Now, Lord, we believe that Thou dost not leave Thy work unfinished. And if there is something yet to be added by Thee, we ask Thee that it may be in just as much life as at any time during these days.
We pray that, whatever the length of the message may be, it may all be to our real spiritual good and help. May it not be, in a spiritual sense, tailing up and fading out and dropping away, as so many have gone.
We do ask Thee to keep the level high: the river of God full of water, and we, the trees of God, full of sap. So help us in our need this evening, for Thy name’s sake. Amen.
Well then, we come to the last of this present series of meditations on the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ in some of the letters of the Apostle Paul. This evening, of course, in the sequence, we reach the letter to the Philippians.
The particular meaning and application of the cross, as we have it in this letter—and to give it a name, or title, or heading—is the cross and the dynamic of victory.
Once more, the phrase “the cross” may not be found here, but reference to it is quite definite. Perhaps the key to the letter might be these words to the Philippians:
“Unto you it is given in the behalf of Christ, not only to believe on Him, but also to suffer in His behalf.”
—Philippians 1:29
That is an undoubted reference to the place of the cross. Or later, the very familiar words:
“That I may know Him, and the power of His resurrection, and the fellowship of His sufferings, becoming conformed unto His death.”
—Philippians 3:10
These, and one or two other places, imply very clearly, in a comparatively short letter, that the cross has a very real place in this letter. If you want the references, without our turning and reading them, they are Philippians 1:29; Philippians 2:5-8; Philippians 3:3-10; and Philippians 3:18. These all bring us to the cross.
Now, no one who knows this little letter—this little big letter, or this big little letter—will have any doubt that this is a letter of triumph. It is undoubtedly and unmistakably a triumphant letter, right from beginning to end.
The Apostle refers to the beginning of things in his relationship with these Philippians, and he refers to the suffering at the beginning. You remember the story of his coming at length into Europe, to Philippi, and what he met almost immediately on arrival: that demon-possessed temple woman.
I have often stopped with that. Now, stop with it just for a moment on the way, and ask yourself a question: Why should the devil preach the gospel?
This demon-possessed temple woman cried out before all the people:
“These men are servants of the Most High God, who proclaim unto you the way of salvation.”
—Acts 16:17
You could not have the gospel preached better than that, could you? Why should demons do that? Oh, the depths of Satan! And why did the Apostle stop it outright by casting the devil out? Well, I leave the question for you to answer.
As you know, sometimes Satan sponsors the things of God in order to discredit them. And there is a lot in that. Well, that by the way.
The result of that incident, as you know, was that Paul and Silas were scourged and thrown into the inner prison, with their feet made fast in the stocks—bleeding, bruised, but not disconcerted: triumphant, singing at midnight, and singing to considerable consequence.
I could think that Paul had a voice. He could sing. There was a time when I could sing. Boy, I was taken place to place to sing before my first voice gave out.
This is just a little aside, by the way, and it has a lesson in it, I think. Then my voice broke, and I wanted very much that, when my voice came back—my man’s voice—it would be a bass voice, a good bass voice. When it came back, it was a tenor.
I made an unkindly loss of it, and I foolishly—tenors will forgive me—in those days thought tenor voices were rather effeminate, more like a woman’s voice, a baby’s voice. Here I had a chance. What did I do? Tried to make it into a bass, and spoiled the whole thing, and could not sing very often.
You can draw a lesson from that if you like. Very often we interfere with the sovereignty of God and spoil everything.
Well, to sing, and sing with some effect, at midnight! Now, our point is that this is triumph right at the beginning in the history of the church in Philippi. Out from that first adversity, suffering, affliction, and victory came that church.
That church was very quickly precipitated into the same kind of antagonism and suffering, and that persisted through the years, until, in this last imprisonment, the Apostle said to them in the present tense:
“Unto you it is given in the behalf of Christ, not only to believe on Him, but also to suffer in His behalf.”
—Philippians 1:29
There is more than that in the letter about suffering, because he speaks of his present imprisonment, saying that in Rome, in prison, in that last imprisonment probably, the word had gone through all the Roman guard—the Roman praetorium—and into Caesar’s household.
Evidently the slaves in the household of Caesar, the servants, were getting converted while this man was suffering in his final imprisonment. Well, for him and for them, it is a letter of triumph, is it not? Wonderful triumph.
