Jesus is Worth Knowing

I still remember Christmas of 1995.

I was an 11-year-old girl with exactly one thing on my Christmas wish list: a Sony Discman. Not just any Discman—the Sony D-143 with MegaBass and Electronic Shock Protection. If you grew up in the '90s, you probably know exactly what I'm talking about.

When I opened that box on Christmas morning, I thought I had arrived. It wasn't just another gift; it was the most valuable thing I owned. I carried it everywhere. To me, it was priceless, and I couldn't imagine a day when I would value anything more.

But, of course, that day came.

Eventually that Discman made its way from my hands to a bedroom drawer, then into a closet, then onto a garage sale table, and eventually into someone's trash can. The thing I once treasured above everything else slowly became worthless to me. Not because the Discman changed, but because something new came along that I valued more.

The longer I live, the more I realize that's true of almost everything in life. Whether it's the newest phone, a hard-earned degree, a promotion, a relationship, or something we've worked years to achieve, we all have a tendency to place ultimate value on things that eventually lose their shine. 

Today's treasure has a way of becoming tomorrow's trash.

That is exactly the perspective shift Paul describes in Philippians 3. Looking back on his life, he lists everything that once defined him—his religious pedigree, his education, his accomplishments, his reputation, and his status. By every measurable standard, Paul had built an impressive résumé. 

Yet after encountering Jesus, he makes one of the most startling statements in all of Scripture: "Whatever were gains to me I now consider loss for the sake of Christ... I consider everything a loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord." He even goes so far as to call all those former achievements garbage compared to knowing Christ.

Notice that Paul isn't saying those accomplishments were sinful or meaningless. He's saying they no longer occupy the highest place in his heart because he has found Someone infinitely greater. Before meeting Jesus, Paul knew an incredible amount about God. He knew the Scriptures, the law, the traditions, and the theology. 

Ironically, he knew so much about God that he completely missed Him when He stood in front of him. It wasn't until the road to Damascus that Paul discovered there is a profound difference between knowing about God and actually knowing Him.

That distinction has challenged me deeply.

It's possible to spend years serving in ministry, teaching Bible studies, writing sermons, leading worship, or volunteering faithfully while slowly replacing relationship with routine.

We can become so busy doing things for Jesus that we neglect simply being with Him. 

That's why Paul's greatest ambition wasn't to accomplish more. It wasn't to build a larger ministry or gain greater influence. After everything he had experienced, his deepest desire could be summarized in four simple words: "I want to know Christ."

I love that because it reminds us that Jesus isn't simply worth believing in. He isn't only worth obeying or serving. He is worth knowing. That is the heartbeat of Philippians 3. Paul isn't presenting us with a theology centered on surrender for surrender's sake. 

The destination isn't surrender. The destination is intimacy with Christ. 

Surrender simply becomes the natural response when we discover His surpassing worth.

I've come to realize that we always surrender to whatever we value most. A few years ago I started running, which is something I never imagined I'd enjoy. For most of my life, I couldn't understand why anyone would willingly wake up early to run several miles. But as I began doing it consistently, I started experiencing the benefits. 

My perspective changed. Before long, I was adjusting my bedtime, changing my diet, and investing in better shoes. Running itself hadn't changed. My perception of its value had. The greater value I placed on it, the more willing I became to rearrange my life around it.

The same principle is true in our walk with Christ.

We naturally sacrifice for whatever we treasure most.

If success becomes our highest value, we'll sacrifice relationships to pursue it. If comfort becomes our highest value, we'll compromise obedience to preserve it. If approval becomes our highest value, we'll surrender our convictions to keep it. But when Jesus becomes our greatest treasure, surrender stops feeling like loss because we've found something infinitely better.

Perhaps that's why Paul could let go of everything he once clung to. He wasn't motivated by guilt or obligation. He wasn't trying to prove himself to God. He had simply discovered that Christ was worth more than anything else he could ever pursue.

Near the end of the message, I shared the story of fool's gold during the Klondike Gold Rush. Prospectors often mistook pyrite for real gold because it looked valuable. They built dreams around it, only to discover it couldn't deliver what they hoped. I wonder how often we do the same thing. We spend years pursuing success, recognition, wealth, relationships, influence, or even ministry itself, believing those things will ultimately satisfy us. But none of them can bear the weight of being our greatest treasure.

Only Jesus can.

That's why Jesus tells the parable of the merchant who discovers a pearl of great value. The merchant joyfully sells everything he owns—not because he enjoys losing things, but because he has finally found something worth everything. That's the invitation of Philippians 3.

The Christian life isn't primarily about what we leave behind. It's about Who we've found. The more deeply we know Christ, the more clearly we see His worth. And the more clearly we see His worth, the more freely we loosen our grip on everything else.

Because in the end, Jesus isn't just worth serving.

He is worth knowing.