The NIV Application Commentary: Colossians and Philemon

PAUL, AN APOSTLE of Christ Jesus by the will of God, and Timothy our brother,

2To the holy and faithful brothers in Christ at Colosse:

Grace and peace to you from God our Father.

3We always thank God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, when we pray for you, 4because we have heard of your faith in Christ Jesus and of the love you have for all the saints—5the faith and love that spring from the hope that is stored up for you in heaven and that you have already heard about in the word of truth, the gospel 6that has come to you. All over the world this gospel is bearing fruit and growing, just as it has been doing among you since the day you heard it and understood God’s grace in all its truth. 7You learned it from Epaphras, our dear fellow servant, who is a faithful minister of Christ on our behalf, 8and who also told us of your love in the Spirit.

Original Meaning

THE FIRST TWO sections of Paul’s letter to the Colossians consist of his customary salutation (1:1–2) and the prayer of thanksgiving that he offers to God on behalf of the believers in the churches (1:3–23). These sections help set the agenda for the rest of the letter.

The Salutation (1:1–2)

PAUL BEGINS HIS salutation identifying himself as “an apostle of Christ Jesus by the will of God.” He does not write as a private interested party but as Christ’s apostle who speaks with authority. By identifying himself in this way Paul is not trying to establish his badge of rank or to put his readers under his thumb. His authority is not increased by the use of the title apostle, just as it is not reduced when he omits it (1 Thess. 1:1; 2 Thess. 1:1) or substitutes “servant” (Phil. 1:1) or “prisoner” (Philem. 1). Being an apostle is simply what he is.

We therefore should not assume, as some do, that when Paul refers to himself as an apostle, he is defending his calling against bitter opposition.1 Not everyone to whom Paul wrote was suspicious of his eligibility or adequacy as an apostle, and he was not always on the defensive. He praises the Colossians as a loving, supportive community, not a bickering, backbiting, spiteful group (1:8; Philem. 5). Though many in the Colossian church have not met Paul personally, the letter gives the impression that they esteemed both him and his coworker Epaphras, their evangelist.2 Paul writes to them because they already accept his authority, which derives from the gospel he has been called to preach, a gospel they have learned from Epaphras.

When Paul says that his calling as an apostle came “by the will of God,” it reflects his basic conviction that Christ called and empowered him to carry on a divine task that was entrusted to only a few. In the Old Testament, God appeared to prophets and sent them forth to proclaim the word. In Paul’s case, Christ appeared to him and sent him out to proclaim a particular gospel (Gal. 1:12, 16; 1 Cor. 15:8–10). He did not decide to go into the apostolic ministry but understood himself to have been set apart by God from his mother’s womb to carry the gospel to the nations (Gal. 1:15–16).3 His authority was unique since it derived directly from Christ, but Paul did not see himself as set apart for high office from which he could rule the roost and issue divine directives (see 1 Cor. 4:9). God assigned him a task, not a status.

As Christ’s apostle Paul is not tied to any one congregation but is obligated to all, particularly the Gentiles (Rom. 11:13; Gal. 2:7; Eph. 3:1–2). The world is his mission field. All he does as Christ’s apostle involves Christ’s church. Therefore, his charge to preach the gospel and build up the body of Christ by helping believers with their struggles in obedience leads him to intervene in the Colossian controversy.

Paul includes Timothy, “our brother,” as a cosender of the letter.4 Timothy appears as the cosender in five other letters: 2 Corinthians, Philippians, and Philemon, and with Silvanus in 1 and 2 Thessalonians. According to Acts 16:1–2, Paul met this young man during his ministry in Derbe or Lystra. Because Timothy’s mother was Jewish, Paul made his status as a Jew official by circumcising him (Acts 16:3). Timothy joined Paul on his missionary travels, and Paul extolled him as a devoted son (1 Cor. 4:17; Phil. 2:22) and trusted him as a faithful emissary, sending him to various churches to help assuage anxious converts or to put out fires of conflict (1 Cor. 4:17; Phil. 2:19; 1 Thess. 3:2, 6). Although Timothy was not an apostle, Paul affirms him as one who carries on the same work (1 Cor. 16:10) and the same preaching task (2 Cor. 1:19).

We have no record of Timothy’s direct connection to the Colossians. Possibly his name appears in the salutation because he composed the letter from Paul’s dictation or at his direction. His inclusion also makes clear that what follows is not Paul’s peculiar opinion. Paul is no maverick and does not stand alone on these issues. He works with a team of ministers, and this letter reflects the consensus of those who are with him (see 4:10–14).

Paul greets the church as “holy and faithful brothers in Christ.”5 Holiness has to do with being set apart from the world unto God and does not imply that these believers belong to some exalted echelon of saints. As God has made Paul his own as Christ’s apostle, so God has made the Colossians as his covenant people in Colosse. The word “holy” (or “saints”) was applied to Israel in the Old Testament, and Paul intentionally includes Gentile Christians under this category.6 It means that they also belong to the eschatological people for whom all the promises apply.

Paul customarily identifies the recipients of his letters as “saints,” but he does not usually address them as “faithful.”7 This expression most likely refers to their steadfastness under pressure. Some commentators take it to mean exactly the opposite of what it says. They suggest that Paul subtly hauls over the coals those in the church who have been unfaithful by forsaking the true gospel for the so-called “philosophy.”8 This reading assumes that Paul is being disingenuous. His praise becomes a backhanded compliment with a warning: “I am not fully convinced that you are faithful, so you better watch out.” Commentators have unduly read the threat from the “philosophy” into every phrase of Colossians. But Paul’s statements do not all contain some hidden nuance. If the Colossians were not faithful or were verging on abandoning their faith, Paul is perfectly capable of warning them forthrightly. He does not use “faithful” in Ephesians 1:1 in a reproving way, nor does it have any hidden meaning when he uses it to describe his coworkers Epaphras, Tychicus, and Onesimus (Col. 1:7; 4:7, 9; see also Eph. 6:21).