We want to find out what is the secret of this victory: the dynamic of victory. It is, I think, declared as to the Lord Jesus in that wonderful arrangement in Philippians 2.
The Lord Jesus has gone down to death, obedient unto death, yea, the death of the cross. Therefore God highly exalted Him and gave unto Him the name which is above every name.
Victory: victory in Christ, victory in Paul, victory in the Philippians. That is what is here. But what we are concerned with in this brief space of time is the way of victory, and it is a very unnatural way of victory—a very unnatural way.
I do not know what you would even remotely, mentally, figure or conjure up as a picture of victory and the way of victory. Of course, victory itself implies warfare, conflict, yes; but in this letter there is something more than that.
This victory is not just objective, whether it be the Philippian jail, all the Roman prisons, or persecutions from without. The victory is here—subjective, inward. And it is a strange way of victory, quite unnatural.
It is supremely and pre-eminently presented in the case of the Lord Jesus, in Philippians 2:5 onward. He thought it not a prize to be on an equality with God—equal with God by His own right, in His own right, equal with God in glory.
He said, “Father, glorify Thou Me with the glory which I had with Thee before the world was.” All that, all the content of that, He set aside to Himself.
Found in fashion as a man, taking the form of a bondservant, obedient unto death, yea, the death of the cross—the highest height to the lowest depths; from the greatest fullness to the most utter emptiness. That is the cycle of victory.
The great warfare comes in at that deep point: the death of the cross. An unnatural way, is it not?
Now you notice that this is taken by the Apostle to be the history of Philippian believers, and, of course, in our cases in principle. The Apostle takes that up from Christ and passes that over to believers, saying:
“Have this mind in you, which was also in Christ Jesus.”
—Philippians 2:5
By the same process, by the same experience in principle—with certain differences between Christ and ourselves, always having to safeguard that—in principle, the same cycle, the same history, the same experience, is for believers: the same mind.
The same mind—what does it mean? The same disposition. In Scotland we have a way of speaking. If we are asking somebody whether they are going to do something, we say, “Are you minded to do so? Are you minded?” A mindedness, a disposition, an attitude.
Let this same disposition be in you as was in Christ Jesus, and the result will be the same. In both ways: down, down you go, until you touch bottom; and at the bottom is the terminus, the turn-around, and up, and up.
There is no up until there has been the down. This is not something in our history which is done once and for all. It was in the case of the Lord Jesus, and that is one of the differences.
Very often, when I want to get in touch with a man in a store, I go up in the elevator. I say to him, “Well, your life is made up of ups and downs, isn’t it?” And, of course, he touches up. I say, “Be sure that you finish up and not down.” That is the Lord’s way.
It may be through the way down, but through the way down is the way up. Now, I want to make this very brief and get to the real point of this.
Taking this mind, or disposition, of Christ, which was put into action so freely and utterly, what did it amount to exactly? Well, the Lord Jesus, and this mind that was in Christ Jesus, had a wonderful capacity.
You and I have to have inculcated in us, as the only way to victory, the capacity for letting go—the ability to let go.
We know, you have heard it probably many times before, that this fragment in Philippians 2, about One who was equal with God, His great self-emptying, and His coming down to the utmost death, is an offset to something. It is an offset to all the work that ever Satan did.
The motive, the mindedness, the disposition of Satan, out of which all this age-long mischief and ruin has come, was acquisitiveness, possessiveness, drawing to self, having and holding for oneself.
The Scriptures show us that he was the cherub that covered, evidently in a very high place—possibly, if not exactly next to the Son, very near to the Son—but envious of the Son.
This is why, you see, covetousness is idolatry. It is a part of that same thing: covetousness, envy. “I could have what God has not intended me to have, that which was reserved for the Son.” So he made his bid for equality with God, in the place of the Son.
All history—our spiritual history, looked at from one standpoint in the Scriptures—is the undoing of the work of the devil. Unbelief was the downfall of Adam; therefore faith is the undoing of the work of the devil there. That is why it is so important, and all things like that.
Now here, to undo that possessiveness, that acquisitiveness, that unlawful ambition—to undo it in principle—there had to be Somebody who voluntarily emptied Himself of His own rights, and of all that those rights were and contained.
That was to undo this awful thing, not in Himself—well, that was never true of Jesus—but to undo it in mankind. By His cross He destroyed the works of the devil.
