| The Christian Life | October 1941 |
This One Thing I Do
“Brethren, I count not myself to have apprehended: but this one thing I do, forgetting the things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before, I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus.”—Philippians 3:13,14
PAUL’S letter to the Ecclesia at Philippi, of which our text is a part, was written in prison, at Rome. It was dispatched to the Philippians by Epaphroditus, whom the little group of Christians at Philippi had sent to Paul with a gift, consisting of supplies which they believed he could use while in prison. The apostle’s letter is partly in the nature of an acknowledgment of this gift, and partly also a farewell message to this dearly beloved church, whose “fellowship in the Gospel” he had enjoyed “from the first day until now.”—Ch. 1:3-5; 4:18
It was Paul’s zeal in pursuance of “this one thing” of our text that had resulted in his now being in the Roman prison; and while his course of faithfulness had brought him into this very unfavorable position so far as his flesh was concerned, yet his zeal for the “one thing” had not abated. He was still just as determined to continue on with a single purpose to do God’s will, as he was when he responded to the heavenly vision on the Damascus road saying, “What wilt Thou have me to do?”—Acts 9:6
Already the doing of “this one thing” had cost the apostle much. He had lost his reputation among most of his Jewish friends. This was no small loss, for he enjoyed a very high standing among them—a member of the Sanhedrin, and “an Hebrew of the Hebrews”, according to the Law, a Pharisee. (Ch. 3:4,5) Paul had also suffered a great deal for the cause of Christ. He had spent much time in prison in various places. He had been beaten and stoned. He had suffered “perils of the sea.” He had been in want, and had suffered perils among false brethren. And now, in prison at Rome, there was a possibility that his course would be finished by execution, yet withal, he did not for a moment consider an appeasement of the flesh by turning aside from the doing of “this one thing.”
FORGETTING THE THINGS BEHIND
What was this “one thing” to which the apostle was giving his whole attention? In the context he gives two outlines of what he means, both of which, when analyzed, are seen to be identical in meaning. One of these—the one immediately associated with our text—speaks of forgetting those things which are behind, and pressing forward to the things which are before. The things behind in Paul’s case, consisted of the advantages and prospects he had enjoyed as an outstanding Jew, a lawyer, and a Roman citizen. The things ahead in the case of the apostle were the same as the things ahead in the life of every follower of the Master; namely, joint-heirship with Jesus in the heavenly phase of the Messianic Kingdom, and all the wondrous blessings and privileges that such exaltation implies. Paul refers to this great reward as the “prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus.”
One would naturally think, once the apostle had turned his back on the “things which were behind,” that no more attention would need to be given in that direction, but his language implies that this was not the case. He clearly includes in the “one thing” which he had made his life’s purpose, the forgetting of those things which were behind; and apparently this was not without reason. Every follower of the Master can testify that it is one thing to renounce earthly plans and prospects, and quite another thing to keep them renounced. Jesus implied this when He admonished us to remember Lot’s wife, and also when He spoke of those who put their hand to the plow, and then turn back. Yes, there is an inertia which drags back, as the poet has said, into old habit’s tracks. This calls for a day by day effort to keep our faces set heavenward, and always to make sure that the winning of the prize of the high calling continues to be the “one thing” that is occupying our attention.
We can easily understand how this would be true in Paul’s case. Through all the long years of his prison life, during his long and weary journeys by land and by sea, cut off and hated by his countrymen, it would be but natural that his mind should revert to what was behind of comfort and popularity, and, possibly in an off-guard moment he would begin to wonder if the sacrifice he was making was really worth while. It would be at such times that “this one thing” determination of his life would assert itself, and he would continue to press forward to the things before.
THE PRIZE OF THE HIGH CALLING
It was by keeping his affections set on things above that the apostle was given the courage to continue forgetting the things behind. This should be true of us all. It was true of Jesus. Of Him it is written, “who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is set down at the right hand of the throne of God.” (Heb. 12:1) True, this was not a selfish joy, in the sense that the Master thought only of His own high exaltation. He knew that with the exaltation would also come the privilege of lavishing blessings of life and happiness upon all mankind during the Messianic Kingdom period. But the fact remains that with both Jesus and Paul, the prospects of the things before gave them courage to continue sacrificing the flesh and its interests, regardless of the hardships and sufferings such sacrifice brought to them. It should be the same with us.
