My Lord

 •  3 min. read  •  grade level: 6
 
“Yea doubtless, and I count all things but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord: for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and do count them but dung, that I may win Christ.” (Phil. 3:88Yea doubtless, and I count all things but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord: for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and do count them but dung, that I may win Christ, (Philippians 3:8)).
The earnest endeavor of the apostle who penned this letter to his loved helpers and coworkers at Philippi was to “press on.” This seems to mark his steps, wherever we track him. “Go forward” is imprinted on his words and ways. Especially is this seen in the chapter before us.
He reviews all that had been his; and he had had much of which he could rightly glory. If any man could have boasted, he could have out-boasted them; such had been the greatness of the privileges he had known. But they were all rubbish to him now: they had been totally eclipsed. The Lord of glory had appeared to him, when, in unbelief, he had hastened on the Damascus road. Yes, the very One whose name he had sought to stamp out from the earth, had met him on his mad career; and, falling to the ground, Saul owns the despised and rejected Nazarene as Lord; and forthwith placed himself at His service, saying, “Lord, what wilt Thou have me to do?” (Act 9).
Thirty years after, the apostle is still of the same mind—he is still pressing on. ‘Tis an uphill journey, but he is going to the top. Christ is there, and, with earnestness and diligence, he hastens forward.
“I press toward the mark;” “that I may win Christ,” “Christ Jesus my Lord,” are his vigorous words. To him to live is Christ, to die is gain; for that rejected Jesus has captivated his heart.
And is He not enough to fill every believer’s heart? Should we not press on, each one of us owning, wherever we go, “Christ Jesus is my Lord. He has died for me, and I would live for Him.”
Well do I remember climbing a steep cliff path, which rose high above the sea-level. Upward I pressed, pausing now and again to survey the fresh beauties of the scenery, which, from that lofty path, opened out at every step, the handiwork of Him who died for me. I have often thought since, if some well-loved friend had climbed that rough and thorny path before me, and had been awaiting my approach, how should I have urged on my course, looking ever to the place where he was, and not content while a single step lay between us.
And should it not be thus with us? We have before us One who has trodden the path we tread, and who now awaits us in that glory for which His precious blood has made us fit.
Let us then, with whole-hearted purpose, press ONWARD, UPWARD, HOMEWARD, HEAVENWARD, until we hear His voice, and see His face, and dwell with Him forever.
“Glory before thee,
Pilgrim, press on;
Share now the sorrow,
Share soon the crown.
Tell forth the Savior’s fame,
Honor His holy Name;
Bear now His cross and shame,
Pilgrim, press on.”