We should therefore accept the plain meaning of the text: The Colossians are genuinely “faithful,” which is the reason for his thanksgiving. Their faith is not teetering on the brink of extinction, trapped in error, or at the mercy of those hawking false teachings. They are holding fast to the head (2:19), and Paul only warns them about others who do not. Their faith is not perfected, however, and Paul wants to buttress it further and revitalize their growth. In this greeting, he establishes their common commitments so that he can move on to instruct and warn them. His goal is to ensure that they remain securely established in their faith (1:23) and growing in their knowledge (1:10).

The NIV chooses not to retain the parallelism in the Greek text by translating 1:2, “To the holy and faithful brothers in Christ at Colosse.” Literally, the Greek reads: “in Colosse … in Christ.” The parallelism implies that the recipients may reside in Colosse, but more importantly they live in the sphere of Christ. “In Christ” and related phrases appear frequently in Paul’s writings, and the concept is central to his understanding of our salvation.

(1) To be in Christ means to be incorporated in him so that he encompasses the entire life of the believer. The recipients may be Colossians, but the only identity that matters to God is that they are Christians. That means that Christ determines everything in their lives. Paul will later make clear in the letter that his death becomes their death, his burial their burial, his resurrection their resurrection, his victory their victory (2:6–23).

(2) To be in Christ means that the Colossians are exclusively joined to him and to no other. One cannot be “in Isis,” “in Artemis,” or in any other god or goddess and also be in Christ.

(3) To be in Christ means that he determines the behavior of believers. One cannot be “in the world” or “into magic or drugs,” for example, and be “in Christ.” Elsewhere Paul uses this basic idea to denounce immorality: “Do you not know that your bodies are members of Christ himself? Shall I then take the members of Christ and unite them with a prostitute? Never!” (1 Cor. 6:15).

(4) To be in Christ means that believers are inseparably joined to him. Paul expresses this powerfully in Romans 8:38–39: “Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

(5) To be in Christ means that believers are also joined to a new family where the dividing lines that separate and categorize persons have been erased (see Rom. 12:5). Their mutual faith in Christ has created a spiritual kinship that supersedes blood ties.

Being in Christ gives Christians their true identity beyond their race, nationality, or clan. Paul therefore calls the Colossians “brothers.” Jews addressed fellow Jews as brothers (Acts 2:29, 37; 3:17; 7:2, 26; 13:15; Rom. 9:3), but for a devout Jew to call Gentiles brothers, many of whom he has never met, reveals the radical consequences of a gospel that swept away all racial prejudices isolating people from one another (see Col. 3:11; cf. Gal. 3:28; Philem. 16).

As many have noted, the customary greeting of letters, chairein (“greetings,” Acts 15:23; 23:26; James 1:1), is transformed into a promise of “grace” (charis). The letter itself is intended to be a means of grace, and the word reappears in the concluding wish in Colossians 4:18. “Peace” was the traditional greeting in Hebrew (šalom).9 The peace Paul has in view is peace that only God’s salvation brings—harmony, wholeness, and serenity. These are things that human force or a balance of terror cannot establish. Paul shows an ardent concern that the effects of this peace from God be obvious in the life of Christian communities.10 “Peace” becomes a key component of his moral exhortation and appears in his appeal to the Colossians in 3:15.11

Paul confesses that both grace and peace come “from God our Father.” The thanksgiving that follows is based on all that God has done and will continue to do (1:7, 12–13). The image of father conveyed power, authority, and loving care. The nearness and love of God as Father was something particularly esteemed by Christians, and Paul usually identifies God as the Father of Jesus Christ, as he does in 1:3.12 For Christians, God is our Father because he is the Father of Jesus Christ, to whom we belong.13 The Father is not an impenetrable and invisible God but one who makes himself known through his Son (see Matt. 11:27). Both Father and Son can be known even by those disdained as “babes” by the so-called “wise and learned” (Matt. 11:25).

The Structure of the Thanksgiving (1:3–23)

PAUL ADOPTED THE custom in ancient letter writing of offering a prayer of thanks to the gods and transformed this convention by expanding it and filling it with Christian meaning. His thanksgiving is not some perfunctory nod to various divinities for blessings received and misfortunes averted. It is a prayer to be read aloud in Christian worship and thereby becomes a witness of Christian faith and a means of Christian instruction. Paul never trots out some stock, all-purpose prayer but carefully tailors it to the situation of the church he is addressing. He sensitively weaves together the church’s progress in the faith, their needs, and his hopes for them into a beautiful tapestry of praise and thanks to God.14 One should not ignore the thanksgiving proems in Paul’s letters as unimportant devotional meditations unrelated to the key themes of the letter. They lay the groundwork for what follows in the letter, previewing its major themes and setting the tone of the letter.

The thanksgiving section in Colossians extends from 1:3 through 1:23 and includes the Christological prose hymn in 1:15–20. The key ideas of “faith,” “hope,” and “hearing” in the opening (1:4–6) are repeated in 1:23 to form an inclusio—a rhetorical device in which the beginning of a unit is repeated in its ending. The thanksgiving divides into two parts, 1:3–8 and 1:9–23. The first part focuses on the effects of the gospel in Colosse and the whole world, the second on Paul’s intercession for the Colossians and his celebration of the salvation accomplished by Christ.

