A Study in Security and Identity, Part 2: What Made Paul’s Heart Sing

Rijksmuseum, creator unknown, Apostle Paul. Southern Netherlands. Date: 1600 – 1699. Finding our identity in our behavior is a lose-lose proposition. When we fail, we are tempted to despair. We find ourselves agreeing with the Accuser, and we even might be tempted to wonder if we really do belong to Jesus. But when we “succeed,” we are inclined to bask in self-congratulation that gives us the glory that belongs to God alone. The two seemingly opposite temptations have their roots in the same self-absorption and preoccupation with our works. In another post (“A Study in Security and Identity, Part I: The Restoration of Peter”) we explored how finding our security and identity in Christ steadies us spiritually when we rebel against God and find ourselves in despair. We showed how Peter went from monumental collapse in his three-fold denial of Christ to, a few weeks leader, the kind of holy boldness that allowed him to stand before the crowd on the Day of Pentecost and speak for that same Christ. After his profound failure and collapse, Peter knew what we all need to see: he couldn’t find his identity in his behavior. At the depth of his despair, he discovered that it was only through the grace of Christ that he could see his identity rehabilitated and find the security he needed to stand up and speak for Christ. But it is not just when we fail that we need to find our identity in Christ. In fact, when we are “succeeding” in our spiritual life, the temptation to find our identity in our behavior is even more alluring and more toxic. This was something the Apostle Paul knew from personal experience. He knew what it was to “succeed” magnificently in the metrics of checklist spirituality, and he knew better than to put his hope in those achievements. The church in Philippi was struggling with the influence of legalists who insisted that Gentiles adhere to Jewish customs in order to be fully qualified to be part of God’s family. This infuriated Paul. To drive home his point, Paul engaged in a little holier-than-thou boasting. If the legalists want to play the game of checklist spirituality, he knew he had them all beat: You know my pedigree: a legitimate birth, circumcised on the eighth day; an Israelite from the elite tribe of Benjamin; a strict and devout adherent to God’s law; a fiery defender of the purity of my religion, even to the point of persecuting the church; a meticulous observer of everything set down in God’s law Book. (Philippians 3:4-6, The Message) Paul had discovered that in Christ he had an identity far more precious than his achievements in the world of legalistic box-checking. In fact, compared to what he had in Christ, what he had achieved in legalistic terms was garbage: The very credentials these people are waving around as something special, I’m tearing up and throwing out with the trash—along with everything else I used to take credit for. And why? Because of Christ. Yes, all the things I once thought were so important are gone from my life. Compared to the high privilege of knowing Christ Jesus as my Master, firsthand, everything I once thought I had going for me is insignificant—dog dung. I’ve dumped it all in the trash so that I could embrace Christ and be embraced by him. I didn’t want some petty, inferior brand of righteousness that comes from keeping a list of rules when I could get the robust kind that comes from trusting Christ—God’s righteousness. (Philippians 3:7-9, The Message) This wasn’t just high-flown rhetoric for Paul. He knew what it was to lose everything for Christ. The young Saul of Tarsus was a rapidly rising star in first century Judaism, a high achiever even among the high achievers. But he gave up all his attainments and all his prospects when he found Jesus. His sudden reversal caused whiplash everywhere. Christ-followers couldn’t wrap their heads around the fact that their chief antagonist was now one of their number. And the Jewish community that had once held the vicious Saul of Tarsus in such high esteem now saw him as an enemy to Jewish orthodoxy and sought to kill him. In other words, Paul was the man in Jesus’ parable: he had found the Pearl of Great Price and liquidated his entire estate in order to put all his hope in the singular treasure he found in Christ. And just as the man in the parable wasn’t hesitant to give it all up (Jesus uses the word “gladly” to describe his frame of mind), so Paul left all that behind without a moment’s hesitation. What Paul found in Christ so eclipsed everything else that giving up all he had achieved in exchange for what he found in Christ was a no-brainer. That is why he wrote in his letter to the churches in Galatia: “Far be it from me to boast except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world.” (Galatians 6:14, ESV) So what made Paul’s heart sing? Like Peter in his moment of profound shame, Paul knew better than to find his identity in his behavior. He knew that his “in Christ” identity was far more significant and far more precious. So precious, in fact, that he could regard his notable achievements in the world of checklist spirituality as utterly worthless by comparison. What does this have to do with us? One of the hazards we encounter in the spiritual disciplines is the insidious, almost imperceptible introduction of vanity into our motives. It’s alarmingly easy (at least for me) to approach the disciplines – Scripture engagement, prayer, even service – as a kind of performance art. Even when I am alone, while I am reading my Bible, I can picture myself fondly as a man to admire, a man who reads his Bible alone in the morning. My “performance” is for an audience of one – my own vain self-image! In this way all our obedience can be infected with vanity; we can find our identity in being “the kind of man who studies his Bible faithfully” or “the kind of woman who serves others selflessly” rather than in being God’s beloved child. We can find our identity in our own good works, and our heart sings in praise of our own righteous behavior. It’s easy enough to find our identity in our behavior when we sin and fail – and then give in to despair. But it’s even easier to find our identity in our behavior when we are doing well spiritually, when our habits are aligned with our profession and we experience an increasing spiritual confidence. Even then – especially then – we need to “preach the Gospel to ourselves.” We must remind ourselves constantly that our value before God lies in neither the “three steps forward” phase nor the “two steps back” phase of our spiritual journey. We are valuable, precious in the sight of the Holy One because He sees us not in the frame of our ever-changing behavior but through the lens of His own Son’s perfect righteousness. And our hearts can sing because His Spirit is ever at work, always “playing the long game” of shaping our lives to be more and more like His Son. Until He finishes that gracious, sanctifying work, let us persevere in obedient trust and trusting obedience.