You Are a Citizen of the Kingdom That Wins | Philippians 3:12–4:1
What are you really running toward?
In this powerful sermon from Philippians 3:12–4:1, we are reminded that the Christian life is not about self-improvement, religious achievement, or chasing temporary comfort. The goal is Christ, and in Christ, the goal is glory.
Paul calls us to press on toward Jesus, watch out for the appetites that try to rule our hearts, and look up to the kingdom where our true citizenship belongs. Many of us are running hard, but toward things that can never fully satisfy. Approval, success, comfort, control, security, and pleasure may promise peace, but only Christ can give lasting rest.
This message is for anyone who feels tired, stuck, distracted, spiritually dry, or unsure if following Jesus is worth the cost. If you belong to Jesus, you are not defined by your past, your pain, your failures, or what this world says about you.
You are a citizen of the kingdom that wins.
And the King is making you glorious.
Scripture: Philippians 3:12–4:1
Message: Glory Is The Goal
Key Takeaways from “Jesus Plus Nothing”
The Christian life is a race toward Christ
Paul says he has not “arrived,” but he presses on toward the goal. The goal is not self-improvement, success, comfort, or religious achievement. The goal is Christ Himself.
You are always running toward something
Everyone’s life is organized around a pursuit. For some, it is safety, success, approval, comfort, control, or relief. The question is not whether you are running, but what are you running toward?
The prize is not a place, but a Person
Paul’s prize is knowing Christ, becoming like Christ, and being with Christ forever. In Christ, the goal is glory.
The pain of the race changes when you can see the goal
Following Jesus can feel slow, hard, and exhausting. But when the goal is clear, the pain does not disappear, it gains meaning. The Christian keeps going because the goal is worth it.
Paul warns with tears, not pride
Paul grieves over those who live as enemies of the cross. He is not angry from a distance. He weeps because he loves them and knows where that road leads.
The “belly” makes a terrible god
Paul says some people’s “god is their stomach,” meaning their appetites rule them. Whatever your happiness depends on most can become your god. Comfort, pleasure, status, safety, or success may promise peace, but they cannot satisfy the soul.
Restlessness is a sign you were made for God
The sermon connects this to Augustine’s truth: our hearts remain restless until they rest in God. The ache beneath all our striving is meant to point us back to Christ.
Christians are citizens of heaven
Paul reminds the church that their citizenship is in heaven. This means believers live in this world, but they belong to another kingdom. The church is meant to be a “colony of heaven” in the city.
Heavenly citizenship changes how we live now
Because our identity comes from Christ, we have nothing to prove and nothing to lose. We can live generously, forgive freely, love the overlooked, and bring the culture of Christ’s kingdom into our neighborhoods, workplaces, and city.
Jesus will transform our bodies into glory
The hope of the gospel is not vague or merely spiritual. Jesus will transform our lowly bodies to be like His glorious body. No more decay, shame, weakness, addiction, disease, or death.
Glory is not only future; it has already started
Every act of forgiveness, repentance, obedience, and faith is evidence that glory is already beginning in us. God has started His work and will not stop until it is complete.
You do not earn citizenship in the kingdom
Like the sermon’s family story, citizenship is not earned by running fast enough or being good enough. Jesus went first into death, resurrection, and glory, then reached back to bring His people in by grace.
The central declaration: You are a citizen of the kingdom that wins
The sermon’s strongest takeaway is this:
Closing Application
As we close, ask yourself honestly:
What am I running toward right now?
Not the answer you know you are supposed to give in church. The real answer. What has your attention? What has your anxiety? What are you chasing, protecting, or depending on to make you feel okay?
Paul reminds us that the goal is not comfort, success, control, approval, or even religious achievement. The goal is Christ. And if you belong to Christ, your future is not destruction, shame, or emptiness. Your future is glory.
So this week, do one simple thing:
Before you pick up your phone, before the noise of the day gets to you, say this out loud:
I am a citizen of the kingdom that wins.
I am running toward the glory of my King.
My King is making me glorious.
Say it when you feel tired.
Say it when you feel tempted.
Say it when you feel forgotten.
Say it when your past feels louder than God’s promise.
And then live like it.
Forgive someone because you have nothing to prove.
Repent quickly because your identity is secure.
Serve someone overlooked because you belong to a better kingdom.
Press on because glory is coming.
Stand firm because glory has already started.
You are a citizen of the kingdom that wins.
