PAUL AND TIMOTHY, servants of Christ Jesus,
To all the saints in Christ Jesus at Philippi, together with the overseers and deacons:
2Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.
3I thank my God every time I remember you. 4In all my prayers for all of you, I always pray with joy 5because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now, 6being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.
7It is right for me to feel this way about all of you, since I have you in my heart; for whether I am in chains or defending and confirming the gospel, all of you share in God’s grace with me. 8God can testify how I long for all of you with the affection of Christ Jesus.
9And this is my prayer: that your love may abound more and more in knowledge and depth of insight, 10so that you may be able to discern what is best and may be pure and blameless until the day of Christ, 11filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ—to the glory and praise of God.
Original Meaning
IN PAUL’S TIME letters typically began with the name of the sender, the name of the recipient, and a brief salutation. Occasionally these initial phrases were followed by mention of the sender’s thanks to the gods and of continual prayers for the recipient’s well-being. Paul’s letters follow the outline of these customs, but he radically modifies the customs themselves so that they become tools for bringing the grand themes of his theology to bear on the concrete problems of the churches to which he writes. So skillful is Paul at adapting the letter-writing customs of his day in this way that the careful reader can often discover the primary concerns of his letters by examining the opening paragraphs. This means that in a Pauline letter the opening paragraphs are not meaningless pleasantries, like “Dear John” and “Sincerely yours,” but powerful expressions of the gospel and critical guides to the proper understanding of the letter as a whole. Philippians 1:1–11 is one of the best examples in the Pauline corpus of this principle in operation.
The passage can be divided into three paragraphs, a greeting (1:1–2), a prayer of thanks (1:3–8), and a prayer of intercession (1:9–11). In the first paragraph Paul modifies the standard letter form for greetings to provide a model of the kind of humility he will urge upon the Philippians in later sections. In the second and third paragraphs he reshapes the typical form of the prayer section to describe the Philippians’ concern for the advancement of the gospel and his own concern for their progress in the faith. As the letter progresses beyond these initial paragraphs, it becomes clear that these themes are Paul’s primary interest.
Humility, Unity, Sanctity, and Hello (1:1–2)
The opening words of first-century letters followed almost unfailingly the pattern “[Name] to [Name]: Greetings (charein).” For example, the Jewish leaders of the Jerusalem church began their letter to Gentile Christians with: “The apostles and elders, your brothers, To the Gentile believers in Antioch, Syria and Cilicia: Greetings” (Acts 15:23). The military commander in Jerusalem who was in charge of Paul likewise began his letter to the governor of Judea with: “Claudius Lysias, To His Excellency, Governor Felix: Greetings” (Acts 23:26). And in A.D. 40 the Egyptian Ammonios began each of four surviving letters to his friend and business associate Aphrodisios with the phrase, “Ammonios to his dearest Aphrodisios: Greetings.”1 Paul follows this pattern in verses 1–2 but, in a way completely uncharacteristic of other letters from his time, expands it to make the normally simple words of greeting theologically significant. Three changes to the standard formula are particularly important.
First, in verse 1 Paul does not simply mention his and Timothy’s names but includes a descriptive phrase: They are “servants of Christ Jesus.” Paul’s word for “servants” (douloi) does not refer to hired household help but is the term commonly used in ancient times for “slaves.” Although in the Old Testament the term “slave” sometimes appears as a title of honor to indicate the special relationship of great heroes like Moses, Joshua, and David to God (Josh. 14:7; 24:29; Ps. 89:3), in the Greco-Roman context of Paul and his Philippian readers, it would have had unmistakable overtones of humility and submission.2 Paul’s readers would probably have understood the term as Paul used it here to refer to people conscripted into the service of Christ instead of into service to sin (cf. Rom. 6:16–23; Gal. 4:1–9; 5:1).
That Paul intended to emphasize this aspect of the term becomes even clearer when we compare the opening words of Philippians to the salutations in Romans 1:1 and Titus 1:1. These are the only other letters in which Paul begins by referring to himself as a slave, and in both he follows the designation immediately with a reference to his apostolic office. “Paul, a servant of Christ Jesus, called to be an apostle and set apart for the gospel of God,” he says in Romans 1:1, and in Titus 1:1, “Paul, a servant of God and an apostle of Jesus Christ.” Here in Philippians, however, the only position that Paul claims for himself and Timothy is the office of slave of Christ Jesus. The honored title “apostle” is missing.
Second, Paul modifies the standard letter opening by referring not merely to “the believers in Philippi” (cf. Acts 15:23) but to “all the saints in Christ Jesus at Philippi, together with the overseers and deacons.” He wants the Philippians to know that the letter is addressed to them all, although he also wants to recognize the leaders of the church in a special way.3 Among Paul’s thirteen canonical letters, only three others—Romans, 1 Corinthians, and 2 Corinthians—use the term “all” in the greeting, and only Philippians refers to the leaders of the church by their official titles in the opening section of the letter.4
Paul also follows his usual custom of calling his readers “saints” (hagioi). This term refers to the status of these believers as the people whom God has called out from among others and set apart, a position that carries with it the ethical responsibilities of the new covenant, just as in former times it carried the ethical responsibilities of the old covenant (Ex. 19:5–6; Lev. 11:45; Eph. 4:1; 5:3).
What can account for this combination of features in Paul’s opening description of the Philippian church, particularly for Paul’s unique reference to the church’s “overseers and deacons”? An answer lies close at hand if we couple Paul’s description of the Philippian church in the salutation with his own description of himself and Timothy. Paul provides a model of the humility and concern for the interests of others that he will soon urge on the Philippians (2:1–11). Although Paul is God’s apostle, set apart and called by him to his task (Rom. 1:2; Gal. 1:1, 15), and although Timothy is an approved coworker with Paul in this important service (Phil. 2:22; cf. 1 Cor. 4:17), Paul refuses to mention these high qualifications in the letter’s opening. He prefers instead to emphasize his and Timothy’s common role as slaves of Christ Jesus. He is careful, on the other hand, to give the leaders of the Philippian church their appropriate titles of dignity. By constructing his greeting in this manner he has, in a small way, showed concern not for his own interests but for the interests of others (cf. 2:4).
