there was ever someone who could have claimed that they were close to attaining perfection, it would have been Paul, but of course, that’s not at all what he did. He said that he hadn’t obtained perfection. Paul is admitting something that I think we all know: he hadn’t arrived spiritually. 

He was still very much a work in progress. 

And you know, I think that we’re all keenly aware of this. I’m sure no one here is bold or arrogant enough to say that they’ve arrived spiritually. Pretty much everyone is willing to acknowledge that they’re not perfect. Everyone is willing to acknowledge that they’re a sinner. 

If someone tells you that they’re perfect we know to write them off as a crazy person. I don’t see perfectionism being a major problem in the church today. 

What I see as the major problem in the church today is complacency. Indifference. Spiritual apathy. The opposite of pressing on isn’t perfectionism—it’s passivity. It’s shrugging our shoulders at lukewarm hearts, prayerless weeks, dusty Bibles, unchecked sin, and calling it “normal.” But friends, that’s not normal Christianity.

The danger isn’t that we think too highly of ourselves, but that we think too little of the transformation that Christ calls us to. We become content with spiritual survival rather than spiritual growth. We settle for showing up rather than pressing on. We say things like, “Well, nobody’s perfect,” and use that as a blanket to cover our spiritual indifference.

 But Paul won’t let us do that. He refuses to let the church drift into cruise control. Instead, he urges us to lean forward, to strain, to pursue Christ with intention and effort—not to earn His love, because we already have it.

Sometimes people want to know what are some signs of spiritual maturity. Two perhaps obvious signs of spiritual maturity are first recognizing your spiritual need for Christ, but second, is adopting a posture of holy dissatisfaction. It’s the kind of heart that says, “Lord, I thank You for what You’ve done in me—but I know You’re not done with me.” It’s a refusal to grow numb to sin or comfortable with spiritual mediocrity. Instead, it’s a Spirit-given hunger for more—more Christlikeness, more obedience, more love, more faithfulness.

Paul even makes this point in verse 15. He says, “Let those of us who are mature think this way..”

This kind of dissatisfaction isn’t driven by guilt or shame—it’s driven by grace. It’s what happens when you truly see Jesus for who He is and you realize how far your life still has to go to reflect His beauty. You don’t despair; you pursue. You don’t quit; you press on.

Holy dissatisfaction keeps you praying when you feel dry, repenting when you fall short, and striving forward because you know Jesus is worth every step. It’s not perfectionism—it’s perseverance.

Holy Pursuit: We Strive Because Christ Has Claimed Us (vv. 12–14)

And so Paul’s point there at the end of verse 12, when he says, “but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own,” is that because Christ has laid hold of him—because Christ has claimed him as His own treasured possession—Paul is compelled to strive after and pursue the task assigned to him.

Notice again what Paul is saying: He presses on because Christ has made me His own. Not the other way around. He doesn’t press on so that Christ might accept him; he presses on because Christ already has. This is the engine of Christian obedience. Grace doesn’t lead to passivity—it ignites pursuit. Being united to Christ does not make effort unnecessary; it makes effort possible.

Paul is saying, in essence, “If Christ has given everything for me, how could I give anything less than everything to Him?” Because he has already been loved, already forgiven, already secured in Christ, he now runs the race with urgency and purpose. His effort is not an attempt to earn God’s favor but a joyful response to the grace he has received.

And this is true for you and me as well. If Christ has made you His own, then your life is no longer your own. You belong to Him—heart, soul, mind, and strength. Therefore, you press on. Not to be saved—but because you are saved.

The theological category for what Paul is describing is sanctification. Specifically, progressive sanctification—the ongoing process by which believers are conformed to the image of Christ.

Here’s an important distinction we cannot miss: we are saved by grace alone, through faith alone, in Christ alone. Salvation—our justification—is entirely the work of God. He accomplishes it. He declares us righteous. He adopts us into His family. That is His sovereign work.

