Pursuing the Prize

Introduction

Attention: The Rearview Mirror

Imagine trying to drive down a busy highway at sixty miles an hour, but instead of looking out the windshield, your eyes are locked on the rearview mirror. You are intensely focused on the miles you have already covered, the potholes you hit, the wrong turns you made, and the scenery fading into the distance. What is going to happen? You are eventually going to crash. It is a fundamental law of navigation: you cannot safely steer a vehicle into the future if your mind and your eyes are captivated by what is behind you. Where your eyes go, the car goes. To move forward, you have to look forward.

Need: Our Spiritual Exhaustion

The truth is, many of us walked into this room today trying to live our spiritual lives like that driver. We feel exhausted, anxious, and stuck, and we cannot figure out why we are losing our spiritual momentum.

Why are we so tired and prone to crashing? For some of us, it is because we are constantly staring in the rearview mirror. We are weighed down by past regrets, replaying yesterday's guilt, and allowing what lies behind us to dictate our current direction. For others, we are exhausted because we are looking out the side windows, running ourselves ragged chasing the wrong finish lines—mirages like career status, financial security, or the temporary comforts of the world. We are distracted, we are tired, and we are losing our spiritual wind.

We need a shift in our perspective. We need to know how to break our gaze away from the past, how to drop the dead weight, and how to find the endurance that only comes from knowing exactly what we are driving toward.

Transition to the Text

The Apostle Paul understood this struggle well. Writing from a Roman prison to a church facing intense pressure and exhaustion, he gives us the ultimate strategy for spiritual endurance. He calls us to trade our earthly distractions for a heavenly mindset. He tells us to forget what lies behind, and press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.

We can press on toward the prize of the upward call of God by embracing three essential disciplines in our spiritual race.

Body

Division 1: Acknowledge that your spiritual training is not complete.

The Text:

"Not that I have already obtained this or am already perfect, but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own. Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own." (Philippians 3:12a, 13a, ESV)

Explanation: The Tension of the "Already" and "Not Yet"

As we look at the opening of verse 12, we encounter a rhetorical device, a deliberate, jarring self-correction. Paul has just written one of the most soaring, triumphant descriptions of the Christian hope in verses 9-11, culminating in his intense desire to attain the resurrection from the dead. But before his readers can draw the wrong conclusion, he immediately hits the brakes to offer a disclaimer. He wants to make certain they do not misunderstand his current reality: he has not yet arrived.

Paul admits that he lives in the tension of the "already and not yet"—a defining reality of the present age between Christ's first coming and the final consummation. To make his point, Paul relies on three distinct, forceful verbs of acquisition. He says he has not "obtained" (lambano) the final prize, nor has he been "perfected" or "reached the goal" (teleioo). "Reached the Goal" is significant here. In the first century, sectarian Jewish groups like the Qumran community often claimed to be "perfect" in their strict observance of the Torah, and it is very likely that false teachers in Philippi were making similar arrogant boasts of spiritual perfection. Paul rejects this.

Instead, he uses the verb meaning to seize, to grab hold of, declaring that his goal is to violently lay hold of the very thing for which Christ grabbed hold of him. Paul’s mind is flashing back to the blinding light of the Damascus road, where Jesus violently and decisively arrested his life. That divine apprehension is the foundation of Paul's present pursuit. The tension was so immense to the early church that in one of our earliest manuscript collections, Papyrus 46 (P^{46}), a scribe even inserted the phrase "or have already been justified" into this verse just to show how much of Paul's final vindication still lay in the future.

Then, in verse 13, Paul pulls the readers' attention by calling them "Brothers," bringing them into a moment of vulnerability. He uses the word "consider," or "reckon", showing a calculated, deliberate assessment of his own life. His conclusion? "I do not consider that I have made it my own". He has not yet seized the ultimate culmination of his salvation. He is acknowledging that his spiritual training is far from over.

Illustration: The Phantom Finish Line

In the Army's special forces selection, one of the last milestones that must be faced is the Long Range Movement. The candidates are put on a grueling road with a heavy pack on their back. They have to walk or ruck several miles down a long, sandy road to the end point. But reaching that point did not mean the event was over. The cadre would record their roster number, and then immediately turn them around and send them right back into the darkness to do it again. They were sent back and forth through the night.

At this stage, the candidates were so deeply fatigued that their cognitive functioning was compromised. Sometimes, a guy would be halfway between checkpoints, think he had earned a break, sit down to change his socks, and simply pass out from exhaustion. But stopping to rest is dangerous. When these guys finally jolted awake, their exhausted minds were disoriented. One candidate fell asleep, woke up in a panic, and started trotting down the trail to make up time—but he was moving in the wrong direction. When the cadre finally stopped him and asked what he was doing, he arrogantly yelled, "Sarge, I know what I'm doing!" But he didn't. Because he believed he could stop pushing and sit down to rest, he became disoriented and ended up walking an extra 10 to 12 miles in the wrong direction.