In 1:3–5, Paul tells the Colossians that he always thanks God for them because of their faith in Jesus Christ and their love for all the saints. The focus on the community suddenly shifts in 1:6 to the whole world as he exults over the universal effects of the gospel. In 1:7–8 he returns to how the gospel took root in Colosse through Epaphras’s ministry. This first section of the thanksgiving forms a chiasm, a literary pattern in which two or more terms, phrases, or ideas are stated and then repeated in reverse order (ab ba):

A v. 4: We have heard of your faith in Christ Jesus and of the love you have for all the saints

B v. 5: the faith and love that spring from the hope stored up for you in heaven and that you have already heard about in the word of truth, the gospel

C v. 6a: that has come to you. All over the world this gospel is bearing fruit and growing,

B′ v. 6b: just as it has been doing among you since the day you heard it and understood God’s grace in all its truth.

A′ vv. 7–8: You learned it from Epaphras, our dear fellow servant, who is a faithful minister of Christ on our behalf, and who also told us of your love in the Spirit.

From this structure we see that the heart of the first part of the prayer is verse 6a, in which Paul gives thanks for how the gospel has spread throughout the world.

The second section of the thanksgiving consists of Paul’s intercession for the Colossians (1:9–14). Paul restates that he does not cease praying for them (1:9; cf. 1:3), and in 1:9–11 he reiterates in reverse order the key phrases in 1:3–6. He repeats the phrase “since the day we heard about you” (1:9; 1:6, “since the day you heard it”) and then lists how he intercedes for them. He prays that they will increase in “bearing fruit” and “growing” (1:10; cf. 1:6) and in “the knowledge of [God’s] will” (1:9; cf. 1:10, “of God”; see 1:6, of “God’s grace”). In 1:11–12 he also prays that they may be “strengthened with all power according to his glorious might” and that they may give thanks joyfully.

He lists three reasons for giving thanks in 1:12–14.15 Some question whether 1:12–14 are part of the prayer and treat it as an introit leading in to the anthem to Christ in 1:15–20. Paul is not working from a precise outline, however, and we should regard 1:12–14 as part of his intercession. It gives the reasons for joyfully giving thanks to God and flows naturally into glorifying Christ. These verses therefore place 1:15–20 in the context of the celebration of redemption rather than abstruse, metaphysical ruminations.16

The prose hymn to Christ in 1:15–20, which affirms Christ’s absolute and universal supremacy, bursts forth like a supernova, whose resplendence eclipses everything around it. The verses surrounding this poetic celebration, however, also offer up praise for what God has done for us through Christ. God has made the Colossians fit for a share in an inheritance for which they did not previously qualify as Gentiles (1:12). God has rescued them from the dominion of darkness (the plight of pagans) and brought them in a new Exodus to the kingdom of God’s beloved Son (1:13). God has redeemed them and forgiven their sins (1:14) and has reconciled them through Christ to present them holy, without blemish, and free from accusation (1:22).

In the final verses of the thanksgiving (1:21–23), Paul recounts how the Colossians accepted this reconciliation (1:21–22). He mentions again (1:23) the hope held out in the gospel (see 1:5), their hearing of it (1:5), and how it has been proclaimed to every creature under heaven (1:6) so that it can bear fruit and grow. He concludes the thanksgiving with mention of his own role as a servant of this gospel (1:23), a topic he will take up in the next section (1:24–2:5). This long, rhapsodic thanksgiving lays the foundation for the exhortation beginning in 2:6.17

In sum, 1:3–23 is like a mighty river meandering through stunningly beautiful terrain. To appreciate fully the theological landscape, we will need to break up the unity of this segment by discussing it in separate sections in the commentary.

Thanksgiving for the Colossians’ Reception of the Gospel (1:3–8)

PAUL INFORMS THE Colossians that he regularly prays for the church and gives thanks for them in every prayer.18 Thanking God for their faith and love implies that he gives God the credit for it, not them. The theme of thanksgiving is an important facet of this letter and reappears in 1:12; 2:7; 3:15, 16, 17; 4:2. Here Paul gives thanks for three developments in their spiritual life.

(1) He is thankful for their faithful acceptance of the gospel, which has spilled over into their love for others.19 If Paul is writing from Rome, news of their faithfulness has even reached the capitol of the empire. Their active love is a sign of a genuine faith based on a solid hope. We meet the familiar triad of faith, love, and hope (see 1 Cor. 13:13; 1 Thess. 1:3; 5:8), but they are not coordinate here. The Colossians have faith and love because of “the hope that is stored up … in heaven.” In this letter, hope becomes “the greatest of these” (see 1 Cor. 13:13) because it is the very thing that the Jewish critics have disparaged: What hope do Gentiles have? (see Eph. 2:12). Paul is not concerned about a so-called “false doctrine” that “tended to cheat them of their hope.”20 Instead, he wants to counter those who have belittled and maligned the Colossians’ hope, prompting some of them to develop nagging doubts. This backdrop best explains why the opening thanksgiving emphasizes their hope of glory (1:5, 23; see 1:27). Paul wants to revive their faith in the certainty of what the gospel promises (1:23).