And what a wonderful prize is that of the “high calling of God in Christ Jesus”! Paul had a clear vision of this prize. Being a Hebrew of the Hebrews, and a Pharisee, he would be well acquainted with the Messianic promises of the Old Testament. He had known, even before his conversion that these promises called for the establishment of a world-wide Kingdom of blessing, in which the nation of Israel would, in some way, have a prominent part. Now he knew that because Israel had rejected their Messiah, they had lost this chief blessing, that great prize for which they sought.—Rom. 11:7
But Paul had learned also that the natural house of Israel had but a very limited conception of what this chief blessing really was. He had learned that the Messianic Kingdom was to be of two phases—heavenly and earthly. He had learned that the Messiah had already been exalted to the divine nature, to be the chief one in the heavenly phase of the Kingdom. He had learned, also, that the footstep followers of Jesus had been called to share with Jesus His exalted position as His joint-heirs. This was a high calling indeed. It meant immortality, the divine nature. It meant membership in the heavenly family of God. It meant a glory and honor such as had never before been given to any of God’s creatures, not even the angels. And, better than all this, it meant an opportunity to share in the work of restoring untold millions of the fallen and suffering human race to health, happiness and life. When Paul kept such a prospect before him, it was transporting indeed, and made it easier, oh, so much easier, to forget the things which were behind. It should be so with us today.
THAT I MAY KNOW CHRIST
In the verses preceding our text, the apostle gives us another outline of the elements involved in the “one thing” to which he was devoting his whole life. This outline also means forgetting those things which are behind, and pressing forward to the things ahead, but goes into more detail. The first point he mentions is, “That I may know Christ.” This means more than a merely superficial knowledge that Christ lived and died, and had been raised from the dead. One would not need to sacrifice his whole life in order to gain such a knowledge. The knowledge to which the apostle refers is one that could be gained only by experience in walking in the Master’s footsteps. It is also a personal acquaintance with Him, acquired by faithfulness in doing the divine will which guided Him throughout His sacrificial life and ministry.
This, furthermore, is a knowledge that goes far beyond any attempt we might make to imagine the glorious perfection of Jesus as a human being. Many professed followers of Jesus, who have not known the plan of God, and hence have not known Jesus’ true relationship to that plan, and the church’s relationship to Him, as members of His mystical body, have written beautiful sentiments about the undefiled one. They have described His holiness, the beauty of His adorable character, His loving personality, His charm. They have dwelt upon His promised care for His people, and have described themselves and others as being encircled in the embrace of His loving arms. Yet, from the standpoint of the real Christ of God, and the exalted position He occupies in the plan for human redemption and salvation, these writings are shallow, and reveal that the well-meaning writers did not have the real knowledge of Christ for the attainment of which Paul was giving his life.
When Peter said to Jesus, “Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God,” the Master said, “Flesh and blood hath not revealed it unto thee; but My Father which is in heaven.” (Matt. 16:17) So it is that throughout the age much has passed for a knowledge of Christ which, in reality, has been merely a flesh and blood conception of Him. Such a conception was held by many, even in Jesus’ day. Many recognized the virtues of His marvelous character. They were moved by the gracious words which proceeded out of His mouth. They decided that in truth He was a man sent of God, possibly one of the prophets raised from the dead. Because of this recognition, they stood in awe of Him, calling Him Lord and Master. Their human reasoning revealed this much to them, and to the extent that they followed the ethics of His teachings, and the example of His glorious life of unselfishness, they were blessed.
The millions of people of all nations who since have gone this far on the road with Jesus, have also been blessed. This limited flesh and blood knowledge of the Master, to the extent to which it has been obeyed, has made the world a better world. It has caused many, however, to think they were true Christians simply because they have admired the beauty of Jesus’ perfection, and tried in a feeble way to emulate it. But theirs has not been the fuller knowledge of Christ of which the apostle speaks. Merely appreciating His earthly life and valuing what He did for us is not entering into that life and experiencing it, not only in the sacrificial sense but also in the power of His resurrected life.