A phantom finish line in our spiritual walk works the same way. When we convince ourselves that we have learned enough, served enough, or matured enough, we take off our pack and sit down on the course. But in the Christian race, there is no standing still—if we are not actively pressing forward, our exhausted mind will betray us, and we will start walking backward while arrogantly believing we are making progress. Paul is writing to shake us awake, reminding us that hitting a spiritual checkpoint does not mean the training is over, and we simply cannot afford to stop pushing.

Argument: The Delusion of Complacency

Why must we engage our minds and logically acknowledge our own incompleteness? We must do this because spiritual complacency is a dangerous delusion.

First, we must acknowledge our incompleteness because grace demands exertion. Notice the theological balance Paul strikes between the passive and active aspects of being in Christ. We do not run hard in order to earn Christ's grasp on our lives; we run hard because He has already secured us. The divine initiative—the fact that the Savior of the universe sought you out and saved you—is the very fuel that drives your human imperative to pursue Him.

Second, believing you have "arrived" neutralizes your faith. Reason with me for a moment: If the great Apostle Paul—the man who encountered the risen Christ, the man who planted churches across the known world, the man writing this very letter under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit—if he publicly confesses that he has not yet "arrived," how could any of us claim otherwise? The Christian life is not a static condition; it is a relentless, ongoing pursuit. You cannot actively pursue what you mistakenly believe you already fully possess.

Application: Assess Your Spiritual Mileage

I want to challenge your thoughts today. Will you make a deliberate, honest assessment of your own spiritual life? Where have you set up a phantom finish line?

Perhaps you have been a Christian for a long time. You know your Bible, you attend church faithfully, and you maintain a highly structured log of your spiritual disciplines—but if you are honest, you have stopped actively training. You are treating your faith like a completed checklist rather than a desperate, daily pursuit of a Person. You are coasting on the knowledge you acquired years ago. Or perhaps you look around at others who are struggling and secretly think to yourself that you have reached a state of moral superiority.

Whatever it is, you need to confess your incompleteness today. Tell God, "I have not arrived. I have not seized the fullness of knowing Christ." Build a holy dissatisfaction with your current spiritual mileage. Make the choice today to pick the pack back up, acknowledge that the training is not over, and get your feet moving again.

Division 2: Drop the dead weight of what lies behind.

The Text:

"...But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind..." (Philippians 3:13b, ESV)

Explanation: The Discipline of Disregarding

After assessing his own spiritual incompleteness, Paul transitions to the active strategy required to run the race. He expresses his entire methodology in a singular, relentless focus: "one thing I do". In the original Greek, the phrase is actually even more terse and stark; there is no verb "I do". Paul simply says, "But one thing"—indicating that his whole life, his entire Christian existence, has been swallowed up by this one singular passion.

The first half of this mechanic is the action of "forgetting" (epilanthanomai), which does not mean a passive failure of memory, but rather a conscious, active choice to disregard, neglect, or pay absolutely no attention to something. On top of this, Paul uses the present tense for the word "forgetting," which is significant. It indicates that this is not a one-time event that happened at his conversion, but an ongoing, continuous discipline required every single day to remain unencumbered on the course. He must continually refuse to look over his shoulder, echoing Jesus's sharp warning in Luke 9:62 that no one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.

And what exactly is he commanding us to disregard? The phrase "what lies behind" (ta opiso) is plural, encompassing the absolute totality of his past. This certainly includes his past moral failures, his violent persecution of the church, and the frustration of his own imperfections. But contextually, it primarily points to the elite Jewish pedigree, the religious honors, and the self-righteous achievements he detailed just a few verses earlier in 3:4-6. Crucially, "what lies behind" also includes the part of the Christian race he has already covered—his past successes, his theological revelations, and his church-planting victories as an apostle. Everything that is not the finish line is placed in the category of "what lies behind."

Illustration: The Danger of the Backward Glance

In August of 1954, the entire world tuned in for what was dubbed the "Mile of the Century". Two world-class runners, Roger Bannister and John Landy, were facing off. Both men had recently done the impossible—breaking the mythical four-minute mile barrier—but they had never raced head-to-head.

When the starting gun fired, Landy took the lead. For three and a half laps, he drove a blistering, punishing pace, forcing Bannister to chase him. As they rounded the final curve and hit the home stretch, the roar of the 35,000 fans was deafening. Landy had led the entire way. His body was pushed to the absolute physical limit, and the tape was in sight. But the intense pressure of the pursuit got to him.