As the rest of the letter shows, Paul hopes that when the Philippians adopt this attitude of humble service to others, their “complaining [and] arguing” (2:14) will cease and individual church members at odds with each other, like Euodia and Syntyche, will “agree … in the Lord” (4:2). Paul’s statement that he writes the letter to “all the saints” in Philippi adds additional punch to this subtle but powerful message. Although he singles out the leaders of the church for special recognition, he does not write only to them; and although either Euodia or Syntyche may have been delighted to have Paul on her side, Paul refuses to play favorites. The letter is addressed instead to the entire church. Moreover, the term saints reminds the Philippians that they are united with one another not by their own decision but by God’s having chosen them out of all the peoples of the earth to be his treasured possession (cf. Ex. 19:5–6).
Third, as in all but two of his other letters, Paul expands the typical greeting by transforming the term “Greetings!” (charein) into the term “grace” (charis) and by adding the Jewish salutation, “peace” (v. 2).5 Paul’s change of charein into charis shows that he does not intend for either of his two words of greeting to function as a simple salutation but to carry a deeper significance. By “grace” Paul means “the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ,” who “though he was rich, yet for your sakes he became poor, so that you through his poverty might become rich” (2 Cor. 8:9). This is the “grace” in which believers now stand, since through the sacrifice of Christ on the cross, God has atoned for their sin and brought the hostility that sin engendered between God and his creation to an end (Rom. 3:24–25; 5:2). Similarly, the “peace” Paul commends to the Philippians is the blessing of reconciliation that has resulted from God’s gracious work on their behalf (Rom. 5:1).
In the first two verses of this letter, then, and in a part of the letter that might have been left formal and theologically bland, Paul has compressed the elements of a profound message that he will unpack as the letter progresses. He has provided a model of what it means to put the interests of others and of the gospel ahead of one’s own (cf. 2:3–4, 21–22), he has reminded the Philippians that their status as “saints” implies their unity as the people whom God has called to be his treasured possession (cf. 1:27; 2:14–16; 3:20; 4:2), and he has recalled the essence of the gospel for which he is in prison, whose progress the Philippians have supported, and for which he wants the Philippians to contend (1:5, 7; 2:27; 4:3, 15). This work of foreshadowing the primary themes of the letter continues in a more obvious way within the prayers of thanksgiving and intercession that follow.
Thanksgiving for the Philippians’ Partnership (1:3–8)
In the year 168 B.C., an Egyptian woman named Isias wrote to her husband, Hephaistion, to ask him to return home from a period of religious seclusion at a temple in Memphis. After greeting her husband in the customary way, Isias wrote,
If you are well and your other affairs turn out in a like fashion, it would be as I have been continually praying to the gods; I myself am also well and the child and all in the household are continually thinking of you.6
Mention of prayer to the gods for the recipient of a letter was common in the private correspondence of Paul’s time. As with his initial greeting, Paul follows the conventional pattern (vv. 3–11), but once again transforms it with the gospel. In the first part of this section (vv. 3–8) he reports to the Philippians his continual thanks to God for them and gives the reasons for his thankfulness. In the second part he tells the church that he intercedes for them with God and describes the content of that intercession (vv. 9–11). As with the greeting, Paul’s prayer report foreshadows the letter’s most important themes.7
Paul begins the description of his prayers of thanksgiving in verses 3–4 with the comment that he prays for the Philippians “with joy.” His primary intention for this description is simply to affirm his affection for the Philippians; but it also announces a theme that runs throughout the letter: The believer should be joyful (1:18; 25; 2:17–18, 29; 3:1; 4:4; cf. 2:2; 4:1). Here we find Paul once again modeling for the Philippians a quality that he will later admonish them to cultivate among themselves (3:1; 4:4). For Paul, joy is not the result of finding himself in comfortable circumstances but of seeing the gospel make progress through his circumstances and through the circumstances of the Philippians, whatever they might be (1:18; 2:17). Thus, Paul, is joyful when he remembers the Philippians in prayer because God is at work in their midst for the advancement of the gospel. The two reasons he gives for his joyful thanks show this clearly.
Paul’s first reason is that the Philippians have entered into “partnership” with him in the work of the gospel from the time that he first preached it among them to the present (v. 5). The term “partnership” (koinonia) means more than “fellowship” (KJV) or even “sharing” (NRSV). It refers to the Philippians’ practical support of Paul’s efforts to proclaim the gospel and meet the needs of other believers. Thus Paul uses the verbal form of this noun later in the letter to commend the Philippians for entering into partnership with him (synkoinoneo) in his troubles by means of their gifts to him during his imprisonment (4:14). He also uses it to recall their willingness to participate (koinoneo) “in the matter of giving and receiving” during his ministry at Thessalonica and elsewhere (4:15; cf. 2 Cor. 8:2). The “partnership” of the Philippians for which Paul thanks God in verse 5, therefore, is their practical assistance of his efforts to proclaim the gospel.8 The apostle is particularly thankful, moreover, for the consistency of this support. The Philippians have given it “from the first day until now,” even when no other church did so (4:15) and even though the church itself was not wealthy (2 Cor. 8:2–3).
