Rightly Assessing (12/17/24)

It has taken a bit to find the threads connecting those things I have pulled together for comment, but I think I have them identified now.  The first thread of thought centers around the idea of, “It is only right … since …”  Paul has made an assessment.  He has, if you will accept it, made a judgment.  And immediately, the hackles go up.  Oh!  But we’re not supposed to judge!  Well, yes, actually you are, especially as one set in office over the church.  But in reality, we are all called to make judgments.  It’s part of being alive and staying alive.  But there’s a huge gap between making a judgment and being judgmental.  It is the latter that must be dispensed with.  Paul, in this instance, is working from evidence.  He has seen their response to the gospel.  He has seen their steadfast commitment to the gospel.  He has evidence of that commitment both in hand and in company.  And on the basis of that evidence, he finds sound reason to fully expect their preservation unto the day of Christ Jesus.  This is, after all, continuing from the previous verse, and giving further substance to its confident hope.

Perhaps we need to adjust our thinking as to what it was like in the early church.  Consider the case with Philippi.  We don’t really know how long Paul and company remained there, but it would not appear to have been very long at all.  It may have been just as brief as his time in Thessalonica.  But he had been faithful to his call, as he was being here in his imprisonment in Rome.  I had mention of that here for consideration, as the JFB commentary had mention of this time as we read of it in Acts.  And then, this morning’s Table Talk is at just about the same point in that book, though the JFB brings us to the closing of Acts, which Table Talk won’t get to for another week or two.  But here of Paul’s mindset, there in his quarters, chained to his guard.  “He stayed two years in rented quarters there, receiving with welcome all who came to him, preaching the kingdom of God and teaching of the Lord Jesus Christ with all openness, and entirely unhindered” (Ac 28:30-31).  This is where he is writing from in this letter before us.  And earlier, as I read today in Table Talk, it had been all of three days between his arrival in Rome and his beginning to make the gospel known, beginning as he so consistently did, with the local Jewish population.

But most of his opportunities were brief.  We have those few cases, Corinth, Ephesus, Rome, where the opportunity had been for a couple of years spent establishing the local body.  But in Macedonia, it seems the time was measured in months, and in Asia Minor, perhaps not even that long.  And in that time, churches were planted.  We see that Paul was careful to ensure that elders were chosen to guide those churches after he had left.  Sometimes that meant a return visit by one of his coworkers.  See Titus and his task in Crete, for example.  But elders had to come from what was available in the church.  It required judgment to discern who in that local body, with little to work with beyond what the Apostle had spoken and maybe, maybe a manuscript of one of the gospels, would be a suitable shepherd to the church.

I know I commented on this last time I was in these verses, but I am again back from Africa, so the memories are refreshed.  Here is Bishop Sabawo, eager to plant churches wherever there might be an opportunity for the kingdom to grow in his region.  Now, to be sure, both in Malawi and in Zambia, there are plenty of churches.  Zambia declares itself an officially Christian nation.  Malawi, I believe, has done much the same.  At any rate, their president is a pastor, and some degree of religious understanding, Christian understanding, appears to be widespread.  But it is not particularly deep.  We are still surprised, given our Western experience of things, to find pastors without Bibles, pastors who might very well be unable to read a Bible if they had one.  And yet, here they are teaching their people.  Teaching them what?  How?  And, of course, we want to help them, to provide them with Bibles and a biblical underpinning of sound faith in the fundamentals, especially given the myriad false gospels that come their way with great fanfare and advertising; never mind the inroads of Islam and Chinese influences.  They need a foundation, and that’s not just Western conceit speaking.  They know it.  They long for it.  How well they lay hold of those things we are providing in this regard remains to be seen, but God is faithful, and their situation is not so very far from what the earliest churches knew; not so far at all.

Hear it again.  Churches were planted.  That was Paul’s function.  He proclaimed the Gospel.  He taught, but not from books, not with worksheets provided.  He taught by speaking and by living a consistent life of godly faith in their presence.  And they learned.  They recognized the good news for what it was, a life-giving, life transforming gift from True God.  So, they committed what he was teaching to memory as best they were able, some more able than others no doubt.  And they not only committed to remembering, but to living in light of this truth.  Still, with but weeks or months to establish these new believers in a faith that was, you have to recognize, radically different from anything they had known previously, there could only have been so much that could be accomplished.  And then, Paul and his companions must depart.  But before they left, they would wish to ensure this new work was positioned to persist.  They would be looking for those individuals who had really laid hold of what they were laying down.

