I heard a story about some college roommates that imposed a small fine every time one of them said the word “mine”. “Hey, give me that, it’s mine!” would get a few bucks extracted from your wallet. Or I think of the seagulls in the movie Finding Nemo, who only know one word and they repeat it endlessly: Mine, mine, mine. Then, of course, there’s old Gollum and his precious. “It is mine, it came to me, my own, my precioussss.” 

Paul leads up to the Christ Hymn in Phillippians by saying he’s not distracted by suffering. It’s not the important thing. The important thing is continuing to keep faith with Jesus, living his whole life as a response to the superabundance of love God has shown. Jesus has revealed to us the true nature of reality – that we are not living in a scarcity. We’re not even living in an abundance. We’re living in an unimaginably, eternal superabundance of love, safety, and welcome. Despite all appearances to the contrary, superabundance is what’s true about reality, because of who the God Jesus reveals to us really is.  

Before Paul sings, he tells his friends not to get too hung up about suffering, since it’s no big shocker that a world that loves slinking around in shadows would be aggravated by the light. But that’s not even his point really, his point is that it doesn’t matter whether people are against us or not – who cares, we’ve already got all the love, safety and welcome we could ever want and need. We’re free from having to please, defend, or compete. We don’t have to hoard manna today, there’s plenty. That’s what sets up the Christ Hymn in Philippians 2 – since we have a superabundance of love, we can afford to live humbly and generously. Jesus could afford to die, because he had so much life in his account, even death couldn’t bankrupt him. And every tongue praises his name because, among many reasons, we are in awe of how free he is; how incredibly unhindered he is by any sense of scarcity or fear; how his humility and generosity demonstrate an openhandedness that to us feels terrifying. 

We also praise him because he shows us a way of humble love that is so beautiful. There is nothing more beautiful than the way Jesus lives his life. His name is lifted above every name, because no one does things more beautifully, with more goodness or truthfulness. 

In contrast, we cling, clutch, and cloy because we’re so afraid to lose. What if we don’t have enough? What if what’s mine gets taken from me? My reputation, my money, my achievements, etc. We are shot through with a thousand piercing threats, and we’re sure we’re bleeding out our most precious resources at every moment. We’ve got to plug those holes, stop the bleeding. So we become defensive, very easily offended, quick to anger, quick to blame, harsh, stingy, and anxious. Our culture and our world is full of this emptiness, full of the fear of not having what’s “mine, mine, mine”. If that goes on long enough, our eyes change; we can’t see our neighbor as an opportunity for love to well up; we can only see them as a threat, a potential thief, someone who’s come to take the safety, love, and welcome that we already have such precious little of. 

In Deuteronomy, God tells Israel to cancel all debts and release anyone enslaved every seven years. Then, anticipating the likelihood of Israel exploiting the loopholes of this command, he goes on to tell them to be generous to those in need around them,  

If a fellow Israelite from one of your villages in the land that the Lord your God is giving you should be poor, you must not harden your heart or be insensitive to his impoverished condition. Instead, you must be sure to open your hand to him and generously lend him whatever he needs. Be careful lest you entertain the wicked thought that the seventh year, the year of cancellation of debts, has almost arrived, and your attitude be wrong toward your impoverished fellow Israelite and you do not lend him anything; he will cry out to the Lord against you, and you will be regarded as having sinned. You must by all means lend to him and not be upset by doing it, for because of this the Lord your God will bless you in all your work and in everything you attempt. There will never cease to be some poor people in the land; therefore, I am commanding you to make sure you open your hand to your fellow Israelites who are needy and poor in your land.

These are folks who spent decades in the wilderness being supernaturally provided for by food from heaven, God’s manna. There ought to be no doubt in their minds that God will make sure there’s plenty to go around of whatever they need. These are people who have been miraculously rescued from enslavement and indebtedness, so that their life might be marked by a grateful return of the same generosity with which they have been treated. Even so, the fear of scarcity creeps in. The hoarding reflex is very deeply ingrained. God is working to create a context free from this fear that they won’t have enough; a context that releases them from any need to feel threatened or jealous when they see their neighbor doing well; a situation that opens to them the joy of living and loving from a place of generosity. 

In episode 26 of this podcast, I wrote about Stanley Hauerwas’ book “The Character of Virtue: letters to a godson.” There was a very deliberate phrase that kept repeating through those pages as Hauerwas walked through virtues like joy, patience, kindness, faithfulness. He kept saying that we can “afford to be kind, because God has been so kind.” We can afford it. Being kind may be costly, but there’s no shortage of kindness in the cosmos, our account will never run out. We may feel like time is running out, but for the Christian, that’s simply not true; we can afford to spend the time it takes to listen to someone, to think wisely, or to feel deeply. Why? Because death is not the end of us, we’ve got endless time, since we live, move, and have our being in the Eternal Son. We can tell the truth, because it is endless and will outlast every lie. We can afford to forgive, because our own reservoir of grace, mercy, and freedom is inexhaustible. And on and on and on it goes with every good thing, for he has withheld from us no good thing. In fact, he didn’t even withhold his own Son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also, along with him, freely give us all things?