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PHILIPPIANS

A FRIEND TO HIS FRIENDS

Philippians 1:1–2

Paul and Timothy, slaves of Jesus Christ, write this letter to all those in Philippi who are consecrated to God because of their relationship to Jesus Christ, together with the overseers and the deacons.

Grace be to you and peace from God, our Father, and from the Lord Jesus Christ.

THE opening sentence sets the tone of the whole letter. It is clearly a letter written to friends. With the exception of the letters to the Thessalonians and the little personal note to Philemon, Paul begins every letter with a statement of his apostleship; for instance, he begins the letter to the Romans: ‘Paul a servant of Jesus Christ, called to be an apostle’ (cf. 1 Corinthians 1:1; 2 Corinthians 1:1; Galatians 1:1; Ephesians 1:1; Colossians 1:1). In the other letters, he begins with a statement of his official position, why he has the right to write, and why the recipients have the duty to listen; but not when he writes to the Philippians. There is no need; he knows that they will listen, and listen lovingly. Of all his churches, the church at Philippi was the one to which Paul was closest; and he writes, not as an apostle to members of his church, but as a friend to his friends.

Nonetheless, Paul does lay claim to one title. He claims to be the servant (doulos) of Christ, as the Authorized and Revised Standard Versions have it; but doulos means more than servant, it means slave. A servant is free to come and go; but slaves are the possessions of their masters forever. When Paul calls himself the slave of Jesus Christ, he does three things. (1) He lays it down that he is the absolute possession of Christ. Christ has loved him and bought him with a price (1 Corinthians 6:20), and he can never belong to anyone else. (2) He lays it down that he owes an absolute obedience to Christ. Slaves have no will of their own; their master’s will must be theirs. So Paul has no will but Christ’s, and no obedience but to his Saviour and Lord. (3) In the Old Testament, the usual title of the prophets is the servants of God (Amos 3:7; Jeremiah 7:25). That is the title which is given to Moses, to Joshua and to David (Joshua 1:2; Judges 2:8; Psalm 78:70; Psalm 89:3, 20). In fact, the highest of all titles of honour is servant of God; and, when Paul takes this title, he humbly places himself in the succession of the prophets and of the great ones of God. A Christian’s slavery to Jesus Christ is no cowering subjection. As the Latin saying has it, Illi servire est regnare – to be his slave is to be a king.

THE CHRISTIAN DISTINCTION

Philippians 1:1–2 (contd)

THE letter is addressed, as the Revised Standard Version has it, to all the saints in Christ Jesus. The word translated as saint is hagios, and saint is a misleading translation. To modern ears, it paints a picture of almost unworldly piety. Its connection is rather with stained-glass windows than with the market place. Although it is easy to see the meaning of hagios, it is hard to translate it.

Hagios and its Hebrew equivalent kadosh are usually translated as holy. In Hebrew thought, if a thing is described as holy, the basic idea is that it is different from other things; it is in some sense set apart. In order to understand this better, let us look at how holy is actually used in the Old Testament. When the regulations regarding the priesthood are being laid down, it is written: ‘They shall be holy to their God’ (Leviticus 21:6). The priests were to be different from other people, for they were set apart for a special function. The tithe was the tenth part of all produce which was to be set apart for God; and it is laid down: ‘All tithes from the land . . . are the Lord’s; they are holy to the Lord’ (Leviticus 27:30). The tithe was different from other things which could be used as food. The central part of the Temple was the holy place (Exodus 26:33); it was different from all other places. The word was specially used of the Jewish nation itself. The Jews were a holy nation (Exodus 19:6). They were holy to the Lord; God had separated them from other nations so that they might be his (Leviticus 20:26); it was they of all nations on the face of the earth whom God had specially known (Amos 3:2). The Jews were different from all other nations, for they had a special place in the purpose of God.

Now these privileges and responsibilities had been given to the Church, which became the new Israel, the people of God. Therefore, just as the Jews had once been hagios, holy, different, so now the Christians must be hagios; the Christians are the holy ones, the different ones, the saints. Thus Paul in his pre-Christian days was a notorious persecutor of the saints, the hagioi (Acts 9:13); Peter goes to visit the saints, the hagioi, at Lydda (Acts 9:32).

To say that the Christians are the saints means, therefore, that the Christians are different from other people. Where does that difference lie?

Paul addresses his people as saints in Christ Jesus. No one can read his letters without seeing how often the phrases in Christ, in Christ Jesus, in the Lord occur. In Christ Jesus occurs forty-eight times, in Christ thirty-four times, and in the Lord fifty times. Clearly, this was for Paul the very essence of Christianity. What did he mean? In his commentary, Marvin R. Vincent says that when Paul spoke of the Christian being in Christ, he meant that the Christian lives in Christ as a bird in the air, a fish in the water, the roots of a tree in the soil. What makes Christians different is that they are always and everywhere conscious of the encircling presence of Jesus Christ.

When Paul speaks of the saints in Christ Jesus, he means those who are different from other people and who are consecrated to God because of their special relationship to Jesus Christ – and that is what every Christian should be.

THE ALL-INCLUSIVE GREETING

Philippians 1:1–2 (contd)

PAUL’S greeting to his friends is: Grace be to you and peace, from God the Father, and from our Lord Jesus Christ (cf. Romans 1:7; 1 Corinthians 1:3; 2 Corinthians 1:2; Galatians 1:3; Ephesians 1:2; Colossians 1:2; 1 Thessalonians 1:1; 2 Thessalonians 1:2; Philemon 3).

When Paul put together these two words, grace and peace (charis and eirēnē), he was doing something very wonderful. He was taking the normal greeting phrases of two great nations and moulding them into one. Charis is the greeting with which Greek letters always began, and eirēnē (= shalom in Hebrew) is the greeting with which Jews met each other. Each of these words had its own flavour, and each was deepened by the new meaning which Christianity poured into it.

Charis is a lovely word; the basic ideas in it are joy and pleasure, brightness and beauty; it is, in fact, connected with the English word charm. But with Jesus Christ there comes a new beauty to add to the beauty that was there. And that beauty is born of a new relationship to God. With Christ, life becomes lovely because human beings are no longer the victims of God’s law but the children of his love.

Eirēnē is a comprehensive word. We translate it as peace; but it never means a negative peace, never simply the absence of trouble. It means total wellbeing, everything that makes for a person’s highest good.

It may well be connected with the Greek word eirein, which means to join, to weave together. And this peace is always connected to personal relationships – our relationship to ourselves, to other people and to God. It is always the peace that is born of reconciliation.

