Many believers confess that Philippians has never truly come alive for them. Too often, it is presented as a book of religious demands: “You should always be joyful! If you’re not, you’re the problem.” This legalistic framing drains the book of its power and leaves the reader condemned and empty. The solution is not to double down on self-effort, but to put Christ back into the Word—to see the gospel as the source of all spiritual nourishment.
The Gospel: The Living Food of the Christian
The enemy’s chief strategy is to keep our eyes off the gospel as the fountain of everything. The gospel is not a mere entry point or a memory from the day you “went down to the altar.” It is the ongoing unveiling of Christ—His death for our sins and His resurrection according to the Scriptures (1 Cor 15:1–4)—and it is the full counsel of God’s Word, filled with types, shadows, and the unsearchable riches of Christ as your inheritance.
If the Bible has become stale to you, it is almost certain you have disconnected it from the gospel. When Scripture is reduced to duty, obligation, or a checklist for spiritual performance, Christ ceases to shine from its pages. The result is inevitable: loss of appetite and joy in the Word. This is not a minor issue; it is a sign that you are being robbed of your inheritance.
The remedy is not to strive for more appetite, but to preach the gospel to yourself. Thank the Lord for what you have in Christ. Five minutes spent beholding Him as your righteousness, your life, your portion, will do more to revive your heart than hours of dutiful reading. The Word is meant to be living food, not a dead letter. Once Christ is seen, the appetite returns and the feast begins.
The Rich Language of God’s Household
This gospel does not merely change what you believe—it changes your very language. The household of God has a distinct vocabulary, a “menu” that describes the riches of Christ, our inheritance, and our sonship. When we speak in gospel terms—of the unsearchable riches of Christ, of His accomplishments, of our standing as heirs—we are uplifted and ennobled. This is not the language of spiritual poverty, but of those who know the feast prepared for them.
Just as the language of nobility distinguishes the household of a king from the vulgarities of the street, so gospel language marks out the sons and heirs of God. Appetite follows thoughts, and thoughts are shaped by the language we use. If you continually describe Christ to yourself in the terms Paul supplies, your hunger for Him will be stirred. This is why God has given us the Word: not as a list of rules, but as a menu that whets our appetite for Christ Himself.
Mark Those Who Walk as Paul Walked
Paul draws a sharp line: “Let us therefore, as many as be perfect, be thus minded…brethren, be followers together of me, and mark them which walk so as ye have us for an ensample” (Phil 3:15–17). The test of authentic ministry is whether it is Pauline—whether it speaks the language of grace, sonship, and inheritance, not the language of fleshly attainment.
Paul’s pattern is clear: all fleshly gains and religious credentials are counted as loss, as dung. The only qualification for enjoying the inheritance is the blood of Jesus. Those who walk according to this rule—who assign all boasting to the cross and seek to be found in Christ, not having their own righteousness—are your true companions. Their language is unmistakable; they speak as sons and heirs, not as slaves or hirelings.
The Tragedy of the Enemies of the Cross
But there are many—Paul says this even weeping—who walk as enemies of the cross of Christ. Their end is destruction, their god is their appetite, their glory is in their shame, and their minds are set on earthly things. These are not merely the openly immoral, but the religious who boast in their own righteousness, their attainments, their flesh. They refuse to consign their best efforts to the cross. They glory in what God calls shame.
You can profess faith in Christ for justification and yet remain an enemy of the cross if you insist that your virtues, your flesh, your “goodness” are what God wants to use. This is not a secondary error—it is a denial of the gospel’s power. If you reject the cross as the end of your flesh, you forfeit the enjoyment of your salvation, you lose fellowship with the household, and you risk being found outside, eating the “Happy Meals” of religious performance with the dogs, rather than feasting at the Father’s table.
What is lost if this error is accepted? Everything that makes the Christian life rich: the assurance of sonship, the enjoyment of inheritance, the cleansing of conscience, and the freedom of walking as a new creation. To cling to your own righteousness is to reject Christ as your righteousness. There is no peace, no fellowship, no spiritual appetite—only striving, offense, and eventual destruction unless repentance comes.
Baptism: The End of the Old, the Beginning of the New
This is why God has placed baptism at the forefront—not as a work to be saved, but as a testimony that the flesh is finished. The old man is crucified; all that we were in Adam is consigned to death. The new creation is not an improved version of the old, but a wholly new life in Christ. To resist this is to resist the very foundation of the gospel.
Our Conversation Is in Heaven
“For our conversation is in heaven; from whence also we look for the Saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ: Who shall change our vile body, that it may be fashioned like unto his glorious body…” (Phil 3:20–21). The language, appetite, and expectation of the believer are all heavenly. We do not set our minds on earthly things, nor do we glory in the flesh. We await the full manifestation of our salvation—the transformation of our bodies at Christ’s return, when the glory within will shine forth and we will be revealed as sons of God.
This is not mere theory. Even now, as we speak the language of the gospel, we taste the powers of the age to come. Our citizenship is in heaven, our sustenance is Christ, and our fellowship is with those who glory only in Him. To abandon this for the crumbs of legalism and self-effort is to trade the feast for famine.
Let us therefore walk as Paul walked, speak as sons and heirs, and fix our hope on the One who is our righteousness, our life, and our coming glory. Anything less is not just a lesser path—it is a denial of the very gospel that saves.