If I consider my own meager efforts this last trip, I can envision those one or two in each session who were really locked in, who were really getting the point.  Now, it may be that in these individuals it happened that what was being taught happened to resonate with what they already believed.  Why wouldn’t it?  It’s God’s Truth, and these are God’s people.  But for so many, it was difficult to impossible to discern whether things were really heard at all, or whether the exhaustion of heat and travel and periods of hunger and periods of eating better than usual were rendering things too hazy to really lay hold of things.  Well, we can hope that the materials we left with them will be sufficient to refresh recall of our discussions, and to better engage their thinking in coming months.  But if it had been my call to select those who should lead the work going forward, those few in each group would readily spring to mind.  It would want longer engagement, to be sure, to assess their character above and beyond those few hours together.  But here were men and women who recognized the value of this good news, and by all appearances at least, were ready to commit to living in light of it. 

But of course, we don’t know, do we?  Paul, for all that gift of discernment which was no doubt upon him as an Apostle, could not know with absolute certainty.  He could only observe, and pray, and assess the evidence.  But he could do so with a godly mindset.  I was truly touched, a bit convicted perhaps, to read Ironside’s comments on this point.  He notes that God sees us believers in our finished state, looks upon us in that condition we shall manifest on the day of Christ Jesus.  This is what we mean when we talk about how the Father sees us through the lens of His Son, or things to that effect.  God, Who dwells outside of time, Who knows the end from the beginning, is quite aware of the present, unfinished state of things, but what He sees is the finished work.  And He sees that it is very good.

But there is invitation in this, the invitation for us all to look with eyes of grace, to join God in esteeming our brothers and sisters not on the basis of their present imperfections, but as they shall be in their perfected glory.  As Ironside proceeds to conclude, “To look upon God’s people in this manner will deliver us from much strife and disappointment when we see carnality in those from whom we expected better things.”  I grant you, this can be rather a huge difficulty at times, a challenge to try us to our limits when those fleshly actions are directed our way.  It can be a huge challenge when it is our own flesh acting up, our own failures that are pressing against conscience.  How could God forgive me this?  How shall I ever recover?  We go through those points, though I hope, as we lay hold of God’s faithfulness, that we find the shaking of confidence lessens.  We may not know how, but we have cause to believe He will forgive.  We may not know how, but we can count on the will and the work of God within us to bring about that recovery.  Well, dear one, if we can have such confident hope in regard to ourselves, why not grant the same hope to others?  Why not look past the hurt, past the misunderstanding, past even the erroneous beliefs that may currently be marring the faith of those we know and love, and look, together with the Father, at the finished work of His hands in their lives?  It takes eyes of humility as well as compassion, but we have the Holy Spirit indwelling, and He is counseling us to exactly those aspects of character, to recognize our own weakness, our own dependency on God, and also on one another as family.  But that is my topic for the next section, so I’ll leave it here.

Lord, grant us to see as You see, to express mercy as You express mercy, to judge rightly with a heart of love for our fellow believers, whatever their stage of growth, whatever our differences at present.  We are all of us, after all, works in progress, and in that progress we are Your workmanship.  We see with the limits of human perception, human assessment, and honestly, we’re not terribly accurate.  On our better days, we know that.  But we get too full of ourselves and our own wisdom.  Forgive us.  Help us.  Grant us the depths of grace by which to believe all things, hope all things, endure all things, with the finished work of Your own doing before us.

Real Fellowship (12/18/24)

As there has been this new burst, if you will, of concern for fellowship, and concern for those with which I am in fellowship, I want to explore just a bit what these verses have to say on the subject.  By now, the concept of koinonia has been well enough explored.  We have seen how it speaks to shared participation, and might perhaps have reference to that collection taken up in support of another.  Philippi had no doubt taken part in that contribution collected for the support of the church in Jerusalem, but they had also repeatedly taken up a collection to send Paul’s way to support him in his ministry.  We have notice of their contributions to his work while he was still in Macedonia, establishing a church in Thessalonica.  And we know, of course, of the collection that had come to Paul for his support here in prison.  But there was always something deeper in this sharing than just sending money.

Let me sidetrack just a bit.  I haven’t heard it as much of late, but I used to hear quite regularly this idea that, in weighing a potential suitor for one’s daughter, or what have you, we could assay that if God’s got this one’s wallet, He’s got his heart.  And perhaps there are pastors who have this same idea of measuring depth of faith by depth of giving.  But I wonder if this has more to do with an ill-founded focus on finance than on anything of truth.  Yes, to be sure where there is real faith there will be godly works that follow.  James writes that faith without works is a dead faith (Jas 2:17), a useless faith (Jas 2:20).  I might word it slightly differently, if only to keep clear of any thought that James had an argument with Paul on this matter.  I mean, they may have.  But God does not, and its His message, regardless which of them is writing.  So, let us say faith without evidence, which is what works are for us, evidence of God working within, is indeed a dead and pointless faith.  It is not faith at all, in the sense of our Christian understanding of saving faith.  It is but opinion, an idea we have in mind, with no more bearing on our character and being than any other thought that flits through our mind on any given day.