“To this end was the Son of God manifested, that He might destroy the works of the devil.”
—1 John 3:8
The first and most awful work of the devil was this aspiration to have, to possess, to acquire.
You know, Cain is said in the Scriptures to be of that evil one. The name Cain means “acquisitive.” This is where all our ambitions to be something, to have, to possess—the home, the kingdom, power, supremacy, domination—where it all comes from: from the evil one.
And the undoing of it all, as a principle and with all its consequences, is especially in Christ: the mind that was in Christ Jesus.
Then that transfers to the Philippians, and I think the Philippians were a beautiful example of this, you know. Although there was a necessity for pointing something out to them—which necessity we need not dwell upon, because it is here in the letter—nevertheless, they are a beautiful example of this letting go and releasing.
Think of what the Apostle says about their generosity, their thought for him, their care for him. They were the first to think of this man’s situation. He might perhaps be going without food; he might be short of clothing; he might be living entirely without the necessities, or even the luxuries, in his prison.
They were thinking of him, doing all they could to minister to him. How grateful he is in this letter. Read it again: the outgoing, the letting go, the care, without thinking of what it cost them. The mind that was in Christ Jesus.
Now, whatever the method, however it was done, the principle is the thing we want to get and go away with, dear friends.
The cross here is the symbol of victory. Do not forget it. Do not make any doubt about having it: it is the symbol of victory.
The principle of the cross in this letter is the power, the ability, to let go—to let go to God, to release through your hands. There you go, right through biblical history. You must see that victory, marvellous victory, came when that was the issue.
Even sometimes it was something God-given that had to be drawn out for effect. It was not always something bad that you had to give up, something questionable that you let go. No, something God-given.
Isaac. Was there ever anything more God-given than Isaac? A miracle of God was Isaac. What a gift! A supernatural gift—impossible, perhaps we can certainly say, of repetition.
“Take now thy son, thine only son, whom thou lovest, even Isaac … and offer him there.”
—Genesis 22:2
Think of it: supernaturally answered after a long, long wait; many, many hard years; the despair of the situation; the hopelessness; then the God-given gift. And now: offer him up.
Well, what about it? Was that cross-victory? “In Isaac shall thy seed be called.” In Isaac, all nations of the earth were to be blessed.
This is the mighty, mighty victory of being able to let go.
Of course, I could dwell upon this and apply it in many, many ways. Some of us, you know, to whom God, we feel undoubtedly, gave ministry—called us for the ministry, gave us a ministry—have been brought to the place where we have had to hand back our ministry to the Lord, hand it back.
“Sorry, Lord. All right. If You do not want us to go on, here it is. You can take it.” And from the time being, the desolation of that loss—I think I can say, I think I can say—it has not been very long before there has been something more afterward. Something more.
A lot of history, what I would say. “The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.” I do not know that we have all got there, that when some of these things happen we spontaneously say, “Blessed be the name of the Lord.”
No, there is agony and anguish, at least for human beings. But there is spiritual enlargement and spiritual gain. God is no man’s debtor.
Well, that is the principle here in Philippians. Have you noticed how the Apostle takes it up in his own case? He does not say in so many words, “This mind that was in Christ Jesus is in me, and I have followed it out,” but in what he says he exemplifies it.
He tells us that all the things that were gain to him—all the advantages of inheritance, upbringing, education, success, climbing to the top of the tree in his profession as a rabbi, and all that meant in influence, opportunity, power, and possession—what a fullness this man had naturally before his conversion.
Then he says in this letter:
“What things were gain to me, these have I counted loss for Christ.”
—Philippians 3:7
All gone, all gone. Will you tell me that all that letting go has been loss to him, to God, to the church? What should have been lost through all these centuries if Paul had held on to all those advantages—things that were gain, and they were gain, if he held on?
He let go. But now notice what he says after all that: “I count them but refuse.” Refuse, refuse—that is the value of them as I see it now. You see in a moment why he sees it now.
So he said:
“Brethren, I count not myself yet to have laid hold: but one thing I do, forgetting the things which are behind, and stretching forward to the things which are before, I press on toward the goal unto the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus.”
—Philippians 3:13-14
Now, “that I may know Him, and the power of His resurrection, and the fellowship of His sufferings.” You notice the cross? Notice the cross? Resurrection, fellowship of sufferings, being made conformable unto His death.
