Introduction

TWENTY CENTURIES AGO an itinerant tentmaker was tossed into prison for creating a public disturbance. There he spent considerable time dictating a letter that might have taken up a dozen sheets of stiff, scratchy paper. Today few people would recognize the name of the Roman emperor at the time and, although Nero was a prolific author, nothing of his literary output remains. Paul’s name, on the other hand, is instantly recognized by millions, and existing copies of his letter to the Philippians, in many languages, run easily into the millions. Indeed the time has come, as T. R. Glover observed, when people call their dogs Nero and their sons Paul.1

Paul would be a little uncomfortable with his success. He never harbored doubts that the gospel would progress unhindered until the final day when Christ himself would appear and every tongue confess him Lord. But the cross had stamped an indelible imprint on the gospel and had made it clear to Paul and, in his view, to all who understood the gospel aright, that God’s power is made perfect through weakness. Were Paul to visit a church in a twentieth-century Western democracy, he might wonder how his letter, written from prison to a small, persecuted group of believers, could be understood by people so different from him and from the Philippians. How can people who worship in cathedrals named after Saint Paul, he might wonder, understand that God advanced the gospel through the apostle’s imprisonment and the Philippians’ persecution?

Although Paul cannot visit us with his question in the flesh, we can in some sense visit him and bring his perspective back with us. That is the purpose of this commentary—to enter Paul’s world and the world of the Philippians and then with cautious steps to carry Paul’s perspective on the issues that he and the Philippians faced into our own world. Before we attempt this feat, however, we first need to equip ourselves with some basic tools.

Philippi and Its Church

IN THE MID-FIRST century, Philippi, although not large, was a strategically located city with a rich heritage and distinctive culture. It spilled down a mountainside and onto a fertile, well-watered plain about ten miles inland from the important port of Neapolis. The Egnatian Way, a critical artery of commerce linking the city of Rome with its eastern provinces, passed through the city center.2

Although located many miles east of Rome in a province whose common tongue was Greek, Philippi had been a Roman colony since Mark Anthony and Octavian had defeated the forces of Brutus and Cassius, the assassins of Julius Caesar, at the site in 42 B.C.3 Large numbers of Philippians were descended from the soldiers who settled in the city after the battle or from those who came to the city slightly less than a decade later in the wake of Octavian’s victory over Mark Anthony.4 As a result Latin was the common language in Philippi, and the city proudly maintained a Roman character.5 Its architecture and administration, for example, appear to have been modeled on Rome’s, and worship of the emperor was an important element in the religious life of the city.6

No mystery, then, shrouds Paul’s reasoning for choosing Philippi as the base for his first evangelistic effort in Macedonia. He chose one of the most important cities in the region for his efforts.7

That he went to Macedonia at all, however, was not a matter of his own choice. As so often in his labors, his own plans were overruled by God’s clear direction.8 In this case, despite his intention to take the gospel to Bithynia, a region in north central Asia Minor, the Spirit of Jesus led him and his companions away from there to Troas on Asia Minor’s northwestern coast (Acts 16:7–8). There Paul experienced a nighttime vision in which a Macedonian appeared to him, saying, “Come over to Macedonia and help us” (Acts 16:9). So Paul and his companions, Silas, Timothy, and Luke, set sail for Macedonia.9 Their ship landed at Neapolis, and from there they followed the Via Egnatia to Philippi.

Their stay, although only several days, was eventful. On Paul’s first missionary journey he had made a habit of going first to the synagogue in the towns to which he traveled (Acts 14:1), but in Philippi he found only a place outside the city gate and by a river where some women who worshiped the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob gathered each Sabbath for prayer (Acts 16:13). Presumably, not enough Jewish men lived in Philippi to form a synagogue, and the women may have sought out the site because Jewish worship was not welcome in this deeply Roman city.10

Jews had an uneven relationship with the Romans, and whereas anti-Semitism was not universal among Romans, it was also not unusual.11 It comes through clearly in the charges that the owners of a slave, from whom Paul had cast a fortune-telling demon, brought against Paul and Silas before the city magistrates. “These men are Jews,” they said, “and are throwing our city into an uproar by advocating customs unlawful for us Romans to accept or practice” (Acts 16:20–21). The persecution that resulted and continued after Paul left the city appears, in other words, to have been motivated as much by the young church’s connection with Judaism as by anything else (Acts 16:22–24; Phil. 1:30; 1 Thess. 2:2).

