How to Hear This? (04/06/24)

It appears there are several questions of interpretation as regards verse 7, as becomes evident in the variety found amongst the translations we have of that verse.  There is, first off, the question of whether Paul intends the meaning that he has them in his heart, or that they have him in theirs.  This is an example of the challenge one has in translation from Greek.  While the language is capable of finely tuned distinctions in many ways, offering different words for different shades of meaning where English would leave you to discern the shades from context, there are other cases where things are utterly ambiguous.  This would apparently be one such case.

What do we have?  We have a singular accusative of I, and a plural accusative of you, so far as our nouns are concerned.  So, neither of these two words supplies the subject of this sentence.  Rather, the accusative case, to borrow from Wheeler’s Syntax Notes, “focuses the verbal action’s goal, […] limiting the action to or by the accusative.”  So, we must look elsewhere for our subject, and, as is often the case in Greek, it will not be found explicitly declared, but must instead be inferred from the verb.  And here, we have a present active infinitive.  The infinitive has no inherent indication of gender or number, though there is a note here in Wheeler’s that indicates that when an infinitive is combined with an article (the), it is always singular neuter.  So, singular would at least suggest Paul (I) as the subject, as well as being a focusing accusative here.  But you do find translations taking the other course.  Wuest, for instance, supplies the meaning as, “because you are holding me in your heart.”  For my part, I incline to see it the other way, particularly given the closing note of longing in verse 8.

The second question concerns just which chains and imprisonment Paul has in mind here.  It’s certainly possible that thoughts of that earlier imprisonment in Philippi cross Paul’s mind in his present circumstance, as he writes to those who were there with him then, and knew personally of that event.  The Phillips translation seems to lean toward this understanding.  “For during the time I was in prison as well as when I was out defending and demonstrating the power off the Gospel we shared together the grace of God.”  That has a very reflective feel to it, in keeping with that longing affection expressed at the end.  And it would certainly be easy enough to believe that Paul, accompanied now by Epaphroditus, and contemplating his friends and supporters back in Philippi might readily be put in mind of that earlier imprisonment.  And such memories might also encourage that hope we find him expressing later, that indeed, this present imprisonment will likewise end in release, that he might visit once more.

There is also, of course, the quite reasonable impression that he is viewing his present imprisonment, as he writes, as it were, in chains.  After all, this present predicament is clearly weighing on his mind, if gently.  He has the confident contentment of one who has long experience of relying on God and finding God reliable.  And he is old enough to have something of a ‘come what may’ attitude toward the whole business.  If I’m done, I’m done.  Well and good.  Let me enter my rest.  But if not?  Well and good.  Let me get on with it.  So, yes, having now languished in prison some four years, all told, imprisonment has become sort of a fact of life, a very present reminder of his very present situation.  How could one forget, when one’s house is occupied with guards day in and day out?

This, in turn, gives rise to yet another question, as to whether his mention of defense and confirmation of the gospel is intended to look forward to his coming trial, or to look backward across his long career in God’s service.  The BBE, for one, takes it as forward looking.  “For in my chains, and in my arguments before the judges in support of the good news, making clear that it is true…”  Others suggest a more retrospective sense.  The GNT, for example, has, “For you have all shared with me in this privilege that God has given me, both now that I am in prison and also while I was free to defend the gospel and establish it firmly.”  This would certainly make sense in light of their many contributions to his ministry, if indeed, the sharing he has in mind is intended to reflect their many gifts of support over the years.  We do, after all, have again that term koinonia, this time, with the prefix sun, indicating close union, close participation.

Let’s try another.  The TEV also takes a retrospective approach.  “For you have all shared with me in this privilege that God has given me, both now that I am in prison and also while I was free to defend the gospel and establish it firmly.”  I like that here, as with the GNT, the idea of sugkoinonia is supplied as sharing in privilege, the privilege of ministry.  I want to retain that thought, and perhaps consider it further in the next portion of this study.