So, when Paul prays for grace and peace on his people, he is praying that they should have the joy of knowing God as Father and the peace of being reconciled to God, to others and to themselves – and that grace and peace can come only through Jesus Christ.

THE MARKS OF THE CHRISTIAN LIFE

1. CHRISTIAN JOY

Philippians 1:3–11

In all my remembrance of you I thank my God for you, and always in every one of my prayers I pray for you with joy, because you have been in partnership with me for the furtherance of the gospel from the first day until now, and of this I am confident, that he who began a good work in you will complete it so that you may be ready for the day of Jesus Christ. And it is right for me to feel like this about you, because I have you in my heart, because all of you are partners in grace with me, both in my hands, and in my defence and confirmation of the gospel. God is my witness how I yearn for you all with the very compassion of Christ Jesus. And this I pray, that your love for each other may continue to abound more and more in all fullness of knowledge and in all sensitiveness of perception, that you may test the things which differ, that you may be yourselves pure and that you may cause no other to stumble, in preparation for the day of Christ, because you have been filled with the fruit which the righteousness which comes through Jesus Christ produces, and which issues in glory and praise to God.

IT is a lovely thing when, as Charles Ellicott, the nineteenth-century New Testament scholar and Bishop of Gloucester, puts it, remembrance and gratitude are bound up together. In our personal relationships, it is a great thing to have nothing but happy memories; and that was how Paul was with the Christians at Philippi. To remember brought no regrets, only happiness.

In this passage, the marks of the Christian life are set out.

There is Christian joy. It is with joy that Paul prays for his friends. The letter to the Philippians has been called the Epistle of Joy. The eighteenth-century German theologian Johannes Bengel, in his terse Latin, commented: ‘Summa epistolae gaudeo – gaudete.’ ‘The whole point of the letter is I rejoice; you rejoice.’ Let us look at the picture of Christian joy which this letter paints.

(1) In 1:4, there is the joy of Christian prayer, the joy of bringing those we love to the mercy seat of God.

George Reindrop, in his book No Common Task, tells how a nurse once taught a man to pray and in doing so changed his whole life, until a dull, disgruntled and dispirited individual became a man of joy. The nurse showed how it is possible to use the hands as a scheme of prayer. Each finger stood for someone. Her thumb was nearest to her, and it reminded her to pray for those who were closest to her. The second finger was used for pointing, and it stood for all her teachers in school and in the hospital. The third finger was the tallest, and it stood for the leaders in every sphere of life. The fourth finger was the weakest, as every pianist knows, and it stood for those who were in trouble and in pain. The little finger was the smallest and the least important, and to the nurse it stood for herself.

There must always be a deep joy and peace in bringing our loved ones and others to God in prayer.

(2) There is the joy that Jesus Christ is preached (1:18). When we enjoy a great blessing, surely our first instinct must be to share it; and there is joy in thinking of the gospel being preached all over the world, so that at first one person and then another and another is brought within the love of Christ.

(3) There is the joy of faith (1:25). If Christianity does not make us happy, it will not make us anything at all. Christianity should never be a cause of anguish. The psalmist said: ‘Look to him, and be radiant’ (Psalm 34:5). When Moses came down from the mountain top, his face shone. Christianity is the faith of the happy heart and the shining face.

(4) There is the joy of seeing Christians in fellowship together (2:2). As the Scottish Paraphrase has it (Psalm 133:1):

Behold how good a thing it is,

And how becoming well,

Together such as brethren are

In unity to dwell!

There is peace for no one where there are broken human relationships and strife between individuals. There is no lovelier sight than a family linked in love to each other, or a church whose members are one with each other, because they are one in Christ Jesus their Lord.

(5) There is the joy of suffering for Christ (2:17). In the hour of his martyrdom in the flames, Bishop Polycarp prayed: ‘I thank you, O Father, that you have judged me worthy of this hour.’ To suffer for Christ is a privilege, for it is an opportunity to demonstrate beyond any question of doubt where our loyalty lies and to share in the upbuilding of the kingdom of God.

(6) There is the joy of news of the loved one (2:28). Life is full of separations, and there is always joy when news comes to us of those loved ones from whom we are temporarily separated. A great Scottish preacher once spoke of the joy that can be given with a postage stamp. It is worth remembering how easily we can bring joy to those who love us and how easily we can bring anxiety, by keeping in touch or failing to keep in touch with them.

(7) There is the joy of Christian hospitality (2:29). There is the home of the shut door, and there is the home of the open door. The shut door is the door of selfishness; the open door is the door of Christian welcome and Christian love. It is a great thing to have a door from which the stranger and the one in trouble know that they will never be turned away.

(8) There is the joy of those who are in Christ (3:1, 4:1). We have already seen that to be in Christ is to live in his presence as the bird lives in the air, the fish in the sea, and the roots of the trees in the soil. It is human nature to be happy when we are with the person whom we love; and Christ is the one from whose love nothing in time or eternity can ever separate us.

(9) There is the joy of those who have won other souls for Christ (4:1). The Philippians are Paul’s joy and crown, for he was the means of bringing them to Jesus Christ. It is the joy of parents, teachers and preachers to bring others, especially children, into the love of Jesus Christ. Surely those who enjoy a great privilege cannot rest content until they share it with their families and friends. For Christians, evangelism is not a duty; it is a joy.

(10) There is the joy in a gift (4:10). This joy lies not so much in the gift itself as in being remembered and realizing that someone cares. This is a joy that we could bring to others more often than we do.

THE MARKS OF THE CHRISTIAN LIFE

2. CHRISTIAN SACRIFICE

Philippians 1:3–11 (contd)

IN verse 6, Paul says that he is confident that God, who has begun a good work in the Philippians, will complete it so that they will be ready for the day of Christ. There is a picture here in the Greek text which it is not possible to reproduce in translation. The point is that the words Paul uses for to begin (enarchesthai) and for to complete (epitelein) are technical terms for the beginning and the ending of a sacrifice.

There was an initial ritual in connection with a Greek sacrifice. A torch was lit from the fire on the altar and then dipped into a bowl of water to cleanse the water with its sacred flame; and with the purified water the victim and the people were sprinkled to make them holy and clean. Then followed what was known as the euphēmia, the sacred silence, in which the worshippers were meant to make their prayers to their god. Finally a basket of barley was brought, and some grains of the barley were scattered on the victim and on the ground round about it. These actions were the beginning of the sacrifice, and the technical term for making this beginning was the verb enarchesthai, which Paul uses here. The verb used for completing the whole ritual of sacrifice was the verb epitelein, which Paul uses here for to complete. Paul’s whole sentence thinks in terms and pictures of sacrifice.