NOT AFTER THE FLESH
In II Corinthians 5:16, we read, “Wherefore henceforth know we no man after the flesh: yea, though we have known Christ after the flesh, yet now henceforth know we Him [so] no more.” Paul had a wonderful opportunity to know Christ after the flesh. He may have even seen Him in the flesh. In any case, it is certain that he had learned much of His human virtues from those who actually had walked in the flesh with the Master. Paul did not discount the value of this knowledge, yet he makes it plain that it is not the kind of knowledge that really counts in the Christian life. It is not the kind of knowledge to which he refers when he expresses his determination to give up everything in order, as he says, that “I may know Him,”
Yes, brethren, the knowledge of Christ to which Paul refers, is obtainable only through an understanding of the divine plan of redemption and salvation. A knowledge of the divine plan does not in itself mean that the one possessing it knows Christ as Paul speaks of knowing Him; but nevertheless, to know Christ thus, is not possible apart from a knowledge of the truth. We are emphasizing this point because some have been confused by the supposedly spiritual writings of good men and women who knew nothing of the divine plan, and who believed that redemption through Christ meant to be rescued from eternal torture.
Most men and women possess, by nature, and as a remnant of the original Godlikeness with which Adam was created, a certain degree of devotion to a higher power. Closely associated with this is the element of emotion. With these natural qualities of the human make-up as a basis, plus a historical knowledge of the human virtues of Jesus, aided at times by one’s own disappointments and sufferings—an able writer who knows how to use language, can present wonderfully impressive sentiments. These writings, unless carefully analyzed in the light of the truth, seem to be very spiritual; but in reality they represent merely a flesh and blood conception of Jesus and His virtues. Interwoven with such writings is usually a lavish degree of Scriptural language, which makes them all the more difficult to distinguish from the truth.
Frequently, however, when reading the writings of nominal churchmen and women, there appears on one page a beautiful account of Jesus’ protecting care, while on the next page, figuratively speaking, it is found that this care is alleged to be for the purpose of keeping one from going into eternal torture. Or, if it’s a Catholic writer, one may read about the abounding love of Christ, and suddenly discover that only through the Mass, or through the “mother of God,” can one reach Christ and be assured of His care.
In the life experiences of almost all people who are trying to do right, there are both joys and trials. There are also disappointments, and the temptation to do things contrary to what the conscience says is right. In all of this there is usually a certain element of faith in an overruling providence. This is true even in the lives of millions of devout heathen. So it is that when an able writer, who, himself, is reaching out after God, associates these experiences with the name of Jesus, and in doing so employs Scriptural language, the sentiments expressed are sure to be good, they are sure to be uplifting and encouraging. However such writings do not necessarily reveal that the writer had a true knowledge of Christ and His divinely appointed relationship to the divine plan, so vital for the Christian to know.
We are not to criticize these good men and women who have written of the wonderful things they have learned about Christ, and of the emotional blessings they have enjoyed while thinking about resting in His arms. Jesus did not criticize those who knew He was a man of God, who reveled in what He did for them, and who thought He must be one of the resurrected prophets. He didn’t criticize these; but He told Peter that the knowledge revealed in His identification, could come only from God—that no amount of human reasoning or philosophy could deduce it. This is the important thing for us to keep in mind; namely, that if we have been given a knowledge of the truth, in which we see the Master’s true position in the divine plan, and our privilege to be with Him in that exalted position, it is something for which we can thank the Lord. At the same time it should make us humble, realizing that the high plane of divine truth where we are invited to walk is indeed “holy ground.”
We should love those who sit in darkness, because we know that God loves them. There is no doubt, also, that God appreciates the efforts of all who are sincerely endeavoring to contact and serve Him. He appreciated the prayers of Cornelius, but this devout soul couldn’t know Christ until God sent Peter to enlighten him. He knew about Christ. He knew enough, in fact, to prompt his earnest prayers to know more, but not until the “day of his visitation” could he begin to plumb the rich depth of true Christian knowledge, and this because God had helped him.
The day of visitation for millions who have sought after God will not be until the Kingdom is fully established. Meanwhile, if the eyes of our understanding have now been opened to see Jesus in His true light, and in His proper relationship to the divine plan, let us show our appreciation by full and untiring devotion to the “one thing” of following in His footsteps of sacrifice even unto death. Thus our head knowledge of Christ will be transformed into that deeper, fuller, and experimental knowledge of the heart. This is a knowledge that can be attained only through a day by day walk in the Master’s footsteps.