Paul’s second reason for joyful thankfulness to God is his confidence that God will complete the good work he has begun in the Philippians (v. 6). This work, which must be identified with the Philippians’ salvation, will reach its consummation only at “the day of Christ Jesus.” It is a work that God alone accomplishes, but the notion that it is not yet complete shows that it involves a progressive transformation of the lives of believers. The “good work” of salvation, then, includes God’s gift to believers both of the will and of the ability to do good works. The presence of these good works in turn provides evidence of real belief—evidence that God has begun and will complete the work of salvation in the person who displays them. Thus Paul says in 1:28 that the Philippians’ steadfastness in the midst of persecution serves as a sign of their future salvation, and in 2:12–13 that whereas the Philippians should “work out” their “salvation with fear and trembling,” God is the effective power behind this work. This thought also lies behind Paul’s confession in 3:12, that he presses on “to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me.” It is only because God in his grace has taken hold of believers and works within them to produce a life consistent with the gospel that they can in any sense “take hold” of salvation on “the day of Christ Jesus.” In other words, those who will be saved in the future live holy lives in the present, but the holiness that characterizes their lives is God’s work from beginning to end.9
If this represents a correct understanding of verse 6, then Paul’s first two reasons for joyful thanks to God are probably bound to one another by a profound theological truth. Paul thanks God for the Philippians’ partnership in the gospel not only because of the practical assistance it provided for the advancement of the gospel but also because it stands as a confirmation that God is at work in the lives of the Philippians (cf. 4:17). Paul knows, moreover, that if God has begun a work of grace in the Philippians, he will complete it, for he has the power “to bring everything under his control” (3:21); he is thus confident that God will conduct the Philippians safely into the realm of salvation on the day of Christ Jesus. This, he feels, is reason enough to rejoice.10
But there is another, more personal reason for thanks as well. In verses 7–8 Paul affirms that his joyful thanks to God is justified by his own deeply felt affection for the Philippians. He has them in his heart (v. 7a) and longs for them “with the affection of Christ Jesus” (v. 8). He feels this way about them because of their consistent partnership in his ministry through thick and thin (v. 7b). Paul describes this faithful commitment in terms that reflect his present position as a prisoner for the gospel. Whether he is in chains, he says, or “defending” and “confirming” the gospel, the Philippians have stood with him. The terms Paul uses for “defending” (apologia) and “confirming” (bebaiosis) are technical legal terms for providing a speech of defense before an official (Acts 22:1; 2 Tim. 4:16) and giving a guarantee that something is true (Heb. 6:16). Paul’s imprisonment and impending trial (1:13, 17, 19–26) may have suggested these terms to Paul, as many commentators believe; but the Philippians’ support of the apostle is not limited to his legal battles (cf. 4:15–16), and so his meaning here cannot be confined to that context. Whether he is in chains or persuading hearers of the truth of the gospel outside prison walls, Paul says the Philippians have stood with him.
They have been, literally, “fellow participants [synkoinonoi] with me of the grace.” The NIV, along with most other translations, takes this to mean that the Philippians have shared with Paul in the benefits of God’s grace, presumably his saving grace. But since Paul has just spoken of the Philippians’ gifts to him as their “participation” (koinonia) with him in his ministry of preaching the gospel (v. 5), and since he often uses the word “grace” about himself to refer to his calling to preach the gospel to the Gentiles (Rom. 1:5; 12:3; 15:15–16; 1 Cor. 3:10; Gal. 2:7–9; Eph. 3:2), he is probably referring in verse 7 once again to the Philippians’ practical support of his ministry.11 Because of this practical support in a variety of situations, the Philippians hold a special place, perhaps unique among Paul’s churches, in Paul’s heart.
Intercession for the Philippians’ Spiritual Growth (1:9–11)
Paul next describes for the Philippians the content of his intercessory prayers on their behalf—that they might grow spiritually, with the ultimate result that God will receive glory and praise. Paul first expresses his basic request for the Philippians and then mentions the results that he hopes God will produce in them in answer to his prayers.
His basic request is that the Philippians’ love will steadily increase “in knowledge and depth of insight.” The term “love” is not further limited or defined, although if it bears the meaning here that it has in the rest of the letter (1:16; 2:1–2), it refers to the love believers should have for one another. Since this meaning fits well with the theme of unity pervading the letter and already introduced in subtle ways in verses 1–2, it is probably the correct meaning. Paul prays that their love for one another will increase first in “knowledge” (epignosis), a term that always refers elsewhere in his letters to religious knowledge, whether knowledge of God (Rom. 1:28; Eph. 1:17; Col. 1:10; cf. 3:10), of God’s righteousness (Rom. 10:2), of his Son (Eph. 4:13; cf. Col. 2:2), of his will (Col. 1:9), of sin (Rom. 3:20), of the truth (1 Tim. 2:4; 2 Tim. 2:25; 3:7; Titus 1:1), or of everything good (Philem. 6). Since Paul does not specify the content of that knowledge here, he probably intends for it to cover spiritual knowledge generally. If so, the point of his petition is that the Philippians might understand how to obey God’s command that believers love one another. Paul’s term for “depth of insight” (aisthesis) appears only here in the New Testament, but in other ancient Greek literature it often refers to “moral perception,” that is, to the ability to know the right action in a given situation. Paul’s basic request for the Philippians, in other words, is that they might express their love in ways that show both a knowledge of how to obey God’s will generally, and, more specifically, of how to make moral decisions based on God’s will in the give-and-take of everyday living.
Paul’s next phrase describes the result of possessing these qualities; he uses two clauses, the second one grammatically dependent on the first (vv. 10–11). If the above-mentioned characteristics mark the Philippians, they will “be able to discern what is best” and will “be pure and blameless until the day of Christ, filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ.” The phrase “discern what is best” refers to the ability to distinguish “the things that really matter” from a variety of competing possibilities.12 Paul probably has in mind here the false teaching to which he refers in 3:1–4:1, where he warns the Philippians of problems that have plagued his other churches, whether the Judaizing tendencies that tripped up the Galatians when they were running well (Gal. 5:7; cf. Phil. 3:1–11) or the misunderstanding of the relationship between the spiritual and the physical that plagued the Corinthians (1 Cor. 5:1–13; 6:12–20; 15:1–58; cf. Phil. 3:12–21). Paul’s prayer is that the Philippians will avoid both traps by having the spiritual knowledge and moral insight necessary for choosing what is best, for continuing, in other words, to consider all things as loss in comparison with “the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus” (3:8). His hope is that they, his best-loved congregation, will not be led astray by soundings into the treacherous waters that have nearly shipwrecked the faith of others.