All that being said, I find no reason to suppose that one’s willingness to send money offers any reliable evidence as to the underlying condition of that one’s faith.  I think that for many of us, particularly here in the West, sending money is at least potentially an act of virtue signaling rather than anything of real, heartfelt compassion.  We want to be seen as doing something about the problem, even if it’s only ourselves looking.  We give because we want to feel better about ourselves, rather than because we actually care about those we are supposedly helping.  And given the state of so many of these organizations that receive such offerings of support, it’s a real question how much help is actually happening.  But it doesn’t matter.  We gave, and we feel better, and that was the whole point.  Shame on us, if this is the case.  But of course, truly getting involved, truly seeking to be agents of positive change in the circumstances about which we learn, that’s a much more challenging task, isn’t it?  Honestly.  Which is easier, to go minister to those in the depths of need and lostness, or to give monthly to somebody else who’s inclined to do so?  Heck, in many a church, you can even give to those who have gone without having to think about it.  It’s just part of the budget.  Look at me!  I’m helping!  Okay.  Granted, those who go need their support, and yes, by giving to their support, you are in fact helping.  But what are the real motivations?  Is it about seeing others helped, or about feeling better about ourselves?  I can’t answer that for you.  I can barely answer for myself.

Where I am going with all this, though, is that this matter of fellowship goes far beyond dropping a dime in the plate when it passes, or filling out some form on the website to transfer funds from your account to whatever.  It’s about sharing together.  As Pastor has been saying for the last year or two, it’s about sharing life together.  And lest there be any doubt as to Paul’s intent thus far in this letter, I might note that here, when he speaks of them as partakers of grace with himself, that translates sugkoinonia, our regular friend koinonia, but now with the intensifying prefix of sun, a sharing together in partnership, a having in common with one another.  That prefix suggests a close union, a tightness of connection, if you will, so something more than just association.

And look where this sharing together finds itself demonstrated, “both in my imprisonment and in the defense and confirmation of the gospel.”  We could get into the legal sense of those two terms, defense and confirmation, but they are somewhat beside the point for this discussion.  Paul is in prison.  In Roman justice, at least in his particular circumstances, that meant renting a place at his own expense in which to reside, along with the guard who would be chained to him.  Guards, one supposes, might change time to time, but his situation did not.  This was no free room and board for the miscreant.  Rome need not concern itself with keeping its prisoners alive if they proved too costly.  No.  I do believe there were other accommodations that might come into play if you could not pay your way, but not such as one might wish to occupy.  But if he’s in prison, why send support?  Could it not in fact have the effect of putting their own liberty in danger?  If things went against Paul, Rome would know that those back in Philippi had been supporting him, what then for them?  I suspect it was something of this very concern that had led Paul to send Epaphroditus back their way before his trial.

Did they have word of what had been happening there in Rome, such that they already knew Paul was ministering from his imprisonment?  Or, did they simply know the man well enough to know that nothing was going to prevent him from his mission?  Or, as seems more likely, is it that they were out evangelizing in their own part?  We know, for example, that those from Thessalonica were having such an impact that by the time Paul reached Corinth, news of their faith had already come to port there (1Th 1:8-9 – The word of the Lord has sounded forth from you, not only in Macedonia and Achaia, but everywhere your faith has gone forth.  We don’t have to say a word!  They tell us!  They speak of their reception among you, and of how you have turned from idols to serve the living and true God.)  I have no doubt but that Philippi was having a like effect.  And, as Paul writes later, they alone had developed this habit of sending support as he ministered in other places (Php 4:15 – No other church shared with me in this matter of giving and receiving; only you.)

I do believe the sharing Paul has in view here goes beyond that of financial support.  They shared in grace.  They shared in the privilege of ministry.  And it is a privilege.  God, I must stress, does not require our assistance.  He makes room and opportunity for it.  But let every minister fail Him and still the power of the Gospel would win through to each and every soul He desires to save.  But He has chosen this means of the church and of ministers preaching.  And He has also chosen, in choosing the church, to facilitate our need for fellowship, turning it to good purpose in the mutual building up of our faith.  Indeed, as we learn from 1Corinthians, every member of the church has some gift from the Spirit to put toward this mutual edification (1Co 12:7 – Each one is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good.)  And the truth is, we need each other.  Nobody is so fully blessed with the gifts of the Spirit as to be fully able to stand alone.  Not even Paul could make such a claim.  No.  When companions left him alone, he felt the loss.  Yes, he still had God and God still had him, but there is this need in us for fellowship, for something more than, “How about that weather?”  We need depth of connection.  We need wisdom and insight from one another.  We need to know that when things go south for us, as they assuredly will at some juncture or another, there are those alongside us who will serve as God’s tools to pull us out and restore us.

