Imagine what it must have been like to travel with the Apostle Paul. At first thought, most people would probably think that was pretty exciting—with all the miracles and people coming to know Christ and churches being started. That is true.

But there was another side to being associated with this bold fellow. Everywhere he went he would create a stir and negative reactions. There were riots and beatings, and all sorts of high-pressured life-threatening situations. With Paul, you would be a cultural stranger in most places, identified with a radical message that was offensively odious to your own ethnic roots and politically dissident within the prevailing secular culture.

Being identified with Paul was a dangerous thing. But Timothy and Epaphroditus (tomorrow’s topic) were not afraid of this whatsoever. They were identified with the Apostle not only when he was getting into a conflict, but also when he was in jail. These men came to see him and to tend to his needs. (In 2 Timothy, Paul mentions the name of some people who abandoned him.)

Paul writes in verse 20 today one of the most amazing things he ever says. Speaking of Timothy he states that, “I have no one else like him…”  That is quite a resume enhancement and high-level reference.

We are able to glean from a couple of other New Testament passages that Timothy’s personality was much at the other end of the scale from Paul. Whereas the Apostle was a bold “type A” aggressive fellow, we get a biographical picture of Timothy as a more gentle, timid, and receding personality. Yet he travelled in public circles with the polarizing preacher dude; he showed up daily at the jail to be with Paul.

Why did he push past the gentle soul of his inner self to be this way? Because as Paul says, Timothy had a genuine concern for other people. He was motivated by serving Christ in serving other people. He was by conviction a person who looked away from himself. He was illustrative of what I believe we all should be – “preference deference” people.

A person who defers the fulfillment of their own preferences is a person who understands the reality of a larger and more important picture of God’s work taking place all around them. They want to be a part of what HE is doing, recognizing their personal fulfillment in life will come from that rather than the pursuit of their own preferences.

After 35 years of this pastoring thing and seeing people come and go in churches, I’ve always been most impressed with people who choose to come and stay in a church because they see it as a place they can best serve God and other people with their gifts and skills. And I’ve likewise always been saddened by the people who leave because they continue in a lifelong point-to-point search for the community of faith that best serves their needs and preferences.

Fulfillment and God’s pleasure is to be found in the application of Christlikeness in serving other people. Disappointment and disillusionment will be experienced by folks who seek to find fulfillment in what other sinners do or don’t provide for them.

So why not strive to be a Timothy, and by so doing you will be modeling your life after a person commended in God’s Word for modeling his life after the others-oriented serving pattern of Jesus Christ.

19 I hope in the Lord Jesus to send Timothy to you soon, that I also may be cheered when I receive news about you. 20 I have no one else like him, who will show genuine concern for your welfare. 21 For everyone looks out for their own interests, not those of Jesus Christ. 22 But you know that Timothy has proved himself, because as a son with his father he has served with me in the work of the gospel.23 I hope, therefore, to send him as soon as I see how things go with me. 24 And I am confident in the Lord that I myself will come soon.

The most physically demanding job I’ve ever done in my life was one that I did for several years while attending Dallas Theological Seminary. I worked for the United Parcel Service (UPS) in their major southwest hub in Dallas.

During the interviewing process for advertized jobs in overnight shifts, a supervisor pulled me aside. He told me that they had a “twilight shift” – generally from around 6:00-10:00 in the evening. They did not advertise this, because everyone would want it rather than doing midnight duty.

But since I was a couple years older than most applicants, along with being a grad school student who did well on some sort of memorization test they gave us, I was offered a job on the Twilight Shift Secondary Sort Aisle. It involved memorizing hundreds of zip codes, quickly picking up packages sliding toward you at breakneck speeds, and just as quickly sorting them onto one of seven different belts and slides carrying packages all over a huge, huge trucking terminal. The boxes next went to another sorter, who made a final decision as to which of three or four trucks they would be loaded into.

This was Dallas – in Texas, where it gets very hot… the place of which General Philip Sheridan said before the Civil War while stationed there with the army, “If I owned both Texas and Hell, I would rent out the former and live in the latter!”

It was a common attitude of workers to be cranky and irritable. The heat was dreadful, as the sort aisle was high up in the terminal near the ceiling. The supervisors were constantly nearby. Every day your speed and accuracy was tested and charted.

There was one young fellow who worked there, being a student at a relatively unknown and small Christian college. He knew the Lord and loved God with all his heart. This guy was never a bad attitude. He often literally sang worship songs the whole time he was loading a truck. He was the first person to help out anyone else when things backed up. He never complained about anything.