The faith that Paul commends in 1:5 is not faith in general but faith in Christ Jesus.21 It refers specifically to the belief that God raised Jesus from the dead and that he offers all believers, Jew and Gentile, the same promise of life. In 2:12, Paul reminds his readers that they were raised with Christ through faith in the power of God, who raised him from the dead. This faith is not something that can be possessed like a piece of property or enshrined in a creed. It is a vibrant force that expresses itself in how we live. Consequently, Paul commends them for faith proven by tangible demonstrations of love for the saints (see 2 Cor. 8:1–15; 9:6–16). He rejoices in its firmness (Col. 2:5), but he would also like to see it more securely established (1:23; 2:7).

“Love” refers to the mutual love that Christians have for one another, a basic Christian virtue. Faith directed toward Jesus Christ is embodied in love for others. It is a “supernatural, God-given love,” because he refers to it a second time as “your love in the Spirit” in 1:8.22 Christians are not united solely by their mutual interest in personal salvation but are knit together in love. This love is a force within that seeks release by giving itself to others, not a vacuum that selfishly craves to be filled by what others can give to us. True disciples of Christ, inspired by love, intend every action to bring benefits to others.23

A sure hope is the source of faith and love.24 What is interesting in this formulation is that hope is not grounded in faith, but the reverse—faith is grounded in hope. “Hope,” therefore, does not refer to the “subjective attitude of expectation.” Rather, it refers to the thing hoped for.25 Paul does not clarify what that hope precisely is except that it is stored up in heaven (see Rom. 8:24; Titus 2:13; Heb. 6:18).26 We can assume that he has in mind the glorious future that Christ has established for believers (see Col. 3:4, 24; cf. Rom. 8:18). The “hope of glory” in Colossians 1:27 is based on Christ’s being in us. Christ is the image of God, in whom all things were created, and the firstborn from among the dead. The implication in Colossians is that Christians are also being transformed into the image of God and will know the resurrection from the dead. This hope encapsulates “the word of truth, the gospel” (1:5).

(2) The second feature for which Paul gives thanks is the universal impact of the gospel as it sprouts up everywhere on earth, including Colosse.27 The gospel’s effects testify to its truth. Paul applies two criteria here to judge the genuine power of the gospel: its “universality and effectiveness.”28 (a) Paul notes how the gospel has swept across geographical and racial barriers. Against all odds, it has found a ready reception throughout the world; and this power to surmount provincial resistance testifies to its truth.29 The message of God’s love for all humankind and Jesus’ sacrificial death to redeem us by grace speaks in any language or culture. It speaks to the universal condition of every human being—male or female, slave or free, Jew or Gentile (and whatever other divisions humans may create). The “individual churches” composed of converted Gentiles “were for Paul a sign of the universal scope of God’s saving purposes and hence of still greater things to come.”30

(b) The truth of the gospel is also effective, “bearing fruit and growing” (1:6). Schweizer comments that “just as a tree without fruit and growth would no longer be a tree, so a gospel that bore no fruit would cease to be a gospel.”31 The gospel, however, continues to produce harvest after harvest.32 “Bearing fruit” has been interpreted since Chrysostom as referring to “a crop of good deeds,” but Paul has in mind converts (see Rom. 1:13; Phil. 1:22).

Most, however, would not have called the advance of the gospel in the Greco-Roman world a triumphant success. The church was not taking the world by storm. The Jewish historian Josephus, penning his history of the Jewish war and of the Jews at the end of the first century, hardly gave mention to Christians. The Roman historian Tacitus mentioned Christians only as Nero’s scapegoats for the fire of Rome. By contrast, Paul could see what they could not. A seed as small as the mustard had been sown, and it would produce magnificently because of God who gives the growth (1 Cor. 3:7). The gospel was bursting forth in small groups of Christians not only in such vital centers of the empire as Rome, Corinth, and Ephesus, but also in declining towns such as Colosse, in the hearts of slaveowners such as Philemon, and in runaway slaves such as Onesimus. The gospel is growing the way kudzu takes over in some parts of the American South. Originally imported as a groundcover, kudzu overruns everything. The difference is that the gospel is not some alien import or a noxious infestation but something deeply rooted in human need and in God’s purposes for the whole creation.

(3) The third cause for Paul’s giving thanks is how Epaphras has laid a solid foundation for the Colossians in the true gospel (1:7–8). The gospel can only bear fruit successfully when people faithfully proclaim it and when others respond with understanding and obedience. This is the only thanksgiving section in which Paul mentions the name of a particular person. He identifies Epaphras as a “dear fellow servant,” the one who first taught them the gospel, and as “a faithful minister of Christ on our behalf.”33

Paul did not believe that as an apostle he was the only one qualified to preach the gospel. He was commissioned by God to preach to the Gentiles, but he could not be everywhere. He rapidly equipped his converts to spread the gospel in places where he could not go himself. Apparently, Epaphras represented Paul in his home territory and may have founded all three churches in the Lycus valley: Colosse, Laodicea, and Hierapolis (Col. 4:13).34 Paul firmly believed in the unity of the missionary effort (1 Cor. 3:5–9), and he identifies himself here with Epaphras as a “fellow servant” of Christ. He regards what this servant has done in Colosse as an extension of his own ministry, without wanting to take credit for it, for both work together in the same field. He does not view Epaphras as one of his underlings but treats him as his collaborator and clarifies that both serve Christ. Epaphras does not have two masters, Christ and Paul. He has only one—Christ.

