Philippians 3:7-11

Introduction

Let me tell you about one of the most powerful experiences I’ve ever had—it happened on a missions trip to Haiti.

I remember landing there and immediately being hit by how different everything was. The roads were rough, buildings were falling apart, and the heat was relentless. I saw kids playing in the streets with homemade soccer balls made out of old rags. Families crammed into tiny homes, some barely held together by scraps of metal and wood. Most people didn’t have running water, electricity, or reliable food. Honestly, it was overwhelming.

And I went into that trip thinking, “I’m going to serve. I’m going to help these people.”

But that’s not what happened. Not really. Because by the end of the trip, I realized they were the ones who taught me something—something I’ll never forget.

What shocked me most wasn’t how little they had. It was how much joy they had.

Like, genuine, overflowing, contagious joy. People would worship with everything in them. They’d dance, they’d sing, they’d pray out loud with this deep sense of gratitude. It didn’t make sense. On the outside, they had every reason to complain, every reason to be bitter, every reason to give up.

But instead—they smiled. They laughed. They rejoiced.

So I finally asked one of the local pastors, “How do people have so much joy here when life is so hard?” He looked at me, smiled like it was the simplest thing in the world, and said: “Because we have Jesus. And He is enough.”

That moment hit me like a truck. Because if I’m being honest—here’s the truth: I complain when my Wi-Fi goes down. I get frustrated when my order’s wrong at Chick-fil-A. And here are people with next to nothing—yet they have joy that I’m not sure I even understood until I met them.

That trip changed the way I read Philippians 3. Because in this chapter, Paul is writing from prison—literally chained up—and he’s talking about joy. But not surface-level happiness. Not fake smiles. Real joy—the kind that doesn’t depend on comfort, but on Christ.

So today, I want to ask you something I had to ask myself: Where’s your joy coming from? Because if it’s based on circumstances, it’s going to rise and fall. But if it’s based on Jesus—it can stay steady, strong, and full—no matter what life throws at you.

Let’s open up Philippians 3 and see what Paul has to say about a joy that doesn’t break.

Body

Joy Comes from What You Treasure

Philippians 3:7–8 CSB

But everything that was a gain to me, I have considered to be a loss because of Christ. More than that, I also consider everything to be a loss in view of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. Because of him I have suffered the loss of all things and consider them as dung, so that I may gain Christ

Paul starts by talking about everything he used to value—his religious status, education, heritage, achievements. These were the things he used to base his identity and worth on.

Paul is reflecting on his past in the previous verses (Phil. 3:4–6), where he lists all the things that once gave him status: his Jewish heritage, his strict law-keeping, his reputation as a Pharisee, his zeal for the faith. To a first-century Jewish audience, Paul was the elite of the elite. He had religious résumé clout.

But now—because of Christ—Paul considers all of that as loss. The Greek word used is "ζημία" (zēmia), which can mean damage or detriment. Then, to make it even more shocking, Paul uses the word "σκύβαλα" (skubala) in verse 8—translated as "garbage," but it actually refers to dung, waste, refuse. It’s meant to be jarring.

He calls them loss. He says they’re like garbage compared to the surpassing worth of knowing Jesus. That word “garbage” is actually super strong in the original Greek—it’s like saying, “That stuff is trash. It’s worthless. It doesn’t compare.”

Why? Because nothing compares to the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus.

What does that mean for us?

High school is filled with things we’re tempted to treasure—popularity, likes on social media, being the best on the team, having a perfect GPA, being noticed or validated. Those things aren’t bad, but they make terrible foundations for joy.

Paul is saying: “If your joy is in anything that can be taken away—your reputation, your success, your relationships—then your joy is fragile.” But if your greatest treasure is Jesus—who can never be taken from you—then your joy becomes unshakable.

Paul’s joy didn’t fade in prison, because his treasure wasn’t freedom. It was Christ.

Joy Comes from Where You Stand

Philippians 3:9 CSB

and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own from the law, but one that is through faith in Christ—the righteousness from God based on faith.

Paul shifts from talking about treasure to talking about righteousness—his standing before God. He used to believe he could earn it by being good enough. But now he knows: real joy starts when you stop trying to prove yourself.

He says his righteousness—his identity, his security—comes by faith in Jesus, not from religious performance.

Paul is doubling down on the idea that external religion can’t save or satisfy. He doesn’t want a self-made righteousness based on obeying the law, which he previously tried to build his life on.