Coming off that final turn, Landy made one critical, fatal mistake. He desperately needed to know what was behind him. Just for a fraction of a second, he turned his head to look over his left shoulder. In that exact millisecond, his posture broke. His stride stuttered. And Bannister—whose eyes were locked dead ahead on the finish line—surged past him on his blind side to win the race.

Today, there is a bronze statue in Vancouver that freezes that exact moment in time: one man losing the race because he looked back, while the other wins because he looked forward. That iconic picture is the ultimate commentary on Paul's warning: looking over your shoulder will cost you the race.

Argument: Why We Must Keep Our Eyes Forward

Why must we engage our reason and actively drop the weight of the past? Because we cannot sustain forward momentum while tethered to earthly history.

First, looking back inherently breaks your spiritual posture. It is a matter of physical and spiritual physics: the runner who looks over his shoulder cannot physically be "straining forward" (epekteinomai). You cannot effectively pursue a heavenly goal if your intellect and your affections are constantly anchored to the ground you have already covered.

Second, past successes are often more dangerous to our faith than past failures. Notice that the "things behind" Paul had to systematically forget were the very things the world considered highly impressive "gains". Coasting on what you have already achieved creates the dangerous illusion that the race is over, stripping you of the endurance needed to finish. If the Apostle Paul had to actively, continually disregard his profound apostolic achievements and elite status to keep running, it defies logic to think we can safely rely on our own past spiritual milestones. The prize is won by daily perseverance, not by resting on a previously built religious resume.

Lastly, the very need to "forget" is an admission that our present reality is still fractured by failure. If we dwell on the past, we will be crushed by the frustration of our own imperfections. The only logical way to survive the crushing weight of past sin is to drop it completely and look to the grace that lies ahead.

Application: Cut the Ties to Yesterday

What past weight are you refusing to drop today?

Some of us are carrying the dead weight of past failures in our spiritual rucksack. We are constantly looking over our shoulder, mentally replaying old sins, and allowing a deep sense of shame to paralyze our current walk. Every time you try to step forward, the enemy reminds you of what is behind you.

Others of us are carrying the dead weight of past successes. We are relying on spiritual milestones from years ago—an old routine, an old victory, a season where you were really on fire for God—and that reliance has made you stagnant right now. You are coasting on your spiritual mileage from a decade ago.

I challenge you to make a choice today: stop looking over your shoulder. Take off the heavy pack of yesterday's failures and yesterday's glories. Deliberately disregard them. Drop the dead weight so your hands are entirely free to grasp what God has for you today.

Division 3: Strain forward to seize the ultimate prize of knowing Christ.

The Text:

"...straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus." (Philippians 3:13c-14, ESV)

Explanation: The Mechanics of the Final Stretch

Once the dead weight of the past has been dropped, the runner must direct every ounce of their energy forward. Paul describes this physical and spiritual posture by saying he is "straining forward". This is an intense, compound word found nowhere else in the Bible, and it graphically captures the image of a sprinter coming down the home stretch, physically leaning and stretching out toward the finish line with every muscle fiber fully engaged. It is a picture of maximum, agonizing exertion.

With his body leaning forward, Paul says, "I press on" (dioko). This is the same verb he used in verse 12—a word meaning to run hard or pursue with concerted, strenuous effort. He uses this exact same athletic imagery in 1 Corinthians 9:24, where he urges believers to "run that you may obtain" the prize. But what exactly is he running toward here in Philippians? Paul makes a careful distinction between the "goal" and the "prize". He is running toward the "goal" (skopos), which literally refers to the marker or the finish line at the end of the track.

Crossing that finish line results in winning the "prize" (brabeion). Paul says this prize is attached to the "upward call" (klesis) of God. In Paul's theology, God's calling is always a divine initiative (as seen in Romans 11:29 and 2 Timothy 1:9). Normally, Paul views this call from the perspective of its beginning at conversion, but here—much like the "heavenly calling" mentioned in Hebrews 3:1—Paul views it from the perspective of its completion. God's call lifts us heavenward, and it finds its historical location and ultimate fulfillment "in Christ Jesus".

And what is the ultimate prize of this heavenly calling? It is not the public honor of a victor's ceremony. The prize is nothing less than Jesus Christ Himself. The ultimate reward at the end of the race is the final, full, face-to-face realization of knowing the resurrected Christ.

Illustration: Running Through the Tape for a Fading Crown

In the ancient Roman games, the victor's prize was not a gold medal or a multi-million-dollar contract; it was a fading wreath made of celery or pine leaves. Yet, athletes would discipline their bodies for years, depriving themselves of comfort, just to win a piece of vegetation that would wither in a week.