Such devotion to the gospel will keep the Philippians “pure and blameless” until the final day when they are called to stand before Christ (v. 10) and will ensure that they bear “the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ” (v. 11). The phrase “fruit of righteousness” may refer either to the ethical conduct of those who have been declared righteous or simply to conduct that is righteous; a vigorous debate rages among scholars over which of the two options is best. The arguments are fairly evenly balanced, but in either case Paul’s emphasis is on the ethical “fruit” that God’s people should bear (cf. Isa. 5:1–7; Matt. 7:16–20; Luke 13:6–9). This fruit, he prays, will be evident in the Philippians’ lives on the final day, and the result will be “the glory and praise of God.”
In this introductory section, then, Paul has given theological depth to the conventional customs for opening a letter and has sketched out the major themes of the argument to come. He has reminded the Philippians of their unity as saints and of the gracious nature of the gospel. He has provided a model of the unselfish regard for others that will preserve the unity of their congregation. He has commended them on their participation in his ministry, provided encouragement that their efforts are evidence of God’s work within them, and assured them of his prayers for their continued progress toward a successful verdict before God’s tribunal on the final day. He has therefore prepared the way for the work of encouragement and persuasion that follows in this letter.
Bridging Contexts
IN OUR ATTEMPT to bring the modern church into contact with the theology of this ancient text, we must pay particular attention to two fundamental tasks. First, we must understand how the passage functions in its original setting, and second, we must avoid several common misunderstandings of important terms within the passage.
Form and Function as Guides to Meaning. This passage performed two functions in its original context, both of which provide important clues to its meaning for the modern church. The passage functions first as the fulfillment of conventional expectations for the way a personal letter should begin. By using these conventions Paul signaled to his readers that in the paragraphs that follow they should expect neither a historical narrative nor a philosophical tractate but a personal letter, whose power to effect changes in the Philippians was based on his friendship with them. Paul’s use of these conventions help the modern interpreter to understand that Philippians is not a theological treatise on, for example, joy but a personal letter written to a church for specific pastoral reasons. The letter has much to say about joy, and we can learn much from it about how the believer should obey Paul’s commands to “rejoice in the Lord” (3:1; 4:4). But his comments on the subject will be selective, designed to meet the pastoral needs of the Philippians at the time the letter was written. The apostle’s conventional epistolary opening, then, alerts us to a crucial interpretive principle for understanding the entire letter: His coverage of theological issues will be selective and driven by a pastoral concern for the Philippians, not systematically and directly addressed to us. To appropriate what he says to us in Philippians, we must first understand what he said to them and why he said it.13
Second, Paul uses the customs of his day for opening a letter in unprecedented ways. Some variation in the standard letter opening occurs among the ancient letters preserved to us, and many Christians imitated Paul in later years; but no extant letters prior to Paul’s approach the radical and thoughtful transformation of epistolary conventions that he accomplished.14 This startling way of using common conventions aids the modern interpreter in discovering the aspects of the initial passages in Paul’s letters that he intended to emphasize. Where he deviates from convention—especially when these deviations anticipate themes that become important later in the letter—he reveals his primary concerns in the passage. By paying attention to these deviations from custom in our examination of the “original meaning” of Philippians 1:1–11, we uncovered three primary concerns: the unity of the Philippian church, their faithful partnership with Paul in the work of the gospel, and their growth in knowledgeable, perceptive love.
First, Paul stressed through his own example of humility and through his designation of the letter’s recipients as “all the saints in Christ Jesus at Philippi” both the importance of Christian unity and one critical means of achieving that unity—placing the interests of others ahead of one’s own. When we apply this theme to the contemporary church, it will be important to emphasize both aspects of the passage.
Paul’s designation of the Philippians as “saints” recalls the Old Testament imagery of Israel as a people who had been set apart by God and who were to demonstrate their special status by their conduct. “I am the LORD your God, who has set you apart from the nations,” says Leviticus. “You must therefore make a distinction between clean and unclean animals…. You are to be holy to me because I, the LORD, am holy, and I have set you apart from the nations to be my own” (Lev. 20:24–26). The most critical threat to the sanctity of the Philippians is their disunity (2:14–16; 4:2), and Paul demonstrates the seriousness of the problem by addressing it subtly in the first sentence of the letter and in a section that, in typical letters, carried little of significance to the primary message. Paul would be the last to say that the unity of the church should be preserved at the cost of its sanctity (1 Cor. 5:1–13; 2 Cor. 6:14–7:1), but in Philippians Paul affirms that unity is important and that when it is broken over issues that are not vital, the sanctity of the Christian community is itself threatened. The church in modern times, however, does not typically view unity as an element of sanctification. Sadly and ironically, the critical principle of Christian unity is often violated over matters of lesser or no importance in the name of the church’s purity. Where this attitude is present in the church, Paul’s link between unity and sanctity in this passage provides a prophetic rebuke.
Paul’s manner of communicating this admonition is also important. He does so by example. The most effective way to achieve unity is not to demand that everyone agree with us but to look out for the interests of others and to refuse to claim for ourselves the privileges that rightfully belong to us. This is the path Paul follows in the first two verses of Philippians, and his example provides an appropriate springboard for challenging the modern church to seek unity through a genuine concern for the interests of others.
Second, Paul provides encouragement for the Philippians in the description of his thanksgiving prayers by telling them that their “partnership” with him in the work of the gospel (vv. 5, 7) is evidence both that God is at work in them now and that he will continue to work in them until the final day (v. 6). Several critical theological principles, all of which surface later in the letter, stand behind this statement, and they are principles that the modern church needs to hear. The clearest of these principles is that salvation is a process that God effects from beginning to end (v. 6). It does not depend on human effort either to get it started or to keep it going, for “it is God who works in you to will and to act according to his good purpose” (2:13). This principle in turn implies another: Practical demonstrations of obedience produce confidence that God is at work in us and in others (v. 6). The Philippians’ monetary and personal support of Paul (2:25–30; 4:18) provided evidence of God’s work in them and assured him that their good work was a result of God’s “good work” of salvation in them.