Some claim that Paul mentions Epaphras because the latter needed an extra boost from an external authority figure.35 It does not follow, however, that because Paul commends someone, others must have been condemning him. While Paul may have in the back of his mind that Epaphras stands over against the teachers of philosophy with their sham wisdom (2:8), he mentions him primarily because he is his entrée to a congregation that he has not personally founded. Paul’s close association with Epaphras and Epaphras’s close association with the Colossians is the mutual bond that allows the apostle to write this friendly letter to them filled with instructions. How could Paul have mentioned Epaphras’s founding work in Colosse without also commending him?

Bridging Contexts

IN HELPING TO bridge the context of this opening paragraph with the twentieth century, we will look at two issues. In earlier centuries Paul was revered as a saint; in ours his authority has been increasingly questioned. We look at this issue as well as the problem of claiming to have exclusive truth in an age of relativism.

Paul’s authority. Our generation does not readily accept historic traditions or traditional authority. Paul has fallen victim to these misgivings. I have found that many Christians nurse negative opinions about Paul. Some have the false impression that Paul was too pushy, too prickly, and too authoritarian. Few today would wax as eloquently about Paul as Chrysostom did at the end of his homilies on Romans, that he loved the city of Rome best not for its gold or columns or other display but because that is where Paul was buried.

Would that it were now given me to throw myself round the body of Paul, and be riveted to the tomb, and to see the dust of that body that “filled up that which was lacking” after “Christ” (Col. 1:24), that bore “the marks” (Gal. 6:17) that sowed the Gospel everywhere yea, the dust of that body through which he ran to and fro everywhere! the dust of that body through which Christ spoke, and the Light shone forth more brilliant than any lightning, … Fain would I see the dust of hands that were in a chain, through the imposition of which the Spirit was furnished, through which the divine writings were written…. Fain would I see the dust of those eyes which were blinded gloriously, which recovered their sight again for the salvation of the world; which even in the body were counted worthy to see Christ, which saw earthly things, yet saw them not, which saw the things which are not seen, which saw not sleep, which were watchful at midnight, which were not effected as eyes are. I would also see the dust of those feet, which ran through the world and were not weary; which were bound in the stocks when the prison shook, which went through parts habitable or uninhabited, which walked on so many journeys.36

Others, this side of the Enlightenment, hold deeply hostile views of Paul. Nietzsche called him an apostle “so greatly troubled in mind and so worthy of pity, but who was also very disagreeable to himself and to others.”37 George Bernard Shaw wrote, “There has really never been a more monstrous imposition perpetrated than the imposition of the limitation of Paul’s soul upon the soul of Jesus.”38 William James dismissed Paul’s vision on the Damascus road as “a discharging lesion of the occipital cortex, he being an epileptic.”

Suspicion is now a widespread phenomenon in our culture, and biblical texts and figures have not escaped it. Some might think that Paul would fit into the developmental pattern of the guru (from the Sanskrit, meaning “one who brings light out of darkness”), as proposed by Anthony Storr, a British psychiatrist.39 He suggests that gurus share the following characteristics: an isolated childhood, extreme narcissism, a sense of personal destiny, illness, mental and sometimes physical depression, “conversion,” and the unshakable conviction that one has a profound insight into the nature of reality and a mission to lead others.

We know nothing of Paul’s childhood, but we do know that he experienced a profound conversion, that he possessed a clear sense of personal destiny, that he suffered from illness (a thorn in the flesh, which some scholars have connected to depression among many other guesses), that he had an unshakable conviction that he had profound insight into the nature of reality, and that he had a compelling sense of mission to lead others to the truth. After his call/conversion, Paul reenvisioned who God was, what God’s purposes were, and how God worked. As God caused the light to blaze in the darkness of his own heart, he believed God called him to flood a darkened world with that same light. But what makes him different from so many others who have crowded the stage of history?

He was not narcissistic or self-absorbed. He says in 1:23 that he has become a servant (minister) of the gospel; the lack of a definite article shows that he does not regard himself as the minister. He was not some maverick but saw himself bound up with others in the community. In his letter to the Colossians, the mention of so many coworkers shows that he did not offer his idiosyncratic opinion on these issues but spoke the consensus of all who were with him. Mentioning Timothy as a joint writer adds a second witness to his regulating and exhorting the community (cf. Deut. 17:6; 19:15; Matt. 18:16).40 He hardly mentions the conditions of his imprisonment and only asks for their prayers so that he might be free to expand his mission opportunities (4:2). His whole life is consumed by this mission goal.

Paul did not use the gospel in a manipulative way, that is, as a tool to exercise selfish power. He was not dictatorial—the complementary letter to Philemon should make that obvious. Paul did write to his churches as an apostle with an authority entrusted to him by Christ and not simply as a private, interested party. His counsel, however, was authoritative, not authoritarian. He had no intention of lording over his churches (2 Cor. 1:23). He makes it clear to the Colossians that he has the right to speak to them because:

• he is a servant of the gospel, which they have heard and was preached in all the world (1:23);

• he has been praying daily for them;

• he has struggled for their sake (1:24; 2:1) in fulfilling God’s commission to present the word of God to everyone, including them (1:25, 28).

Paul writes to the Colossians because they need reminders of their faith and their hope to deepen and strengthen their maturity in Christ (1:28), not to strengthen their commitment to him personally. He is concerned (see 2 Cor. 11:28) and wants to help them brush off the opponents’ detractions of their hope and to fend off the “philosophy’s” fatal attractions.

