2026-10-04 - What Really Matters?

I heard a story once about a university history professor. For the final exam, he gave just one question. That was it. One question: “What is history?” Hundreds of students sat there, writing pages and pages. But one student finished in less than a minute, handed in the paper, and walked out. Later, when the results came back, that student was the only one who got an A+. What did he write? Just one sentence: “History is a circle. It goes round and round.” Now, I don’t know if that story is true. But I love it because it says something we all feel. We see it happening. Things come back. The same mistakes. The same arguments. The same divisions. Just with different names and different clothes.

Young people today love those stories about going back in time. Anime, dramas, movies. Someone gets a second chance. They go back to the past with all their memories, and they try to fix what went wrong. They don’t want to live the same life again. They want to make something better.

That’s what history is for, isn’t it? To help us not repeat the same old mistakes. To help us grow. To help us become something new. But here’s the problem. Most of us don’t pay attention to history. We only look at the present. We only look at the future. And because we forget the past, we keep going in circles. We keep making the same choices. The same hurts. The same exclusions.

You know, we humans are really good at judging by what we see on the outside. The way someone looks. The way someone talks. The colour of their skin. The accent in their voice. The clothes they wear. We can’t help it. It’s automatic. Our brains do it before we even think. But here’s the danger. When we let what we see on the outside become the whole story, we miss the person inside. And when that happens over and over, in a society, it becomes something bigger. It becomes racism. It becomes sexism. It becomes classism. It becomes all the different ways we push people to the edges and say, “You don’t belong here.”

And maybe some of us are thinking, “Well, that’s not Canada. We’re not like that here.” But I want to say something gently. Just because we don’t see it doesn’t mean it isn’t there. We may tell ourselves we are not as bad as the United States. But Canada has its own history. Its own wounds. Its own ways of leaving people out. We’re not immune. We’re just quieter about it sometimes. Being polite doesn’t mean being just.

I remember one time coming back to Canada from Korea. My father had passed away, and I had spent many hours on a plane. I was tired. I was grieving. I came to immigration, and the officer started asking me questions. Where did you go? Why did you go? What do you do in Canada? I said, “I’m a minister with the United Church of Canada.” And the officer looked at me. Up and down. Smiled a little. And said, “No way.” No way. I had to show papers. Documents. Proof. And when I finally convinced him, his face changed. He became serious. He stopped asking questions. He didn’t smile anymore. He just let me through. Now, was that the worst thing in the world? No. But it stayed with me. Because in that moment, I was not seen. I was measured. I was measured against something in that officer’s mind, and I didn’t fit. That’s what happens when we judge by the outside. We miss the image of God in the person standing right in front of us.

Now, let’s look at Paul. Paul had every reason to boast. He was born into the right family. Circumcised on the eighth day. A Hebrew of Hebrews. From the tribe of Benjamin. He was a Pharisee. He knew the law inside and out. He was blameless when it came to keeping the rules. If Paul were alive today, he might say, “I went to the best schools. I have the best credentials. I have the right heritage. I have the right connections.” He could say, “I am the best of the best.” And he did say that. In verses 4 to 6, he lists all his qualifications. All his achievements. All the things that made him somebody in his world.

But then he says something shocking. He says, “Whatever gains I had, I now consider loss because of Christ.” He did not really lose them. He gave them up-so that he might gain the most precious and valuable thing, more important than anything else. He says, “I regard everything as loss because of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord.” He says, “I regard them as rubbish.” That word, rubbish. In the Greek, it’s σκύβαλον. It’s a strong word. It means garbage. Dung. Refuse. The stuff you throw away and don’t want to touch. Paul is saying, “Everything I thought made me important? It’s garbage compared to knowing Jesus.” That’s a hard word. Especially for those of us who have worked hard to build our lives. Our education. Our careers. Our reputations. Our families. Our cultures. These things matter. They are not nothing.

But Paul is asking a question. What is the one thing? What is the one thing that matters more than everything else? Knowing Christ. Not knowing about Christ. Not knowing the right doctrines. Not knowing the right rules. Not having the right traditions. Knowing Christ. Personally. Deeply. In your heart.

And here is where I need to say something. There are many people today who call themselves Christians. They love Jesus. They go to church. They read their Bibles. They try to follow the rules. They tithe. They serve. They do all the right things. But something is missing. Love. The love Jesus shows us and calls us to show the world.

They follow the law, but they forget the heart of the law. They want to keep every rule. They want to be right. They want to be pure. They want to be holy. But they forget that the greatest commandment is love. Love God. Love your neighbour as yourself. And when they see someone who doesn’t measure up, someone who doesn’t follow the same rules, someone who doesn’t look the same or talk the same or believe the same, they don’t see a neighbour. They see a sinner. They see someone outside. They see someone who doesn’t belong.

Friends, when I look at people like this, I wonder if the spirit of the Pharisees and Sadducees has come back, having forgotten the past. History is a circle, isn’t it? Not the same clothes. Not the same names. But the same spirit. The same hardness. The same exclusion.

Paul says something else. He says, “Not that I have already obtained this or have already reached the goal. But I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own.” He says, “Forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus.” Forgetting what lies behind. That doesn’t mean we forget history. We don’t forget the past. We don’t pretend the wounds don’t exist. But we don’t live there. We don’t return to old ways of thinking. Old ways of dividing. Old ways of excluding. We press on. We strain forward. We keep our eyes on Jesus. Because Jesus is ahead of us. Not behind us. Jesus is calling us forward. Into something new. Into something bigger. Into a love that has no boundaries. A table that has no edges. A family that has no outsiders.

So here is the question. The question Paul is asking. The question that matters more than any other question. What is more important than knowing Christ? Is it your education? Your heritage? Your traditions? Your rules? Your politics? Your culture? Your comfort? Is it being right? Is it being pure? Is it being safe? Paul says no. None of it. It’s all rubbish compared to knowing Jesus.

And when we know Jesus, really know Jesus, something changes. Our hearts soften. Our eyes open. Our hands reach out. We stop measuring people. We start loving them. We stop building walls. We start setting tables.

Friends, we live in a time when everything feels shaky. The economy. The world. The church. And when things feel shaky, we want to go back. We want to return to what we know. Old securities. Old certainties. Old exclusions.

But Paul says, don’t go back. Press forward. Jesus is ahead of you. Not behind you. So let’s not look back with nostalgia. Let’s not look back with pride. Let’s look forward. Let’s fix our eyes on Jesus. And let’s run. Together.