For one further perspective, let me offer a variant on Tyndale’s reading, brought forward to a more current spelling.  “and have you also every one companions of grace with me even in my bonds as I defend and establish the gospel.”  So, there’s a third view, and one in keeping with what will follow; that imprisonment and proclaiming the gospel go hand in hand.  Nothing has changed in that regard.  As Paul had written to Timothy at whatever point, “I suffer hardship and imprisonment as a criminal on account of the gospel, but the word of God is not imprisoned” (2Ti 2:9).  You hold me captive?  I have, then, a captive audience to hear my testimony to this Jesus who was and is and is to come.  Let me tell you about Him!  Let me tell you how greatly he changed me.  And, let me tell you, He can do the same for you.  And clearly, he was having an impact from this house in which he was detained.

So, which is it?  Is he looking backward or forward, reminiscing or anticipating?  And I have to say, I tend to think it’s a bit of both.  To be sure, being thus confined, even if it was not so confining an imprisonment as we would associate with a modern jail, there was plentiful time for reviewing how life had unfolded these last few decades.  And as I said, with Epaphroditus there with him, and with contemplation of his soon departing to return to Philippi, thoughts of that most encouraging of church plants must surely have him recalling those early days.  I wonder if he wasn’t just a bit nostalgic for the company of Silas.  After all, as we find later in the letter, not only is Epaphroditus being dispatched back to his home to bear this letter, but Paul also expects to send Timothy hence, so soon as he has a sense of how things are going to fall out in Rome.  That means Paul alone once again, stripped of his companions to continue the work or face his death, whichever it may be.

This gives rise to another thought.  If we read his intentions, there in Philippians 2:23, it seems he plans to send Timothy along before it’s all said and done.  Which way it shall go may be settled, but the actual going would yet remain unseen when Timothy is dispatched.  This, of course, assumes that plans worked out as intended.  But is it just possible that part of Paul’s thinking here, left unexpressed, was to have Timothy safely away before he must face his death, if that turned out to be the outcome?  Timothy, after all, is shown to have something of a sensitive side, and Paul so often speaks of him as a dear son, expressing much about their relationship to one another.  Would not his fatherly feelings lead him to seek to spare this sorrow to his son?

What I arrive at is this:  Paul’s heart is too fully consumed with care of others to be overly preoccupied with his own predicament.  Let me return to Wuest’s translation for a final thought here, for there are aspects of it that I very much like.  “Even as it is only just and right on my part to be constantly turning my mind in the direction of this very thing in behalf of all of you [namely, the completion of God’s good work in you].”  I’ve already considered the latter portion of the verse from his translation, so let’s stop there.  This is, after all, given in firm connection with Philippians 1:6, that wonderful assurance that God will complete what He has begun.  But it demonstrates so well the pastor’s heart in Paul.  Here he is, in chains awaiting trial before most unstable Nero, and where are his thoughts?  They’re on the welfare of those many believers he has known, those many who have come to faith primarily as a result of the work entrusted to him by Christ.  Companions of grace?  Oh, yes!  They are family, one body, though the miles and the circumstances so separate them at present.  This is a unity that time and trial cannot disturb.

If I were to turn my thoughts inward at this point, I could look back across those many I have known at one or another stage of my development as a believer.  Many, sadly, are barely in my thoughts at all, though with a bit of effort I can recall a name here and there:  Mark, my old prayer partner; Dennis, of course, my first mentor; Jeff, Paul, Mike, Jim, Cindi, and so many others with whom I have served in the music ministry over the years.  But too many have become nameless.  Too many are given only the rarest recollection.  Yet, they are family.  They are as much of my body in Christ as are those with whom I serve now.  I know myself enough to know that distance soon puts paid to relationship with me.  I am, perhaps, too much in the here and now to have much time for back then.  And who knows?  Perhaps that’s needful, in order to allow present connections to flourish as they should.  Or perhaps there is that in me which yet needs work, yet needs to know the Spirit’s reshaping.

Lord, You know.  The fact that this forgetfulness in regard to past associations, this tendency to break ties and move on, is on my mind this morning makes me suspect that perhaps it is not as it should be, that perhaps there is a shallowness in me that You are taking aim at, so as to rectify.  If that’s the case, if my ways have become too self-involved, too hidebound, then by all means, have at.  And may I be found receptive to Your change in me.  Show me what’s up, that I may make myself available and amenable.  I want to be as You would have me to be, and I know in my present condition I am far from it.  So, draw me nearer.  Thank You for not giving up on me.  You are indeed most gracious God.