When Paul, Timothy, and Silas left Philippi at the request of the city magistrates, they left behind a diverse group of believers. The wealthy merchant Lydia and her household believed (Acts 16:15), as did a jailer and his family (Acts 16:16–18), and perhaps a slave girl (Acts 16:28). Apparently by the time Paul and Silas left, the group was meeting in Lydia’s house (Acts 16:40), no doubt the largest residence among them. This was certainly not a homogeneous social unit, but God had called each believer from her or his sphere to be part of his people and, although they lived in a highly stratified society, they had no choice but to work at unity. If Paul’s letter to them is a measure of their success, then they found the task difficult (Phil. 2:14; 4:2).

Despite such struggles, the Philippian church appears to have been Paul’s favorite church. The Philippians were willing to support Paul’s missionary efforts in other towns from the beginning (4:15a) and gave him help even during times when other churches were either unable or unwilling to assist him (4:15b). Even in nearby Thessalonica Paul’s missionary efforts received financial assistance from the Philippians more than once (4:16), and the Philippians joined other Macedonian churches in supporting Paul’s stormy ministry in Corinth (2 Cor. 11:8–9). In addition, the Philippians gave so generously to Paul’s collection for the famine-stricken churches of Jerusalem that Paul could use them and the other Macedonian churches as examples to the Corinthians of people who had “the grace of giving” (2 Cor. 8:1–7). All of this generosity, moreover, came not from any abundance of resources, but from poverty (2 Cor 8:1–2).12 During a time of often difficult relationships with his other churches, Paul must have valued this tangible and sacrificial support of his efforts to proclaim the Gospel as a token of genuine friendship.13

The Reasons for Philippians

WHEN PAUL WROTE Philippians, he was in prison awaiting a trial whose outcome could result in his execution (Phil. 1:7, 13–14, 17, 20, 30; 2:17). Exactly where he was in prison is a matter of dispute. Much ancient evidence places him in Rome, and many modern scholars argue for this position as well.14 Paul does say, after all, that because of his imprisonment the gospel has spread throughout the whole praetorian guard (1:13), and the largest contingent of the praetorian guard lived near the emperor’s residence in Rome.15 Moreover, Paul sends greetings to the Philippians from believers among Caesar’s household (4:22), and what better place to find Caesar’s staff than in Rome?

More recently, some scholars have rejected the claim that Paul was in Rome when he wrote the letter, primarily because of the distance between Rome and Philippi and the difficulty, as a result, of accounting for the number of journeys that Paul’s letter presupposes between the apostle and the Philippians. Thus, according to these scholars, the letter implies that the Philippians had heard from someone that Paul was in prison, had sent Epaphroditus to Paul, had heard that Epaphroditus was ill, and had sent word of their concern about Epaphroditus (2:26; 4:18). In addition, Paul plans to send Epaphroditus back to Philippi, to send Timothy shortly thereafter, and to follow himself, Lord willing, at a later time (2:19–23, 24–25, 28).16 It is unlikely, these scholars claim, that this many journeys from Rome to Philippi could be undertaken during the period of Paul’s Roman imprisonment.

In light of this problem, a variety of other options have been proposed. Corinth once gained some support, and Caesarea has been more popular, but most who dissent from the traditional view believe that Paul wrote from Ephesus.17 Paul spent nearly three years there (Acts 19:8, 10; 20:31), and since Ephesus was closer to Philippi than to Rome, the number of trips that the letter presupposes between Paul and the Philippians is plausible.