Equal in importance with these other principles, although more subtly expressed, is the notion that God values the faithful support of his servants through both good times and bad. This principle emerges from Paul’s expression of gratitude for the constancy of the Philippians’ support. In verse 7 he says that they participated with him in carrying out his divine commission (his “grace”), whether he was “in chains or defending and confirming the gospel.” If our interpretation of this phrase is correct, then Paul is concerned with more in this statement than his present imprisonment and impending arraignment—he is expressing thanks for the Philippians’ willingness to stand with him not only when he was busy debating in the synagogue and public forum but also when he was imprisoned and unable to proclaim the gospel openly. By implication, then, the Philippians stood with Paul through thick and thin, both when he had the outward appearance of a powerful teacher and when he did not. This was not true of all of Paul’s churches (2 Cor. 5:12; 10:7a, 10; 13:3–4), nor was it true of all believers in the city where Paul was imprisoned (Phil. 1:17; cf. 2:21), and it is perhaps against this background that he finds particular joy in the constancy of the Philippians’ devotion to him and to his work.
Behind this affirmation of their constant support stands Paul’s conviction that God works through what the world considers weakness. Paul says elsewhere that he delights “in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties,” because when God works through these problems, it is clear to all that his power alone has been at work (2 Cor. 12:9–10; cf. 4:7). Perhaps because the Philippians had experienced this principle in their own lives (Phil. 1:29–30), they apparently understood it well and were willing to support Paul as faithfully when he was enduring hardship and lacked the signs of worldly success as when, from the world’s perspective, all was going well.
The Philippians’ faithfulness and Paul’s commendation of them for it stand as an authoritative challenge to the modern church. Faithfulness to the church and its divinely called leadership should not be tied to such worldly definitions of success as physical facilities, numerical growth, a comfortable lifestyle, and impressive credentials. This passage challenges modern Christians to look beyond what is seen and focus on the heart (cf. 2 Cor. 5:12), and to remain faithful to the church, its leadership, and its missionaries even when, in the world’s view, they look like failures.
Third, Paul reveals in the description of his intercessory prayer for the Philippians his concern for the growth of their ability to understand how best to express their love for one another. The reason for this concern, Paul says, is that the Philippians might discern “what is best” and therefore arrive at the final day pure and blameless. In 3:8, 11–14 Paul describes the most excellent among the things that are best when he says that he has suffered the loss of all things and runs straight toward a single goal, the goal of knowing Christ.15 The love and unity the apostle wants to encourage among the Philippians, then, provides a safeguard against deviation from this most excellent goal. In bringing this passage out of the Philippians’ situation and into our own, we should explain that love within the Christian community is not a sentimental feeling or a willingness to let our brothers and sisters go their own way. Because it is based on what Paul calls elsewhere “the truth of the gospel” (Gal. 2:5, 14), it must sometimes do everything within its power to keep fellow believers from stumbling off the path marked out by that truth (cf. Gal. 6:1–2).
In bringing Philippians 1:1–11 out of its ancient setting and into the modern church, then, we should use Paul’s creative departures from convention and the important themes of the letter’s subsequent paragraphs as guides to his chief concerns. The unity, faithfulness, and perceptive love of the church emerge from this exercise as his primary themes, and these should be our concerns as we turn to the work of application.
In addition to focusing on these theological principles, we should not miss a less direct, but equally important, message in the passage. Paul’s method of transforming conventional customs of letter writing into vehicles for his theological concerns demonstrates the comprehensive nature of Christ’s lordship. Paul is so consumed with his desire to see the gospel advanced that even mundane and perfunctory conventions of communication can be altered into means for the advancement of the gospel. We would perhaps be remiss in making much of this if it were not a standard feature of Paul’s theological method. For Paul, God often used conventional means to advance his goals. Stoic ideals are transformed into useful moral guidelines for Christians (2 Cor. 9:8; Phil. 4:8, 11). The Old Testament preaches the gospel (Rom. 10:6–13). Customary roles for slaves and women become evangelistic tools (1 Tim. 6:1; Titus 2:3–5, 9–10). Similarly, in the letter-writing conventions of his day, Paul saw an opportunity to advance the gospel, and he took it. Although the text itself offers no explicit imperative to use social customs and inherited traditions to promote the gospel, the consistency of the theme in his correspondence shows that it is not inappropriate to find an expression of it here and to examine its implications for the modern church.
Potentially Confusing Terminology. The spadework necessary for a complete and accurate application of this passage to the modern church is not complete until several potentially confusing terms are carefully defined. Four terms in the passage have traditionally posed a problem for modern readers, and the meaning of each deserves consideration before the work of application can begin. The first two occur in the letter’s greeting and the second two in Paul’s description of his thanksgiving prayer.
First, for most modern readers the term slaves, which Paul uses to describe his and Timothy’s relationship to Christ in 1:1, conjures up pictures of the degrading institution that held together the economy of the American South prior to the Civil War. The ancient institution was often more humane than its more recent counterpart, but in both the defining characteristic was the total ownership of one person by another. Masters could do as they wished with their slaves without fear of impunity, and for this reason the relationship between master and slave was often marked by distrust and cruelty.16 Why, many modern readers of Philippians may ask, would Paul have described his relationship to Christ Jesus as one of slavery?
It is important to know that Paul understood the ancient institution of slavery well and had something to say about it in his letters. He recognized that the institution itself was an unalterable fact of life for some believers, but he also provided meaningful ways for Christian slaves to think about their plight. He transformed the common cultural obligations of slaves to masters into responsibilities that slaves should fulfill not because they were slaves but because they were Christians (Eph. 6:5–8; Col. 3:22–25; Philem. 11) and because they should be concerned about attracting others to the gospel (Titus 2:10; cf. 1 Tim. 6:1). He advised slaves who could do so to obtain their freedom so that their devotion might belong single-mindedly to Christ (1 Cor. 7:21–23), and he implied that the equality of believers before God undermined the foundation of social inequity on which the institution was built (1 Cor. 7:21–23; Eph. 6:9; Col. 4:1; Philem. 15–16).