Paul is seeing the life of every Christian as a sacrifice ready to be offered to Jesus Christ. It is the same picture as the one that he draws in Romans when he urges Christians to present their bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God (Romans 12:1).

On the day when Christ comes, it will be like the coming of a king. On such a day, the king’s subjects are required to present him with gifts to mark their loyalty and to show their love. The only gift Jesus Christ desires from us is ourselves. So, our supreme task is to make our lives fit to offer to him. Only the grace of God can enable us to do that.

THE MARKS OF THE CHRISTIAN LIFE

3. CHRISTIAN PARTNERSHIP

Philippians 1:3–11 (contd)

IN this passage, the idea of Christian partnership is strongly stressed. There are certain things which Christians share.

(1) Christians are partners in grace. They are people who owe a common debt to the grace of God.

(2) Christians are partners in the work of the gospel. Christians not only share a gift, they also share a task; and that task is the furtherance of the gospel. Paul uses two words to express the work of Christians for the sake of the gospel; he speaks of the defence and the confirmation of the gospel. The defence (apologia) of the gospel means its defence against the attacks which come from outside. Christians have to be ready to be defenders of the faith and to give a reason for the hope that is in them. The confirmation (bebaiōsis) of the gospel is the building up of its strength from within, the spiritual encouragement of Christians. Christians must further the gospel by defending it against the attacks of its enemies and by building up the faith and devotion of its friends.

(3) Christians are partners in suffering for the gospel. Whenever Christians are called upon to suffer for the sake of the gospel, they must find strength and comfort in the memory that they are part of a great fellowship in every age and every generation and every land who have suffered for Christ rather than deny their faith.

(4) Christians are partners with Christ. In verse 8, Paul uses a very vivid expression. The literal translation is: ‘I yearn for you all with the bowels of Jesus Christ.’ The Greek word for bowels is splagchna. The splagchna were the upper intestines, the heart, the liver and the lungs. These the Greeks believed to be the location of the emotions and the affections. So Paul is saying: ‘I long for all of you with the compassion of Christ Jesus.’ He is saying: ‘I love you as Jesus loves you.’ The love which Paul feels towards his Christian friends is nothing other than the love of Christ himself. J. B. Lightfoot, the New Testament scholar, writing on this passage, says: ‘The believer has no yearnings apart from his Lord; his pulse beats with the pulse of Christ; his heart throbs with the heart of Christ.’ When we are really one with Jesus, his love goes out through us to our fellow men and women, whom he loves and for whom he died. Christians are partners in the love of Christ.

THE MARKS OF THE CHRISTIAN LIFE

4. CHRISTIAN PROGRESS AND THE CHRISTIAN GOAL

Philippians 1:3–11 (contd)

IT was Paul’s prayer for his people that their love would grow greater every day (verses 9–10). That love, which was not merely a matter of sentiment, was to grow in knowledge and in sensitive perception so that they would be more and more able to distinguish between right and wrong. Love is always the way to knowledge. If we love any subject, we want to learn more about it; if we love someone, we want to learn more about that person; if we love Jesus, we will want to learn more about him and about his truth.

Love is always sensitive to the mind and the heart of the one it loves. If it blindly and blunderingly hurts the feelings of the one it claims to love, it is not love at all. If we really love Jesus, we will be sensitive to his will and his desires; the more we love him, the more we will instinctively shrink from what is evil and desire what is right. The word Paul uses for testing the things that differ is dokimazein, which is the word used for testing metal to see that it is genuine. Real love is not blind; it will enable us always to see the difference between the false and the true.

So, Christians will themselves become pure and will not cause others to stumble. The word used for pure is interesting. It is eilikrinēs. The Greeks suggested two possible derivations, each of which presents a vivid picture. The word may come from eile, sunshine, and krinein, to judge, and may describe that which is able to stand the test of the sunshine without any flaw appearing. On that basis, the word means that the Christian character can stand any light that is turned upon it. The other possibility is that eilikrinēs is derived from eilein, which means to whirl round and round as in a sieve and so to sift until every impurity is extracted. On that basis, the Christian character is cleansed of all evil until it is completely pure.

But Christians are not only pure; a Christian may also be described as aproskopos – never causing any other person to stumble. There are people who are themselves faultless, but who are so austere that they drive people away from Christianity. Christians are themselves pure, but their love and gentleness are such that they attract others to the Christian way and never repel them from it.

Finally, Paul sets down the Christian aim. This is to live such a life that the glory and the praise are given to God. Christian goodness is not meant to win credit for any individual; it is meant to win praise for God. Christians know, and witness, that they are what they are, not by their own unaided efforts, but only by the grace of God.

THE CHAINS DESTROY THE BARRIERS

Philippians 1:12–14

I want you to know, brothers, that what has happened to me has resulted rather in the advancement of the gospel, because it has been demonstrated to the whole Praetorian Guard and to all the others that my imprisonment is borne for Christ’s sake and in Christ’s strength; and the result is that through my bonds more of the brothers have found confidence in the Lord the more exceedingly to dare fearlessly to speak the word of God.

PAUL was a prisoner – but, far from his imprisonment ending his missionary activity, it actually expanded it for himself and for others. In fact, the chains of his imprisonment destroyed the barriers. The word Paul uses for the advancement of the gospel is a vivid word. It is prokopē, the word which is specially used for the progress of an army or an expedition. It is the noun from the verb prokoptein, which means to cut down in advance. It is the verb which is used for cutting away the trees and the undergrowth, and removing the barriers which would hinder the progress of an army. Paul’s imprisonment, far from shutting the door, opened the door to new spheres of work and activity into which he would never otherwise have penetrated.

Paul, seeing that there was no justice for him in Palestine, had appealed to Caesar, as every Roman citizen had the right to do. In due course, he had been despatched to Rome under military escort, and, when he had arrived there, he had been handed over to ‘the captain of the guard’ and allowed to live by himself under the care of a soldier who was his guard (Acts 28:16). Ultimately, although still under guard, he had been allowed to have his own rented lodging (Acts 28:30), which was open to all who cared to come to see him.

In the Authorized Version, we read that Paul said his imprisonment was ‘manifest in all the palace’. The word translated as palace is praitōrion, which can mean either a place or a body of people. When it has the meaning of a place, it has three meanings. (1) Originally, it meant a general’s headquarters in camp, the tent from which he gave his orders and directed his campaign. (2) From that, it very naturally moved on to mean a general’s residence; it could, therefore, mean the emperor’s residence, that is, his palace, although examples of this usage are very rare. (3) By another natural extension, it came to mean a large house or villa, the residence of some wealthy or influential person. Here, praitōrion cannot have any of these meanings, for it is clear that Paul stayed in his own rented lodging, and it does not make sense that this lodging was in the emperor’s palace.

