Philippians 3:1–8

The Apostle now urges the saints to rejoice in the Lord. The word matters so much to him that he says it again in Philippians 4:4. He has already spoken of different kinds of joy. There was joy in praying for the saints. There was joy that others preached Christ far and wide. There was joy in seeing the saints walk together in unity. There was joy in being poured out as a drink offering. Here he leaves the streams and traces them all back to the source. He points their hearts to the Lord Himself.

We do find joy in the fellowship of the saints and in the service of Christ. But it is unsafe for our hearts to rest there. Other believers may hurt and disappoint us. The work itself may discourage us. Where is the joy then? But if the heart is set upon the Lord, whatever the days or circumstances, all is well.

The Spirit warns here against rushing into service too soon, before we learn the Lord's mind, as shown in Philippians 2. Such haste is sure to produce the activity of the flesh, not of the Spirit. "Finally, my brothers, rejoice in the Lord." This cuts at the root of the whole matter. He does not say, run into service to get joy. He says, "rejoice in the Lord." And unless there is joy in Him, service is most dangerous.

In writing this the Apostle might be repeating himself. But the happy theme never tired him, and it was safe for them. No servant of God need be afraid of repeating himself, for we take things in only slowly. Repetition is a safe process in the things of God.

His command here is simple and basic, but he is not tired of repeating "the same things." "For you it is safe," he assures them. It is a blessing that the most vital things are the simplest and clearest, yet they bring the deepest results. The springs of our souls' delight must be "in the Lord" Himself: this is the one secret of all soul-prosperity.

It was no trouble to him, for he loved them too much to mind it. It was safe for them, for Satan threatened otherwise. Joy in the Lord is the truest safeguard against the religious traps of the enemy. When people already know the truth, the great thing is to keep their hearts on the right object, and to keep them free and glad at the same time.

Joy in the Lord Himself is what gives strength and victory here. The joy is not just in the salvation that is ours. It is not in His mercies, His gifts, or our service. It is in Him… It was not a painful thing for him to write the same things to them, but it was safe for them. They needed this call while spiritual dangers pressed in on them. Nothing keeps a person from evil like a heart filled with the Lord Jesus Christ.

If he even weeps over many who call themselves Christians, he always rejoices in the Lord; in Him there is that which nothing can change. This is not a cold heart that dries up the tears. It is a spring of joy that widens in distress, because it never changes. And it grows purer in the heart the more it stands alone.

We do not rejoice enough; you do not rejoice enough… There are sorrows that we all must taste and share. The more we walk in the fear of God, the more we will see in the world and the church to grieve us. Still, with it all, under it all, and over it all, there should be this rejoicing. And if we are not rejoicing we are not safe.

In verse 2 the apostle uses strong, solemn words. He warns the saints against men who would use clever tricks to rob them of their only real protection in a hostile world — their joy in the Lord. "Beware of dogs" — these are unclean in nature. "Beware of evil workers" — these are evil in their works. "Beware of the concision" — these are vain in their so-called self-denial.

In our ordinary English Bible it reads: "Beware of dogs." But the Greek New Testament has the word "the" — "the dogs, … the evil workmen, … the concision." In Greek that word "the" works like a finger pointing out someone. So it likely means that certain men had come to Philippi. They were doing, or trying to do, their evil work there, just as they had done in Antioch, Galatia, Corinth and other places.

These three evils seem to point to teachers inside the Christian circle who pressed the Jewish law and tried to mix law and grace. That set aside the gospel which grace proclaimed. It also put back the flesh which the gospel had set aside. Paul sees that this evil attacks the foundation of all our blessing, so he condemns it without holding back. The dog is one that returns to his vomit and has no shame. To act in a clearly evil way, and then refuse to admit the evil, is to act without conscience or shame.