One night toward the end of the shift, I was sent to help him finish a truck loading, and I used the opportunity to commend him for his constantly cheerful attitude. He told me that he did in fact not really like the job, but he was determined that he would do all he could to work hard and serve others like he was serving God in the flesh. He was a shining star for Christ in a place that was rather dark.

Bosses and managers don’t like grumblers or complainers … neither does a coach, nor does a parent. And you can add God to that list also!

As the Apostle Paul addressed the Philippians about some of the attitudinal situations that were creating strife in the church in that city, he tells them to be serious about the execution of their faith and to do things without grumbling and arguing. Doing this would make them a “star” – for they would stand out like a bright dot of light in the dark night sky.

The natural proclivity for mankind is to be self focused and to easily be personally annoyed – expressing that with complaints and wrangling with others. To be different from that tendency would cause them to particularly shine in an exemplary way, being also in accord with God’s Word. And that is a timeless truth that extends to our day.

As you read the passage, recall that Paul is writing this letter to them while he was a prisoner. He could not be with them, and he appeals to them from his precarious position. Paul was uncertain if he would be released; and though he had an underlying tone of optimism, it was not certain. So we see him thinking even in terms of his legacy with them – hoping his efforts were indeed fruitful among these Philippians. He desired to be pleased that they were obedient and moving forward in their faith.

Grumbling, arguing, and otherwise participating in discord in the church family is really such a waste of time and energy. There is so much work to be done. And we all need to check ourselves regularly in this regard, to be sure we are not losing focus on what is most important. But we can be pleased also in the knowledge that it is God who works in us as we yield to him – not only to fulfill his purposes for us, but to also build in us an increasing desire to do so.

So, go be a “shining star.” It is actually not that difficult.

12 Therefore, my dear friends, as you have always obeyed—not only in my presence, but now much more in my absence—continue to work out your salvation with fear and trembling, 13 for it is God who works in you to will and to act in order to fulfill his good purpose.

14 Do everything without grumbling or arguing, 15 so that you may become blameless and pure, “children of God without fault in a warped and crooked generation.” Then you will shine among them like stars in the sky 16 as you hold firmly to the word of life. And then I will be able to boast on the day of Christ that I did not run or labor in vain. 17 But even if I am being poured out like a drink offering on the sacrifice and service coming from your faith, I am glad and rejoice with all of you. 18 So you too should be glad and rejoice with me.

During the time I was involved in the political process for a few years, I never talked about it publically at church. I even did a sermon during that time on the topic of the place of a Christian in civil government and politics, and I was really proud of making it through that message without ever uttering the words “Democrat” or “Republican.”

Through a variety of circumstances and open doors that I believe to this day God shoved me through, I was for a time the chairman of the local Republican Party. Though it was an elected position, the events putting me into that role were much more within the category “it found me; I didn’t find it!”

There were aspects of it I really liked, such as strategizing, vision casting, and working with some local people of high character, yet I found many other elements of it to be rather odious. Higher levels of Party participation introduced me to some extraordinarily fine and genuine people, but also some of the most troubled individuals I’ve ever encountered. Those who were running for positions of authority and leadership within the Party were too often overly-engaged in the process of continual self promotion rather than given to the hard work of advancing actual principles and values in practical ways. The process of promotion (for the purpose of gaining position) became the end of the game, rather than actually winning the game in the public arena of ideas and leadership.

But that is the way of the people of this world – to seek to achieve rank and place. Jesus told his disciples to not be like this. When the disciples were jockeying for position on the right and left hand of the Lord, it says in Mark 10 that Jesus called them together and said, “You know that those who are regarded as rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their high officials exercise authority over them. Not so with you. Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be slave of all. For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.”

And so when Paul wrote today’s passage to the Philippians, he was on the very solid ground of not only remembering the words of Christ to be the most lowly servant, but to also point to the work of Christ in doing just that – submitting to the ignominy of the cross.

Verses 6-11 are among the most famous of theological teachings in the New Testament. They teach clearly that Jesus was 100% God, that he voluntarily submitted himself to the humiliation of leaving the glories of heaven to become fully man (though without sin or loss of divine substance), and that he willingly submitted himself to the worst death imaginable for the sins of everyone else.

6 Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; 7 rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant,     being made in human likeness.