CHRIST A NEW CREATURE
When Paul said that we no longer know Christ after the flesh, he did not mean that we should never think of the “man Christ Jesus.” What he meant was that when we look back to Christ as our pattern and guide, we are to note what He said and did as a new creature; how His new mind controlled His flesh, and caused it to be sacrificed. How did Jesus, as a new creature, for example, meet temptation? A study of His life reveals that it was always to the disadvantage of His flesh. He had entered into a covenant with His Father which called for the complete sacrifice of His flesh, and every circumstance and situation of His life was made to conform to the terms of this covenant.
When Satan suggested that Jesus use His miracle-working power to turn stones into bread in order that He might satisfy His hunger, He refused. When He was offered honor and glory as ruler over the kingdoms of this world, He turned down the offer. When Peter tried to dissuade Him from going up to Jerusalem, where His life would be in danger, He said, “Get thee behind Me, Satan, … thou savorest not the things that be of God.” (Matt. 16:22,23) Explaining what may have appeared to be a suicidal attitude on His part, the Master said: “whosoever will save his life shall lose it: but whosoever shall lose his life for My sake and the Gospel’s, the same shall save it.”—Mark 8:35; Matt. 16:25
Here we see Christ as a new creature, explaining His part in the divine plan of redemption; which was a sacrificial part, a part that called for the actual giving up of life. Faithfulness to this program went far beyond the virtues of His perfect humanity. He took that perfect manhood, with all its glory and virtue, and put it upon the alter of sacrifice, giving it thus for the life of the world. It was because His humanity was perfect, “holy, harmless, undefiled, separate from sinners,” that its sacrifice made possible the salvation of the world. But it is the manner in which Christ, the new Creature, sacrificed His flesh and its interests, that constitutes the example which we are to follow.
This will to sacrifice on the Master’s part is not only demonstrated in the face of danger from His enemies, but also in His daily opportunities of service. Not much is said in the Gospel accounts about Jesus being weary, but doubtless He was on many occasions. On one of these occasions He said to His disciples, “Come … apart … and rest awhile.” (Mark 6:31) There was no question about His needing rest, yet this account reveals that He did not get it. The Master with His disciples, undertook to slip away from the crowd unnoticed, and made their way to a quiet resting place in the desert on the opposite side of the lake, which they reached by boat. But the crowd became aware of what had happened, and hurried around the edge of the lake and met them on their arrival there.
Jesus had gone there for rest, but He accepted the changed situation as of divine appointment, and instead of sending the crowd away, or re-embarking to another point on the lake, He was sympathetic toward the multitude. Not only did He use strength in teaching them many things, but toward evening performed a miracle to feed them. In this we see a demonstration of Jesus’ utter lack of selfishness, and of His willingness to use every ounce of His strength in the interest of others. Here we see the new creature Christ, leading His flesh to sacrifice.
PAUL FOLLOWED CHRIST
It was this Christ, this sacrificing Christ, that Paul wanted to know. In order to know Him, he was glad to devote his entire life. And the knowledge the apostle was seeking was more than that of merely knowing about Christ’s sacrifice. He wanted to know it experimentally, in the only way he could thus know it, and that was by sharing in it. That’s why he speaks of wanting to know “the fellowship of His sufferings,” and why he wanted to be made “conformable unto His death.” These were not idle words on the part of Paul. They reveal the real motive of his life, the motive that had impelled him forward in the pathway of sacrifice from the very day the Lord met him on the Damascus road, until he reached that Roman prison from which he was writing.
In all the many years of his wholehearted service, Paul had permitted nothing to stand in the way of His knowing Christ, through being a partner in His suffering and death. No sacrifice was too great, no suffering too painful, no journey too long, no task too arduous, “if by any means” he might attain. Like Jesus, the interests of his flesh were not considered in determining what course to take. The will to sacrifice, to suffer and to die, as Jesus did—that he might know Him—was the dominating factor in the apostle’s life.
We see this by noting some of the experiences through which he passed. When journeying from Macedonia to Jerusalem, the ship on which he and his little company were traveling, put in at Troas, and remained there for seven days. They contacted the Ecclesia in this place, and had doubtless enjoyed seven wonderful days of spiritual feasting together. But on the evening of what appears to be the seventh day of their sojourn, and the first day of the week, the brethren of Troas planned to come together to break bread. This, apparently, was one of their regular meetings, which they intended to hold, even though they had probably had several extra meetings during the week.