When Paul used the term slave to describe his relationship to Christ, then, he did not reveal a faulty or calloused understanding of the institution. He knew many Christian slaves and understood their situation. Perhaps this is why, when he uses the slave metaphor in Romans 6:16–22, he indicates to his readers that he understands its limitations: “I speak in a human way,” he says, “because of your human weakness” (Rom. 6:19, pers. trans.).17
Paul recognized, however, that no other metaphor conveys quite so clearly the total claim of God on the believer’s life. Paul is a slave of Christ Jesus not because he is, to use Aristotle’s definition, a “living tool” of his master (Ethica Nicomachea 1161b); he is Christ’s slave because Christ’s goals are his goals and God’s call is his mission, and because it is his responsibility to fulfill the command of his master even when doing so is personally inconvenient (cf. 1:17–18).
Second, the term saints in 1:1 is likewise subject to misunderstanding. Since the second century, many within the church have venerated certain especially courageous, sacrificial, and insightful Christians as “saints.” Large segments of the church still believe that Christians should pray to the departed spirits of these people so that they might, through their extraordinary piety, secure the favor of God on their behalf. All of this means that when some people read the word saints (hagioi) in Paul’s letters, they imagine that Paul is addressing people of exemplary piety. The greeting of 1 Corinthians alone provides enough evidence to refute this notion. Paul refers to the Corinthians as those who “have been sanctified [hegiasmenois] in Christ Jesus, called to be holy [hagiois]” (1 Cor. 1:2, pers. trans.). But despite their sanctity Paul later scolds them for sins so offensive that even the pagans, he says, find them scandalous (5:1). To be a “saint,” therefore, is to be set apart as a believer, and sometimes “saints” live in ways that are displeasing to God. Every believer is a saint as a result of experiencing God’s gracious work of redemption, not as a result of some prior act of courage, sacrifice, or theological brilliance.
In an effort to show the error behind the popular notion that Christians must do something special in order to become “saints,” however, it is easy to go to another extreme. Karl Barth’s comments on this term illustrate the problem:
“Holy” people are unholy people who nevertheless as such have been singled out, claimed and requisitioned by God for his control, for his use, for himself who is holy. Their holiness is and remains in Christ Jesus. It is in him that they are holy, it is from this point of view that they are to be addressed as such, in no other respect.18
Barth makes the laudable point that in Paul’s thinking, no one does anything to become a “holy” person or a “saint” (the same Greek word is used for both adjective and noun). But his implication that believers are holy only insofar as Christ’s holy status is given to them ignores the ethical connotations that the terms holy and saints carry in Paul’s letters. Paul’s purpose in describing the Corinthians as “saints” and “sanctified” is in part to urge them to live in a way consistent with this status (1 Cor. 6:9–11; cf. 1 Thess. 4:3–5, 7). Just as in the Old Testament God separated Israel from the nations but then required his people to act in a way that showed their distinctiveness (Lev. 11:45; 20:22–26; 22:32), so Paul believes that the initiative in sanctification lies with God (1 Cor. 1:2; 6:11; Eph. 5:26; 1 Thess. 5:23) but that believers should live in a way that “is fitting for the saints” (Eph. 5:3, pers. trans.). “Holy people” are certainly “unholy people” when they are called by God (Rom. 3:9–26; 4:5; 5:6; cf. 9:11–12, 30; 11:6; 2 Cor. 5:21), but Paul urges those who have been set apart by God to match God’s prior action for them with sanctified lives.
Third, in Philippians 1:4 we meet for the first time in the letter the noun joy, a word that, together with its verbal form rejoice, Paul will use fourteen times in this letter, more often than in any other letter. The terms are popularly used today to describe a feeling of pleasure derived from agreeable circumstances. If understood in this light, the reference to joy in this passage might be misunderstood to mean that Paul is happy because the Philippians have alleviated his personal suffering and made him more comfortable by their participation with him in the gospel. It is important in applying this passage to understand that joy was not linked for Paul to his personal comfort but to the progress of the gospel. Thus despite the impure motives and personal animosity of some who preached the gospel, Paul could rejoice that it was being preached at all (1:18). Paul could speak of the Philippians’ progress and joy in the faith in a single breath (1:25). The Philippians’ practical demonstration of that progress by their efforts to live in unity with one another made Paul’s joy complete (2:2; cf. 1:4; 4:10). Paul’s suffering and the Philippians’ steadfastness combined to form an offering to God and therefore were reasons for rejoicing (2:17–18). And he expected the Philippians to rejoice when they saw Epaphroditus again “because he almost died for the work of Christ” (2:30). So in 1:4, Paul’s joy is unrelated to his own comfort but is instead the contentment that results from seeing the goals of the gospel advanced, whatever that might mean in terms of personal inconvenience.
Fourth, the terms partnership (v. 4) and share (v. 7), which are closely related to one another in Greek (koinonia and synkoinonoi), are central to a correct understanding of the reason why Paul gives thanks for the Philippians, yet they are easily misunderstood. It is easy to think of “partnership” and “sharing” in terms of an attitude alone—if we agree with someone, we “share” their beliefs and are “partners” with them at the level of ideas. This element is certainly present in these terms, as Paul’s frequent references throughout Philippians to the attitudes that Christians should have toward one another show (2:2, 5; 4:2, 10; cf. 1:7–8). Yet these two terms within this context do not refer primarily to an attitude but to actions that the Philippians have performed, actions demonstrating that they are making common cause with Paul and the gospel he proclaims. The Philippians are partners with Paul and participants in the work of his calling because they have contributed money and personal encouragement to his missionary enterprise out of their poverty and personal sacrifice (2:29–30; 4:18; cf. 2 Cor. 8:2), not simply because they “share” his convictions.
In bringing this concept out of Paul’s situation and into our own, therefore, we should remember that Paul’s commendation is directed less toward an abstract attitude of the Philippians than toward a costly expression of their commitment to the gospel. Paul is not talking about the Christian “fellowship” that takes place at church suppers, coffee hours, Bible studies, and Sunday schools, nor is he talking primarily about the “kinship” Christians feel for one another even when they do not know one another well. These are good and edifying, but they are not his concern here. Rather, Paul is referring to a costly cooperation with the one who proclaims the gospel, a cooperation that in this instance meant that none of the Philippians but Epaphroditus would have “fellowship” with Paul in the sense of seeing him face to face, but that all would be his partners in their common goal of advancing the gospel.