And the King is making you glorious.
Transcript: Pastor Rajiv Khatri
Glory Is The Goal
Philippians 3:12–4:1
Movement 1 — Press On
Philippians 3:12–16
My father was born under a tent.
Not a campsite tent with a sleeping bag and a lantern. A refugee tent. Dirt floor. Summer heat on the plains of India. His mother lay there with no doctor, no hospital, no safety net — just the sound of a camp full of people who had lost everything and did not know what came next.
In 1947, India and Pakistan were partitioned. One of the bloodiest events of the twentieth century. Millions were displaced in a matter of months. Whole villages emptied overnight. My grandfather's family had lived in what is now Pakistan. They were pushed out with nothing but what they could carry. They ended up in Agra, the city of the Taj Mahal, in a camp with thousands of others just like them.
My father's mother gave birth to him there. Under that tent.
Shortly after the youngest child arrived, both parents died. Twelve children. No mother. No father. No home to go back to. No country that fully claimed them.
The eldest brother — my uncle — could have sat down in that loss and never gotten up. He had every reason to. But something in him looked at his eleven brothers and sisters and decided: we are not staying here. He picked a direction. He got them through school. He studied engineering. He found his way to the United States — one of the hardest things a man from a refugee camp in India could do in the 1950s and 60s. He became a citizen. And then one by one, year by year, he reached back across the ocean and brought each sibling over. Sponsored them. Signed for them. Gave them a destination they could not have reached on their own.
My father arrived in America with almost nothing. But he arrived. Because his older brother went first.
They ran together. Toward something. Because someone showed them where to go.
What are you running toward?
Not in church language. In real life. This week. What is the thing you are most organized around getting? What is the thing that, when you do not have it, your whole world feels like it is falling apart? For some of you that is a dream you are chasing. For others it is just making it through this week.
Paul writes in Philippians chapter 3 starting in verse 12:
¹² Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. ¹³ Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, ¹⁴ I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.
¹⁵ All of us, then, who are mature should take such a view of things. And if on some point you think differently, that too God will make clear to you. ¹⁶ Only let us live up to what we have already attained.
There is a prize Paul is running toward. But that prize is not a place. It is a Person. Christ himself.
This is the Apostle Paul. He wrote much of the New Testament. He planted churches. He saw the risen Christ. And yet he says:
I have not arrived. I am not perfect. I am still pressing on. I still need more of Christ.
Before he met Jesus, Paul had the most impressive religious resume in the room. He was a Pharisee — that means he was one of the most strictly religious people in his entire culture. Trained from childhood. Blameless under the law. By every external measure, he had arrived.
And then Jesus found him on a road and everything changed.
He says in verse 12 — I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. The word Paul uses here for press on is the same word he used earlier in the chapter to describe his persecution of the church. It is an intense word. Relentless. Like someone chasing something with everything they have. Paul took all of that intensity — all of that focused, relentless pursuit — and turned it in a completely new direction.
Before meeting Jesus, Paul used all his strength against the church. After meeting Jesus, he used all his strength to know Christ. The same intensity. A completely different direction.
That changes everything about why you run.
My daughter is a marathon runner. First in our family. I genuinely do not understand running for four or five hours on purpose. Why. A couple of years ago, my son-in-law Liam and Kailey had been training for a marathon for months. Morning runs. Night runs. Miles every day. On race day, Liam started struggling. He started experiencing some bubbles in his stomach. Let's just say he had to make a few unscheduled stops along the way. He kept falling behind. He caught back up to Kailey, who was feeling completely fine by the way. In fact she was singing and dancing as she ran. Very cheerful.
And then as the finish line came into sight, something changed.
Liam started pushing harder. Pulling ahead. Trying to get in front of Kailey.
Now Kailey is competitive. Very competitive. And she looked at him and thought — what is he doing? Is this a pride thing? Does he really need to beat me right now? So she ran faster. She passed him. But Liam was determined. So he starts pumping harder. Legs exhausted. Stomach still aching. Running on empty. He pushed past her and got to the finish line first.
And then he got down on one knee.
When Kailey crossed the finish line he was already there. Ring box open. Waiting.
He was not really running toward a finish line. He was running toward a future. Something so important that the pain, the bathroom stops, the burning legs — none of it mattered. Because the goal was worth everything.
Every hard mile. Every painful step. The goal is worth it.