8 And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death—even death on a cross!

9 Therefore God exalted him to the highest place and gave him the name that is above every name, 10 that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, 11 and every tongue acknowledge that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

But what is often forgotten is that these verses were not written primarily to teach Christology (the doctrine of Christ), but to give an illustration of the primary point Paul was discussing – that of having an attitude of humility in service to other people in the family of faith. Paul led into this theological section (that may have been an early hymn) by saying …

5 In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus:

So this sets up a very expansive degree to which we should be willing to go to give up our own self-serving proclivities in order to serve other people. And why should we not be willing to do so in light of all that we mutually possess?  That is how our chapter today began – by rehearsing the unity we have with one another in Christ, the treasure of the indwelling Spirit, and hearts governed by the tenderness and compassion we have first received …

2:1  Therefore if you have any encouragement from being united with Christ, if any comfort from his love, if any common sharing in the Spirit, if any tenderness and compassion, 2 then make my joy complete by being like-minded, having the same love, being one in spirit and of one mind. 3 Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves,4 not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others.

Valuing others above self – the most difficult task to do, yet the most rewarding task when done. If the people of a church would ever do this, there would be no squabbling or bickering … no pushing and shoving and debating about what personal taste or opinion on any subject should prevail. There would only be Christ-like service.

Let’s just do it!

We live in a world of paradox.  On the one hand, evangelical Christians raise the alarm about the corrosion of religious freedoms.  Yet on the other hand, my progressive friends often lament about the power and dominance of the religious right—as if these are shackles to be freed from.

Who’s right?  Who’s wrong?  Could it be some of both?  To be honest, I don’t know if I can parse out such a complex issue—I can only be sure that today’s culture is becoming increasingly polarized.  The divide between religious conservatives and non-religious progressives is at an all-time high, and destined only to become larger.   How is the church to cope?

The church has always struggled with just exactly how to be “in the world but not of the world.”  It seems almost a balancing act between the church’s identity—what she believes—and the church’s relevance—the way we show love to a dying world.

That’s what Paul is getting at when he writes to the church in Philippi.  Did Paul have any specific conflicts in mind?  Unlikely.  I think it’s way more probable that Paul had seen what happens when the church collides with the world—and he didn’t want the Philippian church to experience hardship, or worse: to fall away entirely.

Listen to what he tells the church about their own destiny to suffer:

²⁷ Only let your manner of life be worthy of the gospel of Christ, so that whether I come and see you or am absent, I may hear of you that you are standing firm in one spirit, with one mind striving side by side for the faith of the gospel,  ²⁸ and not frightened in anything by your opponents. This is a clear sign to them of their destruction, but of your salvation, and that from God.  ²⁹ For it has been granted to you that for the sake of Christ you should not only believe in him but also suffer for his sake,  ³⁰ engaged in the same conflict that you saw I had and now hear that I still have. (Philippians 1:27-30)

I believe a good way to unpack this section is to look at it through the lens of Christian identity and Christian relevance.  Do you see what Paul’s saying?  The church will never be relevant to a dying world until the church learns to stand unified in her identity in the gospel.  And when she does, even conflict and suffering can be seen as a sign of spiritual health.

So let’s do something: let’s extrapolate a bit on what Paul’s saying.  What would it look like for a church to get off track in these areas?

ISOLATION (ALL IDENTITY; NO RELEVANCE)

This isn’t hard to imagine, unfortunately.  Today’s churches have become adept at forging an identity that never needs to come into contact with the outside world.  If we’re painfully honest with ourselves, we’ve allowed our greatest dreams to become a steady paycheck, kids who don’t cuss, and a pleasing worship service on Sunday mornings.

I know I can be a little bit…caustic in this area.  I’m not saying these aren’t great things.  But when we take a great thing and make it the greatest thing, it’s the worst thing that can happen to the contemporary church.  I believe that the church will never experience revival until people within the walls begin to believe the gospel for the first time.

Thus, the church can never truly experience identity until she also recognizes her relevance to the surrounding world.  As Christ’s example shows, self-sacrifice can never remove us from the world; it presses us further into it.

ACCOMODATION (ALL RELEVANCE; NO IDENTITY)

Of course, it’s quite possible to be so focused on loving the surrounding world that we sacrifice the message of the Bible for the safety of cultural relevance.  We saw this a generation or so ago.  Many of the so-called “mainline” denominations became increasingly focused on social issues: alleviating poverty, promoting peace, preaching tolerance.  And then a strange thing happened: the battle was soon won—maybe not by churches themselves, but by a larger cultural movement.  In other words, the church’s values very quickly came to match those of the Democratic party.   The church no longer had anything to offer that couldn’t be found inside a piece of political literature.  So why bother at all?