For some reason, not apparent in the account, Paul decided that it was important for him to be at this meeting. The early-church custom of breaking bread on the first day of the week was in commemoration of the resurrection of Jesus. We know there were some at Corinth who were saying that there would be no resurrection of the dead. (I Cor. 15:12) Perhaps this false doctrine had spread to Troas, and Paul saw that when the brethren were gathered together to commemorate the resurrection of Jesus, it would be a wonderful opportunity to strengthen them in their faith of the resurrection of the dead, even as he did in his letter to the Corinthians.
In any case, Paul knew that he should be at that meeting. So he “appointed” to remain, letting the ship go on to Assos, to where he would walk and meet up with it the next day—a distance of many miles. He didn’t ask his companions to remain. They could go on in the ship, taking it easy, but he chose the hard way for himself, the sacrificing way, because the brethren at Troas needed his help. That was the time he preached all night, “till break of day.” (Acts 20:5-11) What a sermon that must have been!
If it were on the resurrection, we can imagine him saying, with telling effect under the circumstances, “Why stand we in jeopardy every hour,” if there be no resurrection of the dead? Why do you believe that Jesus was raised from the dead, and then deny the general resurrection? Why are we baptized for the dead, if the dead are not to be raised? If there be no resurrection of the dead, then our faith is vain, we are yet in our sins; and we may as well go on with the world, eating and drinking, for tomorrow we may die. These arguments, drawn out in all their telling details, would certainly have been appropriate at a time when they were gathered in commemoration of Jesus’ resurrection.
We can visualize the apostle at daybreak—weary, fatigued in mind and body, but rejoicing in his heart; rejoicing perhaps that he had thwarted an attempt by the adversary to destroy the faith of some at Troas. Gladly had he labored in travail for them, in order that Christ might be the more fully brought into their lives. (Gal. 4:19; I Thess. 2:9; II Thess. 3:8) What mattered it that now, without an opportunity to rest, he had to trudge his weary way to Assos, along miles and miles of rocky, dusty roads?
Had he not in this experience learned to know Christ just a little better, by having experienced some of the joys of helping others, while at the same time realizing the weariness of body which it brought? After all, was it any more for him to do this than it was for the Master to teach the multitude and perform miracles when he was so tired that He purposely left the crowd to seek rest? Think of Paul, wending his weary way along that road to Assos, singing and making melody in his heart, with psalms and hymns and spiritual songs. Do we not almost envy him the privilege of that journey?
BONDS AWAIT HIM
It was on this journey to Jerusalem that Paul arranged to meet with the elders at Ephesus. He warned them of false teachers that would arise, drawing away disciples after them. No doubt there were other subjects that he would rather have talked about, but he sensed a danger, and faithfully warned against it. All who undertake to serve the Lord’s people should be on the alert along this line. Besides, we should all appreciate being warned when there is danger of being ensnared by false teachers and false doctrines.
Paul reminded these elders of his own course, that he had not sought anything from them, but of how he had served them in humility, “with many tears and temptations.” He told them also that he had “kept back nothing that was profitable unto them,” etc. “And now,” he continued, “behold, I go bound in the spirit unto Jerusalem, not knowing the things that shall befall me there: save that the Holy Spirit witnesseth in every city, saying that bonds and afflictions abide me.” This shows that there was no doubt in Paul’s mind that he was to encounter very serious difficulties when he reached Jerusalem.
Did this cause him to change his mind about going? Not for a moment, no more than did Peter’s effort to keep the Master from taking a similar course, change His mind. Paul knew it was God’s will for him to go to Jerusalem, hence, even if death awaited him there, he would go. For after all, was not death a part of the divine program to which he had agreed? If he did meet death at Jerusalem, it would mean that just that much sooner he would be made completely conformable unto Jesus’ death. So to Jerusalem he would go, saying, “None of these things move me, neither count I my life dear unto myself, so that I might finish my course with joy, and the ministry, which I have received of the Lord Jesus, to testify the gospel of the grace of God.”—Acts 20:24
So Paul went to Jerusalem, where he met up with the bonds that awaited him, and by these bonds he was bound for years to come. True, he journeyed all the way from Jerusalem to Rome, but as a prisoner, suffering many of the trying ordeals to which prisoners of that time were often subjected. We recall the circumstances under which he was arrested in Jerusalem. On every suitable occasion thereafter, when opportunity was offered, he bore eloquent testimony to the truth concerning Jesus, and the hope of Israel in their Messiah, and the resurrection of the dead.