The Ephesian theory is not without its own problems, however. Acts tells us that Paul was in prison in Rome for two years (Acts 28:16, 30) but mentions nothing of an Ephesian imprisonment. During his Ephesian ministry, Paul was consumed with interest in his collection for the saints in Jerusalem, but that subject never arises in Philippians. And Paul’s reference to the praetorian guard fits Rome better than Ephesus, because the largest contingent was stationed in Rome. Moreover, the difficulty of travel between Rome and Philippi has been exaggerated: Roads were better and means of transportation were actually more efficient in ancient times than many have assumed.18

These problems with the Ephesian theory are significant, but their importance should not be exaggerated. Luke was under no obligation to describe every imprisonment of Paul, and Paul’s own account of his sufferings in 2 Corinthians 11:23–33 (cf. 6:5) shows that he had suffered many more floggings, shipwrecks, and near escapes than appear in Acts. In addition, 1 Corinthians, which was written from Ephesus, speaks of great opposition to Paul (1 Cor. 16:9), and 2 Corinthians, written shortly after Paul left Ephesus for Macedonia, reflects on hardships in Asia so severe that Paul “felt the sentence of death” in his heart (2 Cor. 1:9; cf. 1 Cor. 15:32). The difficulty of travel in ancient times has indeed loomed larger than it should in objections to locating Paul in Rome, but even under the best circumstances, journeys between Rome and Philippi were long and fraught with danger. And members of the praetorian guard may have been stationed in the large and important city of Ephesus.

The most convincing evidence in favor of an Ephesian origin for the letter, however, comes from the central portion of the letter itself, where a dating of Philippians during Paul’s Ephesian ministry solves two thorny problems. In 3:1–11 Paul attempts to persuade the Philippians not to follow the teaching of Jewish Christian missionaries who are especially adamant that Gentile Christians become circumcised (3:2–3), and in 3:12–4:1 he advises the Philippians to shun certain “enemies of the cross of Christ” (3:18) who have deified their stomachs and who glory in what they should consider shameful. Attempts to understand these passages as descriptions of a single group have not been successful, since the Jewish Christians whom Paul describes in the first passage are ill suited for the charges of gluttony and what looks like sexual immorality in the second.

In addition, attempts to claim that false teachers were on the scene at Philippi advocating the notions that Paul attacks in chapter 3 are also unconvincing. Paul stands on good terms with the Philippians. When he remembers the Philippians in prayer, he is thankful and joyful (1:3). They are his partners in the grace that God has given to him (1:5, 7; 4:14–16), his joy and his crown (4:1).19 This is not the language Paul typically uses when his congregations have compromised their loyalty to him by adopting another understanding of the gospel.20

Chapter 3 makes sense, however, if we read it against the background of Paul’s ministry in Ephesus. On the most widely accepted dating of Galatians, Paul was in Ephesus when he wrote that letter, and he was certainly in Ephesus when he penned 1 Corinthians. Galatians is an urgent appeal to Paul’s predominantly Gentile congregations in southern Asia Minor not to continue to succumb to the false teaching of Jewish Christian missionaries. The primary concern of these missionaries was that the Galatians should accept circumcision as a requirement for entry into the people of God (Gal. 6:12), and by the time Paul wrote the letter, they had experienced some success at alienating the Galatians both from Paul and from his gospel of justification by faith alone (Gal. 1:6; 3:3–5; 4:17).

First Corinthians is also an urgent letter to a belligerent congregation ready to throw off the yoke of Paul’s authority in order to pursue their own highly spiritualized form of the gospel (1 Cor. 4:18; 9:3). Knowledge and the Spirit were the critical elements in their form of the gospel, and those who did not show proof of them by means of flashy outward signs of power stood on a lower spiritual plane (1 Cor. 4:6–13; 8:1–13; 14:12). Some of those who did possess them, moreover, felt themselves free from the normal requirements of society, including some requirements that coincided with the morality advocated in the gospel (1 Cor. 5:1–13; 6:12–20; 8:1–11:1).21 In both letters Paul is worried that these congregations, won to the gospel at the cost of the apostle’s best efforts, will leave him and the truth of the gospel behind.

