Learning to Run Toward Christ When Life Is Hard

Philippians 3:12–16

This morning, I found myself especially grateful for Paul’s honesty.

In Philippians 3:12, he says:

“Not that I have already obtained this or am already perfect…”

Paul admits that he hasn’t arrived.

I don’t know about you, but I find that incredibly encouraging.

Sometimes we can think that following Jesus means we should eventually have everything figured out. That if we’ve been Christians long enough, we should be past the struggle, past the weakness, past the areas where God is still working on us.

But Paul, one of the greatest apostles who ever lived, says essentially, I’m not there yet.

Neither am I.

When we come to Christ, we receive salvation by grace. But salvation isn’t the end of our journey; it’s the beginning of a lifelong process of becoming more like Christ.

We strive toward holiness, not salvation.

We aren’t working so that Christ will choose us. We pursue Him because He has already made us His own.

Paul uses the Greek word teleios (τέλειος) for “perfect” in verse 12. The word can mean complete, mature, or brought toward an intended goal.

Then Paul uses that same word again in verse 15:

“Let those of us who are mature think this way…”

There’s something wonderfully humbling about that.

One mark of Christian maturity is recognizing that we haven’t arrived.

There is still more of Christ to know, more holiness to pursue, more sin to put to death, and more grace to receive.

Paul’s confidence isn’t in how far he has come.

His confidence is in Christ, who has already taken hold of him.

Paul continues:

“But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead…”

Paul had a lot behind him.

He had religious credentials, accomplishments, zeal, suffering, and failures. Earlier in this chapter, he lays out his impressive Jewish résumé and then calls it loss compared with the surpassing worth of knowing Christ.

He refused to allow either his accomplishments or his failures to become the place where he lived.

Sometimes what lies behind us is shame. Sometimes it’s grief. Sometimes it’s success. Sometimes it’s the version of ourselves we wish we could get back. And sometimes it’s simply everything we’ve already carried.

Paul doesn’t pretend the past didn’t happen.

He simply refuses to let it determine the direction he’s going.

His eyes are forward.

The Greek word Paul uses for “straining forward” gives us the picture of a runner stretching toward the finish line.

William Barclay describes it as a racer going hard for the finishing line, with his eyes fixed on the goal.

Paul says:

“I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.”

The prize is not simply getting through our present circumstances.

The prize is Christ and the fullness of life with Him.

Scripture gives us glimpses of what awaits us: an imperishable inheritance, the kingdom prepared for God’s people, and the day when death, mourning, crying, and pain will be no more.

That is where we’re headed.

And knowing where we’re going changes how we walk through where we are.

This Week Has Felt Heavy

This passage felt especially personal to me this morning because this last week has been a lot.

I lost a dear friend who leaves children behind, and my heart has been breaking for them.

I spent part of the week walking through an incredibly difficult trial connected to one of the children I advocate for.

Then my mom ended up in the emergency room, and I’ve needed to stay close by, helping with medications and keeping an eye on things while also continuing to care for everything at home.

And life at home hasn’t exactly slowed down.

For my son, difficult events often show up later through increased anxiety and a greater need for control. After the hospital visit, we’ve been navigating some of those things too—difficulty focusing, increased activity, changes in eating, and struggles around routines.

It’s been a full week.

And honestly, I’m tired.

I’m someone who can usually carry a lot. But there is a difference between being strong and being exhausted.

This week has reminded me that I’m not perfect. I’m still being sanctified, and I’m still learning what it means to trust Christ in difficult places.

That’s one reason Paul’s words meant so much to me this morning.

He doesn’t tell us that mature Christians never struggle. He shows us what it looks like to remain focused on Christ while we are still struggling.

One thing that has kept me anchored through this week is simply getting up and opening my Bible.

Not because every morning has felt profound. Sometimes it has simply been obedience. Sometimes it has been the only quiet moment I could find.

But I keep coming back because I know where my strength comes from.

“The joy of the Lord is your strength” (Nehemiah 8:10).

My circumstances aren’t necessarily joyful right now.

But Christ is still faithful.

And that gives me a hope the world cannot offer.

We don’t suffer as people who have no hope.

We grieve, but not without hope.

We hurt, but not without Christ.

We become exhausted, but we are not abandoned.

I’ve found myself thinking often this week about the words at the end of Revelation:

“Surely I am coming soon.”

And John’s response:

“Amen. Come, Lord Jesus!”

There are days when I understand that prayer more deeply than others.

I long for the day when there will be no more tears, no more pain, no more death, and no more brokenness.

But until that day comes, I want to be found faithful.

Paul says in Philippians 4:11:

“I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content.”

I love that word: learned.

Contentment wasn’t something Paul simply possessed.

He learned it.

And I’m still learning it too…

Maybe that’s why Philippians 3 has been so timely for me.

Paul’s identity wasn’t ultimately defined by his accomplishments, his suffering, his failures, or his circumstances.

His identity was rooted in Christ. And mine is too.

Who I am isn’t ultimately determined by what has happened to me.

It isn’t determined by what I accomplish or by the season I’m walking through.

Who I am is based on whose I am.

I belong to Christ.

And because I belong to Christ, I can face the next thing in front of me without having to pretend that I’m strong enough for all of it.

Paul doesn’t tell us to press on because we’re strong. He tells us to press on because Christ has already made us His own.

We aren’t running to prove ourselves worthy or to earn salvation. We’re running toward the One who pursued us first.

So when the road feels heavy, we fix our eyes on Christ.

When the past tries to define us, we look ahead.

When suffering exhausts us, we remember the prize.

We haven’t arrived.

But Christ has made us His own, and He will bring us safely to the goal.

One day, the race will be finished.

The tears will be gone.

The suffering will be over.

And we will finally see the One toward whom we have been running all along.

Until then, I’m pressing on toward Christ.