In Paul's day the Jewish teachers used to say, "The nations of the world are like dogs." … The Jews felt that they alone were the people of God. Everyone else was unclean. Everyone else was a dog! Now Paul takes up their saying and, as it were, says: "No, it is not the non-Jewish Christians who are the dogs. They really are God's people. You yourselves are the dogs. You have rejected Christ, God's Son, so God can no longer count you as His people. You are the unclean ones who are outside: you are the dogs!"

It may be either evil workmen, or workers. "Workmen" would turn our eyes to these evil men themselves. "Workers" might make us think more of their evil teaching. They were always preaching "works" as the way to salvation or holiness — works they were so proud of, but which were so evil.

The Apostle is making a sort of pun on two Greek words: kata-tome (verse 2) and peri-tome (verse 3). You will notice each word has tome in it, but one begins with kata and the other begins with peri. The first word means a "mutilation." The Law of Moses forbade that in Leviticus 21:5, and it uses this very Greek word there. Paul compares their circumcision, which they were so proud of, to nothing more than being mutilated. The second word is the proper word for circumcision, which was the badge, or mark, of a true Jew.

Shameless evil works to produce more evil under a disgraceful cover of religion. When that evil is shown for what it really is, mildness becomes a crime against those whom Christ loves. If we love Him, then in our dealings with the church we will give the evil its true character, which it tries to hide. This is real love and faithfulness to Christ.

I do not think these "evil workers" were trying to bring the Philippian believers over to Jewish worship. I believe they were trying to mix Jewish worship with Christian worship — and that is just what we see everywhere today. … Everything that is outward form rather than spirit and truth, and putting people under the Ten Commandments too: all of this, I believe, is at heart a return to Judaism.

The word translated "concision" means only a lopping off. Circumcision, by contrast, pictured the complete cutting off of death. The Judaizers believed in lopping off the uglier outgrowths of the flesh. But they would not have that bringing in of death, "by the circumcision of Christ" (Col. 2:11), which is the truth of Christianity... Men cannot really boast in the grosser expressions of the flesh, so they aim at lopping them off. Then they can encourage more pleasant and refined ones to boast in. But it is boasting in the flesh all the same.

The meaning of the rite of circumcision comes into view here. It was the sign of death put upon the flesh. What the Apostle Paul wrote in Philippians 3:3 confirms this meaning.

It is not certain, but it is most probable, that this verse should read, "who worship by the Spirit of God." That does not make any great difference. Either way it means that worship must be inward and spiritual, springing from the heart. It is not external and ritual, a matter of rites and ceremonies. And this could only be in the power of the Holy Spirit... He then goes on to say that we (we Christians) are the circumcision. We worship by the Spirit of God, not by rites and ceremonial forms. We rejoice — that is, we boast — in Christ Jesus, and not in Moses, however much he is honoured as a servant in God's house (Heb. 3). And we have no confidence in the flesh.

The word used here for worship is the word Scripture uses for the service of God. The priesthood of old pictured that service. So here the Spirit of God claims that every true believer is "one worshipping by the Spirit of God." That means that every true believer is a priest.

The whole Christian company is viewed as the spiritual answer to circumcision in the flesh. It stands in relation to God only by the Spirit, not by any improvement of the flesh. Instead of boasting in Moses, we boast in "Christ Jesus"; the word "rejoicing" can be rendered "boasting".

Notice that this chapter does not speak about the coarseness of the flesh, but about its religiousness. The flesh is worthless, and those who are in the flesh cannot please God.

Self-confidence is one of the commonest and deepest tendencies of the flesh. If we do not judge it and refuse it, it always leads to disaster. True spiritual circumcision involves "no confidence in the flesh." But we only learn that lesson through a good deal of painful experience.

The people in view here professed Christianity, but sought to blend the law along with it. It is a system of evil, and far from being rare, it is the commonest thing today... So human forms of prayer, ordinances, and so on, take the place of God's Spirit as the power of worship.