If Philippians was written shortly after Galatians and 1 Corinthians but before Paul’s retrospective glance at his troubles in Asia in 2 Corinthians 1:8–11, then Philippians 3:1–4:1 is probably a warning to his favorite congregation not to succumb to the errors of these other churches. With sweat still on his brow from wrestling with Judaizers in Galatia and enthusiasts in Corinth, he is unwilling to let even a group as loyal as the Philippians go without a stern warning not to deviate from the gospel. So if Philippians was written from an Ephesian imprisonment, Paul’s warnings in 3:1–4:1 make sense.

Philippians was not only written to deflect theological error, however, but also to thank the Philippians and commend their messenger Epaphroditus. When the Philippians heard that Paul was in prison, true to their generous nature, they commissioned Epaphroditus both to carry monetary gifts to Paul (2:25; 4:14–18) and to help the apostle in his imprisonment (2:30). But either on his way to Paul or after his arrival, Epaphroditus became so ill that he nearly died (2:27a, 30b). Somehow the Philippians heard of this illness, and Epaphroditus, knowing that they would be concerned about his condition, in turn began to worry about them (2:26). Paul felt it best to send Epaphroditus back with his commission only half fulfilled: He had brought the gifts to Paul, but the apostle was still in prison (2:28). Paul’s letter, then, served both as a thank-you note to the Philippians for their generous gifts (4:14, 18) and as a word of commendation for Epaphroditus: Although Epaphroditus had not been able to stay as long as the Philippians intended, Paul explained, he nonetheless deserved a hero’s welcome when he arrived home (2:29).

It is not likely that Epaphroditus left, however, before delivering to Paul a thorough report on the Philippians’ progress in the faith. Paul’s generally positive tone in the letter (1:3–8; 4:1, 18) probably means that the report was basically good, though one point of concern is difficult to miss: The Philippians were not unified. A quarrel between Euodia and Syntyche had apparently infected the entire church (4:2), with the result that arguing and complaining had begun to plague the group and tarnish its witness before the wider, unbelieving society (2:14–16). Without unity, the Philippians would not only hinder their witness to the gospel, but they would find it difficult to withstand the trials of persecution that they continued to experience at the hands of their unbelieving neighbors (1:27).

The reasons for Philippians, then, are manifold. Paul took the opportunity of Epaphroditus’ necessary trip home to warn the Philippians against the errors of his other churches, to commend the Philippians’ messenger for a job well done, and to urge the Philippians, amid the challenge of pagan opposition, to “stand firm in one Spirit, contending as one man for the faith of the gospel” (1:27).

Meeting the Interpretive Challenge of Philippians

AS WE ATTEMPT to bring these ancient purposes into the modern church, we should keep in mind two basic rules of interpretation. First, we must respect the literary genre of Philippians. Philippians is a real letter. Unlike the letters of the Roman statesman and Stoic philosopher Seneca, it is not a showpiece, ostensibly written to friends but actually intended from the first for the widest possible publication. Like any piece of real correspondence, it refers to people we know virtually nothing about and to circumstances we cannot fully understand.

The epistolary character of Philippians presents us with two temptations, both of which we must avoid if we want to bring its message undistorted into the twenty-first century. First, since some of the letter is obscure, it is tempting to clarify the obscurities from the resources of our own imagination. Suddenly the “loyal yokefellow” in 4:3 becomes Paul’s wife and is even identified with Lydia (despite the masculine form of the Greek word!), Paul’s opponents in 1:17 become Corinthian enthusiasts who are ashamed of Paul’s suffering, and the advancement of the gospel through the praetorian guard in 1:13 happens one guard at a time as different Roman soldiers take turns watching Paul. Although we must admit with embarrassing frequency that we simply do not know what a particular reference means, it is better to do so than to base our interpretation of an obscure passage on an imaginative reconstruction. Our inability to understand every detail of the letter is simply the consequence of God’s choice to reveal his word within the time-bound and culture-bound form of a personal letter.22