Ministry is a privilege, as I say.  And sometimes, that ministry consists in truly sharing the sorrows and trials of those to whom we minister.  It certainly means being available, emotionally available and physically available, to share both in their victories, and perhaps more importantly, in their grief.  After all, when do we most feel the need for others?  When we are on top of the world, we might want somebody to whom we can share our excitement, but that has more to do, I think, with ego strokes than any real need to share.  It’s not valueless, but it’s less of a felt need than what we feel when we are deep in trials and sorrow.  The soul in anguish needs to know it is not alone, not the only one who cares.  There will be those times when, regardless the depth of our faith, trials have caused us to lose sight, somewhat, of God, and we need our faithful companions to remind us.  He is here.  He knows.  He’s still got this.  No, things may not turn out as you would like.  No, I can’t tell you why this current trial is good, only that it is.  Because He is good.  He is your loving Father, who always does what is best for you, and for each of those who are His own.  You may not understand now.  You may not understand ever.  But you know.  So, remember!

This is, I am coming to think, the deepest privilege of ministry.  I mean, yes, having a hand in somebody truly repenting and coming to faith in Christ is a wonderful feeling, I am sure.  That feeling I had when seeing that room come alive at the realization that so much of what they were taking as law was in fact a declaration of gospel; I could get addicted to that!  It’s an incredible feeling, and one in which I find I must immediately smack down any sense of pride that tries to rise up.  No!  Look what God has done here!  Thank You, Lord, for making me a part of this!  Thank You for working through me.  Thanks, even, for the memories, for they will no doubt serve to sustain me.  I have seen what You can do, even with such poor clay as this man.  Amazing.

But to be entrusted with another’s sorrows, with their crises:  Wow.  I don’t need to think too hard to find occasions where such an opportunity would have been perceived by me more as an annoyance, a bother that must be dealt with so that I can get back to my happy life.  But there is something here.  Is it a change in me?  A new stage of maturation?  I suppose it must be.  But when others are willing to open up their hurts, it’s not a disruption.  It’s an honor.  You trust me with your pain.  That’s incredible.  That’s humbling.  And it calls forth something in response.  It may be something ungainly, given lack of practice.  But there is this depth of compassion such as I find Paul expressing here in the affection of Christ Jesus.  It’s more than affection as we are inclined to think of it.  Our sense of affection barely extends beyond puppy love, if it gets that far.  But this is gut-wrenching depths of care.  I’ll get to that more in the next part of this study, but recognize how this plays into sharing another’s sorrows.  “Rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep” (Ro 12:15).  Share in this!  These are your family, and will be for eternity.

We are familiar enough with the thought that suffering for the sake of Christ is indeed an honor.  Given that we have this promise that God will not test us beyond our capacity, we must recognize that the test that does come our way is evidence of His assuredly correct assessment of our development.  If it should come about that we must suffer severely for the sake of Christ, for the sake of the Gospel, it is a testimony from God that we are mature enough to stand fast in faith even through such suffering.  Mind you, this is no call to go out and become insufferable for the cause of Christ.  That’s not the point.  As Peter says, “By no means let any of you suffer as a murderer, or a thief, or evildoer, or a troubling meddler” (1Pe 4:15).  You cannot bend such things into the appearance of suffering for Christ, and to make such a claim in these circumstances would be an offense against God.  But now, let us understand that when we enter into the sorrows of our brother or sister, this, too, is suffering for the sake of Christ.  No, it’s not a taking to the path of martyrdom, and far be it from us to pursue it as such.  But it is an entering into the sorrow of Christ, felt by Him on behalf of this one whose suffering we are invited to share, if only in empathy.