Truth in an age of relativism. In the opening verses of Colossians, Paul refers to understanding “God’s grace in all its truth” (1:6). Christians used to believe that truth did not shift like a kaleidoscope, but pragmatic relativism increasingly rules in our culture today and has even infected many believers’ perceptions of things. This relativism assumes that an idea cannot be inherently true, but it is good if it works for now. Fewer Christians today take for granted that Christianity provides the standard of truth and morality by which all life and all other religions can be assessed. Many assume that we all worship the same God and that whatever a person chooses to believe about that God is valid or just as good as another’s belief. To question one’s belief system is to be unpardonably judgmental and intolerant.

Most generally now adhere to the principle that whatever works for me or works for you must be true. Robert Wuthnow has documented this disturbing trend in modern spirituality:

Spirituality is no longer true or good because it meets absolute standards of truth or goodness, but because it helps me get along. I am the judge of its worth. If it helps me find a vacant parking place, I know I am on the right track. If it leads me into the wilderness calling me to face dangers I would rather not deal with at all, then it is a form of spirituality I am unlikely to choose.41

Wade Clark Roof confirms these findings. He notes that people do not approach truth objectively but want to know what it can do for them and how it can do it more efficiently.42 A consumerist mentality allows each person to choose his or her particular brand of truth just as he or she might choose a certain make of automobile or toothpaste, according to preferences and perceived needs. Each person then acts in accord with the chosen standards. In a Malcolm Bradbury novel, Professor Treece muses: “It’s a funny age, isn’t it? There are so many literatures, so many religions, so many cultures, so many philosophies, one doesn’t know where to turn.”43

Many today assume that one religion is as good as another. The American comedian Bob Hope expresses the general mindset with this crack: “I do benefits for all religions—I’d hate to blow the hereafter on a technicality.” Even Christian theologians compare the different faiths to a rainbow. John Hick maintains that there are many faiths but only one ultimate object of faith, so that the refractions of light producing the rainbow come from one light source. Who is to say, he asks, that one band of the rainbow is better than another?44

Pannenberg notes that “a public climate of secularism undermines the confidence of Christians in the truth of what they believe.”45 He cites Peter Berger’s A Rumor of Angels (1969), which argues that believers’ standard of knowledge deviates from what is publicly taken for granted and goes against the grain of what those around them believe. But Christians who live in a dominantly secular culture face powerful psychological pressure to conform to the views and beliefs of those around them. In this secular milieu, we do not necessarily deal with the outright rejection of Christian teachings: “Large numbers of people have not the vaguest knowledge of what those teachings are.” This unawareness results in less tolerance for Christianity. “The more widespread the ignorance of Christianity, the greater the prejudice against Christianity.”46

An example of ignorance combined with prejudice against Paul is captured in a skit by two British comedians about the Ephesians as they receive a letter from Paul:

Dear George and Deidre and Family, Stop having a good time, resign yourselves to not having a picnic, cover yourself with ashes and start flaying yourselves, until further notice, Signed Paul.47

Paul never said any such thing, but people may have the impression that he did. Pannenberg claims that when such persons turn away from the secular culture’s spiritual void and superficiality, they do not turn to Christianity but show interest in “alternative religions.” The whole problem, he argues, is exacerbated by “the cultural relativizing of the very idea of truth.” Today, many, including Christians, assume that “Christian doctrines are merely opinions that may or may not be affirmed according to individual preference, or depending on whether they speak to personal felt needs.”48 Pannenberg writes:

The dissolution of the idea of truth—of truth that does not need my approval in order to be proved true—severely undercuts the Christian understanding of evangelization or mission. Missionary proclamation was once understood as bringing the truth to others, and was therefore both legitimate and extremely important. For many today, the missionary enterprise is a matter of imposing our personal preferences and culturally conditioned prejudices upon others, and is therefore not only illegitimate but morally offensive.49

Many have concluded that Christianity is simply one among many options leading up the same mountain, and it may not even be the best option. In their study of religion in Middletown, USA, researchers discovered a dramatic change in 1978 from a survey done in 1924. They write that “about half of the Middletown adolescents who belong to and attend a church and who believe in Jesus, the Bible, and the hereafter do not claim any universal validity for the Christian beliefs they hold and have no zeal for the conversion of non-Christians.”50

The pervasiveness of this view was confirmed for me when I overheard a teenager who had recently moved discuss a visit to a new Sunday school class. The teenager expressed outrage that they said in the class that Islam was wrong. “How do they know?” was the indignant response. Many raised in Christian homes and churches have failed to grasp that there is anything special about Christianity. They have accepted the prevailing idea that “My truth is just as good as your truth if it works for me.” This hesitancy about the universal truth of the Christian faith is compounded by the well-publicized moral failings of professed Christians. They evoke a common response: Those who are not Christian act more Christian than the Christians. That statement is revealing, however. Christianity does provide the ideal by which to measure people’s behavior.

In bridging the contexts, we must remember that Paul’s context was no less pluralistic and relativistic than ours. The problems we face in our culture are similar to the problems faced by the Colossians. The popular cultural values ran counter to their faith commitments; and, in addition, outsiders subjected their faith to demeaning criticism.

The Greeks, and later the Romans, were normally tolerant in their attitude toward various religions and cultures. Every nation had its own ancestral traditions, its own temples and gods. The conquering Romans did not insist that everyone worship Greek or Roman gods alone. From a practical standpoint, such a policy would have needlessly alienated the worshipers of the regional deities within the empire. From a theoretical standpoint, the intellectual elite assumed that the gods were symbolic representatives of some ultimate ground of being. Therefore, they said, you may continue to worship your gods and goddesses; we will also worship them, and you can worship ours. That way no one’s god will get slighted. This openness to other gods is reflected in the altar to an unknown god (Acts 17:24)—which I paraphrase, “To whatever god we may have forgotten to honor, we are sorry. Don’t hold it against us.”