I wonder how many of us are frustrated with our Christian lives right now. Frustrated with how hard it is. How slow it feels. How many times we have fallen and gotten back up only to fall again. And we start to wonder — is this really worth it? Am I doing something wrong? Why does this feel so hard?
I think for a lot of us the problem is not effort. We are trying. The problem is vision. We have never seen the goal clearly enough to make the pain feel worth it. Liam ran through exhaustion and a bad stomach because he could see exactly what was waiting for him at the finish line. When you can see the goal that clearly — the pain changes. It does not disappear. But it means something.
Paul says — I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.
The goal is not self-improvement. The goal is not religious achievement. The goal is Christ.
And in Christ, the goal is glory.
Knowing him. Looking like him. Being with him forever.
We spend our whole lives either chasing something or running from something. Convinced that when we finally get there, or finally get away, everything will feel okay.
And Paul knows this. In fact, he looks around and what he sees moves him to tears.
Movement 2 — Watch Out
Philippians 3:17–19
¹⁷ Join together in following my example, brothers and sisters, and just as you have us as a model, keep your eyes on those who live as we do. ¹⁸ For, as I have often told you before and now tell you again even with tears, many live as enemies of the cross of Christ. ¹⁹ Their destiny is destruction, their god is their stomach, and their glory is in their shame. Their mind is set on earthly things.
Paul told us he is pressing toward Christ with everything he has. Now he looks around at the people beside him. At the people headed in the opposite direction. And what he feels is not anger.
It is grief.
He says he is telling them this with tears. Paul is not standing at a distance pointing his finger at people he despises. He is weeping over people he loves. People who are running as hard as he is. Just in the completely wrong direction.
He is not talking about Christians who struggle. He is talking about people who do not know Jesus. People running hard in the opposite direction from God and calling it freedom.
And let me say this.
That was us.
We have gotten very comfortable saying — we are all broken. And that is true. But we've softened something. Broken is the outcome. What caused the break? We were not just victims of circumstances. We were rebels. Enemies of God. Running from him. Actively hostile, or worse indifferent to him. That is what Scripture calls us before we were saved. Not just broken. Lost. Dead. Enemies.
And God came after us anyway.
That is the only reason any of us are sitting in this room. Not because we turned toward him first. Because he came after us. Mercy we did not deserve. Grace we could not earn.
Now Paul looks at people still on that road. People he loves. People who remind him of who he used to be. And he does not stand at a distance and point. He weeps.
Think about someone in your life who does not know Jesus. You can see where they are headed. You can see what it is costing them.
That is what Paul feels. Not judgment. Grief. The grief of someone who knows exactly where that road ends — because he was on it — and loves the person on it too much to look away.
Their end is destruction. And he weeps because he loves them.
Then Paul shows us what the life of someone running from God actually looks like on the inside. Their god is their belly. Their glory is in their shame. Their minds are set on earthly things.
When Paul says their god is their belly, he is not mainly talking about food. He means whatever appetite rules you. What is the thing you are chasing hardest right now? The thing you're trying to get, protect, keep. Your belly is whatever your happiness depends on.
Appetite is like Thanksgiving dinner. The first bite feels amazing. By the third plate, you feel terrible. In the moment, appetite said, "More." You listened. And it lied.
That is the belly-god. Whatever it is promising you — it will always want more. And it will never quite deliver what it said it would.
For some in this room the belly-god is simple and desperate — just safety. Just making it to next month. Just keeping the lights on and the kids fed. That ache is real. And it is just as capable of running your life, drifting you away from God, and robbing you of joy. For others it is status. For others comfort. For others pleasure.
And for some of us who have been following Jesus for years, the appetite is less obvious. We show up. We sing the songs. We listen to the sermon. And then we go home and live exactly like everyone else. Faith that costs us nothing. Changes nothing. Demands nothing.
The shape of the appetite changes. But the problem is the same. Something other than God is running our life.
And look, the things we are organized around getting are not always bad things. Wanting safety for your family is not wrong. Wanting to build something that lasts, wanting to belong somewhere, wanting your life to mean something is not wrong. These are good desires. God put them there. The problem is not the desire. The problem is where we go to get it met.
Paul calls this out because he loves them. Not to scare. To wake us up.
Because the belly makes a terrible king. But it is a very persuasive salesman. It will promise you everything. Comfort. Relief. Significance. Just one more thing and you will finally feel okay. And you get the thing. And for a little while — you get a high. A rush of relief. It works. And then the salesman is back at the door.