But sanctification, while also empowered by God, involves our effort. God works in us, and we work out what He has worked in. That’s why Paul writes in Philippians 2:12-13, “Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you, both to will and to work for His good pleasure.” We don’t work for salvation—but we do work out salvation.

Holiness doesn’t just magically happen if you’re never willing to get out of your Laz-i-boy at home. If you desire to be holy and set apart, it requires you to do something. Spiritual growth happens when you put your hand to the plow and make spiritual disciples an immutable part of your daily ritual. You read the Bible. You spend time in prayer. And you don’t just randomly do it when you “have time.” You make it a daily practice, because you want to glorify God in everything. You genuinely hunger and thirst for righteousness.  

But of course, I’m sure many of you know how that goes—we experience seasons of tremendous spiritual growth and seasons where everything seems to have slowed to a crawl.

Which is why the metaphor for running a race is so fitting. In fact, running a race is one of Paul’s favorite metaphors for the Christian life. 

1 Corinthians 9:24–27 “Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one receives the prize? So run that you may obtain it…”

Galatians 2:2 & 5:7 “I went up because of a revelation and set before them… the gospel that I proclaim… in order to make sure I was not running or had not run in vain.” (Gal. 2:2)

“You were running well. Who hindered you from obeying the truth?” (Gal. 5:7)

2 Timothy 4:7 “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.”

Of course, the race metaphor is also what Paul is utilizing here in our passage this morning as well. Notice what Paul says in our text: “…forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize…”

We have a few people here at Providence that know a thing or two about running long distance races. I’ve run a few races myself, and one of the things that you quickly realize is just how mental the whole experience is. 

At the beginning of the race, when you’re feeling like a million bucks there’s always a temptation to start out way too fast. But then somewhere around the halfway mark, as your energy and enthusiasm begin to wane, you start to question everything. “I’m tired.” “Why am I paying money for this?” “I want to give up.” 

But all of those thoughts totally melt away the moment you cross the finish line. You are able to look at the race and see everything that you were able to overcome. And usually, after about a week or so, you’re able to say that it was all worth it.

Which is why running a race is such an incredible metaphor for your spiritual life. Shortly after being saved, you’re “on fire” for the Lord, you’re going to personally evangelize the whole town! And then over time, as the frustrations of sin continue to disrupt your life, you realize that the Christian life isn’t just a flash in the pan. It’s a long distance race that you’re going to run your entire life.

And just like running a race, you’ll experience spiritual highs and lows throughout your life. 

Undoubtedly Paul experienced the ups and downs of the Christian life, but what does he say? “I press on.” Those words capture the heart of perseverance. Paul knew that faith wasn’t about how you started, but how you finished. 

And if that’s true of Paul—it should be true of us.

Every stumble, every setback, every weary mile was another opportunity to lean on Christ’s strength rather than his own. The Christian life is not about perfection, but direction—always pressing on toward the prize of knowing Christ fully.

On your deathbed, I’m sure you and I will have regrets. But there are two things that no one has ever regretted: faithfully pursuing Christ and spending time with your family. 

Sanctification is a topic that the evangelical church is often hesitant to talk about. Not because we don’t think that it’s important but because we’re all so afraid of sounding legalistic. But if all we talk about is grace, sacrifice, and justification, which are all wonderful Biblical doctrines, but if it’s all we focus on, we run the risk of preaching an unbalanced gospel by downplaying sin and the Christian imperative to pursue holiness and righteousness. 

But we don’t pursue holiness and righteousness to earn God’s favor, we pursue holiness and righteousness because God has lavished His favor upon us in Christ.

And so, sanctification moves faith out of the realm of the theoretical, philosophical, speculative, into the decisions that will impact today. For better or worse, it takes heavenly truths and brings them crashing into everyday life. It forces us to evaluate our habits, our desires, our holiness—or lack thereof.

And so you and I have to take a cold, hard look in the mirror and ask: Can I honestly say with the Apostle Paul, “I press on to make it my own because Christ Jesus has made me His own”? Am I truly striving toward Christlikeness? Am I honestly seeking to live for him or is my Christian faith all about not interfering with my personal life. Do you try to keep your faith in a cage where it will never challenge what I’m doing or why I’m doing it? 