On the other hand, we must not read out of the letter less than is there. At first, passages like 1:1–2 in which Paul greets the church, 2:19–30 where he describes his travel plans for Timothy, for himself, and for Epaphroditus, and 4:3 where he asks an unnamed “loyal yokefellow” to arbitrate between Euodia and Syntyche look like they are casualties of the time-bound nature of Paul’s correspondence. Yet often such texts assume theological principles that can be brought to the surface and applied in a way that the text itself cannot. In a letter admonishing its readers to follow Paul’s example and the examples of others who understand the gospel (3:17; 4:9) and also to defer humbly to others (2:3, 8), we are surely not remiss in following the principle behind Paul’s humble refusal to take apostolic honors for himself in the letter’s greeting while dignifying the Philippian leaders with their titles of honor (1:1). Nor in a letter that values the advancement of the gospel even at the expense of personal desires (1:12, 25) would we be wrong to take Paul, Timothy, and Epaphroditus as examples of people who give the gospel’s progress greater importance than the success of their own personal agenda (1:12–26; 2:20, 29–30). Nor in a letter that values unity would be wrong to learn from Paul’s example of appointing a mediator between two disputants (4:2–3). In such cases, more theology is packed into the passage than at first meets the eye, and in order to glean its full value for the modern church we must think deeply about the theological presuppositions lying beneath it.

In addition to respecting the letter character of Philippians, we must also respect the historical and literary contexts of the passages we interpret. Philippians contains more memorable sentences than most of Paul’s letters, and as a result we often know it in bits and pieces:

When we know sentences such as these well, they tend to take on a life of their own apart from the historical context that gave them birth and the literary context that gives them Paul’s meaning. Yet each of the phrases is closely tied to some aspect of the historical situation that produced the Philippian letter, a situation in which unity with one another and commitment to the gospel was vital for the survival of the church amid intense persecution. Without this context, rejoicing in the Lord can become a superficial happiness, and the promise that God will supply every need can become the proof text for a selfish gospel of material prosperity.

The historical and literary contexts of the passages that we study act as safeguards against making the text a mirror of what we already believe rather than a challenge to our sinfulness and an encouragement to our faithfulness. We dare not neglect these contexts, for nothing less than Scripture’s ability to speak prophetically to the modern church is at stake.23

The Challenge of Philippians to the Modern Church

WHAT DOES PHILIPPIANS have to say to the modern church? Four theological themes seem to form the foundation on which Philippians was built. Each of these four themes presents a significant challenge to Western Christians at the turn of the twenty-first century.

(1) First, and most important, Philippians is about Christian unity. The importance of unity to the church is apparent from two passages, 1:27–30 and 2:12–18, in which Paul says that Christian unity is necessary for withstanding the onslaught of forces hostile to the gospel (1:27–28; 2:16), for presenting a credible witness to the unbelieving world (2:15), and, above all, for being found blameless and pure on the day of Christ (2:12–13, 16).

Philippians also shows, however, that this unity is not to be purchased at the price of changing the gospel’s essence. Thus in 3:1–11 Paul has only harsh words for people who claim to follow Christ but do not believe that the righteousness God supplies through Christ is sufficient for salvation. He uses equally straightforward language in 3:18–19 for those who claim to be believers but who take offense at the cross and who, refusing to await God’s timing, believe that they have already achieved spiritual perfection. Christian unity is absolutely crucial to being a Christian, but that unity is only Christian if it is founded on the apostolic gospel of Christ and him crucified. “We belong to one another only through and in Jesus Christ.”24

Paul does not simply emphasize the importance and boundaries of Christian unity, he also shows us the path toward achieving it. He does this both through the usual means of specific commands and through offering examples of unifying conduct for his readers to follow. Thus we not only read, “Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit” (2:3a), and “Do everything without complaining and arguing” (2:14), but we also find Paul exemplifying a gentle approach toward Christian brothers with whom he disagrees (1:17–18a; 3:15–16) and a willingness to put the interests of others first (1:1, 24–25; 2:25–26). We discover that Christ’s willingness to humble himself provides a model for us to follow (2:5–11), and that both Timothy’s willingness to put the Philippians ahead of his own interests (2:20–21) and Epaphroditus’ willingness to risk his life to help Paul (2:30) provide illustrations of Christian unity in action.