Suffering is a gift.  We shall surely hit that theme again in later parts of this letter.  I can say so with greater assurance than usual, knowing that I have addressed them elsewhere already in my notes.  But God honors us with the opportunity to suffer in His name.  Calvin writes, “It is no common honor that God confers upon us, when we suffer persecution for the sake of his truth.”  That suffering may take many forms.  It may consist in having to live with those who disagree, a rather mild case, but persistent in its pain.  It may consist in feeling the wrath of society, or even government, come against you for standing firm on what is right and holy, even when pressure mounts to give way.  It may consist in facing some deranged individual shooting up the church, and dealing with the aftermath, if it has not resulted in facing death ourselves.  Who can say?  But whatever form, the call remains the same.  “Be alert. Stand firm in the faith.  Be a man.  Be strong.  And do everything in love” (1Co 16:13-14).  Bear your gift well.  Demonstrate that the honor done you is not misplaced.  Know that you are held in grace.  I’ll add from the Wycliffe Translators’ Commentary, “To suffer for Christ is a special favor from God.”  It takes effort on our part to perceive it as such.  But know that perceptions, right or wrong, do not alter the facts of the case.

This has been an interesting period of life, and I suppose, under present circumstances, we can take ‘interesting’ in a number of senses.  It’s interesting, from a rather detached perspective, to observe the change in myself since this last journey overseas.  Something changed, and I join with Pastor in hoping and praying that it remains changed.  It’s a vast improvement over what preceded.  There is also interesting in the Klingon sense, if you will, of living in interesting times, which is to say, exceedingly challenging.  We are, this little family of mine, entered into a period of trial, as our stepson lies in hospital, condition seemingly unchanging.  Is he to recover, or is it time for him to go be with the Lord?  God knows he has suffered considerably in his short life.  Forty plus years of living with seizures, unable to communicate, or do much of anything, having no say in when one wakes, when one eats, where one goes, or when these seizures might hit, is a long time.  How to pray?  What to hope for?  How to be a peacemaker amidst various family members with their differing responses and griefs and needs?

It’s striking to me, just from the coincidence aspect, that all of this follows so closely on that evening of being honored with the opportunity to share the grief of a few of my closer companions in the church, as they deal with issues in the lives of their children, some of whom, like my own, are no longer children at all.  It’s serious stuff, some of which I was at least aware of, but much of which had rather gone unnoticed, if ever it had been mentioned.  But there was this new sense of compassion, this need to pray, to let them know that there was fellowship here in the midst of suffering.  I had mentioned Danny and his condition, just in passing, just to perhaps offer some sense of commiseration with their current sorrows, to say, “I get it.  And getting it, I am here with you, for you.”  And then, what?  Three, four days later, there’s the call.  “Danny’s in the hospital.”  It’s just interesting.  Almost like that time of sharing was a preparation of sorts, to be ready for the trial ahead.  But I don’t really think that’s it directly.  I think this is a period of growth, and growth of a somewhat more painful sort, for honestly, who wants to deal with sorrow, given the option to be involved in something more pleasant?  But no.  Bonds are deepening.  Compassion is growing.  God is at work, and I must lay myself at His feet, seek to perceive His work and join Him in it, and then, rejoice to see what He is doing in me, and in those around me.

I am thankful myself for the support of fellowship, perhaps the more so as I see both my wife and her ex, who have cut themselves off from any local body, dealing with their sorrows that much less aided.  Yes, Jan has her online group, but I’m sorry.  No matter how often I hear it argued to the contrary, no online group will ever suffice as a replacement for the real, physical nearness of fellowship in the local body.  That’s not to say fellowship cannot extend across the miles.  It can.  It does here in this epistle, doesn’t it?  The Philippians can’t just drop by to talk with Paul, nor he with them.  But the connection remains.  The sharing remains.  The bonds of ‘pious love,’ as Calvin expresses it, remain firm.  And yes, even where we have differences in our doctrine – though I must stress these differences are not in regard to the fundamentals of faith – fellowship remains.  There are times when such fellowship across deeply held disagreements must require that we put some distance between us, perhaps becoming parts of different bodies.  And yet, still, those bonds of love remain.  We are, in this case, back to the message of 1Corinthians.  “One and the same Spirit works all these things, distributing to each individually as He wills” (1Co 12:11).  I dare say that applies at the corporate level as well as the individual.  To each church that remains truly a church, He distributes as He wills.  Our differences need not prevent us coming together for this or that occasion.  But being a peacemaker may require that we more often gather separately.  And even for those in different churches, even for those at distance from us, this same depth of fellowship and of love can and should apply.  In every case, as we grow in our own faith, I expect we shall find ourselves caring so much for them that it hurts.

I confess that I can feel somewhat Paul’s depth of longing here.  “How I long for you all.”  Honestly, with that last leg of our journey in Lesotho, I was feeling that already before we had even finished teaching.  I may not know the name of a single individual that attended.  I may never see them again.  Who can say?  But there was a connection made.  And I could truly say that, given opportunity, I would gladly have stayed another week and more.  But I also have little doubt that further time would have been a different experience, familiarity would set in, and longing for home as well.  But yes.  “I long for you all with the affection of Christ Jesus.”  And I find myself praying that I might know that same longing for the other places I have been serving in like capacity.