The climax of the risen life is the cross. You have got that? The climax of the risen life is the cross, because all our knowing the power of His resurrection will only lead us further and further into the meaning of the cross.
And to what? Being made conformable unto His death, to attain unto the resurrection from among the dead—something far greater than that initial experience of union with Christ in resurrection.
But it is down, you see. The way of victory is evidently always the growing capacity to let go to the Lord.
While we hold on, stand our ground, claim our rights, keep things in our hands, we are in defeat.
There are other ways in which this can be applied—different, many, many ways. The Lord waits for this principle to be applied or worked out.
A wife is jealous of her husband, and she prays and prays and prays. The Lord never answers, never answers. She wants to hold him, keep him to herself, just have him in her possession. Her prayers are not answered; nothing happens.
Still, one day, the Lord says, “Let him go. Let go. If you will let go, I will take hold.” And when you learn—well, I said it may have been the other way around. I only think that because all women are not jealous that way; men can be just the same, you know, jealous of their wives or their children.
Not going to let go. Oh, it can be anything, as I mentioned ministry, no matter what it is. If you and I hold this to ourselves, even though it may be something not wrong, not evil in itself, not sinful in itself, but we have got hold of it—we have got hold of our own position and our own rights—and we are not going to let go.
Now, you know that was the reason for all the defeat of the Corinthian church. Their love of power, their love for worldly wisdom, their love for emotional gratification, drawing all these things, even spiritual things, to themselves.
It was not until they were broken from that—and you have the brokenness of the second letter to the Corinthians, where they are indeed broken—that their victory came. Victory.
Have you got this? You want victory? It may be, you see, that there is some kind of controversy over that letting go to the Lord, taking your hands off.
Oh, it is a great lesson that we have to learn in the Christian life: to take our hands off the ark, off other people. We are always trying, with our own hands, to direct people’s lives, always ready to take the course that we think they ought to take, to impose our minds and judgments and wills upon people.
Remember how many years ago the Lord said, “Take your hands off.” And I agreed. Put your hands up! Oh, how we love to put our hands on people’s lives, on other people. It is love of power—involved in it, love of power.
And the way of God is the way of letting go, even good things, to the Lord. It is required.
Now, if you come to that little matter evidently referred to in Philippians, Euodia and Syntyche are entreated to be of the same mind. I do not know exactly what it may have been, but there was something there. Really, they were standing for their own rights. One was not giving way to the other.
They might both have held their ground. One might have been in the right, but that one was not going to let go of her right. That is why the Apostle said, “Have this mind in you, which was also in Christ Jesus.”
He had rights, unquestionably. He was all right in His own right. Yours may not be your right after all; but whether it be or not, let go.
You surrender. You put it in the Lord’s hands and take your hands off. You will be willing to suffer the loss of it, or be free. And while that is the cross, it is victory.
Therefore God highly exalted Him. I would draw your attention, then, to this.
How was the Apostle Paul able to do this—to suffer the loss of all the things that were gain, as he says? How could he do it?
This is just the captivation of being in Christ. That is a great test, yes. “For to me to live is Christ.” I have no other object, no other ambition in living, but Christ.
Look at the large place Christ has in this letter. “For to me to live is Christ,” and, “I can do all things through Christ.” He was captivated by Christ.
That captivation by Christ, that he had come to know this greater-than-all, beyond all these things which he at one time counted position in the world, possession in the world, and everything—these are nothing when you see the Lord.
There is no other way of victory but in the Lord Jesus. But it is only crucified people who truly see the Lord.
Well, that is enough. Is that building the cross on the purpose? No, I did not mean that. I mean victory, either way a victory.
Yes, the cross is not just losing everything and having a miserable life, just of all. It is letting the Lord have His way out of this. It is not death; it is life. That is the point.
Lord, write into our hearts all that it has been Thy desire for us really to know in these days, and cover it there. Write it there, and give us grace to respond to every challenge.
Make us a people so emptied of self-pity, pride, and personal interests, and all that, so empty, that Thou canst fill us with Thyself, Lord Jesus. So much more is gained, but nothing is too much to let go for this.
May this be the dynamic, the captivation of the Lord, at every cost.
And now unto Him who is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think, unto Him be the glory in the church and in Christ Jesus unto all generations for ever and ever. Amen.