There was a relative disinterest in doctrine and a greater emphasis on the utility of the gods for making human life better. Consequently, most in the ancient world could accommodate a medley of gods and goddesses into their religious beliefs, and the selection was indeed large in the great religious melting pot of the Roman empire. Many believed that there was “safety in numbers.” The more cults into which one was initiated the better. The more gods one honored the better. The temple of Demeter in Pergamum, for example, had altars to the gods Hermes, Helios, Zeus, Asclepius, and Heracles.51

Many in the western part of the empire were fascinated with and attracted to the more mysterious and awe-inspiring gods of the East. These Eastern gods were not like the vamps of the Olympian pantheon and spoke with more fearsome voices. Strange new cults also offered fresh ways of experimenting with religion and worship. But many others also looked down their noses at these Eastern religions as superstitions, in the same way modern Americans might view Shi’ites or Hare Krishnas. The only time that Roman officials became upset with foreign religions was when they were perceived as threatening peace and security, engaging in gross immorality, or drawing people away from their normal civic duties.

In the context of this pluralism, Jews and Christians stood out. They differed from everybody else because of their unswerving allegiance to one God. This religious “intolerance” led others to label Christians as “atheists” because they did not believe in the gods, only their one God. Apuleius describes a certain baker’s wife in his novel as “an enemy of faith and chastity” because she was a “despiser of all the gods whom others did honor” (Metamorphoses [“The Golden Ass”] 9.14). Christians were labeled “misanthropes, haters of humankind,” because they refused to participate in the worship and sacrificial meals to local, traditional gods in pagan temples and in the great festivals of towns and cities.

Christians were not simply rejected as religious party poopers; their denial of the gods was deemed to have serious consequences for the community. Since the gods were also reverenced as the ones who preserved the state and order, rejecting them opened the community to divine disfavor and catastrophe. They were also considered strange because they had no temples or national temple; they met in private homes at night and greeted each other with a holy kiss, and they partook of the body and blood of one who was executed by Roman authorities in a provincial backwater. But they claimed boldly that they knew the truth about the one true God and that this God could only be known fully through Jesus Christ, whom God has raised from the dead.

In other words, Paul lived in an age no less pluralistic than ours, and it was no less scandalous for Christians to reject the pervasive idolatry and to claim exclusive truth in a culture that prized tolerance. Paul does not blush to say that God’s full self-revelation is summed up in Christ and that this revelation is more true and more moral than any other. Pokorný notes that Paul does not introduce God speculatively in the opening verses of Colossians.52 He does not introduce God as merely the creator and ruler of nature or the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob (Ex. 3:6). The God Paul worships is also not some generic god, some divine force field, but the one who acts in history and who has acted specifically in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth, his beloved Son.53 Stewart cites Alexander Pope’s “Universal Prayer”:

Father of all! in ev’ry age,

In ev’ry clime adored

By saint, by savage, and by sage,

Jehovah, Jove, or Lord!

He comments: “Not much there of the ancient word—‘I the Lord God am a jealous God’!—a divine logion which the Christian revelation has illuminated but certainly not displaced.”54

Contemporary Significance

PAUL CALLS THE gospel “the word of truth” (1:5). We will first address how we must proclaim this word of truth in our contemporary setting, and then look at the continuing relevance of the triad of faith, love, and hope.

Proclaiming the word of truth. Pannenberg argues, “The idea of truth is absolutely vital for the Christian faith.”55 We do not search for truth but start from it. Therefore, Christians cannot shrink from the challenge to refute the misconception that all truth is relative, a view that legitimates secular culture, and to present the distinctive biblical truth in plausible and persuasive ways. Paul did not simply reject the “philosophy” as error or heresy; he gave reasoned arguments why the Christian faith is better. The opening paragraph in Colossians speaks to our contemporary need to understand, uphold, and proclaim the Christian vision of the truth.56

(1) Those who are able to detect counterfeit bills learn everything they can about a genuine bill; this same principle applies to distinguishing truth from falsehood. We must know what is truth before we can recognize what is false. Our pragmatic relativism has blurred the distinction between the two. If we are to go as God would have us go, however, we need to know God’s unchanging truth. Paul places an emphasis here on understanding and “growing in the knowledge of God” (see 1:6, 10; 2:2). Only through such knowledge can we debunk what is false. We must be thoroughly rooted in our historic faith if it is to produce fruit. We must also guard against ignorance and the superficiality of a culture that replaces one era’s delusions with new ones. We will not win others through quick fix adjustments to cultural fads. Christians in the early centuries attracted others by their monotheism, their powerful and loving God, their offer of hope, their appraisal of the human condition of alienation, and the solution to that plight offered by the forgiveness through Christ’s death.

(2) We must offer social support to one another in order to sustain and bolster our faith (1:4). Many in our culture feel a sense of isolation and loneliness. Thus, many Christians may think they are all alone in their faith. But we are not alone, and we need to link up with and encourage one another in the faith. In Christ individuals are joined to others in a loving community with worldwide associations.

(3) The best argument for the Christian faith is for believers to live out its principles: to “live a life worthy of the Lord” (1:10). Reasoned and persuasive arguments are effective, but they will be even more effective if others can see evidence for what we claim in how we live. This is why Colossians contains a lengthy section of ethical exhortation. Until Christians act like Christians, following their Lord and imbued with his Spirit, they will have little or no impact on their world.