Ever the Mission (04/07/24)

One thing is quite evident with regard to Paul:  He is always on the job, if you will; always on mission.  We will see shortly just how effectively he has been ministering there in his prison cell.  But it is already evident here in this brief apology for thanksgiving.  I suppose we would more immediately connect his explanation with that note of confidence in God completing the work of sanctification in his friends in Philippi, but I am as happy to point this back just a bit farther, to that thankful remembrance of them which has been the opening of this letter (Php 1:3). 

This offers us a peek into Paul’s mindset as he went through the arduous pursuit of his apostolic ministry.  For Paul, being granted this task was a privilege.  And looking back to his conversion, as he often did, it’s easy to see why.  Here was one who had sought to imprison those who followed the Way (Ac 9:2).  Because of his efforts, many a believer had faced the severity of a Sanhedrin condemnation, perhaps even being put to death by stoning, as Stephen was.  Interesting, isn’t it, that while they would claim to Pilate that they could not put a man to death, they seem to have found it easy enough to do with any other man but Jesus.  But set that aside.  Let’s stick with Paul and his perseverance.  Paul could look at those events, consider just how Jesus had got hold of him, and how He had made of him a ‘chosen instrument’ to bear the Gospel to all – Gentiles, Israelites, kings, slaves, men, women, children – it didn’t matter who (Ac 9:15-16).  If they would hear it, he would preach it.  Indeed, he would preach it even if they weren’t terribly inclined to receive it.  And through all these efforts, and through all the things he had been required to suffer for the name of Christ, he continued to count it a great and wholly undeserved honor. 

After all, he had been uniquely prepared for this mission in life.  One could argue he was being prepared pretty much from birth, if not before.  His birth in Tarsus had, after all, granted him the rights of Roman citizenship, which would serve him in good stead.  It had also granted him a very cosmopolitan environment, wherein he absorbed not only his Jewish background, but also Greek learning, Asian wisdom, and Roman honor.  I suppose I can choose those characteristics as distinguishing these various cultural influences.  It was, after all, a significant city, set in a location which would see all these various influences, and a collegiate city as well.  Paul was a learned man, and had plentiful resources from which to learn.  Then, too, there had been that time spent in Jerusalem, trained by one of the best in being a student under Gamaliel.  To this we can add those three years of personal tutelage by the risen Christ, or at least we must surmise that such was the case as he wandered the wilderness alone after his conversion.  Oh, indeed, he knew the privilege of ministry.  He knew, as perhaps no other, just how fully he had earned for himself the due sentence of death for his sins, even sins committed in the full conviction of acting in righteousness.  And isn’t there yet another lesson for us in that?  But not one I choose to pursue at this juncture.

We get an even clearer picture of this mindset that Paul had, when we read his self-description in Ephesians.  “For this I am an ambassador in chains” (Eph 6:20).  For what?  For making the gospel known.  For preaching.  And the response?  “Pray that I may speak the gospel boldly, as I ought to speak.”  Now, it seems likely this letter was written about the same time as the one before us.  We are hearing from the preacher imprisoned.  But as he wrote to Timothy, while he might be suffering and imprisoned because of the gospel, “the word of God is not imprisoned” (2Ti 2:9).  Nothing will stop this word, for it is God’s word.  Nothing will stop Paul from his ambassadorial duties, for he is God’s man.

And so, to come back to our own passage here, Paul’s focus, as he contemplates the upcoming trial before Nero, is not on survival, but on proclaiming the truth.  I would maintain that this perspective holds whether this passage looks back to that first visit to Philippi, or whether it directly contemplates this coming trial.  As I said before, I suspect it’s both.  But let us look forward with him, and we find him not preparing a defense, but fully prepared to give verbal defense of his mission.  That is to say, he intends to proclaim the gospel as his defense.  And here, we have reference to the term apologia.  As I noted earlier, this passage is itself something of an apology for his thankful remembrance and prayer for these Philippians.  And perhaps that mindset of explanatory reasoning is spurred by contemplation of the upcoming need to do this very thing before the emperor.  And would he not also be thinking back upon those things Jesus had said he was set apart to achieve:  To proclaim the gospel before kings.  Well, here it was.  And what a privilege for our ambassador in chains, to be able to proclaim the good news of salvation to such an audience, and one all but compelled to hear him out, whether he would receive it to salvific effect or not!