So we turn to the other meaning of praitōrion, a body of people. In this usage, it means the Praetorian Guard or, very much more rarely, the barracks where the Praetorian Guard lived. The second of these meanings we can leave on one side, for it is unlikely that Paul would have rented accommodation in a Roman barracks.

The Praetorian Guard were the Imperial Guard of Rome. They had been set up by Augustus and were a body of 10,000 select troops. Augustus had kept them dispersed throughout Rome and the neighbouring towns. Tiberius had concentrated them in Rome in a specially built and fortified camp. Vitellius had increased their number to 16,000. They served for twelve, and later for sixteen, years. At the close of their term of service, they received the citizenship and a financial payment. Latterly, they became very nearly the emperor’s private bodyguard; and in the end they became a significant problem. They were concentrated in Rome, and there came a time when the Praetorian Guard became nothing less than king-makers; for inevitably it was their nominee who was made emperor every time, since they could impose their will by force, if need be, upon the people. It was to the Prefect of the Praetorian Guard, their commanding officer, that Paul was handed over when he arrived in Rome.

Paul repeatedly refers to himself as a prisoner or as being in chains or fetters. He tells the Roman Christians that, although he had done no wrong, he was delivered a prisoner (desmios) into the hands of the Romans (Acts 28:17). In Philippians, he repeatedly speaks of his imprisonment (Philippians 1:7, 1:13, 1:14). In Colossians, he speaks of being in prison for the sake of Christ, and tells the Colossians to remember his chains (Colossians 4:3, 4:18). In Philemon, he calls himself a prisoner of Jesus Christ, and speaks of being imprisoned for the gospel (Philemon 9:13). In Ephesians, he again calls himself the prisoner for Jesus Christ (Ephesians 3:1).

There are two passages in which his imprisonment is more closely defined. In Acts 28:20, he speaks of himself as being bound with this chain; and he uses the same word (halusis) in Ephesians 6:20, when he speaks of himself as an ambassador in chains. It is in this word halusis that we find our key. The halusis was the short length of chain by which the wrist of a prisoner was bound to the wrist of the soldier who was his guard, so that escape was impossible. The situation was this. Paul had been delivered to the captain of the Praetorian Guard, to await trial before the emperor. He had been allowed to arrange a private lodging for himself; but night and day in that private lodging there was a soldier to guard him, a soldier to whom he was chained by his halusis all the time. There would, of course, be a rota of guardsmen assigned to this duty; and in the two years one by one the guardsmen of the Imperial Guard would be on duty with Paul. What a wonderful opportunity! These soldiers would hear Paul preach and talk to his friends. Is there any doubt that, in the long hours, Paul would open up a discussion about Jesus with the soldier to whose wrist he was chained?

His imprisonment had opened the way for preaching the gospel to the finest regiment in the Roman army. No wonder he declared that his imprisonment had actually been for the furtherance of the gospel. All the Praetorian Guard knew why Paul was in prison; many of them were touched for Christ; and the very sight of this gave to the Christians at Philippi fresh courage to preach the gospel and to witness for Christ.

Paul’s chains had removed the barriers and given him access to the finest section of the Roman army, and his imprisonment had been the medicine of courage to the Christian men and women at Philippi.

THE ALL-IMPORTANT PROCLAMATION

Philippians 1:15–18

Some in their preaching of Christ are actuated by envy and strife; some by goodwill. The one preach from love, because they know that I am lying here for the defence of the gospel; the other proclaim Christ for their own partisan purposes, not with pure motives, but thinking to make my bonds gall me all the more. What then? The only result is that in every way, whether as a cloak for other purposes, or whether in truth, Christ is proclaimed. And in this I rejoice –

HERE indeed, Paul is speaking from the heart. His imprisonment has been an incentive to preaching. That incentive worked in two ways. There were those who loved him; and, when they saw him lying in prison, they redoubled their efforts to spread the gospel, so that it would lose nothing because of Paul’s imprisonment. They knew that the best way to delight his heart was to see that the work did not suffer because of his unavoidable absence. But others were moved by what Paul calls eritheia, and preached for their own biased motives. Eritheia is an interesting word. Originally, it simply meant working for pay. But anyone who works solely for pay works from a low motive. Such a person is out solely for personal benefit. The word, therefore, came to describe someone who was chiefly interested in developing a career, seeking office merely for self-improvement; and so it came to be connected with politics and to mean canvassing for office. It came to describe self-seeking and selfish ambition, which was out to advance itself and did not care to what methods it stooped to achieve its ends. So there were those who preached even harder now that Paul was in prison, for his imprisonment seemed to present them with a heaven-sent opportunity to advance their own influence and prestige and to lessen his.

There is a lesson for us here. Paul knew nothing of personal jealousy or of personal resentment. As long as Jesus Christ was preached, he did not care who received the credit and the honour. He did not care what other preachers said about him, or how unfriendly they were to him, or how contemptuous they were of him, or how they tried to go one better and outdo him. All that mattered was that Christ was preached. All too often, we resent it when someone else gains some distinction or credit which we do not. All too often, we regard someone as an enemy simply for expressing some criticism of us or of our methods. All too often, we think people can do no good because they do not do things in our way. All too often, the intellectuals have no time for the evangelicals, and the evangelicals question the faith of the intellectuals. All too often, those who believe in the evangelism of education have no use for the evangelism of decision, and those who practise the evangelism of decision have no use for those who feel that some other approach will have more lasting effects. Paul is the great example. He lifted the matter beyond all personalities; all that mattered was that Christ was preached.

THE HAPPY ENDING

Philippians 1:19–20

For I know that this will result in my salvation, because of your prayer for me, and because of the generous help the Holy Spirit of Christ gives to me, for it is my eager expectation and my hope that I shall never on any occasion be shamed into silence, but that on every occasion, even as now, I shall speak with all boldness of speech, so that Christ will be glorified in my body, whether by my life or by my death.

IT is Paul’s conviction that the situation in which he finds himself will result in his salvation. Even his imprisonment, and even the almost hostile preaching of his personal enemies, will in the end turn out to be his salvation. What does he mean by his salvation? The word is sōteria, and here there are three possible meanings.