That high never lasts as long as you need it to. You get what you were chasing and it is never enough. So you chase more. And it is still not enough. That's not just a problem. It's our fallen human condition. Augustine called it restlessness.
Our hearts are restless until they find their rest in God.
That low hum underneath everything. That feeling that something is not settled no matter how much you strive, achieve, accumulate, or experience. That restlessness is your soul telling you the truth. You were made for God. Everything else was never going to be enough.
I want to be honest with you for a moment.
I know what it is to chase the wrong things. Not just before I became a Christian. After. Long after. I have stood in pulpits and preached about knowing Christ while my heart was quietly more organized around being seen as someone who preaches well, rather than being centered around actually knowing him.
John Mark Comer once described a season when, by every external measure, his ministry was succeeding. But inside, he said he felt like a ghost. Half alive. Half dead. Numb. Flat. Living with a low-grade anxiety that would not go away.
Then he said something that landed on me like a stone: "You can be a success as a pastor and a failure as an apprentice of Jesus."
And you do not have to be a pastor to know what that feels like. You can keep everything moving and still feel your soul coming apart.
Paul sees this. And he weeps. Not because he is better. Because he knows there is another way.
And what waits at the end of that way changes everything.
Movement 3 — Look Up
Philippians 3:20–4:1
Every earthly kingdom thinks it will last forever.
Rome thought so. Its armies were feared. Its roads connected nations. Its power looked permanent.
Today the greatest monument Rome left behind is the Colosseum. Tourists take selfies in front of it.
Every earthly kingdom eventually becomes a footnote in a history book. Every single one.
Paul knew this. And he wrote to a city that had staked its entire identity on Rome.
Now hear what he says.
²⁰ But our citizenship is in heaven. And we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ,
— Philippians 3:20
But our citizenship.
The word Paul uses for citizenship does not just mean papers or a passport. It means a colony. A people who belong to one kingdom while living in another.
The people of Philippi knew exactly what this meant. Philippi was a Roman colony. The people living there were Roman citizens — not because they were born in Rome but because Rome had planted them there. They carried Rome's laws, Rome's culture, Rome's identity into a city far from the capital. They lived in Macedonia but they belonged to Rome.
Paul looks at the church and says — you are doing the same thing. But for a better kingdom.
You are not citizens of Rome. You are citizens of heaven. And heaven has planted you here — in this city, in this neighborhood, in that workplace, in that family — to carry the culture of another kingdom into this one. This church is not a Sunday service. It is a colony of heaven in West Palm Beach.
Citizens of heaven are the freest people in any city. Not because life is easy. Not because we are better than anyone else. But because we have nothing to prove and nothing to lose.
We can sit with the homeless man on Dixie Highway and not be embarrassed. We can do business on Palm Beach without worshiping what Palm Beach worships. We can forgive. We can live generously. We can love people this city has thrown away.
Because our identity does not come from West Palm Beach. It comes from Christ.
Paul is not calling us tourists of heaven. He is calling us citizens of heaven. People who belong somewhere so deeply that it changes how we show up everywhere else.
In West Palm Beach — as it is in heaven.
And Paul doesn't stop there. He does not stop at citizenship. He goes further.
…who, by the power that enables him to bring everything under his control, will transform our lowly bodies so that they will be like his glorious body.
⁴:¹ Therefore, my brothers and sisters, you whom I love and long for, my joy and crown, stand firm in the Lord in this way, dear friends!
The Savior we are waiting for, the second coming, will transform our lowly body to be like his glorious body.
Sit with that for a moment.
Not our souls. Our bodies. This body. The one you woke up in this morning. The one that is tired. The one that has been through things you do not talk about on Sunday mornings. The one that carries the marks of what life has cost you — the addiction, the illness, the years, the grief, the things that happened to you that you never asked for. The body that aches in ways you cannot always name.
That body. Transformed. Conformed to the likeness of his glorious resurrection body.
For everyone in this room over forty — this is the best news in the Bible. You wake up and nothing pops. Nothing clicks. Nothing aches before you even get out of bed. No Advil. No heating pad. You just wake up, and you feel the way you were always supposed to feel. You feel great!
And for those of you under forty — just wait. I'm 45. I go to bed feeling fine and wake up like someone beat me up while I was sleeping.
This is not a vague spiritual hope. This is not you floating somewhere as a ghost. This is your body made new. No more decay. No more addiction. No more disease. No more weakness. No more shame. No more death.