And observe that his expectation is that this verbal defense of the gospel will be accompanied by corroborating evidence, a confirmation that what he was proclaiming was no threat at all to the empire nor to its emperor.  Indeed, it was of greatest benefit to both.  He could, perhaps, produce the evidence of his earlier letter to the Roman church, which would serve well to that end, I should think.  “Let every person be in subjection to the governing authorities, for there is no authority except from God, and those which exist are established by God” (Ro 13:1).  “Do your utmost to be at peace with all men” (Ro 12:18).  These are hardly the urgings of a revolutionary.  These are no threat to the beloved pax Romana.  Indeed, they encourage the very thing, and what could appeal more to the ego of an emperor than to be told his position is established by God?  Now, I suppose, given the tendency of Roman emperors to account themselves gods in their own right, maybe it wouldn’t be so well received as all that, but still, that letter would go far toward making clear that Christianity was no threat to the empire, and indeed, would be to its benefit.

He could also, perhaps, bring forth in evidence those many who had been converted even as he was imprisoned.  He could even, as we see, bring before Nero members of his own most trusted guard.  Look, sir!  Here amongst your own ranks, in your own household, you are served, and served well by many who have heard and received this very gospel, received this very Christ and His forgiveness.  I rather doubt that was the case, though.  It would present too great a danger to these other believers should Nero prove unreceptive.  But whatever the case, Paul’s expectation is that the Gospel would be confirmed, validated during this trial.  Would there be signs and wonders confirming?  I am guessing not, else we would almost certainly have some record of that in Scripture.  But then, Luke appears to have departed before that trial completed, and we have very little to go on when it comes to Paul’s later efforts.

But let me try and wrap this part of the study up.  As Paul considers this defense and confirmation of the gospel, observe well, that he does so as a partaker of grace.  Here he is, imprisoned for the Gospel, and how does he perceive his situation?  It is a freehearted gift of unearned, unmerited favor from God.  All of this, not just his decades of ministry through Europe and Asia, but these last several years spent imprisoned for no crime, was accounted by Paul as due to grace, proof of that grace God had shown him, and truly a gift.  We will hit this theme again later in our letter, how suffering for the sake of Christ is rightly considered an honor.  And it’s quite clear that in these early years of the Church, that is exactly how this was seen.  To be taken to Rome to suffer for the crime of Christian faith was seen as perhaps the highest compliment Christ could pay you, and many, in later years, would eagerly seek the chance to be martyred for faith.  They longed, like Polycarp, to endure by the power of God and so give ultimate testimony to His goodness.  I think such a mindset is far from us in our comfortable Western culture.  We’ve been undermined by acceptance, even as Christianity would be undermined by becoming the official state religion of Rome.

This I will hold to be a fundamental truth, however.  If indeed God should call us to such a demonstration of faith in the face of death most cruel, it will be because He has accounted us able to stand, indeed, because He has made us able to stand.  If we face death, it is in His strength.  If we face death, it is because He has thus worked upon and within us that even the temptation to preserve life will prove insufficient to break our devotion to our living, loving Lord of all.  Should it come to this, we shall, like so many before us, “Play the man.”  For it shall not be in our own strength, but truly a gift of grace received by which we stand.  And God will be glorified, and He will, in due course, bring forth justice, true justice.  In so doing, we will be shown righteous in Him, and right to have set our faith in Him.  We shall shine forth in the reflection of His glory, as we stand in full armor, the armor of God, to witness the judgment of those who reject Him and refuse His gospel.

Christian Affection (04/08/24)

I find I am somewhat aligned in my notes for today with what Pastor Mathews was preaching yesterday.  To be clear, these notes were sorted through on Saturday, so it’s something other than simply having that sermon echoing in thought as I turn over these words of Paul’s.  But there is something about this koinonia that Paul describes which goes far beyond the casual socialization of those few moments over coffee before or after service.  In those times, it’s rare our conversations move beyond weather, the challenges of work and home maintenance, and other utterly mundane matters of life.  Here, it is quite vividly shown to be a matter of shared faith, and shared life in faith.