(1) It may mean safety, in which case Paul will be saying that he is quite sure that the matter will end in his release. But that can hardly be the meaning here, since Paul goes on to say that he cannot be sure whether he will live or die.

(2) It may mean his salvation in heaven. In that case, Paul would be saying that his conduct in the opportunity which this situation provides will be his witness in the day of judgment. There is a great truth here. In any situation of opportunity or challenge, we are acting not only for the present time but also for eternity. Our reaction to every situation in time is a witness for or against us in eternity.

(3) But sōteria may have a wider meaning than either of these. It can mean health, general wellbeing. Paul may well be saying that all that is happening to him in this very difficult situation is the best thing for him both in the present and in eternity. ‘God put me in this situation; and God means it, with all its problems and its difficulties, to make for my happiness and usefulness in time, and for my joy and peace in eternity.’

In this situation, Paul knows that he has two great supports.

(1) He has the support of the prayers of his friends. One of the loveliest things in Paul’s letters is the way in which he asks again and again for his friends’ prayers. ‘Beloved,’ he writes to the Thessalonians, ‘pray for us.’ ‘Finally, brothers and sisters,’ he writes, ‘pray for us, so that the word of the Lord may spread rapidly and be glorified everywhere’ (1 Thessalonians 5:25; 2 Thessalonians 3:1). He says to the Corinthians: ‘You must help us by prayer’ (cf. 2 Corinthians 1:11). He writes that he is sure that through Philemon’s prayers he will be given back to his friends (Philemon 22). Before he sets out on his perilous journey to Jerusalem, he writes to the church at Rome asking for their prayers (Romans 15:30–2).

Paul was never too full of his own importance to remember that he needed the prayers of his friends. He never talked to people as if he could do everything and they could do nothing; he always remembered that neither he, nor they, could do anything without the help of God. There is something to be remembered here. When people are in sorrow, one of their greatest comforts is the awareness that others are bearing them to the throne of grace. When they have to face some backbreaking effort or some heartbreaking decision, there is new strength in remembering that others are remembering them before God. When they go into new places and are far from home, they are upheld in the knowledge that the prayers of those who love them are crossing continents to bring them before the throne of grace. We cannot call people our friends unless we pray for them.

(2) Paul knows that he has the support of the Holy Spirit. The presence of the Holy Spirit is the fulfilment of the promise of Jesus that he will be with us to the end of the world.

In all this situation, Paul has one expectation and one hope. The word he uses for expectation is very vivid and unusual; no one uses it before Paul, and he may well have coined it himself. It is apokaradokia. Apo means away from, kara means the head, dokein means to look; and apokaradokia means the eager, intense look, which turns away from everything else to fix on the one object of desire. Paul’s hope is that he will never be shamed into silence, either by cowardice or by a feeling of ineffectiveness. Paul is certain that in Christ he will find courage never to be ashamed of the gospel, and that through Christ his labours will be made effective for all to see. J. B. Lightfoot writes: ‘The right of free speech is the badge, the privilege, of the servant of Christ.’ To speak the truth with boldness is not only the privilege of the servants of Christ; it is also their duty.

So, if Paul courageously and effectively seizes his opportunity, Christ will be glorified in him. It does not matter how things go with him. If he dies, his will be the martyr’s crown; if he lives, his will be the privilege still to preach and to witness for Christ. As Charles Ellicott nobly puts it, Paul is saying: ‘My body will be the theatre in which Christ’s glory is displayed.’ Here is the terrible responsibility of all Christians. Once we have chosen Christ, by our lives and conduct we bring either glory or shame to him. Leaders are judged by their followers; and Christ is judged by us.

IN LIFE AND IN DEATH

Philippians 1:21–6

For living is Christ to me, and death is gain. And yet – what if the continuance of my life in the flesh would produce more fruit for me? What I am to choose is not mine to declare. I am caught between two desires, for I have my desire to strike camp and to be with Christ, which is far better; but for your sake it is more essential for me to remain in this life. And I am confidently certain of this, that I will remain, and I will be with you and beside you all to help you along the road, and to increase the joy of your faith, so that you may have still further grounds for boasting in Christ because of me, when once again I come to visit you.

SINCE Paul was in prison awaiting trial, he had to face the fact that it was quite uncertain whether he would live or die – and to him it made no difference.

‘Living’, he says, in his great phrase, ‘is Christ to me.’ For Paul, Christ had been the beginning of life, for on that day on the Damascus road it was as if he had begun life all over again. Christ had been the continuing of life; there had never been a day when Paul had not lived in his presence, and in the frightening moments Christ had been there to tell him not to be afraid (Acts 18:9–10). Christ was the end of life, for it was towards his eternal presence that life always led. Christ was the inspiration of life; he was the dynamic of life. To Paul, Christ had given the task of life, for it was he who had made him an apostle and sent him out as the evangelist of the Gentiles. To him, Christ had given the strength for life, for it was Christ’s all-sufficient grace that was made perfect in Paul’s weakness. For him, Christ was the reward of life, for to Paul the only worthwhile reward was closer fellowship with his Lord. If Christ were to be taken out of life, for Paul there would be nothing left.

‘For me,’ said Paul, ‘death is gain.’ Death was entrance into Christ’s nearer presence. There are passages in which Paul seems to regard death as a sleep, from which all at some future general resurrection shall be wakened (1 Corinthians 15:51–2; 1 Thessalonians 4:14, 4:16); but, at the moment when its breath was on him, Paul thought of death not as a falling asleep but as an immediate entry into the presence of his Lord. If we believe in Jesus Christ, death for us is union and reunion, union with him and reunion with those whom we have loved and lost awhile.

The result was that Paul was wavering between two desires. ‘I am caught’, he says, ‘between two desires.’ As the Revised Standard Version has it, ‘I am hard pressed between the two.’ The word he uses is senechomai, the word which would be used of a traveller in a narrow passage, with a wall of rock on either side, unable to turn off in any direction and able only to go straight on. For himself, he wanted to depart and to be with Christ; for the sake of his friends and of what he could do with them and for them, he wanted to be left in this life. Then comes the thought that the choice is not his but God’s.

‘My desire is to depart’, says Paul – and the phrase is very vivid. The word he uses for to depart is analuein.

(1) It is the word for breaking up a camp, loosening the tent-ropes, pulling up the tent-pegs and moving on. Death is a moving on. It is said that in the terrible days of the Second World War, when the Royal Air Force stood between Britain and destruction, and the lives of its pilots were being sacrificed, they never spoke of a pilot as having been killed but always as having been ‘posted to another station’. Each day is a day’s march nearer home until, in the end, camp in this world is finally dismantled and exchanged for permanent residence in the world of glory.