Or—to get a bit more personal—maybe we’ve experienced the cold sweat that comes from the fear of being labeled “a fanatic.”  Nothing is more deadly in our world than being too committed to any one thing—especially a religious belief.  “I don’t want to shove religion down anyone’s throat,” we might say.  But what are we really saying?  I’m not comfortable making anyone uncomfortable.  So we mumble something about how “it’s not a religion; it’s a relationship,” and the conversation rolls on without us ever having to truly reveal our Christian identity.  It’s safe; but it’s far from good.

MISSION (BOTH IDENTITY AND RELEVANCE)

So when we return to Paul’s message to the Philippian church, we see that he emphasizes both identity and mission.  Suffering, it seems, is the price—or maybe even consequence—of commitment, but also the surest badge of unity.  Christianity has always thrived under persecution.  This was true in Paul’s day, and it can be true again today.

In our search for happiness, our world offers more means than ends.  The next time you’re at the supermarket, or chain store, take a look around you as you stand in the checkout aisle.  There you find what one author calls the snapshot of the “good life.”  Magazines offer fashion advice and dating tips—or the not-so-subtle allure of celebrity gossip.  Rows of candy offer a quick sugar fix for you or the kids.  Batteries, shaving cream, breathmints—a host of impulse buying items gives you one last chance to feel like you’ve got everything you need and have it all together.

But you don’t.

See, even advertisers understand this.  That’s why most advertising is a religious experience.  In his book Amusing Ourselves to Death, Neil Postman observes that most advertising isn’t about the nature of the product; it’s about the character of the consumer.  You have a problem, every commercial tells us—whether it’s an outdated car, an unbalanced diet, or bad breath.  And, the commercials insist, we have the solution.  There’s only one problem: the solution never lasts.  It never can.  Happiness is fleeting, circumstantial.  That’s why Christianity insists that joy is superior to empty promises of happiness.  Joy does not depend on circumstance.  And the most shocking thing of all is that we pursue happiness, Joy pursues us.

What does this mean for Paul and the Philippian church?  It means that even suffering can be used for good.  The presence of joy means that we live for something even greater than greatness itself.  And most significantly, the presence of joy helps us understand how God operates in ways that defy my present circumstances, and lift my eyes toward his eternal kingdom.

THE ADVANCE OF THE GOSPEL

Listen to what Paul tells his readers in Philippi:

¹² I want you to know, brothers, that what has happened to me has really served to advance the gospel,  ¹³ so that it has become known throughout the whole imperial guard and to all the rest that my imprisonment is for Christ.  ¹⁴ And most of the brothers, having become confident in the Lord by my imprisonment, are much more bold to speak the word without fear.  (Philippians 1:12-14)

Paul’s not merely being a blind optimist; he’s living out his life’s purpose.  See, because his life is defined by the joy of the gospel—and not temporary happiness—he can see the ways that he fulfills his mission even while suffering.  For one thing, the whole Roman guard learned of the gospel.  For another, Paul’s imprisonment galvanized other believers—vaulting them to new heights of boldness.

The spread of the gospel isn’t something easily slowed by suffering and brokenness.  On the contrary; history shows us that Christianity routinely thrives during periods of persecution and suffering.  Why?  Because the gospel promises that God’s story extends beyond the borders of our current circumstances.  If I am going through a hard time, it’s only because God’s not finished with me yet—he’s not finished with the world at all.

GOSPEL RIVALRY

Paul then says this:

¹⁵ Some indeed preach Christ from envy and rivalry, but others from good will.  ¹⁶ The latter do it out of love, knowing that I am put here for the defense of the gospel.  ¹⁷ The former proclaim Christ out of rivalry, not sincerely but thinking to afflict me in my imprisonment.  ¹⁸ What then? Only that in every way, whether in pretense or in truth, Christ is proclaimed, and in that I rejoice. Yes, and I will rejoice,  ¹⁹ for I know that through your prayers and the help of the Spirit of Jesus Christ this will turn out for my deliverance,  ²⁰ as it is my eager expectation and hope that I will not be at all ashamed, but that with full courage now as always Christ will be honored in my body, whether by life or by death.  (Philippians 1:15-20)

It’s unclear what Paul’s trying to communicate here.  Who are these other teachers?  Apparently there are some who got into the ministry because it gave them a sense of authority, privilege, or power.  Turn on some of today’s TV preachers, and you’ll see the same thing.  Should that trouble us?  It didn’t trouble Paul.  He says he’s glad for the chance for the world to hear about Jesus.