We may not know a great deal about the Philippian believers, but this much is evident:  They believed, and were both firm and active in their belief.  Faith was an evident work in them.  It was evident, no doubt, to those who had dealings with them in that city.  If nothing else, their weekly excursions down to the river to pray would be noticed.  Or perhaps, given Jewish opposition to the Way, they had found it necessary to meet elsewhere.  Perhaps they met at Lydia’s home.  We simply don’t know what the arrangements were.  But this weekly gathering would be noticeable, for it was not just a few friends getting together.  It was many.  And those many were from varied backgrounds, varied walks of life.  They were not necessarily a group one would expect to be together at all, let alone so regularly.

Their faith was also quite evident to Paul as he proceeded with his mission, bringing the gospel to other places.  When he had found it needful to move on from that first visit, there had been his brief time in Thessalonica.  We don’t necessarily know just how brief, but it wasn’t years.  Yet, as he notes here, more than once these believers in Philippi had sent along a gift of support to help fund his work among their neighbors.  Now, given the sense we have that the Philippians in general were rather proud of their city, and that Thessalonica, being an important city itself, and freeborn, as I believe the term would have it, self-governing, would naturally be viewed as something of a competitor for pride of position.  Yet, they did not look to those in their neighboring city as competition, but as glad recipients of the same grace of faith as themselves.  So, they did what they could.  They might not be able to take leave of their businesses and become wandering evangelists, but they could lend their support to those who could.

This wasn’t the only time.  Even when Paul moved further abroad, heading down into Achaia, still they sent their support when they could.  And now, with their friend and father in prison, understanding, as they surely would, that this meant he was covering the expense of his own housing and upkeep, they had once again sent not merely financial support, but the support of fellowship.  They had sent their own pastor to minister to Paul in his confinement.  Nothing official compelled them to such generous support.  But it may well have come about as a response to that which Paul had taught them while he was there.  He writes of how they alone had shared with him ‘in the matter of giving and receiving’ (Php 4:15).  Apparently, something had been taught on the subject, and they had taken it to heart as no other church had done.  And we know that, given time and opportunity, Paul preached the same gospel, taught the same fundaments to every church in which he ministered.  Corinth learned no differently than had Philippi.  Ephesus received the same training as Rome.  There is, after all, one God, one faith, one Gospel, one Lord of all.

So, these Philippians believed, and their faith was evident in their deeds, as it should be.  I was struck, however, by another aspect of these early churches, something very much akin to what we witnessed in Malawi.  Faith was indeed strong, more vibrant than what we generally experience at home, I should think.  But as we are accustomed to measuring things, their churches are very poorly equipped.  I’m not talking so much about the physical plant, although there, too, there is a simplicity imposed of necessity.  But much like what we see happening through the book of Acts, and through the letters of Paul, as churches were planted, elders were chosen from what was available in that body.  Pastors must be raised up from existing stock, if you will.  There was not, is not the luxury of sending them off for years of seminary before sending them to the churches.

I think of Bishop Sabawo, with the sixty-some churches he has planted in scattered communities hours apart, and in some cases, across the border into Mozambique.  Even with a dedication to maintaining communications, and visiting regularly, how often can one man be with them while still ministering to his own church?  As one of the brothers there put the case, evangelism in Malawi has been widespread, but shallow.  You can see it.  Everywhere you go there are churches.  Sad to say, there are almost as many mosques at this point, but everywhere, there are churches.  Even their current president is a pastor, or a former pastor.  I expect it is current, though perhaps inactive for the duration of his time in office.  You can sense it in the newspapers as well, where the official editorials from the staff lean heavily on biblical language in making their point.  Try that here, and see how well it is received!

But there is, as I say, a lack of training.  There is a lack of equipping, because there has been no means to equip.  It was shocking to realize that most of the pastors to which we ministered did not even have a bible from which to minister in their turn.  Many were preaching from stacks of pamphlet tracts that had somehow come their way.  And the danger of this shallow preparation was likewise entirely evident, as we witnessed folks coming even from South Africa to listen to some heretical get rich quick ‘gospel’ proclaimed over the new year.  And this message is prevalent in all the churches, from what I could see.  Come to think of it, it was evident even in my old Charismatic church here in Massachusetts.  Not surprising, I suppose, given the number of Africans in that place.  But yes, even with those to whom we were ministering, there was this near mystical concern over the new year, great concern for receiving the blessings of this ‘crossing over’.