(2) It is the word for loosening the mooring ropes, pulling up the anchors and setting sail. Death is a setting sail, a departure on that voyage which leads to the everlasting haven and to God.

(3) It is the word for solving problems. Death brings life’s solutions. There is some place where all earth’s questions will be answered and where those who have waited will in the end understand.

It is Paul’s conviction that he will remain and continue with them. There is a word-play in the Greek that cannot be reproduced in the English. The word for to remain is menein, and that for to continue is paramenein. The biblical scholar J. B. Lightfoot suggests the translation bide and abide. That keeps the word-play, but does not give the meaning. The point is this: menein simply means to remain with; but paramenein (para is the Greek for beside) means to wait beside a person, always ready to help. Paul’s desire to live is not for his own sake, but for the sake of those whom he can continue to help.

So, if Paul is spared to come and see them again, they will have in him grounds to boast in Jesus Christ. That is to say, they will be able to look at him and see in him a shining example of how, through Christ, they can face the worst standing tall and unafraid. It is the duty of every Christian to trust in this way so that others will be able to see what Christ can do for those who have given their lives to him.

CITIZENS OF THE KINGDOM

Philippians 1:27–30

One thing you must see to, whatever happens – live a life that is worthy of a citizen of the kingdom and of the gospel of Christ, so that whether I come and see you, or whether I go away and hear how things go with you, the news will be that you are standing fast, united in one spirit, fighting with one soul the battle of the gospel’s faith, and that you are not put into fluttering alarm by any of your adversaries. For your steadfastness is a proof to them that they are doomed to defeat, while you are destined for salvation – and that from God. For to you has been given the privilege of doing something for Christ – the privilege not only of believing in him, but also of suffering for him, for you have the same struggle as that in which you have seen me engaged, and which now you hear that I am undergoing.

ONE thing is essential – no matter what happens either to them or to Paul, the Philippians must live in a manner that is worthy of their faith and the belief they declare. Paul chooses his words very carefully. The Authorized Version has it: ‘Let your conversation be as it becometh the gospel of Christ.’ Nowadays this is misleading. To us, conversation means talk; but it is derived from the Latin word conversari, which means to conduct oneself. In the seventeenth century, conversation was not only a person’s way of speaking to other people; it was that individual’s whole behaviour. The phrase means: ‘Let your behaviour be worthy of those who are pledged to Christ.’

But, on this occasion, Paul uses a word which he very seldom uses in order to express his meaning. The word he would normally use for to conduct oneself in the ordinary affairs of life is peripatein, which literally means to walk about; here he uses politeuesthai, which means to be a citizen. Paul was writing from the very centre of the Roman Empire, from Rome itself; it was the fact that he was a Roman citizen that had brought him there. Philippi was a Roman colony; and Roman colonies were little bits of Rome planted throughout the world, where the citizens never forgot that they were Romans. They spoke the Latin language, wore the usual Latin clothes and called their magistrates by the Latin names, however far they might be from Rome. So, what Paul is saying is: ‘You and I know full well the privileges and the responsibilities of being a Roman citizen. You know full well how even in Philippi, so many miles from Rome, you must still live and act as a Roman does. Well then, remember that you have an even higher duty than that. Wherever you are, you must live as befits a citizen of the kingdom of God.’

What does Paul expect from them? He expects them to stand fast. The world is full of Christians on the retreat, who, when things become difficult, play down their Christianity. True Christians stand fast, unashamed in any company. He expects unity; they are to be bound together in one spirit. Let the world quarrel; Christians must be united. He expects a certain unconquerability. Often, evil seems invincible; but Christians must never abandon hope or give up the struggle. He expects a cool, calm courage. In times of crisis, others may be nervous and afraid; Christians will still be serene, in control of themselves and of the situation.

If they can be like that, they will set such an example that those who are not Christians will be disgusted with their own way of life, will realize that the Christians have something they do not possess, and will seek out of a sense of self-preservation to share it.

Paul does not suggest that this will be easy. When Christianity first came to Philippi, they saw him fight his own battle. They saw him beaten and imprisoned for the faith (Acts 16:19). They know what he is now going through. But let them remember that a general chooses the best soldiers for the hardest tasks, and that it is an honour to suffer for Christ. There is a story about a veteran French soldier who, in a desperate situation, found a young recruit trembling with fear. ‘Come, son,’ said the veteran, ‘and you and I will do something fine for France.’ So Paul says to the Philippians: ‘For you and for me the battle is on; let us do something fine for Christ.’

THE CAUSES OF DISUNITY

Philippians 2:1–4

If the fact that you are in Christ has any power to influence you, if love has any persuasive power to move you, if you really are sharing in the Holy Spirit, if you can feel compassion and pity, complete my joy, for my desire is that you should be in full agreement, loving the same things, joined together in soul, your minds set on the one thing. Do nothing in a spirit of selfish ambition, and in a search for empty glory, but in humility let each consider the other better than himself. Do not be always concentrating each on your own interests, but let each be equally concerned for the interests of others.

THE one danger which threatened the Philippian church was that of disunity. There is a sense in which that is the danger of every healthy church. It is when people are really serious and their beliefs really matter to them that they are apt to come into conflict with one another. The greater their enthusiasm, the greater the danger that they may collide. It is against that danger Paul wishes to safeguard his friends.

In verses 3–4, he gives us the three great causes of disunity.

There is selfish ambition. There is always the danger that people might work not to advance the work but to advance themselves. It is extraordinary how time and again the great leaders of the Church almost fled from office in the agony of the sense of their own unworthiness.

Ambrose was one of the great figures of the early Church. A great scholar, he was the Roman governor of the province of Liguria and Aemilia in the fourth century, and he governed with such loving care that the people regarded him as a father. The bishop of the district died, and the question of his successor arose. In the middle of the discussion, suddenly a little child’s voice was heard: ‘Ambrose – bishop! Ambrose – bishop!’ The whole crowd took up the cry. To Ambrose, it was unthinkable. At night, he fled to avoid the high office the Church was offering him, and it was only the direct intervention and command of the emperor which made him agree to become Bishop of Milan.

When John Rough publicly from the pulpit in St Andrews summoned him to the ministry, the Scottish reformer John Knox was appalled. In his own History of the Reformation, he writes: ‘Thereat the said John, abashed, burst forth in most abundant tears, and withdrew himself to his chamber. His countenance and behaviour, from that day until the day that he was compelled to present himself in the public place of preaching, did sufficiently declare the grief and trouble of his heart. No man saw in him any sign of mirth, nor yet had he pleasure to accompany any man, for many days together.’