Keep in mind that Paul didn’t live in a world where you could buy a “Jesus is my homeboy” t-shirt at the local mall.  He lived in a world that had never heard the name of Jesus, so he was just happy the word was getting out.  And as before, it reflects his deeper purpose—and greater joy.

TO LIVE IS CHRIST…

So we finally come to one of the most famous passages from Paul’s letters:

²¹ For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain.  ²² If I am to live in the flesh, that means fruitful labor for me. Yet which I shall choose I cannot tell.  ²³ I am hard pressed between the two. My desire is to depart and be with Christ, for that is far better.  ²⁴ But to remain in the flesh is more necessary on your account.  ²⁵ Convinced of this, I know that I will remain and continue with you all, for your progress and joy in the faith,  ²⁶ so that in me you may have ample cause to glory in Christ Jesus, because of my coming to you again.  (Philippians 1:21-26)

Suffering is something we all go through.  Most of our lives are spent trying to avoid it.  And for most people, that’s where the pursuit of happiness comes down to: maximizing pleasure while minimizing pain.  Paul says there’s something more to live for, something we can’t buy with fashion, cleansers, creams, or sport utility vehicles.

See, the way we handle suffering says everything about where our hope truly lies.  It’s the reason C.S. Lewis would write that “crises reveal character.”  If I am a deeply religious person, suffering will devastate me.  What have I done wrong?  What did I do to deserve this?  Suffering fills me with guilt and shame.  I want to hide from others, lest my suffering be evidence of my wrongdoing.  But if I am not a religious person, I’m also devastated by suffering.  Why?  Because it only reveals the arbitrary nature of the universe.  Why do bad things happen to good people?  What kind of God would allow this?  And there really are no good answers to these questions.

For Paul, joy means looking into the face of suffering and recognizing that this world is not all there is.  Death cannot have the final word.  So for Paul, death is only a chance to escape the world and find—in Jesus—everything he ever wanted.  That’s why in the sixteenth century, Martin Luther would write that for the person who understands the gospel, the words of scripture “turn death into sugar” and every sorrow “into sweet, sweet wine.”  The joys, the pleasures of our present world only point us toward the source of all joy—God himself.

So what’s the purpose of living?  Paul recognizes that his life’s purpose could only be fulfilled by enduring, by facing his hardships head-on.  Only by doing this would he be of continued use to the Church.

The same is true of us.  It’s easy to check out when problems overwhelm us.  It’s harder to have an eternal perspective.  None of us can see the future in its detail, but through God’s word, each of us can see the future as an unending spring of joy.  Joy is magnified in pain—because it points us away from the gifts of this world to the Giver of all gifts.  And, for each of us, suffering becomes a chance to abandon our trust in self, and live each day with a purpose parallel to Paul’s.

No one gets anywhere alone.  Think you’re the master of your own destiny?  Just wait.  Sometimes something as simple as a cold or a check-engine light can remind you that you don’t have it together the way you think you do.

In a very real sense, that’s what the letter to the church in Philippi was all about.  At its simplest, Philippians represents a thank-you letter, issued by Paul to his supporters in the metropolitan city of Philippi.

These past few days we’ve looked at Paul’s relationship with the church as its founder.  But to better understand the themes of this great book, we have to peel back its pages to see the larger story that lies underneath.

THE THEOLOGICAL STORY

Our understanding of the gospel has to begin with the character of God.  I don’t know about you, but growing up Christianity always struck me as a list of rules.  Don’t cuss.  Don’t watch R-rated movies.  Read your Bible more.   In other words, God always seemed like a cosmic traffic cop, watching with his radar gun to bust you at nearest available opportunity.  Want to stay out of jail?  Simple.  Avoid sin.  Be nice.  But as I’ve grown older I’ve begun to wonder how much of this message has to do with the Bible, and more to do with the mixed-up religious culture that we’ve created.

Instead, what if God was deeply, powerfully, ferociously committed to our joy?  What if his fundamental design for all of reality was that we experience overwhelming joy in his presence, his character, and his creation?   What would change?

