What Are You Living For?
Three Key Takeaways
We're all worshipping something—the question is what. The human heart is like an idol factory, constantly turning good things into ultimate things. Success, comfort, approval, security—none are bad in themselves, but when we look to them for salvation, they become counterfeit gods that promise identity and happiness but can't deliver. They shape our decisions, define our worth, and control our emotions.
"For to me to live is Christ" means Christ is both identity and purpose. Paul wasn't simply adding Jesus to his existing life goals. Christ was his life—his identity, purpose, and source of joy. In a city that tells you "you are what you achieve," the gospel says "you are in Christ." When Christ is your life, circumstances don't control meaning—Christ does. Personal success doesn't matter most—the gospel does.
Living for Christ shifts our focus from inward to outward. Paul chose to stay alive not for comfort or ease, but for people—for their growth, joy, and faith. When Christ is your life, your perspective shifts from "What works for me?" to "Who can I serve? Who can I encourage? Who can I point to Jesus?" Life becomes outward-focused, not just inward-focused.
GRAB THE FULL SERMON PODCAST HERE:
What Are You Living For?
We're continuing our Philippians series, looking at a big question: What are we really living for?
Not the polished version, the super-spiritual answer, or the LinkedIn bio, but the honest reality underneath it all?
The Question That Reveals Everything
How do we answer that? What gets us out of bed in the morning—what energises us, shapes our time, and ultimately receives our attention, money, and focus?
In a city like London, there are so many things trying to grab our attention, pulling us in every direction. There's pressure to build a career, to not fall behind, to make something of yourself. How are you doing compared to your peers when you look around?
There's also just life—survival, rent, bills, the cost of living. There's constant comparison with everyone around us. LinkedIn updates and Instagram stories can make it feel like everyone else is moving faster, achieving more, and living better than we are.
There are relationships, status, and lifestyle. There's that sense that life should look a certain way for me right now, at my stage of life.
So what are you living for?
Is it success? Are you trying to reach something, working towards a goal? Is it comfort—just wanting a comfortable life, finding your place? Is it approval? Is it security?
None of those things is bad. All of them are good. But when we take these good things and try to make them the place where we'll find salvation or redemption, we turn them into something that puts a weight on our lives we cannot carry. We put our lives on those things, and they just cannot carry us.
The Idol Factory
The famous theologian John Calvin said the human heart is like an idol factory. We constantly make new things in our hearts—something to worship, something to give ultimate worth to. We turn good things into ultimate things.
Tim Keller wrote a book called Counterfeit Gods, where he says we are all worshipping something. This is probably one of the most profound things about understanding sin and going off track in our lives. It's not about doing certain things that are really bad and that God frowns upon. It's about turning our attention to something other than God and saying, "That is what I'm going to give my life to"—worshipping something other than God.
What is worship? It's something we give our ultimate attention to.
These counterfeit gods, these things we look to, promise identity. They promise happiness, meaning, and security. But they can't actually deliver on their promises. They're not worthy of our complete focus. They can slowly, subtly begin to take over our lives and take from us. We become enslaved by the things we start to worship.
They shape our decisions, define our worth, and ultimately control our emotions.
So the real question is not just "What do you want in your life?" It's "What is your ultimate thing?"
Whatever sits in that place, whatever is the ultimate thing for you today—that is what you're living for. That's the answer.
Paul's Context: Philippi
Paul and Timothy wrote to the church in Philippi with deep affection. Philippi was a Roman colony, proud of its own identity. It was status-driven, identity-conscious. People cared about success, reputation, and belonging. A little bit like London today. It's not that different.
Paul had history in this city. He had been there before—beaten and imprisoned. Yet instead of despairing, they began to sing (Acts 16). They declared how great God is in the midst of it. In the middle of the night, there was an earthquake. The doors flew open. The chains fell off.
But instead of running, Paul stayed. The jailer, who was scared for his life because he thought the prisoner would run away and he'd be in deep trouble, and his family ended up finding life in Christ because of Paul standing and declaring how great God is.