In summary, we should be careful when applying Philippians 1:1–11 to the modern church to find situations within the church that need the restorative powers of Paul’s concern with unity, deference to others, a love which watches out for others, and God’s ability to transform social tradition into a means of communicating the gospel to others. As we make these applications, we must be careful to define terms such as slave, saint, joy, and participation as Paul intended them to be understood rather than as they are sometimes popularly understood in modern culture. With these interpretive tools in hand, the application of the passage to the modern church can begin.
Contemporary Significance
MOST CHRISTIAN GROUPS today understand that being a Christian involves more than simply giving intellectual assent to biblical doctrine. They understand that an increasing awareness of God’s will and a desire to do it should be the fruit of a life committed to Christ. In classic theological terms, the process of becoming more and more obedient to God’s will after being set apart by the redeeming work of Christ is called sanctification. It is, in the words of the Westminster Shorter Catechism, “the work of God’s free grace, whereby we are renewed in the whole man after the image of God, and are enabled more and more to die unto sin, and live unto righteousness” (A. 35). When sanctification becomes a topic of discussion in the modern church, however, it often has a narrow focus on avoiding sexual immorality, resisting impure thoughts, and remaining untainted by worldliness in general. Saintliness is seldom associated with Christian unity. Sadly, twisted notions about what constitutes sanctity sometimes destroy unity, so that everything from a nineteenth-century agrarian way of life (for the Old Order Amish) to a ban on viewing movies (for some fundamentalists) has been identified with living a “sanctified” life and has kept believers apart. Paul in this passage and elsewhere claims that the unity of believers is an important demonstration of the church’s status as “saints,” an important element, in other words, in the believer’s sanctification.
How can we work for Christian unity? First we must identify the barriers that divide people who claim to be Christians and ask whether they are legitimate barriers. Some barriers, as Paul would quickly affirm, are necessary. Theologian Thomas Oden, for example, reports that he once quietly withdrew from a chapel service at the divinity school where he teaches when communion was offered in the name of the goddess Sophia. The weight of biblical and ecclesiastical tradition tells us that he made a wise choice.19 Some barriers, however, are illegitimate, as when believers are barred from the communion table only because they have not been baptized within a particular church or denomination. It is difficult to imagine that the Lord of the feast, who himself prayed that all who believed the apostles’ message would be one (John 17:21), would approve of such policies. Worse yet, some Christian congregations, usually only in subtle ways, continue to exclude believers on the basis of race—a practice Scripture expressly forbids (Gal. 2:11–21; Eph. 2:11–22). If we are to be faithful to the spirit of Philippians 1:1–2, such barriers to Christian unity are intolerable.
After identifying the barriers dividing us, we must be willing to follow the example of Paul’s unselfishness in tearing them down. Just as Paul was willing not to claim his status as an apostle but was careful to give to the Philippians and their leaders titles of honor (“saints,” “overseers,” and “deacons”), so contemporary Christians, especially leaders, should be willing to preserve the unity of the church by forgoing their own rights and ensuring the rights of others. In Birmingham, Alabama, for example, enormous strides have been made in overcoming the specter of racism that haunted the city’s institutions throughout the civil-rights struggles of the 1960s, and part of that progress is attributable to evangelical Christians within the city. Since 1986, and with little public notice or acclaim, a group of evangelicals has worked in inner-city Birmingham to bring both African-American and white believers together in an effort to aid some of the city’s poorest citizens. The Center for Urban Mission and its New City Church have recruited white families and African-American families, poor and affluent, to worship together on Sundays and to work together throughout the week to help Birmingham’s poor gain economic independence through tutoring and job-training programs. The founding of the organization was not without cost, at least in worldly terms, for its two leaders—one who by sheer determination had worked his way out of the projects himself, the other a graduate of an exclusive college and top-ranking law school. Both eventually gave up their secure and lucrative careers to work with the mission and the church full time. They now depend for their income, much as Paul did, on the partnership of other believers who believe that what the Center for Urban Mission does is vital. This kind of sacrifice baffles unbelievers, but it is the quality of effort that should not be rare among a people who understand that striving for Christian unity is part of what it means to belong to “all the saints in Christ Jesus.”20
Another aspect of sanctification that emerges from this passage and challenges the modern church is the principle of supporting other believers who are using their gifts for the advancement of the gospel. The modern church, like the Philippians in ancient times, should cultivate a type of support for other believers that is both sacrificial and consistent. As we saw in our study of verse 7, Paul joyfully thanks God that the Philippians have unselfishly supported the gift of apostleship given to him by God. They understood that Paul had received a special calling to proclaim the gospel among the Gentiles. In response, they had unselfishly supported his apostolic work in Macedonia with gifts “again and again” (4:15–16) and had generously given to his offering for the needy Jerusalem believers “out of the most severe trial” and “extreme poverty” (2 Cor. 8:2).21
This kind of partnership identifies those to whom God has given particular gifts for the proclamation of the gospel and the edification of the church and makes it possible for them to do the work to which God has called them. Such an approach to the advancement of the gospel demands the humility necessary to recognize that God has given to others gifts that he has not given to us, and a sacrificial attitude necessary for providing practical help to those gifted in such ways. The church that gives a pastor especially skilled in the exposition of God’s word the extra time needed to prepare excellent sermons, parents who sacrifice financially to make it possible for a child to fulfill God’s call to work among the poor, and the church that cancels plans for a new Christian education wing in order to send a missionary to the field are all demonstrating this kind of humble and sacrificial partnership.
Paul not only values the sacrificial nature of the Philippians’ support; he is also grateful for its consistency. The Philippians supported him both when he was in chains and when he was defending and confirming the gospel in a wide variety of settings. They sent gifts to Paul when he was in Thessalonica. They supported his collection of money for the needy believers in Jerusalem. And they sent Epaphroditus to Paul when they heard that he was in prison. Our support of those to whom God has given special gifts for ministry should, likewise, be consistent. This means, for example, supporting missionaries not only when their work is producing visible results, but when it seems to languish or deteriorate as well.