Now, let me turn from the issues to the benefits, because this, too, is evident both in Malawi and in the example of the Philippians:  Where there was not a heavily trained staff, nor even much of a written standard, the churches had to rely far more on God, on the indwelling Holy Spirit, and on one another.  Look.  They had no bibles.  How could they?  The text had yet to be written!  They might, perhaps, have an early copy of one or the other of the gospels, but even that is a maybe.  And now, they had this letter from Paul, but that’s years after their founding.  They’ve had to make do with what they had been given while he was there, and what others such as Timothy had been able to bring their way since.  And it’s clear that they did far better than merely make do.  They took it seriously.  They did not simply listen with amused curiosity like those in Athens.  They recognized the importance and the value of this good news, and as such, they committed it to memory in whatever fashion they could.  And they committed themselves to living by that which they were receiving.  Truly, as Paul observes, they were partakers of grace alongside himself.

And, to take Paul’s setting, they were partakers of that grace both in liberty and in confinement, both as apologists for the gospel, giving reason for the hope that was in them to any who would pause to listen, but also serving as confirmation of this gospel, for here was a church drawn primarily from among the Gentiles, here in the hinterlands of empire.  There were as likely as not Scythians to be found among their number, as well as those like Lydia who had come from Asia Minor.  And yes, there were no doubt some from the Jewish community as well, though it would appear that was a distinct minority here.  But at least there would be some access, some familiarity with the scriptures of the Old Testament to serve them.  They knew opposition, clearly.  It wasn’t just Paul that was rejected, but the whole message.  And a Jewish contingent willing to chase Paul out even in Thessalonica and Berea (and for that matter, all the way back to Jerusalem), wasn’t going to stop with him.  Like Paul’s own past, they seemed singularly bent on eradicating any trace of the Way.  And like Paul’s own past, they failed and failed utterly.  As Gamaliel had warned the Sanhedrin years before, in that they were opposing a work of God, they opposed God, and opposing God, they must fail utterly (Ac 5:34-39).  It’s a terrible thing to be found fighting God; the more terrible when one thought themselves to be doing His will in that fighting.

There’s a word of warning for us.  It’s one thing to seek to better equip and inform those who have, of necessity, been working without a net, as it were.  It’s quite another to insist that our views are the one perfected set of doctrines, absolute and inviolable.  We have our divides and our doctrinal differences, but let us take care that we not, like the Pharisees before us, foist our understandings as law binding upon the conscience.  We should know better.  We have one standard in the Scriptures, and we must surely recognize by now that it is not only possible, but pretty much inevitable that men of good heart and sound faith may come to very different conclusions as they consider those texts.  Let us, then, rejoice in shared faith, wherever the fundamentals are sound, and let us have a generous spirit when it comes to disagreements over matters less clear, however dear our views are to us.  This is a hard thing, I confess.  After all, we are talking matters of belief here, and for many of us, beliefs arrived at with much effort, and often enough, with much correction.  But the greater the correction, the more firmly convinced we become that now, this time, we’ve got it right, and anybody who disagrees with us simply hasn’t been thinking about it hard enough, hasn’t sought the Spirit well enough.  Indeed, they may become suspect in our thinking.  But we must hold our thinking suspect.

We are in fellowship, even with our doctrinal disputes.  We are sons of one Father, even with these distinct personalities.  And our fellowship is close.  We are more than casual acquaintances.  We are family.  The term Paul uses here, sugkononia, combines that prefix sun, with the matter of fellowship and participation.  As we saw in the previous study, sun carries a sense of closeness, of tight-knit sharing.  This is what Paul is presenting here.  You have been close-coupled with me in this grace we share.  You have joined with me in declaring and defending this glorious good news, and in living lives that bear witness to the power and majesty of our God.  Like me, you have been changed.  Like me, you have known suffering for your beliefs.  Like me, you have set all worldly goods at the disposal of ministry, and like me, you have seen God’s provision poured out on your behalf.