The apostle does not talk of sin in the flesh here. The flesh has its religion as well as its lusts. Religion attracts it far more than worshipping God in the spirit, which the flesh cannot do. "Though I myself have reason for confidence in the flesh also" — that is the flesh's religion. And all the while, Paul was God's most determined enemy. Suppose this blamelessness of Paul — to whose credit was it? Paul's. Wherever religion is a credit to us, it is not worth anything; worse than that, it deceives us.

In this verse and the two that follow, we get a summary of the real grounds for that "confidence in the flesh" — grounds that "the circumcision" have thrown away on purpose, as worthless and deceptive. Paul speaks well of himself here, and he has every right to. He steps forward as God's witness, to show in his own person the sound teaching of the Lord... Did anyone still feel safe on the ground of law? Did he still see no safer place to stand, and no higher goal, than to follow Moses blamelessly? Then let him hear the confession of a man who could lead him like a master down every path of human merit — and then show him a better way.

Saul of Tarsus stood, as it were, on the highest point of the hill of legal righteousness. He reached the topmost step of the ladder of human religion. He would allow no man to get above him... Is any man trusting in his self-control? Paul could say, "I more." Is any man trusting in his morality? Paul could say, "I more." Is any man trusting in ceremonies, sacraments, religious services, or devout practices? Paul could say, "I more." ... He lay at the very bottom of the pit of ruin, and he stood at the very top of the hill of self-righteousness. Look at him, and no sinner needs to despair. Look at him, and no one who trusts his own law-keeping can boast.

The usual translation, "I might have confidence in the flesh," gives a true sense. But Paul puts it that he does have confidence in the flesh... And from man's point of view, he had every ground for such confidence. So here he takes his stand beside these men who had come to Philippi pressing the law of Moses.

God gave Paul a special gift: to be a witness of how worthless man is, or the flesh at its best. For if anyone else might have had confidence in it, he had more, as he tells us. But he gave it up, and that act exposes how completely empty it is. The man who gave it up had reached the finest and most flattering achievements in it.

Paul might indeed boast, if necessary, in what belonged to the flesh. He had every Jewish privilege to the highest degree... One thing alone had changed it all — he had seen a glorified Christ. All that he had according to the flesh was from then on loss to him... And notice: what he rejects here is not the sins of the flesh, which Christ atones for and abolishes. What he rejects is the flesh's righteousness.

Certain men had come to Philippi. They were telling the believers they must be circumcised and keep the law of Moses to be saved. These men had confidence in the flesh — just what the true circumcision did not have. Now Paul is about to take his place, so to speak, alongside these men, and compare his own credentials with theirs… These evil teachers seem to have pressed circumcision more than anything else, so Paul begins with it. Someone converting to Judaism from outside could be circumcised at any age, but the law required a Jew to be circumcised on the eighth day. Paul had met every requirement of the law, as far as circumcision went.

Paul begins with what he inherited, and so with what did not depend on his own choice or will. He was not a convert to Judaism from outside, but a Jew both born and bred. His descent as an Israelite of the tribe of Benjamin was faultless, and he had entered the covenant of circumcision in the flesh just as the law required… He then turns to what was properly his own, and what he was responsible for: "as to the law, a Pharisee." He joined that party in its strictest form when he came of age. He took in the teaching of Gamaliel and held on to it, like good soil.

Benjamin was a very favoured tribe. Benjamin was one of the two sons of Jacob's favourite wife. He was the only child of Jacob born in the Promised Land. The first king of Israel came from the tribe of Benjamin, and Saul of Tarsus bore his name. The holy city, Jerusalem, was in the land of Benjamin. When the other tribes revolted, Benjamin was the only tribe that stayed loyal to Judah and the house of David.

He was a pure Jew. Timothy's father was a Greek; not so Saul of Tarsus — he was pure Hebrew. A man was a Jew if he traced his descent from Jacob and followed the religion of his fathers. But he was not counted a Hebrew unless he spoke the Hebrew language. And Paul would not have described himself this way unless his father had these qualifications too. So he probably spoke Hebrew from earliest childhood, and we know he spoke it fluently.

