Christocentric 4 – The Agony of Victory

Him we preach, warning every man and teaching every man in all wisdom, that we may present every man perfect in Christ Jesus. To this end I also labor, striving according to His working which works in me mightily. For I want you to know what a great conflict I have for you and those in Laodicea, and for as many as have not seen my face in the flesh, that their hearts may be encouraged, being knit together in love, and attaining to all riches of the full assurance of understanding, to the knowledge of the mystery of God, both of the Father and of Christ, in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge. — Colossians 1:28–2:3

What if the truest victory in the Christian life is won not on a podium, but in the agony of prayer?

The Thrill of Victory and the Agony of Defeat

"Spanning the globe to bring you the constant variety of sport—the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat." Those words opened ABC's Wide World of Sports for nearly forty years. Even after the show ended, the phrase lingers in our national consciousness.

When I think of those words, I remember watching the televised championship of the Ironman competition in 1995, as a freshman in high school. The event brings together three sports—swimming, cycling, and running—and for the winner takes between eight and nine hours.

That year the anticipated winner was Paula Newby-Fraser, called "the Queen of Kona," who had won 21 of the 26 Ironman competitions she had entered. She led for nearly nine hours. But with just the last 400 yards left—four football fields—she hit the wall. Dehydrated and disoriented, she collapsed. Camera crews gathered. People dumped water on her while she cried for twenty minutes, "I'm going to die."

As she lay there, the woman who would have taken second passed her for first; the one who would have taken third passed her for second. After nearly twenty minutes she got up, took off her shoes, and walked barefoot the last stretch. Just twenty feet from the line, the woman who would have been fourth passed her for third. Twenty years later, the woman who won 21 Ironman titles is remembered for the agony of defeat.

The Agony of Victory

We are a sports-oriented culture. We love to watch people compete and strive to attain something—a place on the podium, a trophy, a name engraved on a plaque. That word agony comes from the Greek agōnizomai: to enter a contest, to contend, to struggle, to strive to obtain something.

But when we tune in as spectators, we're only watching the very last agony of their endeavor. Behind that moment lies months, years, or a lifetime of work. So I sometimes wonder if it would be better to speak of the agony of victory, because the competition we see on TV is only the smallest fragment of all they did to get there.

In our passage today, we are given a peek into the Apostle Paul's agonizing struggle in Christ. In various places in the New Testament, Paul describes the Christian life as a race, a competition. Here we are given insight into the agonizing preparation for that race.

The Christocentric Life Demands Agonizing Determination

Christocentric simply means Christ-focused. The Christ-focused life demands agonizing determination. The author of Hebrews tells us to run this race with endurance—not a sprint but a marathon—"looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith" (Hebrews 12). If you're a follower of Jesus, you are engaged in a race, and the focal point of that race is Christ.

So I ask: what do you agonize over? What in your life are you struggling to accomplish? Finishing a class? Getting a promotion? Raising your kids well? Quitting smoking? Losing the holiday weight after New Year's? If I'm honest, nine times out of ten, the things I agonize over are completely self-focused. They're primarily about me.

Yet here Paul agonized over the spread of the gospel and the faithfulness of other Christians. In Colossians 1:29, "to this end I also strive" is agōnizomai—"to this end I agonize." In Colossians 2:1, "what great conflict I have for you," that word conflict is the Greek agōn—agony. "I want you to know the agony I have for you."

Paul's Agony From Prison

Remarkably, these words were written while Paul was in prison in Rome, awaiting an uncertain future. We know now that he would eventually stand trial before Caesar Nero and be beheaded for his faith—not for any crime, but for preaching the gospel. Yet at this moment, with execution looming, his agony was not over himself. It was over the faith and faithfulness of Christians a thousand miles away whom he had never met and would probably never meet.

