More than a high-value stash?

Where’s Your Treasure?  Not a box of gold or hidden stash—more like, what’s that thing, or those things, you place the most value on?

I’ve got a very nice guitar, and a camera I don’t really know how to use, but beyond that, very little, if anything, by way of “treasure.”   Maybe, for you, it’s the job you’ve built, the reputation you’ve nurtured, or the lifestyle you take pride in. Some of the treasures that fill our lives can anchor our identities, create labels of achievement, and give us a sense of worth and purpose. But if we look at Philippians 3:1-11, Paul isn’t just asking us to examine our treasures; he’s calling us to imagine a whole new basis for what truly matters. He doesn’t just suggest an alternative; he invites us to a complete reset of our values, a radical trade-off of all those treasured securities for the surpassing worth of knowing Christ.

Great treasure

Several parables of Jesus echo this theme. The Parable of the Hidden Treasure (Matthew 13:44) and the Parable of the Pearl of Great Price (Matthew 13:45-46) both illustrate the kingdom of God as a treasure so valuable that it’s worth giving up everything else to gain. These parables affirm that true worth is found in God’s kingdom, making it worth sacrificing all other “treasures” to possess.

Paul’s tone in Philippians shifts here, and he urges us, “Rejoice in the Lord!” (Phil. 3:1). These are simple words—not patronising words either—but it’s crucial to notice the context: Paul is writing this from a Roman prison cell. His joy isn’t some feel-good platitude; it’s a deep conviction that real joy doesn’t come from freedom, achievements, or accolades—it’s found in the Lord alone. We need to take Scripture seriously, perhaps more seriously than the Church in the West generally does at this time. This verse, Philippians 3:1, is God’s Word! This is so challenging and relevant because we’re surrounded by messages that tell us happiness comes from having more, achieving more, being more. But Paul cuts right through that mindset. He’s learned, personally, to anchor his joy not in circumstances, but in something—or rather, someone—unshakable.

Great credentials?

Paul goes on to issue a strong warning about people who put their confidence in outward achievements—he calls them “dogs” ( kynes) and “evildoers” (v. 2). These unnamed people place high value on the superficial, insisting that religious credentials or social markers make one righteous. By doing so, they attempt to add prerequisites to God’s grace, but Paul is having none of it. He uses himself as an example, rolling out a very impressive spiritual résumé: he’s a Hebrew of Hebrews, faultless in following the law, from the tribe of Benjamin (v. 5-6). If anyone had reason to boast in outward credentials, it was Paul. But his perspective has completely changed. It’s like he’s applying for a job with a PhD and three master’s degrees, along with the privileges of birth and position—yet he’s having none of it when it comes to his new reality now that Christ has transformed him.

Surpassing worth…

It’s a moment to raise the eyebrows of all of Paul’s readers as he goes on to call all his former accomplishments “garbage” (v. 8, NIV). The Greek word he uses, skubalon, doesn’t just mean trash—it’s closer to refuse, something foul and worthless. Paul is saying that all the status, achievements, and religious merit badges he once held dear now mean nothing to him. Why? Because he’s discovered something, or rather someone, far greater. All those things he once treasured are now utterly insignificant compared to “the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord” (v. 8). Here’s the big idea: Paul isn’t knocking hard work or saying success is inherently bad; rather, he’s making it clear that these things are worthless as ultimate sources of worth or joy. Christ alone fills that role. Knowing Jesus is the greatest thing this world has to offer—take note, Mr Musk!

Paul’s language then shifts to the relational. He doesn’t say he wants to know just an historical, textbook Jesus; he wants to know Him personally. This isn’t some intellectual pursuit, a Wikipedia overview, or a 20-point checklist of correct beliefs—it’s a deep, intimate, heart-level knowing. Think of the difference between knowing facts about a friend and actually having a relationship with them. That’s the difference Paul is describing here. He’s saying, “I want to experience Christ in such a profound way that my life is utterly rooted in Him, not in my own achievements or so-called reputation.” When Christ becomes our treasure, the magnificent obsession of our hearts, our relationship with Him becomes the very foundation of our identity and joy.

The immense power of the resurrection

Paul’s desire to know Christ isn’t limited to the good parts; he goes on to say that he wants to know “the power of his resurrection and [to] share his sufferings” (Philippians 3:10, ESV). It’s easy to desire resurrection power—the victory, the strength, the overcoming. But Paul calls us to embrace both the highs and the lows of walking with Jesus. It’s a long journey, with every step challenging who and what we are. This includes “sharing in his sufferings,” recognising that following Christ involves fully sharing in His life, which encompasses both His suffering and His glory.

The journey is one of ups and downs. Paul is brutally honest: true joy and true treasure don’t come from avoiding suffering but from finding Christ in the midst of it. It’s far removed from any superficial happiness; it’s a joy that goes deep, forged in both light and dark.

This vision of faith is bold. Paul’s journey with Jesus has moved him beyond simply collecting accomplishments or religious accolades. His goal, he says, is “to attain to the resurrection from the dead” (Philippians 3:11). He isn’t fixated on death but filled with an unshakeable hope that even death cannot defeat him, for he is anchored in Christ’s victory. Resurrection isn’t merely a future event for Paul; it’s his entire frame of reference. His life, choices, and values are all centred on the hope of eternal life in Christ. Knowing Christ gives him a perspective that no earthly treasure could ever offer.

Locating your treasure

Back to the original question: where is your treasure? If we’re honest, we often place it in what feels tangible—success, relationships, security, and things we can measure and control, like bank accounts and savings plans. There’s nothing inherently wrong with these things, but are they a lasting, eternal treasure? Paul’s message is clear and countercultural: if our treasure isn’t in Christ, it’s ultimately a dead end. Those things, as good as they may be, simply won’t last. When we let Christ be our treasure, we’re freed from the cycle of proving ourselves, of living in comparison or competition. We discover a joy rooted not in what we scramble to achieve, but in who Christ is and who we are in Him.

This is a call to truly let go of the things that can never satisfy if we saw them as loss in comparison to knowing Christ. That’s the invitation here: to make Christ our treasure. You can still have your ‘stuff’, but you learn to hold on to it with an open hand; what really matters is Christ, allowing every other part of our lives to overflow with the joy we find in Him.

When Jesus is truly our treasure, we find, encounter, and participate in a joy, peace, and freedom that no other treasure can give.

Everything else fades in comparison, leaving us free to live fully, knowing that our worth is secure in Him, who is of infinite worth to us.