In this country, one third of the present population are “baby-boomers”—people born between 1946 and 1964. Today this group is the single most influential social group in society and has a distinctive, frequently studied, set of traits.25 Among these are a deeply seated commitment to self-fulfillment and to the notion that each person should be free to choose what he or she wants to believe. The result of this perspective for this generation’s religious commitments has been an attempt for each person to borrow elements from a variety of religious traditions in order to meet his or her special spiritual longings. Thus people can refer to themselves today, and be readily understood, as “primarily Catholic.” In the same breath, they can name as heroes people with religious traditions as diverse as Mother Teresa, Martin Luther King, Jr., and Mikhail Gorbachev; when asked why these three stand out, they answer that if they all got together they would respect each other. According to recent studies, 80 percent of this country’s population believe that “an individual should arrive at his or her own religious beliefs independent of any churches or synagogues,” and among the baby-boom generation, that figure can only be higher.26

In such a climate, the mandate of Philippians to subordinate self-interest to the interests of Jesus Christ and to draw bold, unyielding boundaries around the essence of the gospel needs to be heard. If it is not, the church stands in danger of following the culture away from the truth of the gospel and into a syncretistic morass of “answers” to the search for self-fulfillment.

(2) Philippians has much to say to the church about the problem of suffering. It offers no clear solution to the age-old question of how God can be good and all powerful and yet have created a world in which suffering is often so intense, but it does describe the Christian perspective on the experience of suffering. Paul was suffering when he wrote Philippians. Although he had done nothing worthy of blame, he was in prison awaiting a trial that could result in his condemnation and execution as a criminal (1:13–14, 17, 20). To make matters worse, some Christian brothers in the city of his imprisonment, instead of helping him, were adding to his troubles in order to advance their own cause (1:17). The Philippians were also suffering at the hands of hostile unbelievers in the society around them (1:28a).

Despite all of this, indeed because of it, Paul is filled with joy and expects the Philippians to be joyful also (1:4, 18, 25; 2:2, 17–18, 28–29; 3:1; 4:1, 4, 10). The reason for this joy is not that Paul believes suffering to be good, or that people ought to force themselves to laugh at pain. Paul acknowledges the pain in his own situation and is grieved by it (2:28). Nevertheless, he knows that God is, through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, accomplishing the good purpose of reconciling the world to himself. Thus Paul’s imprisonment enables the gospel to advance (1:12), and the Philippians’ persecution affords an opportunity to shine like stars in a crooked and perverse generation (2:15).

The Christian bookstore around the corner from my home has racks and racks of books by advocates of the “health and wealth gospel,” and, according to the proprietor, they sell very well. Philippians 4:19 figures prominently in this literature and, plucked from its historical and literary context, is taken to mean that God will not simply meet the material needs of believers, but that, if they can muster the faith to believe it, he will make them rich, “according to his glorious riches in Christ Jesus.” He will also, it is said, make them free from sickness, for sickness is evil and therefore cannot be God’s will.27

Philippians tells us that biblical Christianity cannot tolerate such simplistic answers to the evils of poverty and disease. As Paul plainly says in 3:12–14 and 20–21, Christians have not already attained all that God has in store for them. Instead, they eagerly await the time when their “lowly bodies” will be transformed to resemble Christ’s “glorious body.” In the meantime, God often works through weakness and suffering to accomplish his goals, and any form of the gospel that does not carry the stamp of the cross represents a deviation from the apostolic faith.

