Knowing Christ

John 13:21-30, Philippians 3:4-14
World Communion Sunday

I have a friend, Karen, who is a dog trainer. Actually she prefers “canine behavior counselor”, or something along those lines. She spoke with us at Parents’ Place this week, the preschool here in this church, and her topic was on dog safety. Namely, how to prevent dog bites in little children.

I think she was sort of nervous to talk with us. She kind of rambled and after a brief introduction about what she was going to talk about she stopped and said, “So, now I’m going to tell you why you should listen to what I have to say” and she told us about her experience in dog training, all very impressive, I should add. And she concluded that part like she began: “So that’s why you want to listen to what I have to say.”

Now I know what she really was getting at was, “you might be wondering about me, about my credentials, my experience and education. Well let me tell you...” But in what seemed to be a bit of a stressful situation, she just put it out there: this is why you should listen to what I have to say.

Paul is kind of doing the same thing in his letter of the Philippians. He wants to remind they understand his credentials, why they should listen to what he has to say.

And it’s pretty impressive, at least, he wants it to appear impressive. He has done everything right. Every religious observation-check. The family connection-check. The right, go-get-em attitude-double check. In fact, zealous-check you might say. His experience of righteousness in the eyes of the spiritual elite-- impeccable. Knowledge about the law—stunning.

But it is all rubbish. Rubbish. Don’t be impressed, my dear Philippians (he might say) with all this experience, this great wealth of knowledge. Rather be impressed that that I know it is all worthless.

A couple of weeks ago, Donna Mast lead us in a study of Philippians, so you may remember from her sermon that it is believed that Paul was in prison when he wrote it. It’s hard for us to really relate to Paul in this condition. Many of us probably find it hard to relate to Paul anytime.

But in the midst of whatever turmoil he was in here in prison, there is something he says in this letter that I think many of us can relate to: I want to know Christ. I want to know Christ. Many of us are here because…we want to know Christ.

A few years ago I preached a sermon here, and then again at Waynesburg University, about that tricky question many of us have been asked, or asked others, sometime in our Christian walk: the question is “Are you saved?” Well, as I think about it now, I realize that’s not the common icebreaking question among well intentioned and curious Christians. What’s more common these days is the question “Do you have a personal relationship with Jesus Christ?”

I admit, I don’t like being asked that question, because I don’t really know what people mean by it. And there have been times when I’ve feigned spiritual stupidity and asked… “what exactly do you mean by that?” and then the situation has changed as if somehow I have then caused the awkward moment by my question. And by asking for clarification I don’t mean to act spiritually superior—for we know, it’s all rubbish anyhow, however great we think we are spiritually—but I really want to know! I want to know because this language is all over contemporary Christianity and because the Bible isn’t the most consistent when it comes to giving us concrete information on it.


John Suk, in his book “Not Sure: A Pastor’s Journey from Faith to Doubt” thinks that what people mean when they say personal relationship with Jesus is that they relate to Jesus very much like they relate to other people they know. And he wonders, is that really possible? Can we apply what we have known about our human relationships—about where we have tried and succeeded and failed in human relationships—can we compare that with our connection to Christ? Should we?

Now, Biblically-speaking, what scripture says about personal relationships is a mixed bag, really. There is strong evidence that God is person-like. God is the shepherd, the one who restores our soul. In Isaiah, God promises Israel that when it passes through waters or fire “I will be with you.” And as we Brethren and Mennonites love to remember, Matthew has Jesus saying where two are three are gathered, he is there. Like, another one of the gang.
[pause]

John Suk reminds us that in addition to these, the Bible also speaks about God’s distance, his absence in our lives. In the gospel of John, Jesus says “I am with you for only a short time, and then I go to the one who sent me. You will look for me, but you will not find me; and where I am you cannot come.” He says “Do not hold on to me, for I am going to my Father.” It sounds like Jesus is saying that we cannot have a personal relationship with him, or even his Holy Spirit whom he sent in his absence…we can’t have a relationship with him that is anything like what we know of relationships.

And yet, Paul wants to know Christ.

But I don’t think he was looking to know Christ in a best-friend, chummy-chummy sort of way. He wants to share with Christ, not his deepest secrets, but share with Christ in Christ’s sufferings. He wants to know Christ by walking in his sandals. He wants to know by understanding the power by which Christ willingly suffered and died. He wants to know by becoming like him. And becoming like Christ is more than simply having a relationship with him.

It is certainly not a formula for what we would call a healthy human relationship. In fact, if those we are in relationship with compelled us to do things we are called to do by Christ’s teaching, we’d hopefully see them as pretty messed up relationships. Give all we have, even the coats off our backs? Become vulnerable to the point of death? Accept the willing death of that other person as good for us, our souls? Thank goodness I don’t have personal relationships like that.

But I’m not Paul. I can’t say I’m eager to experience Christ’s sufferings the way he did on the cross. But then, Paul said while that might be his goal (all judgment from us aside), it’s not where he is. Whatever relationship he wants with Christ, it’s still in the making. In fact, when Paul says I want to know Christ, I hear more power in the word want than I hear in the word know.
I want to know Christ. And it’s that want that drives, that presses him, that strains him forward. It’s the wanting that strengthens faith. And faith—faith is a subject the Bible is consistent on.

[pause]

Maybe this knowing that Paul is speaking of, or at least, this wanting to know, doesn’t start with suffering, but with his service. May it doesn’t start at the cross. Maybe it starts at the table. I’ve heard that in many Latin American countries, one’s family is defined by who is sitting at your dinner table.

Maybe, if you want to know Christ, you should look at who is at his table. Who’s there that he called his family, and can you welcome them into your heart? And I’m not simply referring to prostitutes and tax collectors-they get called out enough.

But at his table is the one who betrays him. The one who denies him. The ones who hide from him, who lie about him, who do violence in his name, the one who would take his own life, the one who doubts him… essentially, the ones who had a personal relationship with him…but never really knew him, and somehow drastically failed him.

And the thing about this table, is he didn’t just let them come. He fed them. He washed their feet. He blessed them into knowing him. And they do. Eventually. Certainly not right away. Not even after having amazing, mind blowing, spiritual experiences with him. Was the rest of it all rubbish, as Paul says? I don’t know? Did their personal relationships help them really know Christ at the table? Did it take them to the cross with him?

I think when we strive for a personal relationship, we of course do it out of our desire to know Christ. Many times language of closeness and relationship are the only things that keep me striving, connecting. It is what I use in my prayers in my cries to God.

But I agree with that pastor, John Suk: if we’re not careful we will unknowingly replace striving for faith with an easier experience of applying our own standards of relationship onto Christ, whose relationship with us is defined like none other we can fathom, or replicate.

Can you come to the table if you do you have a personal relationship? Of course. Just don’t be disappointed once you know about what Christ is offering here.
Can you come to the table if you don’t have a personal relationship with Jesus? I’d say that’s the best place to be…
Ultimately, it is the place to be if you want.
It is the place to start if you want to know Christ.