(4) We must live life with thanksgiving and joy. One wonders if people will not be more attracted to the Christian faith by our joyful thanksgiving than by our dogmas and arguments.

(5) We must exercise Christian grace in proclaiming our truth and be wary lest we become prey to arrogance (see 1 Peter 3:15). When a seminary student was asked how he would minister to persons who might be different from him, he responded, “I wouldn’t. They must change to my point of view, because I am right.” We do a grave injustice to our faith when we become imperialistic, paternalistic, narrow, and bigoted toward others. Wright recognizes, “To assert today that the one Creator God has revealed himself fully and finally in Jesus Christ is to risk criticism on the grounds of arrogance or intolerance.”57 We have the truth, but we must remember Paul’s words that we have not arrived or attained it all (Phil. 3:12–16).

Faith, love, hope. Faith. Mark Twain said that “faith is believing what you know ain’t so.” If that is the case with our faith, then it will not survive the first challenge. In the New Testament, faith knows that God spoke once and for all in Jesus. R. Buckminster Fuller has said, “Faith is much better than belief. Belief is when someone else does the thinking.” Faith requires more than intellectual assent that the fullness of deity dwells in Christ, for example. Wright comments on 2:12 that faith is not identified as faith in Jesus Christ but as “faith in the power of God.” “To believe that God raised Jesus from the dead is to believe in the God who raises the dead. Such faith not merely assents to a fact about Jesus, it recognizes a truth about God.”58

Faith is not just something to think about and discuss but something that is lived. Faith acts on what it believes. Vincent J. Donovan tells of a conversation with a Masai elder about how the word for “faith” was to be translated into his language. The elder contended that the word chosen was unsatisfactory because it meant “to agree to.” He said that it was

Love. The theme of love dominates popular music: “Love is all you need”; “Love is all around”; “Love is the answer.” Love in our culture has come to mean an emotion, a feeling. In the New Testament, however, love is commanded. Feelings cannot be commanded. New Testament love does not have to do with emotions but has to do with actions that aim at improving the welfare of others. It follows the pattern of a loving God who gave his Son for a lost world.

William Blake’s poem “The Clod and the Pebble” captures this meaning and contrasts it with a worldly love that is like a vacuum that craves to be filled and desires others only for itself.

Love seeketh not itself to please

Nor for itself hath any care

But for another gives its ease

And builds a Heaven in Hell’ despair.

So sang a little Clod of Clay

Trodden with the cattle’s feet,

But a Pebble of the brook

Warbled out these metres meet:

Love seeketh only self to please

To bind another to its delight

Joys in another’s loss of ease

And builds a Hell in Heaven’s despite.60

The power of the new love we have in Christ is that it transforms the old kind of love and expels the hankering for the things of this fallen world. A soldier watching a nurse clean and dress the gangrenous wounds of those fallen in battle said to her, “I wouldn’t do that for a million dollars.” “Neither would I,” came the nurse’s response.

Hope. In our culture, hope has become associated with wistfulness, a blind optimism without any foundation: “I hope the Cubs will win the pennant.” Or, as Lloyd George, addressing the House of Commons on Armistice day in 1918, said, “I hope we may say that on this fateful morning came an end to all wars.” Hope in these examples means “I hope so.” In response to this kind of yearning, Alexander Pope wrote, “Blessed is he who expects nothing for he shall never be disappointed.”

In the New Testament, hope refers to the confident expectation that God will fulfill his promises, not our personal dreams. Christians expect everything, and this hope will not disappoint. Paul does not refer to a subjective experience of hope but to a reality that God has yet to make fully manifest. The hope Paul has in mind has to do with the glorious future Christ has established for Christians. It pertains to something that exists objectively beyond our existence in this life.61 It resides “in heaven” and recognizes what Schweizer calls “the beyondness of salvation.” This affirmation may be difficult to convey to a contemporary generation that places so much value on personal experience. But, as Schweizer recognizes, it checks “the subjectivity of a faith based only on itself, resting on the experience of one’s own soul’s stirrings; and, along with this, it does understand hope as an effective act which actually generates faith and love.” He comments further:

Human beings, dwelling on an earth that has become heavenless, are told that they derive their life from the fact that the whole meaning of life lies neither in one’s self, nor in humanity, nor in nature, but in the one who is encountered in (though he is also beyond) them both.62

Some might misconstrue the claim that salvation, our hope, lies outside this world. It may lead to a world-denying gnosticism or to tolerance of evil assuaged only by promises of “pie in the sky bye and bye.” But the belief that salvation is only to be found in the potentialities of this world is no less dangerous. A fallen humanity in a fallen world offers no hope. Many people today place their confidence in science, but all our great advances have produced as many problems as have been solved. In many ways, science has shattered hope. It has become more difficult for some to believe in a God that would care about or even notice our existence. Consequently, many people live without any hope of salvation in this life, let alone a life beyond.

Paul affirms that Christ is behind creation and that his death on our behalf reveals God’s love and secures our hope. Hope, as Moule points out, is not wishful thinking but confidence.63 In Romans 4:18–21, Paul identifies Abraham as the prototype of hope and trust. Hayes observes that “Abraham wrestled with his doubts, discounted his own experience, rejected skepticisim, and clung to the promise of God,” and thus he became the mode for the community of faith.64 The hope is secure because God guarantees it, and it is ours through his grace.