Instead, he wants to be found in Christ—fully accepted not because of what he’s done, but because of what Christ has done.

The righteousness Paul is talking about is a legal standing before God. Through faith in Jesus, Paul has been declared righteous—justified by grace.

This is important because Paul’s joy is rooted in who he is in Christ, not in whether he’s had a “good spiritual day.” His identity isn’t tied to his performance, but to Jesus’ finished work.

What does that mean for us?

If your joy depends on whether or not you “feel good enough” that day, or how spiritual you think you are, or whether you’ve messed up recently—your joy will constantly waver.

But when you realize you stand in grace, fully accepted and deeply loved by God because of Jesus—not because of what you do—then joy becomes your starting point, not your goal.

You don’t have to earn God’s love. You just have to receive it.

When your identity is secured in grace, when you stand strong in that, joy flows freely.

Joy Comes Through the Journey

Philippians 3:10–11 CSB

My goal is to know him and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of his sufferings, being conformed to his death, assuming that I will somehow reach the resurrection from among the dead.

This is where it gets deep. Paul says he wants to know Jesus so fully that he’s willing to even walk through suffering, because it leads to resurrection life.

In other words: Paul doesn’t just want to know about Jesus. He wants to experience everything that brings him closer to Christ—even if that includes pain.

Here, Paul reveals the ultimate goal of his life: to know Christ deeply—not just intellectually, but experientially.

Notice the pairing: resurrection power and suffering. Paul isn’t asking for an easy life—he’s asking for a meaningful one that looks like Jesus’. He knows that following Christ often means walking through pain, but that pain is not wasted—it’s part of being shaped into Christ’s likeness.

“Participation in his sufferings” refers to the fellowship that comes when we walk closely with Jesus, especially in trials. Paul isn’t glorifying suffering—but he’s saying that through it, we are drawn closer to the heart of Christ.

And the end goal? Resurrection. Eternal life. Glory.

What does that mean for us?

This is huge. Paul is saying: “I don’t want a comfortable life more than I want Christ. Even in hardship, if I get more of Jesus—it’s worth it.”

And that’s where joy comes from. Not from avoiding pain—but from seeing how even the hard moments are part of the journey that’s leading us closer to Him.

Paul’s joy didn’t come from avoiding hard things—it came from knowing that even in the pain, Jesus is present, and Jesus is producing something eternal.

This flips the script for all of us in any situation that we face:

Struggles at school?

Tension at home?

Inner battles with anxiety, fear, or failure?

Jesus meets you there. And joy comes not because life is easy—but because He is with you, forming you, and leading you toward something greater.

Conclusion

Let me tell you about a man named Horatio Spafford. Maybe you’ve never heard of him, but his story is one that speaks deeply to the kind of joy Paul writes about in Philippians 3.

Horatio Spafford was a successful lawyer and businessman in the late 1800s. He had a beautiful family and a thriving career. But in 1871, disaster struck. First, he lost his business in the Great Chicago Fire. And just when things couldn’t get worse, his four daughters died in a shipwreck while traveling to Europe with their mother. He received a telegram that simply read, "Saved alone."

In the midst of unimaginable grief, Horatio Spafford did something incredible. He boarded a ship to join his wife in Europe. And as he sailed over the very spot where his daughters' lives were lost, he wrote the words to a hymn that has since become famous: “It is well with my soul.”

In the middle of one of the most painful seasons anyone could experience, Horatio found peace and joy in his relationship with Christ. His circumstances were a wreck, but his joy came from something greater—his eternal security in Jesus.

This is the kind of joy Paul talks about in Philippians 3:7–11. A joy that isn’t dependent on what’s happening around you. A joy that isn’t based on success or comfort. It’s a joy that transcends everything—because it comes from knowing Jesus.

Paul could say "I consider everything a loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ"—and so could Horatio. In the midst of unimaginable sorrow, he found joy because he knew Christ was his treasure, his firm foundation, and his hope beyond this world.

So let me ask you: What are you holding onto for joy? Is it your achievements, your status, or your comfort? Or are you holding onto the One who will never leave you, no matter what happens?

Let this be a reminder for us today: True joy comes from knowing Jesus. It’s the joy that isn’t stolen by the storms of life. It’s the joy that can stand strong, even when everything else falls apart.