That is convicting. If I were in prison facing execution, my agony would be over my circumstances. But Paul's great internal conflict, the thing that kept him up at night, was for believers in Colossae and Laodicea. I can tell you with certainty there are no Christians in Lubbock, Texas, a thousand miles away, that I'm losing sleep over. Yet Paul says, "I have a great conflict for you, even though I've never met you."

The Goal of His Agony

Why spend the mental, physical, emotional, and spiritual effort? The goal is in Colossians 1:28: "that we may present every man perfect in Christ Jesus." Just as athletes agonize toward a goal—a Super Bowl, a finish line—Paul's goal was to see all humanity find their completeness in Christ.

I can identify with this. Within five miles of this building live more than a quarter million people. A Southern Baptist Convention study found that of the 3.2 million people in San Diego County, less than ten percent are engaged with a Bible-teaching, gospel-preaching church. That means on any given Sunday, there are 250,000 people within five miles of us who have not yet heard the gospel. Part of me agonizes over how we can reach them so they would be complete in Christ—that is, saved.

If you're a follower of Jesus, you have that same conflict on some level. There's someone you work with, a family member, a neighbor, a friend you agonize over and wish would know Jesus. A name or a face comes to mind right now. Paul could say, "The agony in my soul is not that I face an uncertain future in prison; it's that there are people who may die today and never know God."

What His Agony Produced

What did Paul's agony move him to do? "Him we preach, warning every man, teaching every man in all wisdom" (1:28). He preached and taught the gospel, traveling from place to place—even when it meant being robbed, dragged out and stoned, or risking shipwreck—all so people might hear.

To what end? Colossians 2:2 lists three things. First, "that their hearts may be encouraged." That word, in the Greek, is connected with the person and work of the Holy Spirit: Paul agonized so they would experience the fullness of the power and presence of God in their lives.

Second, "being knit together in love"—that they would experience the unity of the body of Christ. Unity is hard work; it doesn't just happen. Ask any married couple. In Ephesians 4:3, Paul says we must "endeavor to keep the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace." Your spouse does things that make you crazy—and so do you. Unity is maintained only where there is love, because "love covers a multitude of sins." You worked to win each other's love in the beginning; the breakdown comes when we stop working to love.

The same is true in a church. There are people in our services who make you crazy—it's probably why some of you switched services. That's why Scripture constantly says, "Love one another." The easiest thing to do is break unity and walk away, and I see it nearly every week: someone comes to my office and says, "I'm leaving, this person hurt me." But love covers a multitude of sins. Can you love them with Christ's love?

Third, "that you would attain to all the riches of the full assurance of understanding, to the knowledge of the mystery of God." That is, that you would fully grasp all you have from God in Christ. In Ephesians 1, Paul lists these things: we are blessed with every spiritual blessing, chosen, predestined, accepted, redeemed, forgiven, given an inheritance in heaven and eternal life. Paul agonized so that you would know all of this completely.

We Must Agonize to See Others Know Christ

Paul labored to have a Christ-centered life himself, and he agonized that others—near and far—would know Christ too. This teaches us our second point: we must agonize, or struggle, to see others know Christ as we know Him.

Why? Because if you're a Christian today, you have found something awesome and true. "In whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge" (2:3). A few verses later, "all the fullness of God is found in Jesus, and you are complete in Him" (2:9–10). If you stumble upon a mine of unbeatable wealth, you want to share it. So we must struggle to see others know Christ as we know Him.

The Agonizing Labor of Prayer

What could Paul actually do a thousand miles away for people he'd never met? I suggest the agonizing thing Paul could do, and did do, was pray. There's a hint of this in Colossians 4:12: "Epaphras, who is one of you, a bondservant of Christ, greets you, always laboring fervently for you in prayers, that you may stand perfect and complete in all the will of God."

Follow the logic. Paul labored fervently to see the Colossians complete in Christ; Epaphras labored fervently in prayers for that very thing. And "laboring fervently" is again agōnizomai—to agonize. Prayer is an agonizing labor.

