Further, my brothers and sisters, rejoice in the Lord! It is no trouble for me to write the same things to you again, and it is a safeguard for you. Watch out for those dogs, those evildoers, those mutilators of the flesh. For it is we who are the circumcision, we who serve God by his Spirit, who boast in Christ Jesus, and who put no confidence in the flesh— though I myself have reasons for such confidence. – Philippians 3:1-4

I’ve played team sports most of my life. The whole challenge is whether or not you believe. You can hear that when they interview pro athletes. It’s all about confidence. That is probably the key factor in determining who wins.

Belief in yourself is finicky. Self-confidence is fleeting. It’s based more on controlling your feelings than it is on anything solid. I experienced this four decades ago playing high level volleyball. It’s a shallow comparison to what Paul’s talking about, but contains some similarities.

If someone else thinks they have reasons to put confidence in the flesh, I have more: circumcised on the eighth day, of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew of Hebrews; in regard to the law, a Pharisee; as for zeal, persecuting the church; as for righteousness based on the law, faultless. – Philippians 3:4-6

Our grade 12 volleyball team was winning everything. We were on the old 15-point scoring system, and I remember one tournament where the average score of our games was 15-2. Going into the grade 12 provincial championships, our team was ranked high enough to win, and I had a shot at MVP. We expected to win. That’s all we’d known. Confidence.

We made it into the final match. Center court. The stands were full. Something happened to our team. We became strangely quiet. Tense. Feeling the pressure. Hoping something would change. Confidence evaporated. Looking into each other’s empty eyes for some fragment of hope.

I was expected to carry our team to victory, but they changed their defence to always have a double block on me. I wimped out and tipped the whole time. I lost my confidence and we lost the game. I could have easily pounded the ball past them, but that’s not how I felt at the time.

When it came time for the club team provincials, I was determined not to let anything keep us from victory. I disciplined my mind for months, afraid to lose and desperate to redeem myself. We won.

That got us invited to nationals in Toronto. The gym was huge. The players were too. The very first hit by the other team past my block completed the destruction of my confidence. Now I wasn’t even tipping, I just bumped the ball softly over the net. I cried during a time-out. I fell apart. It felt like everyone was expecting something of me, looking to me, and I couldn’t deliver.

When summer came I was on the BC team, training for a tournament in Mexico. I was super-focussed. I saw my weakness and I hated it. I would never fall apart like that again. Again, I trained my mind. I told myself I would play my best ever in Mexico. For most of the preparation time, I wasn’t even in the starting line-up, but it didn’t matter. I believed. We got to Mexico and I started and played great. My confidence was high.

In September I joined a university team full of senior players and sat on the bench. My confidence evaporated. I would shake when they put me in the game. I’d miss serves, make mistakes shrink back like someone who’s shy. This is ridiculous! It’s like I became a different person, more full of fear than I had ever been, and more wrapped up in what I thought of myself than seems at all reasonable.

The next year I took off from university to go to Bible College. I was the team captain, the star, the player coach. Confidence is back. Is it even belief if it’s this erratic? Or is it just circumstances?

Back to university and back on the bench. Working really hard to prove myself to the coach, or maybe to prove myself to myself. There would be injuries and I’d get to play. A good game would make me believe. A bad game would have me doubting. What am I believing in? This is an exhausting pattern I’m trapped in.

At the beginning of my third year of playing varsity, I decided the whole thing wasn’t worth it. I was developing chronic knee and shoulder issues, I’d broken a few fingers, and I wasn’t even enjoying it. I realized I never really enjoyed volleyball as much as hockey or basketball, I just enjoyed being good at it. I enjoyed feeling confident. And now, even that was gone.

So I decided to quit. I was going to graduate soon and I needed to focus on my grades and move on with my life. I would play out the season because I’d committed to the team, and then let it go.

But whatever were gains to me I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them garbage, that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ—the righteousness that comes from God on the basis of faith.  I want to know Christ—yes, to know the power of his resurrection and participation in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, attaining to the resurrection from the dead. – Philippians 3:7-11

After years of fighting to be higher up in the pecking order, now I was happily setting up the nets, collecting the balls and carrying the med kit, tasks typically given to the rookies. I was strangely detached from the success or failure of myself or the team. I put my whole heart into practice. I served my team sacrificially without any benefit for me, as I was just going to quit anyway. It didn’t matter. I had moved on, but to my teammates, this was still really important, so I did whatever I could to help them with their irrelevant pursuit of athletic glory.

It struck me that this must be like what Paul was talking about. I was in the gym, but my perspective had changed. My orientation was toward my future career, not this silly game. But I gave it my all for my team, with nothing to gain from it. Strangely (or not) I made the starting line up. Not caring made my insecurities disappear, and I played much better. It didn’t matter to me at all, but I helped my team all the way to nationals, the whole time completely disinterested in the outcome.

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. 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, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus. – Philippians 3:12-14

You’d think I’d have learned from all that, but my circumstances still affect my confidence. My faith still gets shaken by what I see with my eyes. There doesn’t seem to be any momentum. My flesh still wants to define my reality based on earthly things. It hasn’t stopped lying to me.

So once again today I will forget what is behind and press into Jesus, who has taken hold of me and called me heavenward. I will follow him today and receive his righteousness. I will consider yesterday’s events rubbish and today’s challenges an opportunity to know Christ, his power and his sufferings, that I might die with him and be raised up by him.