Let’s imagine together for a moment. Suppose you and I were to suddenly find ourselves in Times Square in New York City. We find a bench, sit side-by-side, and simply observe for a few minutes. What do you think we would see? I have a few suspicions.
Business men and women rushing to make a weighty meeting. People struggling to hold all the shopping bags they have acquired. A group gathered, trying to capture the perfect Instagram-worthy photo. Faces lit by the glow of phones, eyes fixed downward, consumed by a constant stream of messages and notifications.
And if we were able to look a little deeper, past the surface and into the expression in their eyes, I wonder if we might see something else. A sense of stress. Weariness. Maybe even a quiet emptiness.
Life Apart from Christ
While Times Square is a helpful picture to imagine, the truth is that this is not unique to one place. It is the story of the human experience anywhere apart from Christ.
And this was not lost on the Apostle Paul, the author of this letter. Writing just a few decades after the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus, Paul addressed believers in Colossae who were being pulled toward placing their identity and fullness in what their surrounding culture deemed valuable, whether human wisdom, religious striving, or external practices. He knew how easily the human heart drifts toward lesser things. And Paul also knew this personally.
Before God drew his heart to belief and obedience, Paul was well-acquainted with a life apart from Christ. In fact, his former life was marked by actively persecuting the church, even approving of and participating in the killing of Christians. Yet God, in His mercy, transformed him completely. The same man who once opposed Christ would spend the rest of his life proclaiming that true life, fullness, and identity are found in Jesus alone.
Like Paul had come to understand so clearly, I know this reality too. I know this because it was once my story.
Before my union with Christ, my life was marked by striving for approval in what the world would call success. Good grades. Achievements. Compliments. Appearance. And to be honest, I often attained them. From the outside, it looked full. But inwardly, there was still a sense of lack.
There was always something more to gain, something else to earn, another level to reach, even another quiet compromise internally to please man more greatly. The finish line kept moving. No matter how much I grasped, it was never quite satisfying. Not because some of those things were inherently bad. Rather, they were never meant to be ultimate.
Secured. Covered. Kept.
It is a good thing to work diligently. It is a good thing to pursue excellence. It is a good thing to steward the gifts God has given us. But when these things become the place we look for identity, security, or fullness, they will always leave us wanting more.
This is exactly why the words in Colossians 3 are so profoundly freeing. Colossians 3:3-4 says, “For you have died and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ (who is your life) appears, then you too will be revealed in glory with him.”
Pause for a moment and let that settle.
If you are in Christ, your life is no longer defined by what can be seen, measured, or achieved. Your life is hidden with Christ in God. Secure. Covered. Kept.
Paul begins this section by reminding us that we have been raised with Christ. This is not metaphorical language meant to inspire, but reality meant to transform. Through union with Him, His death becomes our death to sin, and His resurrection becomes our new life. This means we do not live in the same way anymore.
And while we will not experience perfect freedom from sin on this side of eternity, what a gift it is that we are no longer bound to live as we once did. In Christ, we have been given the power, by His Spirit, to turn from what once enslaved us and to live for where true life is actually found. As we seek Him, abide in Him, and set our hearts on Him, we begin to experience a life that is no longer marked by striving but by a steady and growing satisfaction in Jesus Himself.
Jesus Did and So Do We
After His resurrection, Jesus left the tomb, and so do we. We do not live there anymore. The patterns, identities, and pursuits that once defined us no longer hold authority over us.
After His resurrection, Jesus spent His time being with and ministering to His disciples, and so do we. Our lives are no longer centered on self-advancement but on loving God and serving others.
After His resurrection, Jesus lived in the power of heaven, looking forward to the glory that awaited Him, and so do we. Our citizenship is not rooted here but in heaven, where Christ is seated at the right hand of God.
This is why Paul tells us to set our minds on things above, not on earthly things. Not because earthly things do not exist, but they are no longer ultimate.
This truth finds such a beautiful echo in Psalm 84, which has become one of my favorite psalms over the past several years of my life. There is something about it that stirs both longing and deep assurance, a reminder of what it means to truly dwell in the presence of God.
Psalm 84:11 says, “For the LORD God is our sovereign protector. The LORD bestows favor and honor; he withholds no good thing from those who have integrity.”
This verse reminds me that no matter what season I am in, whether in abundance or in what feels like lack, I am not truly lacking anything. Not one good thing. In Christ, I have everything and infinitely more than I could ever need or imagine.
Deep and Abiding Fullness
Centuries ago, Augustine of Hippo wrote, “You have made us for Yourself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it rests in You.” Does this sound like our world today? A world marked by restlessness. By constant striving. By a quiet ache that no accomplishment, relationship, or possession can fully satisfy.
And yet, for those whose lives are hidden with Christ, there is another way to live.
Imagine a people who no longer need to grasp for significance, because they are already secure in Christ. A people who are not anxiously striving for the next thing but are living from a place of deep and abiding fullness. A people whose lives are marked not by lack but by overflow.
This is the invitation set before us. Not to withdraw from the world, but to live within it with an entirely different foundation. To walk into spaces filled with striving, not joining in the restless pursuit, but carrying a steady peace that can only be explained by the reality that our lives are hidden with Christ in God.
Take a moment to read these verses again slowly, letting the weight of these words settle into your heart as you consider what it means that your life is hidden with Christ in God.
“For you have died and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ (who is your life) appears, then you too will appear in glory with him.”
May this truth quiet every striving place in us. May it anchor our identity and reshape our desires. And may it lead us to live not from lack, but from the overflowing fullness we have already been given in Jesus, in whom our very life is found.