And so, we come to this longing affection which Paul expresses.  It’s expressed in a term we see more often translated as compassion, and it’s a word so surprising to our sensibilities that it becomes something of a rite of passage for the student of Scripture.  Splagchnois.  It is the term for affection, rather than the longing, but its base meaning pertains to the bowels, the spleen.  As such, it conveys a depth of emotion such as roils the gut.  It could be expressive of deep-seated anger and offense, but I don’t know as I’ve ever come across such usage in Scripture.  It may be that I simply haven’t looked for it.  But it seems to me such anger is more often presented as orge.  Splagchnois, on the other hand, where it is not simply presented as bowels, tends more to be translated as compassion.  It is that deeply moving care of love, such as we might feel for our child in their distress, or our spouse when facing serious illness.  We care so much it hurts.  You know the feeling.  You may have sought to suppress it, given the strength of it, but you’ve known it.

Here, however, it’s not distressed concern, or at least not entirely.  There is deep concern, as we find Paul indicating later in the letter.  They, after all, have known of Epaphroditus’ illness.  And they have known of Paul’s predicament, and word of their deep concern has now returned to Paul in his prison cell.  So, now, he is doubly concerned for them, lest these troubles somehow prove too much for them to bear with steadfast hope.  So, yes, concern plays into the longing here, but the stronger pull is that of affection.  Here is a church that has been, really, nothing but joy to Paul.  To the best of our knowledge, they have not stood in need of correction.  There is nothing here of the stern discipline of the Apostle as false teachings or misunderstandings or tolerance for sin disrupted the testimony of the church.  There is only celebration of shared faith.  Honestly, there’s very little even of teaching to this letter.  We don’t find some chunk of exposition on doctrinal matters such as we normally expect from Paul.  It’s there, but it’s almost in passing.  There is encouragement, applied theology, if you will, but very little of delving into the mysteries and deep truths of faith.  The need for it simply wasn’t there.  They already got it.

But let me consider this depth of affection, this close-knit fellowship even across the miles.  And let me ask, how greatly do we hunger for such fellowship?  How longingly do we look forward to that next opportunity to join together in the praises of our God?  There are times when indeed, the joy of that sharing is near to overwhelming.  There are times when I look about in the church with a deep sense that here is my family.  But there are also many times when, if I’m honest, it seems more a chore and a duty.  Well, here we go again.  We come.  We serve.  We get some coffee, cast about for somebody to chat with, but no.  Everybody’s engaged or busily off to the next activity, and once again, you’re left feeling somewhat a fish out of water.  Something’s wrong here, and whether it’s me or this body I cannot say.  Probably a bit of both.  I incline to think the problem is primarily with me, though.  There simply has not been that close engagement with these folks.  Ever.  I appreciate them, and yes, I think in some cases I can honestly say I love them.  But connection?  Minimal.  Outside of church service?  Almost non-existent.  And whom shall I blame?  Well, in my present state of living, it’s on me.  With Jan self-removed from active participation in the local body, it just feels awkward.  And, rather as Scripture has taught, there’s this tension between pursuing the course of godly fellowship in the body, and the pull to share fellowship with my wife.  And I am torn.  Add my general propensity for privacy, and…

But God knows.  He knows me.  He knows her.  He knows my family here in this church.  And He knows how best to address the matter.  I shall rely on Him to sort me out.  Father, I would pray that you stir such deep affection in me, this hunger for fellowship.  May I be restored to a place of rejoicing in that fellowship.  Or, as the case may be, may I be brought to that place a first time.  I cannot but feel that something is terribly awry, that I am ever feeling remote, received but not really accepted.  Or perhaps, it’s me, not really accepting or receiving.  You know.  And if You so will, may it be that I come to understand what’s wrong and find myself, in the strength and power of the Spirit, able to address my part of it and grow.  I want to be as You would have me to be.  And I remain mindful that, with all my peculiarities, I am indeed fearfully and wonderfully made, just as You have made me.  If contentment is the answer, then let me be found content.  If change is needed, then let me prove willing to the change.  Fit me for Your work, and work upon me that I might be willing to it.  My need remains great.  You remain greater.  Praise be to Your name, my Lord.  Amen.