Not as a metaphor. In reality. Physically. Your lowly body will one day be resurrected and be made like his glorious body.
You are not just getting relief from pain.
You are being brought into the glory of the King.
Not the glory that belongs to Christ alone. That is his. But by grace — pure undeserved grace — he brings his people into it. You will not just watch his glory. You will share in it. You are not just forgiven. You will be glorified. You will be made like him. You will reign with him.
Every person in this room who belongs to Jesus is on their way to glory. That person next to you — whatever they look like right now, whatever they have been through, whatever they are carrying — they are becoming glorious. And so are you.
And this has already started.
While you are sitting in that seat, while your body is tired, while your week was hard — you are already seated with Christ in the heavenly places. Your glory is not fully here yet, but it has already begun. What you sometimes feel in worship — that unexpected joy that catches you off guard — that is a taste of where this is going.
Running toward Jesus is not only about where you end up. It is about who you are becoming today.
Every time you choose forgiveness over bitterness — that is glory starting. Every time you repent instead of defending yourself — that is glory starting. Every time you choose his way over your way — that is glory starting.
It is slow. It is often invisible. But it is real. God started this in you the moment you were united to him, and he will not stop until the work is complete.
I want you to actually look at the person next to you for a second. Go ahead. Look at them. That person — the one you just looked at — is becoming glorious. I know they do not look like it right now. Neither do you. Neither do I. But that is the promise. That is where this is going.
So how do you get in? How does anyone become a citizen of this kingdom?
You do not apply for it. You do not earn it. You do not run fast enough or clean enough or long enough to qualify.
My father was born stateless under a tent. No country. No papers. No one to claim him. But his older brother went first. He established himself. Then he reached back and brought the others in. They did not earn their citizenship. It was given because of their relationship to him.
Jesus did something better.
He did not just give you a passport. He went first — into death, into the grave, into resurrection, into glory — and from that place he reaches back and brings you in. Not based on what you deserve. Based on who he is. Your citizenship was not earned. It was given. Signed for by the one who went ahead.
And the destination is not just a better country.
It is glory. Full transformation into the likeness of our King.
You came in here this morning carrying something. Some of you came in carrying a week that nearly broke you. Some of you came in carrying a past you cannot seem to put down. Some of you came in running on empty.
Hear this.
You are a citizen of the kingdom that wins. And the King is making you glorious.
That is who you are. Not who you were. Not what you have done. Not what has been done to you. You are a citizen of the kingdom that wins. That is why you can lift your head.
Imagine
West Palm Beach is a city of extremes.
Extreme wealth and extreme poverty separated by just a few miles of road. People with everything who still feel empty. People with almost nothing who feel forgotten.
But imagine a church whose identity does not come from this city. It comes from somewhere better. Nothing to prove. Nothing to lose.
Imagine a man walking out of the Palm Beach County jail on Gun Club Road with nowhere to go. No family waiting. No plan. And someone from this church is already there. Not a program. A person. Sitting with him. Walking with him. Telling him, "You belong somewhere now."
Imagine a boardroom on Flagler Drive where a business leader makes a decision that costs him something because it is right. Not because the market rewards it. Because his standing is not built on the market.
Imagine a neighborhood where the church is not just a building people drive past. It is the reason the block feels different. Safer. Kinder. More alive.
Imagine this church becoming known, not because we launched a campaign, but because citizens of heaven showed up. In the jail. In the boardroom. In neighborhoods and workplaces. Carrying the culture of another kingdom.
Imagine this city asking, "What is it about these people?"
And imagine us having an answer:
We are citizens of the kingdom that wins. And the King is making us glorious.
That is the colony.
And it starts here.
With us.
Invitation
If you have never received Christ, receive him today. Turn from what you have been trusting. Trust Jesus instead. Place your life in his hands. He offers you mercy today.
Application Practice
Paul ends this passage with a word. Stand firm.
We press on toward Christ by standing firm in Christ. Not standing perfect. Not standing impressive. Not standing alone. Standing firm in the Lord.
At the beginning of this morning I asked you — what are you running toward? Here is your answer. Every morning before anything else gets to you, before you pick up your phone, say this out loud:
I am a citizen of the kingdom that wins. I am running toward the glory of my King. My King is making me glorious.
Say it until it gets into your bones.
Glory is coming.
Glory has already started.
Press on toward Christ.
Let's pray.