That's the kind of story the Philippian church was built on.
Now, years later, Paul is in prison again. This time he's in Rome. He'd made it his ambition to get to Rome because it was the most influential place in the Empire—he must take the gospel there. This time, he's possibly facing execution.
From that place of uncertain future and real suffering, he writes this letter that's filled with joy.
The Heart of Paul's Message
Philippians 1:21 says: "For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain."
This is one of the most famous verses in the Bible. It's packed with meaning.
"For to me to live is Christ."
Paul doesn't say, "For me to live is ministry", or "For me to live is serving God", or even "For me to live is spreading the gospel." He says, "For me to live is Christ."
Christ isn't just part of Paul's life. Christ is his life. His identity. His purpose. His source of joy.
"And to die is gain."
Why? Because to die means to be with Christ. If living is Christ and dying means being with Christ, then death isn't loss—it's gain.
This isn't suicidal. This isn't morbid. This is confidence. This is joy. This is freedom.
Paul is saying: "I don't care what happens to me. If I live, great—I get to serve Christ and point people to Him. If I die, even better—I get to be with Christ."
Either way, Christ wins. Either way, Paul wins. Because his life is Christ.
Personalising the Question
Let's personalise it. If we were honest, how would we finish this sentence?
"For me to live is..."
Is it success? Is it financial security? What fills that space? Is it Christ being honoured, or is it something else? Is it relationships, money, comfort or approval?
Because whatever fills that blank, that is where we're looking for satisfaction and salvation. It becomes our functional God, the place of our worship. That's what we're building our life around without knowing it.
It's so subtle. But gradually we start to shape our lives around the things we're worshipping.
Here's the problem: Every single one of those things that promise us ultimate satisfaction can be taken.
Jobs change. People leave us. Money fluctuates. Health shifts. If your life is built on those things, your life will feel fragile.
The Freedom of "To Live Is Christ"
Paul says, "To live is Christ."
Circumstances could be whatever they are, but to live is Christ. Even in prison, he's okay. Why? Because his identity is secure. His purpose is clear. His joy is unshakable.
In London, everything tells you: "You are what you achieve. You are what you've done this last year."
The gospel says: "You are in Christ."
That's your identity. Not your job title. Not your salary. Not your relationship status. Christ. Christ is your identity if you choose to live in Christ.
Living for Others
Paul goes on. He recognises that while death would mean being with Christ, remaining would be better for their sake.
He starts shifting his focus. It’s not just about himself—his focus is on others because he is living for Christ.
He recognises he will remain longer because he knows that's God's way—we're here to serve each other. It's going to be "fruitful labour," he says.
Here's what's remarkable: he chooses to stay not for comfort, not for ease, but for people—for their growth, for their joy, for their faith.
His life is no longer centred on himself.
That's deeply challenging in the city, because living in London can quietly train us to live a very self-focused life. What works for me? What benefits me? What advances me?
But when Christ is your life, your perspective starts to shift. You start asking, “Who can I serve? Who can I encourage? Who can I point to Jesus?”
Your life becomes outward-focused, not just inward-focused.
Circumstances don't control meaning—Christ does. Personal success doesn't matter most—the gospel does. Life itself isn't ultimate—Christ is.
Philippi and London
Philippi had its pressures. London has its pressures. Different setting, same human heart, inclined to worship something we think will fulfil us.
So the question comes back: What are we living for?
What are the things that promise us everything but deliver very little, while quietly demanding more and more of our lives?
The reality is, even if you've been in church for a while, it's easy to drift. It's easy for our hearts to start creating—like a factory—something else to fulfil us, to let something else take that central place.
At Redemption
At Redemption, we're learning to live with Christ—not just part of our lives, but our identity and purpose. In a city that pulls us in every direction, we choose Christ. We lay down our careers, our need for approval, our comfort, our control. We say, "You are our life."
For the first time, or for the first time in a long time, we give Him everything.