This is the only reference to flesh in this letter, as far as I know. But it is flesh in its religious form, not a source of evil desires and passions. It is all judged by Christ, and its religious form not least. … And what did the apostle do with this whole roll of fleshly advantages? It was seen laid in the grave of Christ.

Here the apostle sets out the recommendations that were his as a religious man, and in some cases they were his by birth… None of these qualities were evil in themselves, except the persecution of the church. Even that was perhaps not evil in his own eyes in his unconverted days, for he did not then know it to be so. Yet so it was.

It is striking, the way Paul takes it up. It is not as sin, but as something completely worthless — legal righteousness, and true religion as man can see it. … All it does is credit self. That is the mischief and the evil. Who would keep filthy rags when he could have Christ for his righteousness? … The deceitful desires are bad enough, but this religious flesh is worse. It was not real righteousness; it was self puffed up, not self judged — self patched out and painted over.

amemptos comes from a, meaning "not," and memphomai, "to blame." So it means "without blame." In his former life Paul had nothing to accuse himself of as to the righteousness of the law. Philippians 3:6. Zacharias and his wife were beyond blame, Luke 1:6. The saints too should be beyond blame, Philippians 2:15; 1 Thessalonians 3:13. And if the first covenant had been faultless, there would have been no place for a second. Hebrews 8:7.

Paul could say of himself, "as to righteousness under the law, blameless" (Philippians 3:6). But the moment the law said, "You shall not covet," it might as well have said, "You shall not be a man." If I take the law, you see it is most useful; it probes the heart, and brings the awareness that we have not kept it... It is true that unless something probes us, we all tend to think well of ourselves. We all tend to be Pharisees.

"As to zeal, a persecutor of the church," was Paul's own account afterwards of the state in which divine grace found him (Philippians 3:6). It did not alter his conviction that he was the chief of sinners. "The least of the apostles," he says elsewhere, and "unworthy to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God" (1 Corinthians 15:9). A man's religion may be the worst thing about him. His sincerity in it will not soften that effect. It makes the effect all the more certain.

Take Paul before his conversion. He could say that he had lived in all good conscience before God. Yet he had been dragging men and women to prison because they were Christians. No doubt he did it with an untroubled conscience. The Lord had said: "whoever kills you will think he is offering service to God." John 16:2. Paul's zeal for Judaism blinded him. In his conscience he could not recognise the God who gave the law and had also sent His Son... it was an unenlightened conscience, a zeal without knowledge, by which even the Christian may be led astray.

Paul persecuted the Church (1 Corinthians 15:9; Galatians 1:13; Philippians 3:6). He attacked not just the saints at Jerusalem, but through them the whole Church. Indeed, he heard a voice asking, "Why are you persecuting me?" (Acts 9:4-5.)

So Saul as an earnest Jew could not be anything but a zealous persecutor of the church of God. It was part of his religion. In that religion he outdid many of his equals in his own nation, and in it he was "exceedingly zealous." Whatever religion had to offer, Saul would have it. Whatever height there was to reach, he would reach it. He would leave no stone unturned to build up the structure of his own righteousness — righteousness in the flesh, righteousness in the old creation. He was allowed to gain every attraction of legal righteousness. The purpose was that he might fling them away before the brighter glories of a righteousness that is divine.

All these things were gain to him as a natural man. They would have given him a great place among men. But the moment he saw Christ in glory, he discovered something else. Despite all his religious advantages, he was the chief of sinners, and had come short of the glory of God. He also saw that all blessing depended on Christ and His work. So from then on he counted the things that were gain to him as a natural man as loss for Christ. He was a Hebrew of the Hebrews, and as to the righteousness that is in the law he was blameless. To trust in that any longer would have been to set aside Christ's work by his own works, and to rejoice in himself rather than in Christ.