Far from being filled with ambition, the great leaders were filled with a sense of their own inadequacy for high office.

There is the desire for personal prestige. Prestige is for many people an even greater temptation than wealth. To be admired and respected, to have a seat on the platform, to have one’s opinion sought, to be known by name and appearance, even to be flattered, are for many people most desirable things. But the aim of Christians ought to be not self-display but self-obliteration. We should do good deeds, not in order that others may glorify us, but that they may glorify our Father in heaven. Christians should desire to focus people’s eyes not upon themselves but on God.

There is concentration on self. If we are always concerned first and foremost with our own interests, we are bound to come into conflict with others. If for us life is a competition whose prizes we must win, we will always think of other human beings as enemies or at least as opponents who must be pushed out of the way. Concentration on self inevitably means elimination of others, and the object of life becomes not to help others up but to put them down.

THE CURE FOR DISUNITY

Philippians 2:1–4 (contd)

FACED with this danger of disunity, Paul sets down five considerations which ought to prevent disharmony.

(1) The fact that we are all in Christ should keep us in unity. No one can walk in disunity with other people and in unity with Christ. If we have Christ as a companion on the way, we inevitably become companions of others. The relationships we hold with other people are no bad indication of our relationship with Jesus Christ.

(2) The power of Christian love should keep us in unity. Christian love is that unconquered goodwill which never knows bitterness and never seeks anything but the good of others. It is not a mere reaction of the heart, as human love is; it is a victory of the will, achieved by the help of Jesus Christ. It does not mean loving only those who love us, or those whom we like, or those who are lovable. It means an unconquerable goodwill even to those who hate us, to those whom we do not like, to those who are unlovely. This is the very essence of the Christian life; and it affects us in the present time and in eternity. Richard Tatlock in In My Father’s House writes: ‘Hell is the eternal condition of those who have made relationship with God and their fellows an impossibility through lives which have destroyed love . . . Heaven, on the other hand, is the eternal condition of those who have found real life in relationships-through-love with God and their fellows.’

(3) The fact that they share in the Holy Spirit should keep Christians from disunity. The Holy Spirit binds individuals to God and to one another. It is the Spirit who enables us to live that life of love, which is the life of God; if we live in disunity with others, we thereby show that the gift of the spirit is not ours.

(4) The existence of human compassion should keep people from disunity. As Aristotle had it long ago, human beings were never meant to be snarling wolves but were meant to live in fellowship together. Disunity breaks the very structure of life.

(5) Paul’s last appeal is the personal one. There can be no happiness for him as long as he knows that there is disunity in the church which is dear to him. If they want to bring him perfect joy, they must perfect their fellowship. It is not with a threat that Paul speaks to the Christians of Philippi but with the appeal of love, which ought always to be the tone used by the pastor, as it was the tone of our Lord.

TRUE GODHEAD AND TRUE HUMANITY

Philippians 2:5–11

Have within yourselves the same disposition of mind as was in Christ Jesus, for he was by nature in the very form of God, yet he did not regard existence in equality with God as something to be snatched at, but he emptied himself, and took the very form of a slave, and became like men. And when he came in appearance as a man for all to recognize, he became obedient even to the extent of accepting death, even the death of a cross. And for that reason God exalted him, and granted to him the name which is above every name, in order that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of things in heaven, and things upon the earth, and things below the earth, and that every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord to the glory of God the Father.

IN many ways, this is the greatest and most moving passage Paul ever wrote about Jesus. It states a favourite thought of his. The essence of it is in the simple statement Paul made to the Corinthians that, although Jesus was rich, yet for our sakes he became poor (2 Corinthians 8:9). Here, that simple idea is stated with a fullness which is without parallel. Paul is pleading with the Philippians to live in harmony, to lay aside their discords, to shed their personal ambitions and their pride and their desire for prominence and prestige, and to have in their hearts that humble, selfless desire to serve, which was the essence of the life of Christ. His final and unanswerable appeal is to point to the example of Jesus Christ.

This is a passage which we must try fully to understand, because it has so much in it to awaken our minds to thought and our hearts to wonder. To this end, we must look closely at some of its Greek words.

Greek is a far richer language than English. Where English has one word to express an idea, Greek often has two or three or more. In one sense, these words are synonyms; but they never mean entirely the same thing; they always have some special flavour. That is particularly so of this passage. Every word is chosen by Paul with meticulous care to show two things – the reality of the humanity and the reality of the godhead of Jesus Christ. Let us take the phrases one by one. We will set them down both in the Authorized Version and in our own translation, and then try to penetrate to the essential meaning behind them.

Verse 6: Being in the form of God; he was by nature in the very form of God. Two words are most carefully chosen to show the unchangeable godhead of Jesus Christ. The word which the Authorized Version translates as being is from the Greek verb huparchein, which is not the common Greek word for being. It describes the very essence of every individual and that which cannot be changed. It describes that part of every one of us which, in any circumstances, remains the same. So Paul begins by saying that Jesus was essentially and unalterably God.

He goes on to say that Jesus was in the form of God. There are two Greek words for form – morphē and schēma. They must both be translated as form, because there is no other English equivalent; but they do not mean the same thing. Morphē is the essential form which never alters; schēma is the outward form which changes from time to time and from circumstance to circumstance. For instance, the morphē of any human being is humanity, and this never changes; but a person’s schēma is continually changing. A baby, a child, a young person, a man or woman of middle age and an elderly person always have the morphē of humanity, but the outward schēma changes all the time. Roses, daffodils, tulips, chrysanthemums, primroses, dahlias and lupins all have the one morphē of flowers, but their schēma is different. Aspirin, penicillin and magnesia all have the one morphē of drugs, but their schēma is different. The morphē never alters; the schēma continually does. The word Paul uses for Jesus being in the form of God is morphē; that is to say, his unchangeable being is divine. However his outward schēma might alter, he remained in essence divine.

Jesus did not think it robbery to be equal with God; he did not regard existence in equality with God as something to be snatched at. The word used for robbery, which we have translated as a thing to be snatched at, is harpagmos, which comes from a verb meaning to snatch or to clutch. The phrase can mean one of two things, both of which are fundamentally the same. (1) It can mean that Jesus did not need to snatch at equality with God, because he had it as a right. (2) It can mean that he did not clutch at equality with God, as if to hug it jealously to himself, but laid it down willingly for the sake of men and women. However we take this, it once again stresses the essential godhead of Jesus.