See, now I understand that God’s desire for my heart and for my life are not rooted in arbitrary standards of “goodness,” but in the eternal designs that he has for the whole world.  The Bible says that if we violate those designs, we are in a state of “sin.”  The only thing that stands between you and your joy…is you.  Sin, therefore, is displaced love.  Instead of a steadfast love of God, I’ve come to value things like career, sex, entertainment—even religious duty—as ways to measure myself, and find value and security.

The cross changed all that.  On the cross, Jesus paid the penalty for my misplaced love.  The empty tomb promises hope for a better world to come.  What do we do in the meantime?  We pursue God’s kingdom by sharing the good news of the gospel with everyone we meet.

PAUL IN PRISON

That brings us to Paul.  Have you ever looked through the Bible and struggled to know how you’d relate to these obscure characters?  When you meet Paul, your search is over.   As we’ll learn later, Paul was one of the most religious people you’ll ever meet—raised in a devout home, privileged with the finest Jewish education.  But Paul was equally one of the least religious people you’ll ever meet—when Christianity was beginning, Paul was so desperate to silence this disruptive movement that he had early Christians dragged from their home and executed.  Do you get these extremes?   Home school kid.  Murderer.  No matter where you lie on the spectrum of belief, Paul will tell you, Been there; done that.  Who better to pen the majority of our New Testament?

So after Paul has a miraculous vision of the risen Savior, his whole life changes.  Now, he abandons his religious pedigrees to become a church-planter throughout the Mediterranean world—we touched on this in the book of Acts in our previous posts.

But toward the end of his life, Paul is taken into Roman custody.  He’s placed under house arrest.   Now, being in house arrest was better than being in an actual prison—but this wasn’t exactly high living, either.  He was free to write, but he was entirely dependent on supporters for supplies and for meals.

So imagine Paul’s joy when a knock came at the door.  The man’s name was Epaphroditus.  He’d come with a gift basket for Paul—which probably included some writing supplies and some food.   This, then, forms the occasion for Paul’s thank-you letter to the church.

When I was a graduate student at Dallas Seminary, I went through something similar.  Okay, I exaggerate, but you get the idea; I’d just lost my job—didn’t know where to turn.  Checking my mailbox one day I received a slip informing me that a package had arrived for me at the campus mail center.  The sizeable box confused me, since I hadn’t ordered anything.  Opening it up, I found a small—maybe 10” tall—doll in the shape of Bob’s Big Boy.  And I was confused.  But when I heard the rattle, I pulled its head off (it was designed that way—don’t give me that weird look) to discover it was filled with wadded-up bills.  I assumed—based on the quantity—that they were dollar bills.  They were twenties.  To this day, I have no idea who sent it; I only know that I received enough to pay my upcoming bills.  I named the doll Epaphroditus, whose gracious gift came to me while I was (ahem) imprisoned in graduate school.  He’s been on my shelf ever since.

THE LETTER TO PHILIPPI

We finally get to the actual text of Philippians.  This is the story that Paul’s been living; now we see how he responds to his supporters in Philippi:

I thank my God in all my remembrance of you,  ⁴ always in every prayer of mine for you all making my prayer with joy,  ⁵ because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now.  ⁶ And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.  ⁷ It is right for me to feel this way about you all, because I hold you in my heart, for you are all partakers with me of grace, both in my imprisonment and in the defense and confirmation of the gospel.  ⁸ For God is my witness, how I yearn for you all with the affection of Christ Jesus.  ⁹ And it is my prayer that your love may abound more and more, with knowledge and all discernment,  ¹⁰ so that you may approve what is excellent, and so be pure and blameless for the day of Christ,  ¹¹ filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ, to the glory and praise of God.  (Philippians 1:3-11)

If there’s a key phrase to the book of Philippians, it’s found in verse 5.  The “partnership in the gospel.”  No one gets anywhere alone.  The gospel gives the church her identity; its love that fuels her mission.

Do you hear how the gospel penetrates Paul’s every word here?  Righteousness—including righteous deeds, or “fruit”—isn’t something that comes naturally.  It comes supernaturally, through the One who “began a good work” in us.  And that tells us something else: no matter who we are, no matter where we are, God’s not finished with us yet.  If our joy ever seems less than full, if our love ever seems less than complete, it’s only because we are but a few chapters into a much larger, much more expansive story.  And to best understand this story, we need each other.  We need the Church.  And we need more grace than we could ever have conceived.