From the highest rulers in the realm, to the humblest guard to which he may have been chained, Paul was every ready to tell his story of the grace of God through Christ. When he was brought before Agrippa, and told that he was permitted to speak, the apostle opened his remarks by saying, “I think myself happy, king Agrippa.” What a spirit! Think what those words imply! “Happy”! yet in bonds, with the certain knowledge that he would remain so for a long time to come. He had appealed to Caesar, and he knew what that meant. It meant that he would be taken to Rome as a prisoner. In bearing testimony to Agrippa, it was not with any hope that it would result in his freedom. This is made plain by what Agrippa afterward said to Festus—“This man might have been set at liberty, if he had not appealed unto Caesar.”
No, Paul wasn’t happy because he had a hope that in speaking to Agrippa, he would gain his freedom, because he knew he wouldn’t. He was happy because he was to have another opportunity to witness for Jesus and for the Word of God. He told his story, beginning with the time when he himself had persecuted the followers of the Master. He told of his conversion on the Damascus road, referring to what occurred there as a “heavenly vision.” The reason the Jews hated him, and the reason he was now testifying before Agrippa, was because, explains Paul, “I was not disobedient unto the heavenly vision.”—Acts 26:19
In obedience to that vision Paul was happy to be in bonds, happy to suffer, happy to toil for the Master, happy to be before Agrippa; happy to go to Rome as a prisoner, happy to die there, if that were the divine will—because it was all a part of the “one thing” to which he had been called by that heavenly vision.
THE POWER OF HIS RESURRECTION
But regardless of all of Paul’s resoluteness, his will to spend and be spent, his yearning to know Christ through fellowship in His suffering and being made conformable unto his death, all would have been in vain but for the divine power that guaranteed his victory. The same is true with us. In this respect we can have the same advantage that Paul had, because by divine power, we, too, can be conquerors, yea more than conquerors, through Him who loved us and died for us. With the power of Christ’s resurrection to help us, we can follow Christ, and we can follow Paul as he followed Christ. Often times we may follow far behind, but if we continue to look unto Jesus, and to dip deeply into the riches of His grace, depending upon the power of His resurrection, we will finally, like Paul, attain that for which we are apprehended.
We may think of the power of Christ’s resurrection from two standpoints. There is the inspirational power of the promises of glory, honor and immortality. These promises enabled Jesus to walk as a new creature, in newness of life. Just as there is a literal death and a symbolic death, as illustrated in the Master’s words, “Let the dead bury their dead”; so the fact of a literal resurrection, and what it implies of life, is used in the Scriptures to illustrate the newness of life in which the Christian now walks. Thus the apostle says, “If ye then be risen with Christ, seek those things which are above.” (Col. 3:1) Yes, the consecrated are even now risen with Christ, in this sense—to them all things have become new, and the inspirational power of the new life is a potent factor in all their efforts to know and do God’s will. But back of this is the direct power of God, that “mighty power” which was used to raise Jesus from the dead, and to exalt Him to the very throne of God. This power, the power of His resurrection, stands back of the Christian to guarantee him victory now, and to exalt him to glory after he has been faithful unto death. Note the apostle’s wonderful statement of this fact is Ephesians 1:16-22.
Paul knew that if he participated in the sufferings of Christ, and was made conformable unto His death, this mighty power of Christ’s resurrection would be working in him and on his behalf, overshadowing him with the necessary divine providences to assure him complete and final victory. He knew that thus he would attain unto “the resurrection of the dead”—the “prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus.”
In our text the apostle says that he does not consider himself as having apprehended that for which he was apprehended of God. That was true so far as the ultimate of the divine purpose in him was concerned—he had not yet attained the prize. He had however, learned to know Christ; he had enjoyed fellowship in His suffering; he was being planted together in the likeness of His death; he was forgetting those things which were behind; he was bending every energy he possessed in reaching out after those things which were ahead. In all these things he had apprehended in a large way, and only his modesty kept him from acknowledging it.
Paul realized, of course, that there was always the possibility of doing better, and that is even more true with us. May we strive as never before, to narrow down our life’s interests to this “one thing” that inspired Paul. By God’s grace and by the power of Christ’s resurrection, may we have strength, courage and fortitude, to carry on faithfully with this “one thing,” until we make our calling and election sure, and receive the prize of the high calling, having thus attained unto the resurrection of the dead.