Verse 7: He emptied himself; he made himself of no reputation. The Greek is the verb kenoun, which means literally to empty. It can be used of removing things from a container until the container is empty, of pouring something out until there is nothing left. Here, Paul uses the most vivid word possible to make clear the sacrifice of the incarnation. The glory of divinity Jesus gave up willingly in order to become human. He emptied himself of his deity to take upon himself his humanity. It is useless to ask how; we can only stand in awe at the sight of him, who is almighty God, hungry and weary and in tears. Here, in human language stretched to its limits, is the great saving truth that the one who was rich for our sakes became poor.

He took upon him the form of a servant; he took the very form of a slave. The word used for form is morphē, which, as we have seen, means the essential form. Paul means that, when Jesus became human, it was not play-acting but reality. He was not like the Greek gods, who sometimes, so the stories ran, became human beings but kept their divine privileges. Jesus truly became a man. But there is something more here. He was made in the likeness of men; he became like men. The word which the Authorized Version translates as made and which we have translated as became is a part of the Greek verb gignesthai. This verb describes a state which is not a permanent state. The idea is that of becoming, and it describes a changing phase which is completely real but which passes. That is to say, the humanity of Jesus was not permanent; it was utterly real, but it passed.

Verse 8: He was found in fashion as a man; he came in appearance as a man for all to recognize. Paul makes the same point. The word the Authorized Version has translated as fashion and which we have translated as appearance is schēma, and we have seen that this indicates a form which alters.

Verses 6–8 form a very short passage; but there is no passage in the New Testament which so movingly sets out the utter reality of the godhead and the humanity of Jesus and makes so vivid the sacrifice that he made when he laid aside his godhead and became human. How it happened, we cannot tell; but it is the mystery of a love so great that, although we can never fully understand it, we can blessedly experience it and adore it.

HUMILIATION AND EXALTATION

Philippians 2:5–11 (contd)

IT is always to be remembered that, when Paul thought and spoke about Jesus, his interest and his intention were never primarily intellectual and speculative; they were always practical. To him, theology and action were always bound together. Any system of thought must become a way of life. In many ways, this passage is one which extends to the very limits of theological thinking in the New Testament; but its aim was to persuade the Philippians to live a life in which disunity, discord and personal ambition had no place.

So, Paul says of Jesus that he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. The great characteristics of Jesus’ life were humility, obedience and self-renunciation. He wanted not to dominate men and women but only to serve them; he wanted not his own way but only God’s way; he wanted not to exalt himself but only to renounce all his glory for the sake of the world. Again and again, the New Testament is sure that only those who humble themselves will be exalted (Matthew 23:12; Luke 14:11, 18:14). If humility, obedience and self-renunciation were the supreme characteristics of the life of Jesus, they must also be the hallmarks of Christians. Selfishness, self-seeking and self-display destroy our likeness to Christ and our fellowship with each other.

But the self-renunciation of Jesus Christ brought him the greater glory. It made certain that one day, sooner or later, every living creature in all the universe – in heaven, in earth and even in hell – would worship him. It is to be carefully noted where that worship comes from. It comes from love. Jesus won the hearts of men and women, not by forcing them through his power, but by showing them a love they could not resist. At the sight of this person who set aside his glory for all people and loved them to the extent of dying for them on a cross, human hearts are melted and human resistance is broken down. When people worship Jesus Christ, they fall at his feet in wondering love. They do not say: ‘I cannot resist a might like that’ but, as Isaac Watts expressed it in the hymn ‘When I survey the wondrous cross’, ‘Love so amazing, so divine, demands my life, my soul, my all.’ Worship is founded not on fear but on love.

Further, Paul says that, as a consequence of his sacrificial love, God gave Jesus the name which is above every name. One of the common biblical ideas is the giving of a new name to mark a new stage in a person’s life. Abram became Abraham when he received the promise of God (Genesis 17:5). Jacob became Israel when God entered into the new relationship with him (Genesis 32:28). The promise of the risen Christ to both Pergamos and to Philadelphia is the promise of a new name (Revelation 2:17, 3:12).

What then is the new name given to Jesus Christ? We cannot be quite certain what exactly was in Paul’s mind, but most likely the new name is Lord.

The great title by which Jesus came to be known in the early Church was kurios, Lord, which has an illuminating history. (1) It began by meaning master or owner. (2) It became the official title of the Roman emperors. (3) It became the title of the Greek and Roman gods. (4) It was the word by which the Hebrew Yahweh was translated in the Greek version of the Hebrew Scriptures. So, when Jesus was called kurios, Lord, it meant that he was the Master and the Owner of all life; he was the King of Kings; he was the Lord in a way in which the gods of the old religions and the idols could never be; he was nothing less than divine.

ALL FOR GOD

Philippians 2:5–11 (contd)

PHILIPPIANS 2:11 is one of the most important verses in the New Testament. In it, we read that the aim of God is a day when every tongue will confess that Jesus Christ is Lord. These four words were the first creed that the Christian Church ever had. To be a Christian was to confess that Jesus Christ is Lord (cf. Romans 10:9). This was a simple creed, yet all-embracing. Perhaps we would do well to go back to it. Later, people tried to define more closely what it meant, and argued and quarrelled about it, calling each other heretics and fools. But it is still true that anyone who can say ‘For me, Jesus Christ is Lord’ is a Christian. If we can say that, we mean that for us Jesus Christ is unique and that we are prepared to give him an obedience we are prepared to give no one else. We may not be able to put into words who and what we believe Jesus to be; but, as long as there is in our hearts this wondering love and in our lives this unquestioning obedience, we are indeed Christians, because Christianity consists less in the mind’s understanding than it does in the heart’s love.

So we come to the end of this passage; and, when we come to its end, we come back to its beginning. The day will come when people will call Jesus Lord, but they will do so to the glory of God the Father. The whole aim of Jesus is not his own glory but God’s. Paul is clear about the lonely and ultimate supremacy of God. In the first letter to the Corinthians, he writes that in the end the Son himself shall be subject to the one who put all things in subjection under him (1 Corinthians 15:28). Jesus draws men and women to himself that he may draw them to God. In the Philippian church, there were some whose aim was to gratify a selfish ambition; the aim of Jesus was to serve others, no matter what depths of self-renunciation that service might involve. In the Philippian church, there were those whose aim was to focus people’s eyes upon themselves; the aim of Jesus was to focus people’s eyes upon God.

So the followers of Christ must think always not of themselves but of others, not of their own glory but of the glory of God.

CO-OPERATION IN SALVATION

Philippians 2:12–18