Consider Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane, on the night He was betrayed. Luke 22:44 says, "And being in agony, He prayed... and His sweat became like great drops of blood falling down to the ground." Meanwhile His disciples slept. Matthew 26:40 records Jesus asking, "Could you not pray with Me one hour?" Have you ever tried to pray intentionally and focused for an hour? Alistair Begg said the greatest struggle in all ministry is private devotional prayer, then praying with others, then praying corporately.

Why Prayer Is an Agonizing Struggle

Why is prayer such a struggle? I can think of three reasons.

First, we don't like to pray. Spiritually you may enjoy the connection with God, but in your carnal nature you don't, because it's hard work. It's like the gym for me. Three or four times a week I drive there and have to talk myself into getting out of the car. I hate running—until I'm done. Prayer is similar: we love it when we're done, but we resist starting.

Second, prayer feels powerless. E. M. Bounds wrote, "Where prayer is focused, power falls." The Bible is full of evidence that prayer is powerful, yet when we pray we feel weak and ineffectual. Years ago I was house-sitting for a SWAT officer with two German shepherds and a Rottweiler, next door to another SWAT officer. One night I locked myself out. For twenty minutes I tried to break into a police officer's house—impossible. The whole time a nagging voice said, "You should pray." I kept arguing, "That's the dumbest thing, how is that going to help?" Finally I gave in: "Lord, please help me open the door." I reached the door and it opened as if it had never been locked. We often feel prayer is powerless—which is why we say, "All I can do is pray for you."

Third, the devil fights to keep us from prayer. Prayer is a spiritual endeavor, and we have a spiritual enemy who does not want us to do what is spiritually good. He's too subtle to say, "Don't pray." Instead he says, "Don't pray now—do it later, when your mind is clearer, when you have more time." And later never comes. We promise to become praying people in 2016, and by January fourth we've pushed it to 2017.

Nothing Is More Christlike Than Agonizing in Prayer

This brings us to a vital truth: there is nothing more Christocentric, more Christlike, than agonizing in prayer. You want to be like Jesus, focused on Him? Pray. And the greater part of agonizing to see others come to know Jesus happens in prayer.

A few minutes ago I asked you to think of someone you wish would come to faith in Christ. If you'd like to victoriously see them come to Christ this year, you have to agonize in prayer. In the seat back is a prayer card and a pen. Pick one name—someone you wish would come to faith—and write their name on the back.

Prayer Is the First Agonizing Step in Evangelism

Prayer is the first agonizing step in evangelism. Though prayer is hard, though we don't always like it, though we feel powerless, and though the enemy says put it off until tomorrow—right now we're going to take one minute and quietly pray for the person you wrote down: that they would come to faith in Christ, find completeness in Him, be united to the body of Christ, and understand all they have in Christ. One minute, starting now.

Closing Prayer

Father, we don't like silence. We live in a culture that fills every silence with noise, and it's hard to set aside even a minute to pray—especially when praying for these names feels to many of us like it will do little good. We've shared our faith, we've invited them to church, and they've said no. But where prayer is focused, power falls. So we pray that You would powerfully move in the lives of these individuals—the names written on these cards.

Some of these people may sit across a Thanksgiving table from us this week. May it be that by the end of the week we are giving thanks for their salvation. There are more than 250,000 people within five miles of this building who don't know You. Stir our hearts to agonize in prayer for them.

Lord, we know the life focused on You requires agonizing determination, that we must struggle to see others know You as we know You, and that prayer is an agonizing struggle. Yet we are never more like You, never more focused on You, than when we are in prayer. So in all our evangelistic efforts this year, may prayer be number one.

Break chains of addiction. Break down walls of anger, bitterness, malice, hatred, hurt feelings, and missed expectations—anything that keeps these people from You. You said, Jesus, that no one comes to You unless the Spirit draws him. So we pray for the names on these cards, that You would draw these people to Yourself, that they would know You. In Jesus' name, and all those who agreed said, amen.