Lord, how this will develop, I obviously cannot say.  But I am in awe of what You have done both in me and through me.  You are indeed amazing, and I am so overjoyed to have been some small part in the work You are accomplishing.  What an experience!  Thank You for that alone!  Thank You for the faces I saw lighting up at receiving a better understanding of Who You are, and who You are making them to be.  Oh, praise to Your name!  How I hunger for this to come about again.  And yet, Lord, let me tame my hunger, temper my expectations with the understanding that even should I return, it won’t be the same experience repeated, but another experience, another response, and all by Your power, and all to Your glory.  In the meantime, I shall thank You for the growth, and seek as best I may to hold fast the growth You have brought about in me.  And yes, as always, let me be useful to You, an asset, however meager, in Your kingdom.

Holy Love (12/19/24)

We come to this matter of godly affection, or holy love.  In this instance, we are not considering that uniquely Christian conception of love that is agape.  Rather, we have the wonderfully sonic term splagchnon.  The KJV translates it rather literally as bowels, but then, as a few commentaries have noted, we get somewhat misled by our more modern use of the term bowels.  We read bowels, and thoughts go to the intestine.  Indeed, I see that Strong suggests the idea as well, given the Greek term’s potential derivation from splen or spleen.  But others point a bit higher in the chest cavity, to the region of heart, lungs, and so on.  Whichever organs you consider to be involved, though, the point returns to expressing a gut-wrenching depth of compassion, sympathy, or, as we have it here, longing.  There is an intensity to it.

Now, I think we might readily connect agape and splagchnon as being close-coupled emotions when it comes to our fellowship with other believers, and perhaps even, to a somewhat lesser degree, when it comes to our concerns for unbelievers.  What is most telling here, and what we ought to be seeing in our own experience of these things, is that it is ‘of Christ Jesus.’  That is to say, this isn’t just some emotion you’ve worked up in yourself.  Arguably, it’s a depth and purity of emotion that is quite beyond you to work up.  What is being expressed here is godly affection, yes.  But it being godly affection surely suggests, indeed insists, that it is God’s own love and compassion that is in fact at work here.  The JFB supplies a quote from Alford on the subject.  “All real spiritual love is but a portion of Christ’s love, which yearns in all united to him.”  This is what drives us.  This is the fuel cell of the pastor, of the missionary, of the evangelist, of the discipler.  Yes, I am apparently making that word up.  So be it.  It distinguishes, to my thinking, the one who teaches on matters of faith and sound doctrine from the one who teaches things like language and math and science.

I am also going to suggest that this depth of feeling comports well with the joyful contentment that permeates this epistle.  We have seen Paul’s confident assessment of his readers in the previous verse.  “I am quite certain of this:  God began this good work in you, and He will perfect it to end” (Php 1:6).  Clearly, I am paraphrasing, but the meaning is unaltered.  He knows God.  He knows God is reliable.  That awareness and assurance is at the fore throughout this letter.  Paul has plentiful experience of God’s faithfulness.  It is thus that he knows contentment even as he faces the most uncertain of times.  It’s not as though he hasn’t faced plentiful uncertainty in life.  Consider the path that brought him to Rome in the first place.  He had been mobbed in Jerusalem for the crime of being an observant Jew and attending to matters of Mosaic Law in the temple.  He had been imprisoned, kept by a succession of Roman governors of variable morals, looking for bribes, looking to appease the locals, looking to anything, it seems, other than real justice.  He had faced raging seas and shipwreck, snake bites and superstition.  Face it.  Life had been anything but certain for some four or five years now, and it was no more certain now, with trial before Nero to be faced, and the unknown influence of his Jewish bride, as well as certain among his counselors who perhaps had little regard for Paul.  Yet, he is content.  God has this.  Come what may, God has this.  If it is to be death, so be it.  He goes home, and God knows this is the best course.  If it is to be life, so be it.  He has work to do, and God will see to it that he is able to get that work done, and again, God knows this is the best course.