If you watch elite sprinters, you know the mechanics of the finish line. When a runner reaches the final ten meters of a race, their body is flooded with lactic acid and their lungs are burning. But they are trained never to slow down as they approach the line; they are taught to "run through the tape." In that final fraction of a second, they don't remain upright—they throw their chest forward, leaning aggressively over their center of gravity to break the plane of the finish line. That physical lean is the perfect picture of "straining forward". If an earthly athlete will endure that level of agony to run through the tape for a celery wreath, how much more should we throw our chests forward to seize the eternal Creator of the universe?

Argument: Why the Prize Demands the Pursuit

Why must we engage our reason and actively strain forward with such exhausting effort? Because the infinite value of the prize dictates the intensity of the pursuit.

If your ultimate goal in life is to achieve a comfortable retirement, build a respectable reputation, or acquire earthly wealth, then straining forward with absolute, lifelong devotion is a foolish waste of energy. Those things are temporary. As the author Wendell Berry observes, modern man is often enslaved by a relentless drive toward "the objective"—selling his soul for promotions, contracts, and empty self-realization. But when we seek salvation in the idols of this age, true life is lost. As C.S. Lewis famously quipped, "All that is not eternal is eternally out of date".

We live in a death-denying culture that desperately tries to make the present eternal, through cosmetics, wealth, and legacy. But the believer recognizes that true life is found only in the future consummation of God's kingdom. We must press on because the prize is Christ, and He is worth the total expenditure of our life. we cannot passively drift into spiritual maturity; the gravitational pull of the world is far too strong. We will only break the tape if We are violently pulled forward by the staggering, eternal worth of the heavenly prize.

Application: What is Your Ultimate Objective?

Look honestly at your life. What is the primary objective you are currently straining to reach?

Are you exhausting yourself to achieve a certain standard of living, while giving God only your leftover energy? Are you running hard after the approval of your peers—chasing a withering celery wreath—while jogging casually in your pursuit of spiritual disciplines?

I challenge you today to reorient your life around the only finish line that matters. Trade your earthly objectives for a heavenly mindset. Commit today to the rigorous, daily discipline of pursuing Jesus. When you wake up tomorrow morning, do not just casually step into your day. Throw your chest forward, strain toward what lies ahead, and run hard after the ultimate prize of knowing Christ.

Conclusion

Visualization: Leaving It All on the Course

I want you to imagine the final hundred meters of the most grueling physical event of your life. Your legs are like lead, your lungs are burning, and every instinct in your body has been screaming at you to quit for miles. The heavy pack of this earthly life has worn you down. But suddenly, the finish line comes into view.

In this race, the prize isn't a fading wreath. It isn't a military badge, a new personal record, or the temporary applause of a crowd. The prize is a Person. Imagine crossing that final line—utterly spent, having left absolutely nothing in the tank, having thrown your chest forward through the tape—and falling directly into the presence of the resurrected Christ. Imagine the sheer, overwhelming relief and joy of looking into the eyes of the Savior who grabbed hold of you first, and finally knowing Him face-to-face.

When you truly visualize the staggering, eternal worth of that moment, everything changes. The grueling discipline required for the march makes perfect sense. The pain of the training becomes entirely worth it. You realize that a life completely exhausted for the kingdom of God is the only life that will not end in regret. If you want to finish well, you cannot jog casually into eternity. You have to be willing to spend your life, to run hard, and to cross that line completely empty.

Action: Real Handles for the Race

How do we actually put this into practice? We cannot simply leave here with vague spiritual intentions; we need to leave with real handles on this text to execute this week. To run this race effectively, here are three primary courses of action:

1. Identify your phantom finish line.

Where have you set down your pack and stopped to rest? Be honest with yourself today. If you have grown spiritually complacent, confess it. Recommit to the active training of your faith. Choose one specific spiritual discipline you have let slide—whether it is waking up early for focused time in the Word, or stepping into a new area of sacrificial service—and pick it back up this week.

2. Drop the heaviest weight in your pack.

You cannot press on while looking back. Identify the one specific thing you are constantly looking over your shoulder at. Is it a past failure that brings you paralyzing shame? Or is it a past success that has made you arrogant and stagnant? Name it today. Take it out of your spiritual ruck, deliberately write it off as loss, and leave it in the dirt. Refuse to let it dictate your current stride.

3. Run through the tape.

Do not let your faith become a passive routine. When you wake up tomorrow morning, do not just casually drift into your day. Wake up with a deliberate, aggressive intention. Throw your chest forward, strain toward what lies ahead, and run hard after the ultimate prize of knowing Christ.

Forget what lies behind, and press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.