(3) The relationship between God’s grace and human works is frequently an issue in Philippians. Salvation is not a present possession in the letter, but lies in the future at “the day of Christ” (1:6, 10; 2:16). Those who will experience salvation on that day, Paul says, are those who are presently working out their salvation “with fear and trembling” (2:12). God responded to Christ’s obedience, moreover, by exalting him to the highest place (2:9–11), and he will respond to the Philippians’ generous spirit by supplying all of their needs (4:19). Does this mean that in Philippians salvation comes by works?28

As paradoxical as it may seem, Paul affirms in Philippians that although God expects believers to make concrete efforts at obedience, at the final day we will not be acquitted on the basis of our obedience but on the basis of the righteousness that God gives to us (3:9). Even the task of working out our salvation does not belong to us, since God began it, works through us, and will complete it (1:6; 2:13). That Philippians begins (1:2) and ends (4:23) with references to God’s grace, therefore, is more than a perfunctory nod in the direction of a pious concept.

As with Paul’s perspective on suffering in the letter, he makes no attempt to explain philosophically how the two sides of the grace-works antithesis can be held together. He simply affirms that believers must obey, but that in obeying they are only doing what God himself enables them to do, not buying acquittal on the final day.

In the modern church, as in the church of all ages, striking the balance between an emphasis on grace and an emphasis on works is difficult. Many people who believe in God and in a day of judgment think that God will ultimately decide for or against them on the basis of their works. Whether it is faithful church attendance, regular tithing, doing the occasional “good deed,” or merely avoiding theft, murder, and adultery, people often imagine that what they do will earn them eternal life. Many others believe that simply because at some point in the past they have made a public profession of faith or been baptized, they are “safe.”

Philippians provides a powerful antidote to both notions. Acquittal on the day of Christ is a free gift of God to those who believe (3:9), but those who believe will inevitably experience the work of God within their lives to produce purity, blamelessness, and obedience (1:10; 2:12).

(4) Perhaps less obviously, Philippians says much about the church’s relationship to the fallen world around it. The societal structures of the day were not friendly to either Paul or the Philippian church, but Paul resisted the notion that the believer should retreat from the world. Thus he engaged the unbelieving world around him with the gospel, as his joy over the spread of the gospel among the praetorian guard demonstrates (1:12–13; cf. 4:22), and he expected the Philippians, likewise, to shine like stars within the hostile society of which they were a part (2:15). He also encouraged the Philippians to look for the good around them, wherever it might be, and take it to heart (4:8). There is no naive optimism here—Paul recognizes that the unbelieving world is a “crooked and depraved generation” (2:15)—but he is convinced that the world belongs to God, that although it is fallen, some good remains within it, and that in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself (2 Cor. 5:19).

Christians today often feel that society is hostile to them. Parodied in the entertainment world, neglected or misrepresented in the news media, and shut out of the public education system, the world at times seems to lie under a veil of impenetrable darkness. As Christianity moves from being the dominant religious perspective in Western society to being only one perspective that competes equally with many others, such feelings of exclusion and misrepresentation are inevitable. Nor are they always unhealthy. The biblical view of the world affirms its fallenness and its need for the redeeming work of God’s grace. As the veneer of outward Christian piety drops from the larger society, it is perhaps a spiritual advantage that Christians see clearly what the larger society has actually been all along.

Philippians shows us what to do with the reality we find beneath the veneer. If we follow Paul’s example and his advice to the Philippians, we should not allow our feelings of exclusion either to lead us on a conquest of society’s structures so that we can restore the Protestant veneer of the 1950s, or to push us into retreat behind walls designed to keep the world away. Our goal, like Paul’s, should be to advance the gospel by engaging the culture, remembering all the while that the world belongs to God and that he loved it so much that he sought to reconcile it to himself through the death of his Son.

In the pages that follow we will observe these principles in action in Paul’s world of twenty centuries past; but just as Epaphroditus carried them to the church at Philippi, we will try to convey them safely from Philippi into our own communities and lives.