And in the midst of all this trial and uncertainty, where do we find Paul’s thoughts?  Firmly directed outward.  It has shown in his propensity to teach from his imprisonment.  As I am reading yet again in Table Talk, no sooner had he established his rental than he was inviting the local Jewish leaders to come and hear about Jesus.  And it certainly didn’t stop with that first invitation.  It kept going.  Luke tells us that throughout this period, he was “welcoming all who came to him, preaching the kingdom of God, and teaching about the Lord Jesus Christ openly and unhindered” (Ac 28:30-31).  Neither did he content himself with attempting to evangelize the locals.  His thoughts remained with those many who had come to faith in the last however many years, including these Philippians who were among the most fruitful results of his ministry, of God’s power working through him.  And knowing their shared faith, of course he would long to be with them.  We’re back to fellowship, and the fundamental need we all have for companionship with those of like faith, like loves and interests.  But I think, too, there was a longing that derived more from the needs of ministry.  Again, I consider how these churches were planted, without benefit of bibles or seminaries or any of the standard expectations of the modern church.  They had what Paul had spoken, perhaps some few with knowledge of the Old Testament, maybe even a copy they could read, and the outside chance of perhaps having one or the other of the gospels to hand, although it may well have been too soon for that.  Point is, they had very little in writing by which to maintain or improve their understanding of New Covenant doctrine.  They needed teaching.  They needed Paul, or someone like him, and he knew it.  In only a very few places had he been able to take the sort of time needed to establish solid foundations in the church before being forced to move on.  So, of course, he longed to get back, to strengthen those foundations, to see things well and truly established before his time was up.

All of this expresses in that godly longing that tugs at him.  And again, it’s not just emotion.  It’s certainly not pride suggesting that if he can’t get back to them to improve their understanding all will surely be lost.  No.  Paul’s ego was left behind, I think, when he stopped calling himself Saul.  There was godly assertion of authority, yes, but always with the humility that such authority demands.  Look how carefully he seeks to distinguish points upon which he is but offering opinion, and points where he has clear revelation from God.  No.  He takes his office very seriously, and he knows with full assurance that whatever is being accomplished through him is being accomplished not because of him, but because of God in him.  I love that verse I read for men’s group last week.  “By the grace of God I am what I am, and His grace has not been in vain.  I have worked harder than all these other Apostles, yet not I, but the grace of God with me” (1Co 15:10).  He’s not in competition.  He is compelled.  The wonder of this grace, the power of God’s love, insists.  Word must spread.  Faith must be nurtured.  Anything that would threaten the wellbeing of these new believers must be countered forcefully in the power of God.

So, we have this holy love of gut-wrenching affectionate longing.  But it’s not an act of self-will, or not solely that.  No, this is the affectionate compassion of Christ Himself taking the helm.  So far as self-will is concerned, self-will has determined to accede to Jesus’ driving.  Self-will has learned to listen, to heed, to inquire after wisdom.  Self-will has come to desire that it might love in the same fashion as the Lord to whom self-will has submitted.  That becomes a very tall order, doesn’t it?  Clarke notes what this entails.  Jesus, in His love for mankind, gave Himself for the world.  And he proceeds to observe that in this context, Paul faces the possibility of likewise giving his life for the gospel.  In a very real sense, and with full contentment, he stands ready to offer up his own life in service to their faith.  “Even if I am being poured out as a drink offering upon the sacrifice and service of your faith, I rejoice and share my joy with all of you” (Php 2:17).  And the time would come.  “I am being poured out as a drink offering.  The time of my departure has come” (2Ti 4:6-7).  How that must have hurt to read!  Poor Timothy, facing the loss of his great mentor and friend.  But, “I have fought the good fight.  I have finished the course.  I have kept the faith.”  There is contentment, and still the outwardly directed concern for those to whom he had ministered over the years.

And there has been, all along, sound judgment.  Not judgmentalism, but judgment:  Assessing the evidence that is available, in the wisdom and discernment supplied by the Holy Spirit, with a confidence rooted not in bare evidence of man, but in certainty of God’s own steadfast reliability.  We have lessons to learn from this, lessons that bear on our own expression of godly affection, of holy love.  That love, we are reminded, “bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things” (1Co 13:7).  In this context, that requires of us that we think the best we can of those who profess faith in Christ.  If there is any evidence of true faith, true piety, in such a one, and barring any glaring evidence of unrepented sin, then it behooves us to account that one a true child of God.  And if he be a true child of God, then we ought to have a like assurance as to his final condition.  If God has begun, He will complete.

