Timothy J. Clarke - The Power of One, Determination

Last week, beloved, we began a series of messages for the month of May entitled «The Power of One.» Let the whole church say, «The Power of One.» This series seeks to explore what happens in our lives, Deacon Roz, when we develop the discipline to focus on one thing in life, rather than living a life that is fractured, frustrated, divided, and devoid of focus. Last week, we looked at David, that sweet singer of Israel, the author and writer of the majority of the 150 Psalms that make up the hymn book of ancient Israel. We listened in as David writes in Psalm 27 and says these words: «One thing,» let the whole church say «one thing,» «have I desired of the Lord; that will I seek after.» Deacon Sylvia, we saw last week the Power of One desire.

Today, on this Mother’s Day, I want us to look at the Power of One determination. Paul, in the book of Philippians, puts it this way when writing what is really his autobiography. In Philippians, Paul talks about how he was circumcised on the eighth day, how he was a Hebrew of the Hebrews, from a significant tribe, and how he was not only an observer of the law but a keeper of the law. He goes through the litany, and I will say this: it is quite an impressive resume.

Now, you may not think much of it when you read Philippians chapters 2 and 3 and the various places in the Epistles where Paul discusses his life, success, and accomplishments; you may overlook it because much of it sounds rather, how shall I say, first-century-ish. But what you need to know is that Paul was a big baller shot caller. If Paul were living today and writing his resume, he might say that he was a member of Omega Psi Phi. He’d also mention that he was a member of the campus, and then he would go on and on, extolling the virtues of his life.

Is that Sister Mary sitting over there? He would give a litany of his accomplishments, his credentials, his resume, his victories—things he had accomplished in life. And Paul does that, and then he says these strange words: «But those things that were gained to me I count them» (y’all ain’t ready; it’s early in the morning) «rubbish, garbage, for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus.»

All the stuff I used to brag about and boast about—now that I am a follower of Christ—that means more to me than anything else in the world. I wish I had a church here. Sister Helen, I guess I’m trying to tell you that you may build skyscrapers; you may build cathedrals, large or small; you may conquer all the failures of your past—but only what you do for Christ will last!

Only what you do, I feel like preaching! Remember, Cynthia Mary, only what you do for Him will be counted in the end. Only—somebody holler—only what you do for Christ will last! Paul says, «I’ve got a pretty good resume, pretty impressive; it could get me in a lot of doors.» I count all of that—I don’t want to use that word this early—dung. Look it up when you get home. I count it dung for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus, of knowing Him.

Then he talks about this marvelous pursuit: «This one thing I do.» Forgetting all the stuff—I do not know if I should say this—forgetting all the stuff that is behind me, both good and bad. Can we be honest today, beloved? One of the things that trips us up is our inability to let go. A lot of us can let go of the good—we humble ourselves and don’t brag about that—but we struggle to let go of the good even more, and we struggle even more to let go of the bad. We allow the devil to build up like a mother-in-law room in the house of our lives, constantly reminding us, Doug, of stuff that’s in our past. Paul says, «I forget all of it!»

This one thing I do: forgetting—everybody say, «forget it"—the things that are behind me, good or bad, I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling. I wish I had a Bible-reading God! That is in Christ; I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God. It is what one writer calls a «magnificent obsession"—to be gripped by one thing. I’m looking around trying to figure out who in here—let me look at Deacon Rosie down there—anybody online who has ever been gripped by some magnificent obsession? Something so great and grand and glorious that nothing else matters because you have become—I know obsession is a bad word; that’s why the writer calls it a «magnificent, worthy obsession.»

I’ll say this, since y’all are not going to help me anyhow, I’ve got to reach in my back pocket.