Christ calls you and me to pursue Him, which inevitably means pressing His word into every corner of our life. Christ demands that we confront our complacency, our spiritual apathy, and our tendency to settle for comfort rather than growth. The call to sanctification is gritty, it’s messy, it’s practical, and it’s deeply revealing—which is exactly why it’s so necessary.

The secret to becoming more like Christ is a willingness to submit every part of your life to Him as He has revealed Himself in His Word—whether that means changing your daily habits, reevaluating the way you’ve ordered your home, your priorities, your time, or even your relationships—you’re willing to to consider all of it because that’s how much He means to you. 

A Holy Focus: Forgetting What Lies Behind, Straining Toward What Lies Ahead (vv. 13–16)

And here’s the deal: if you’re in Christ, the old has already passed away and the new has come. 

We had a friend who loved the King James rendering of 2 Corinthians 5:17, because it says, “Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things become new.”

She would refer to herself from time to time as a new creature. 

But she was exactly right, she was a new creature. And one of the tell-tale signs of being a new creature is that you don’t dwell on the past.

Which is what Paul says in verse 13: “But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead…”

Paul isn’t saying that he zapped himself with one of those red light memory erasers from the movie Men in Black. Paul isn’t saying that once you’re a new creature in Christ that everything you did previously is magically erased from your memory.

Paul is saying that he’s not going to let past sin, past failures, or for that matter, successes too, define him. Paul never shied away from talking about his persecuting Pharisee days, he openly talks about those sins, but what you and I should recognize is that this Paul, the writer to the church in Philippi, is a totally different person. He’s a new creature.

And the defining feature of a new creature is that your eyes are fixed on the finish line. Focused on running the race well and being greeted at the finish line by Jesus Christ. That’s the prize isn’t it? “Press[ing] on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.” 

It’s important to provide for your family. It’s important to work hard. It’s important to set a good example for your children and grandchildren. Those are good and God-honoring responsibilities we should pursue with diligence. Scripture commends hard work, integrity, and faithful stewardship.

But if we chase those things at the expense of Jesus Christ—if in our effort to build a good life we neglect the Giver of Life—what have we really gained? What good is success in the eyes of the world if our hearts grow cold toward the Savior? What benefit is it to leave our children a financial inheritance if we fail to leave them a legacy of faith? Jesus asked it plainly: “What does it profit a man to gain the whole world and yet forfeit his soul?”

The danger isn’t always outright rebellion—it’s often distraction. We become so absorbed in the good things that we lose sight of the greatest thing. We work to provide, but neglect prayer. We build a home, but not a heart for Christ. We teach our children to chase their dreams, but not to follow Jesus. And slowly, subtly, we begin to believe that as long as life looks put together, our souls must be fine.

But Christ calls us to something deeper: to know Him, love Him, and make Him our treasure above all else. Family, work, legacy—these are blessings. But they make terrible saviors. Only Jesus can satisfy the soul. The prize that Paul chased was communion and fellowship with Jesus Christ. 

If you gained Christ but had nothing else would you still feel like you gained the prize? 

In many ways, that brings us back to where we began: do you have a holy dissatisfaction? 

This holy dissatisfaction is not grumbling or ingratitude; it is the Spirit-born longing that refuses to settle for a casual, comfortable Christianity. It is the heart that says, “Christ is enough for me—yet I long to know Him more deeply, obey Him more fully, and reflect Him more clearly.” 

It’s the tension of rest and pursuit, contentment and yearning. True believers are not stagnant. They don’t sit on the sidelines; they run, they fight, they labor. 

And so we have to ask ourselves this morning: am I content in Christ, but still hungry for more of Him? We press on, we strive for the prize of Jesus Christ—not in order to earn His love, but because we are already loved by Him. And one day, the race will be over, our striving will cease, and we will be made like Him.

Amen. Let’s pray together.