It goes back to what Ironside was saying, doesn’t it?  We need to learn to look at our fellow man, particularly our fellow believers, with the perspective of God, Who sees the end from the beginning, Who sees the finished work of Christ in these fellow believers.  And let us expand our scope.  As concerns those unbelievers around us, who’s to say but that they may yet come to saving knowledge and recognition of their Lord and Savior?  I think of this young man for whom we have been praying, whose father is a longstanding part of our body.  This young man faces a relatively certain prognosis in regard to a cancer that has invaded his body.  His time is short, and he knows it.  But still, in spite of being raised by a godly father who sought to instill sound faith and understanding, he has proved resistant, claiming against all reason to believe in some ancient Norse deity or other.  Now, whether that is truly belief, or just trying to get under the skin of the believers around him, who can rightly say.  But time is short, and the stakes are high, whether he acknowledges it or not.  And we don’t give up, not while life and breath remain.  We pray God to send forth His Spirit into this young man and save him.  Pastor will be speaking with him to that same end.  But the power is not in the pastor, it’s in the Word of God.  The choice of salvation is not ours to make, nor is it, in the final analysis, in the power of this young man to make.  God will choose as He will choose.  But again, like David with his firstborn son by Bathsheba, so long as the possibility remains, we will pray for life.

I confess I find this much harder to navigate when it comes to my stepson Danny and his situation.  I might ask whether physical life is really the right object of prayer in this instance.  Is that his best good?  I surely cannot say, and I suppose, that being the case, I ought to err on the side of life.  But when life is what it is for him – a long chain of seizures, of inability to make his thoughts or wishes known, nothing, really to look forward to but death when it finally comes – is seeking by all means to keep him breathing really on the side of life?  I honestly don’t know the right answer here.  My thoughts keep coming back to Paul’s expression later in this letter.  “For me, to live is Christ and to die is gain” (Php 1:21).  I have to think that the latter certainly applies for Danny.  Forty odd years is a long time to be suffering in this fashion.  And the heart cries out, on his behalf, “How long, O, Lord?”  But I have not the wisdom or discernment to state with confidence that God has chosen this time, nor that He hasn’t.  I do not envy either his father, who currently has custody and right of decision, or his mother, having to face this, especially as their views diverge on what would be best for their son.  Who, in their right mind, wishes to bear the weight of such a decision?  Who has the wisdom?

But I find contentment and confidence in this:  God has the wisdom, and God makes the decision.  Come what may, however mother or father may feel about it, and whatever decisions may or may not be made by them, the timing of events remains with God to determine.  I can sympathize.  I can empathize.  I cannot, with firmness of conviction, declare either one right beyond doubt in their assessment of what should be done.  I can thank my God that He has not put this decision on me to bear.  And I can be content in the fact that He has perfect timing, and as He has determined – from the beginning – so shall it turn out for Danny, and for this young rebel as well; even as it holds for me, for my wife, for all those whom I know and love.

I close with a reflection on the prayer that closed my earlier notes on this passage.  It is clear, reading through those notes, that there was a great deal of discontent in me back at the start of the year.  There was a need for change that had me praying, praying first that I might indeed be content, and then, that I would prove compliant to such change as was needed to bring me to that place.  Have I got there?  Well, I have seen some significant improvements.  I still have my moments, to be sure.  But there has been that shift of perspective in regard to work, a determination to accept the myriad interruptions of the day as opportunities to be a servant, and that has certainly done much to improve my attitude during those chunks of my day.  There have been those new depths that seem to have developed with this last trip to Africa, and I pray they persist, and deepen, as growth continues.  There is, yet, this fresh sense of need for fellowship with my family at church, and a bit of a quandary as to how to navigate that, given Jan’s choice of being apart from them.  There is that challenge that Paul spoke of, I suppose.  But so be it.  If God has given me this challenge, it is because He knows I am up to it – even if I don’t always think so.  So, yes, I can be content, even with the trials.  And I can be, to the best of my ability, the peacemaker He calls me to be.

How wonderful His timing, that He should show me how central that was to some of the conflicts addressed in Africa, and then, to face the same need to focus on being a peacemaker in my own situations.

Indeed, Lord, You are amazing.  Your timing is a source of constant marvel to me.  And I thank You for the growth I can witness even over these last 9 months or so.  Things are happening, it is clear.  Changes are transpiring for which I have prayed, in some cases, for many a year.  Wonder of wonders!  And shall I then lose hope for my loved ones?  Why should I?  You have them well enough in hand if it is Your desire to have them as Your own, and if You do not so desire, well?  My desire remains for You.  You know best, and I trust You as I must.  For You have shown Yourself trustworthy.  You have shown Yourself powerful.  You have shown Yourself well and truly in control of events, and well and truly in control of my life.  Thank You for taking the helm.  Thank You for teaching me to let go of the wheel.  Thank You for all that You have been doing throughout my life to date, and all You will yet do.  Thank You for those various moments of fresh realization, when I have been allowed to see things in a new light, to perceive what has been all along, but I was too blind or preoccupied to properly notice.  I love You, Lord.  I place myself once more at Your feet.  Use me as You will.  Only let it be in Your strength, Your wisdom, Your love, Your grace.  Therein lies my contentment and my rest.