“Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already been made perfect, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me.”
~ Philippians 3:12
I got a package yesterday. Unlike my Amazon deliveries, the materials I received yesterday were packed in a box full of Styrofoam packing peanuts. I don’t like packing peanuts. They cling to stuff, they float away under furniture, they don’t crush or disintegrate well in the trash – they are a nuisance. Unlike bubble wrap able to amuse me (and annoy those around me!), packing peanuts aren’t even much fun. But they do protect my stuff.
I’ve got a lot of packing peanuts in my life. I’ve got a lot of things stuffed into the box to protect me. I keep several different insurance policies consistently paid up to protect my family against health, home, auto and life risks. We keep food in the refrigerator to protect us from hunger. We keep books on our shelves, a television in a corner and music everywhere to stave off boredom. We keep money in a savings account, retirement plans and other places to protect us from what might come in the future. We drive cheap cars and avoid debt. I’ve got a lot of practical peanuts.
But I think I’ve got some spiritual peanuts too. While I don’t consider myself a particularly legalistic person, it is certainly true I have my superficial list of religious preferences and credentials. As the Apostle Paul discussed in the third chapter of Philippians, I too have my “reasons to put confidence in the flesh.” I have a story I sometimes consider much more important than it is. I have a long list of peanuts I sometimes foolishly believe protect me from spiritual scrutiny and ridicule – a list of religious behaviors and attitudes I believe protect me from judgment and godly reproach.
Paul calls all this stuff rubbish. Paul, in Philippians 3:7-8 declares “whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things.” Whatever I previously considered valuable, profitable or spiritually protective is absolutely nothing compared to the simple pleasure of knowing Christ Jesus.
I wonder if it’s possible to live life without peanuts. I wonder what that truly looks like. Some peanuts, kept in proper perspective, are simply good, godly stewardship. We all know that’s true. But I wonder how many peanuts I could and should do without. Earlier in Philippians, Paul famously described how Jesus “made himself nothing.” Jesus humbled himself and set aside everything that we might truly gain everything. And this truth is made even more stunning when we consider the “peanuts” Jesus said aside! Jesus gave up everything for us.
What peanuts, protections and pleasures should I be willing to set aside that others might gain? As I, like Paul, struggle to “press on to take hold of that for which Christ took hold of me,” what peanuts are just getting in the way?
Yesterday (purely for use as a metaphor in this article you understand) I ate a few of those chewy, old, orange marshmallow circus peanuts. You know – those yummy things your dad used to keep in the glove compartment of his pickup until they were hard as a brick? Mm, mm, good! Daddy like! I ate them even though, truth be told, I already know full well these are peanuts I should absolutely avoid. The minute my sweet, skinny Monica reads this newsletter article, that fact will be made abundantly clear to me! These are easy and obvious peanuts I need to ditch. But what about those peanuts in my life I’ve come to believe I somehow deserve? As we stand this month in the shadow of the bloody, gruesome Good Friday cross and hear Jesus calling us once again to take up our own cross, what if my cross includes leaving behind some things I truly cherish? Some things I think I’ve earned or deserve? What if my embrace of Resurrection Sunday joy includes a life without all the peanuts I’ve come to trust and enjoy over the years? As Dietrich Bonhoeffer so beautifully said years ago, “When Jesus calls us, he bids us come and die.” At the risk of sounding silly, Jesus calls us to enjoy a life without unnecessary peanuts.As we ponder the Cross and rejoice in the Empty Tomb again this month, let’s ask ourselves what rubbish we too must leave behind as we press onward.
May God help us love life without peanuts!
Amen.
