Christ Hymn of Beauty

Christ Hymn of Beauty

A Sermon on Philippians 2:1-11

ME — Eye level with Phoebe

I’ve learned quite a bit as I’ve been a father to Phoebe. For example, when she's worked up about something, like really worked up, the kind where her whole little body is in it. I’ve found what works best is when I kneel down and meet her at eye level.

Not bend at the waist. Not crouch. Knees on the floor. Eyes level with hers.

And something happens when I get down there. The volume comes down. You can see the tension in her little body lessen. She actually looks at me.

I used to think I was just helping her calm down. Now I think Gos was teaching me something about love by having me do this.

Because here's what I've noticed: nothing changes when I stay tall and tell her to settle down. It’s in me getting down on eye level that everything changes.

The conversation we couldn't have when I was standing. We can have now that I'm kneeling.

That stoop, that small, ordinary stoop a parent makes a hundred times a day, that's a picture of what this whole passage is about.

And it's a picture of what God himself did for us.

WE — The climb upward

We don't naturally stoop down to others level. We climb.

Every one of us, from the kindergarten playground to the retirement years, learns to look up at who's ahead, who's noticed, who's honored, who has more. And we all want to be that person.

It's in the air we breathe. Get on top. Stay on top. Build the brand. Defend the platform.

The Philippian church had the same pull. They lived in a Roman colony where status was everything. Who reclined next to whom at a banquet. Who bowed to whom in the marketplace.

And it was bleeding into the church. Paul writes this letter from a prison cell, and his joy is almost complete, almost. What's holding it back? Disunity. Two women he'll name in the letter. Selfish ambition. Vain conceit.

That's not just their problem. That's our problem. Every congregation. Every marriage. Every family. Every small town where everyone knows everyone's business.

The pull upward is so strong we don't even notice it. Until somebody refuses to climb.

GOD — The text speaks

Context

Paul stacks four "if" statements like the legs of a chair: encouragement in Christ, comfort from his love, fellowship in the Spirit, tenderness and compassion.

Every one of them is rhetorical. The answer is yes, we have every one.

Then the appeal lands: complete my joy. Be like-minded. Same love. One spirit. One mind.

And verse 3 cuts to the bone: nothing from selfish ambition. Nothing from vain conceit.

Instead, “value others above yourselves.” Look not only to your own interests but to the interests of others.

This is the stoop toward each other.

Main Point

"In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus."

This is the hinge of the whole passage.

Christian humility is not a virtue that comes out of thin air. It is the shape of a life formed by Christ.

First Half of the Hymn: The Downward Steps

Step 1: Though in very nature God, he did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage. He didn't hang on to his position or power.

Step 2: He made himself nothing, “kenosis,” emptied himself, taking the very nature of a servant. From the throne to washing the disciples feet.

Step 3: Found in human likeness, he humbled himself further: obedient to death.

Step 4: And not just any death."Even death on a cross." The lowest stoop possible. Roman crucifixion was reserved for slaves and rebels. The shame was the point.

Christ took four steps down. From divinity. To humanity. To servanthood. To a cross.

Second Half of the Hymn: The Exaltation

“Therefore," because of the stoop, the humbling acts Jesus did, God exalted him to the highest place.

Notice this: the path to the name above every name ran the cross, not around it.through

Every knee will bow. Every tongue confess. The one who stooped lowest is now lifted highest.

And here is the strangest thing in the passage. He emptied himself and came back full.

The way down was the way up. That is the pattern.

The strange beauty of Christ

Look at the whole shape of what Christ did. From equality with God to a Roman cross. From the throne to the dirt. From glory to a borrowed grave.

And then ask: is this beautiful, or ugly?

The world has a picture of beauty. The world's beauty is the climb to, the corner office, the trophy on the shelf, the curated photo, the platform, the followers, the win.

The world looks at a king on his knees and calls it weakness. The world looked at the cross and called it shame. That's why Rome used it. It was supposed to be ugly. That was the point.

But for two thousand years, Christians have looked at this passage, at this cross, at this stooping Christ, and called it beautiful.

Why?

Because there is a glory the world cannot see. The glory of self-giving love. The glory of a God who would rather die than let his people stay lost.

This is a beauty that runs in the opposite direction of everything our culture calls beautiful. Everything in our world says, “get on top, stay on top, look the part.” And here is the Son of God going the other way. Down. Down. Down.

And you cannot truly behold this Christ and walk away unchanged. Something in you starts to want what he has. Something in you starts to want to be like him.

Like any good piece of artwork, we are moved by this Hymn into this upside-down arch that Christ’s life and work took.

YOU — Becoming less so Christ becomes more

John the Baptist said it about Jesus, watching the crowds leave him and follow Christ instead: "He must become greater; I must become less.” - John 3:30

It's the slow, daily work of letting the climbing self quiet down so the Christ-in-you can seen.

It's making room. For Christ to work in you. To humble yourself before God so that he might be glorified in and through you.

So where is Christ calling you to stoop this week? Name just one place.

Maybe it's the family member you haven't called because you're waiting for them to come to you first.

Maybe it's someone in this congregation you've quietly written off.

Maybe it's the spouse you've been keeping score with.

The question is, where is Christ inviting me to stoop?

The smaller you get, the more of him people see.

Phoebe doesn't need me to be taller. She needs me to be lower. Who in your life needs you lower, not taller?

A neighbor serving with no expectation of return. A spouse listening when they could be defending. A Christian forgiving when they have every right to hold the grudge.

In every one of those stoops, the world catches a glimpse of the King who stooped first. 

They see the beauty of Christ in our humility.

You becoming less is how Christ becomes more in you, and through you, to a watching world.

WE — What we could become together

Imagine a church in Ellsworth where we compete to become less.

Less ego. Less of the climbing, less of the comparing, less of the score-keeping heart.

A church with more room. Room for Christ. Room for each other. Room for the visitor who doesn't know any of the songs. Room for the disagreement that doesn't end in division.

Where people who disagree still wash each other's feet.

Where the world looks in and says, “that doesn't look like everywhere else.”

Its a church that got out of the way so the glory of Christ could show through.

That's what Paul is praying for in Philippi. That's what Christ is forming here.

Christ stooped first. He stooped lowest.

May we have the same mind.

May we become less.

May Christ become more.

And may Ellsworth see him through us.