Above all, we should remember that in choosing whom to support, God often works not through those whom the world identifies as gifted but through those who are without “eloquence or superior wisdom” and who do not speak “with wise and persuasive words” (1 Cor. 2:1, 4). Those who respond to the message, moreover, are often not people “of noble birth” but the “foolish,” “weak,” “lowly,” and “despised” (1:26–28). The church errs when it targets the powerful people in the community and nation on the theory that if they can be persuaded of the gospel’s truth, they will somehow advance God’s goals more effectively than others. It is sad to see churches originally located in city centers in order to be near the halls of power now following the powerful out to the suburbs. Paul would have had little patience with such a strategy, for he reached the ears of the powerful only by meeting them in law courts.
The church also needs to hear Paul’s concern that the Philippians’ love grow “more and more in knowledge and depth of insight” that they might “be able to discern what is best and [might] be pure and blameless until the day of Christ” (vv. 9–10). Paul links the Philippians’ perceptiveness about how to show love toward one another (“knowledge and depth of insight”) with their ability to pick out from a variety of competing options what is consistent with knowing Christ (“what is best”). Love for one another, in other words, should include a determination to stand as sentinels over the commitment of one’s fellow believers to the gospel, helping them not to be distracted from it by heresy and sin but to pursue single-mindedly “the prize for which God has called” believers heavenward (3:14).
This loving concern for the spiritual health of other believers can show itself in several ways, two of which are particularly important. First, the spiritually mature members of the church should instruct those who are younger in the faith. This is probably why Paul insists that the leader in the church “not be a recent convert” (1 Tim. 3:6), why he says that the leader must be able to “encourage others by sound doctrine and refute those who oppose it” (Titus 1:9), and why he urges “older women” in the church to “train the younger women to love their husbands and children, to be self-controlled and pure, to be busy at home, to be kind, and to be subject to their husbands….” (Titus 2:3–5). God can, and sometimes does, instill the spiritual discernment necessary for making right moral and theological decisions by direct intervention in the hearts of believers, but his normal way of doing this is apparently through teaching done by mature believers, whose commitment to the faith has been proven over the years. In our own churches, then, structures need to be in place through which the spiritually mature instruct those who have more recently come into the faith.
Second, some means of lovingly correcting those who stray into morally or theologically dangerous waters needs to be in place in our churches. At times those who have strayed know that they have done so and have experienced the terrible isolation of secret sin. They have perhaps confessed their sin to God, but they need a concrete expression of his forgiveness. They need to feel his acceptance through the acceptance of their brothers and sisters in the Lord. In such instances the ancient Christian practice of confession meets the need. In his book Life Together, Dietrich Bonhoeffer observes that sin, because it is often harbored secretly out of shame, tears fellowship apart and drives the sinner into isolation. In confession, however, sin loses its power to break Christian fellowship. Now the sinner
is not alone with his evil any more, but in confession has laid his evil aside and handed it over to God. It has been removed from him. Now he stands in the fellowship of sinners who live by the grace of God in the cross of Jesus Christ…. Hidden sin isolated him from the community and made all outward fellowship false. Confessed sin helped him to true fellowship with the brethren in Jesus Christ.22
No biblical warrant exists for designating a single person to hear confession, for limiting those who hear confession to the “ordained” members of the congregation, or for confessing before the congregation itself. Nevertheless, if the church regards some form of confession of sin to others as a normal expression of Christian community, people who might otherwise be driven from the fellowship of the church by their feelings of guilt or hypocrisy will have an avenue for restoration.
Sometimes, however, those who have strayed either do not know that they have done so or are unwilling to acknowledge their sin. In such cases the church needs to exercise discipline over its members through censure or, in extreme cases, excommunication. Discipline can, of course, be abused and needs to be handled with the “knowledge and spiritual insight” that Paul desires for believers in this passage, but neglecting it altogether from fear of its misuse is not a loving response. It is occasionally needed as a last effort to bring those who have strayed to their theological senses and to save them “by snatching them out of the flames” (Jude 23, pers. trans.). To use Bonhoeffer’s words again:
Where Christ, for love’s sake, commands me to maintain community, I will maintain it. But where truth and love bid me to dissolve community, there I will dissolve it, despite all the protests of my emotional love.23
Finally, this passage challenges the church to be as creative as Paul was in using the inherited traditions of his day in the service of the gospel. Paul transformed the virtually unvarying way of opening a letter in ancient times into a startling means of conveying the message of the letter and the gospel itself in a nutshell. In seeking ways to be equally creative in our use of various communications media, we should beware of a danger: We should not think that we are imitating Paul when we pack the gospel into media that simply cannot hold it. Front bumper plates with “Jesus” on them and yard signs inscribed with “PREPARE TO MEET GOD,” although well-intentioned, probably generate little meaningful discussion about the gospel.
In our efforts to communicate the gospel creatively with the cultural tools available to us, it seems sensible to use tools that can convey the gospel message with as much power and fullness as possible. Paul used the letter because in his time it was such an important means of communication: Governing officials used it to make their decrees public, philosophers used it to convey their philosophies, and politicians used it to gain a hearing for their parties.24 The letter does not function in that way today; thus, a slavish imitation of Paul’s transformation of the letter form will not work. In a society increasingly interested in the visual and performing arts both for entertainment and in a search for meaning, perhaps the church needs to be busy producing paintings, plays, television programs, movies, and operas deeply indebted to the gospel, which will prove both edifying to the church and attractive to outsiders.25
Probably the most valuable tool for conveying the gospel or preparing people to receive it, however, will always be the printed page. In fiction-writing, poetry, journalism, and historical narrative, perspective is crucial, and as long as the Christian perspective is presented in these media with skill and creativity, it will gain a hearing among people who appreciate good literature.26 John Milton, Fyodor Dostoyevsky, and C. S. Lewis will probably continue to edify believers and challenge nonbelievers with the gospel for centuries because of their ability to use conventional means of communication in creative ways to advance the gospel. The church in every generation needs to ask who among its number will continue its legacy, and the legacy of Paul.