One thing alone had changed it all — he had seen a glorified Christ. Everything he had in the flesh was loss to him from then on. It would place something between him and the Christ of his faith and his desire — the Christ whom he knew. And notice: what he rejects here is not the sins of the flesh, which Christ atones for and abolishes. It is the righteousness of the flesh... The surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus his Lord had eclipsed everything, and turned everything that was not Christ into loss. The stars, as well as the darkness of night, disappear before the sun.

Notice that "gains" is plural, but "loss" is singular: just one loss, one deprivation — not merely a worthless thing, but a ruinous one. So Paul came to view all these great assets of his. These "gains" were not simply one great loss; they were ruinous. If he held on to them, he would lose his own soul.

So what did the apostle do with this whole list of advantages in the flesh? It was laid in the grave of Christ. "But whatever gain I had, I counted as loss for the sake of Christ." Was this what the apostle felt, did, and suffered when he first came to know Christ? It was also what he carried right up to the moment of writing to the Philippians, as strongly as ever. "Indeed," he said, "I count everything as loss."

This counting of all things as loss was not just an attitude of his mind. He adds, "For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things." It is one thing to count all things as loss. It is quite another to really suffer the loss of it all. The apostle knew both. He was not shaken when he lost everything, because he had already counted everything as loss. And in Christ he had infinite gain, compared with whom all else is rubbish.

When the heart has found its rest in Christ and is satisfied, it finds it easy to turn down what does not suit Him. We do not refuse in order to gain something; we refuse because we already have Christ. This is the lesson of Philippians 3:7-8.

It was not enough to say, "I counted these things loss long ago" — the national and religious privileges we have been speaking of. Not only did I count them loss when I was first converted; I still count them so. And not only these things — I count all things loss. My social standing, my family, my wealth, my all: all loss, for the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord.

Suppose a man has just been saved. What does he think about the world? That it has deceived him. Leave him for a while, and his family twines around him, and soon he begins to seek the things of the world. Paul saw Christ on the way to Damascus. He gives up his importance, his standing as a Pharisee, his teaching, everything else, and counts it all as loss that he may win Him. He says "count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ" — present tense, not "counted," which would be far easier.

He does not count all things loss because this knowledge ranks higher than other knowledge. He counts them loss because this knowledge surpasses everything else. And the more of that knowledge he gained, the more he longed for more of it; so when we get to verse 10, we hear him cry: "That I may know Him!"

It is one thing to know the value of His work, and another to know Himself... I mean a heart acquaintance, a deep, personal intimacy with the Lord; that you should get to know Him as your own. Near the end of his life Paul could say, "I know whom I have believed." That was no shallow or second-hand knowledge, picked up from reports or writings. It came from years of companionship, in summer or winter, when people praised him and when they did not.

Notice that Paul does not say "our Lord." No, it is "my Lord." Outside this letter Paul does not often speak this way, but in this short letter we find it three times: 1:3; 3:8; and 4:19. There is a warmth, a passion here, that we perhaps see nowhere else... I wonder, can we truthfully say, as shown in our daily walk: "my Lord"?

As to his associations he was "of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew of Hebrews; as to the law, a Pharisee." He was a citizen of "no obscure city." He was born free — a position many wanted. He had studied under Gamaliel, "a teacher of the law held in honor by all the people." Truly a record the flesh could be proud of! Yet it was all this, and more — "all things" — which he had counted and still counted as loss.

When Paul viewed his old advantages in the light of Christ and of the glory he was heading for, he counted them as rubbish. Who would ever think the earth at its best worth looking back on, when they have the glory before their eyes? Who would call taking out the rubbish a great sacrifice?

Did he not have Christ already? He did. He was in Him. The apostle does not mean that he reaches out, as some teach, for a "deeper life" experience or something like it. He had perfect assurance of his standing before God in Christ. His wish to win Christ, to gain Christ, is his longing to have Christ in glory in actual fact. Like a runner who has no eyes for his surroundings but keeps his eye on the goal, the believer looks to the glorified Christ and presses forward.