Gospel Worthy

Phil. 1:21-30

Thursday night was rough. I was overnight in the hospital with an unhappy young man. He screamed until his voice was gone, and then continued trying to scream. He punched, and kicked, and thrashed every time I or the nurse tried to get close to change a soiled brief, or tend to wounds or scratches he had inflicted upon himself, or administer much needed medications. I had brought my Bible with me and my laptop so I could get my sermon written. Ha. Makes me wonder how Paul did it.

Paul wrote the letter to the Philippians from prison. Slightly different situation than mine, but I can’t imagine the prison he was in was quiet. There must’ve been other prisoners, many of whom were shouting out, crying for their release, pleading for their lives. I’m sure they were treated poorly by the guards. Paul was awaiting trial under Roman authorities, by whom he had been arrested as a subversive, as a threat, on account of the Gospel to which he witnessed and of which he preached. Think for a moment on the gravity of this situation. What is Rome known for doing to those it deemed threatening to its power and prominence? Paul is not simply in prison; he is in prison awaiting a trial from which his life hangs by a thread. He is awaiting the thumbs up/thumbs down of the emperor.

And Paul is…rejoicing. What?!?! We started at verse 21, but I want to jump back to verse 3: “I thank my God every time I remember you, constantly praying with joy in every one of my prayers for all of you, because of your sharing in the gospel from the first day until now.” And jumping to verse 12: “I want you to know, beloved, that what has happened to me has actually helped to spread the gospel, so it has become known throughout the whole imperial guard and to everyone else that my imprisonment is for Christ.” Paul is essentially awaiting an inevitable death sentence and he’s rejoicing and celebrating the gospel for which he was arrested and now stands trial?

That’s where today’s passage picks up: “For to me, living is Christ and dying is gain.” Here Paul asserts his full faith and confidence in the Gospel of Christ, through which the sting of death is removed. “I can either live and serve Christ,” he says, “or die and join Christ.” If the choice were up to him, which it isn’t, Paul knows what he would choose. Because of his faith in Christ, his dying for Christ would be a gain.

I’m not quite sure I could make the same bold statement. If my life were on the line and I were writing a letter to my friends I’m not sure it would contain nearly as much “Gospel talk” as Paul’s letter does. What about you? How would your letter read? I’d more likely write about wrecking balls and prison walls and do so using many more panicked and desperate expletives and obscenities. I suppose I live more for myself, a way of living that’s encourage by a culture driven by an attitude of “live for you, shop for you, consume for you.”

But Paul is not concerned with whether he lives or dies, but about whether the Gospel continues to be proclaimed. Ultimately he decides it is better for the church for him to stick around and continue to help them preach and teach and spread the good news of Jesus. Ultimately he is concerned that the people to whom he writes live their lives in a matter worthy of the Gospel. He wants his confidence and faith to rub off, for them to live without fear, to be “in no way intimidated by opponents.” I want you to live this way whether I am able to visit you again or not, Paul says.

I am reminded of another letter written by another imprisoned man. Martin Luther King, Jr. wrote a now famous letter from a Birmingham jail. And similar to Paul, his concern is not for his own safety or well-being, but for the well-being and progression of the movement of justice. A movement in which his persistent participation has deemed him to be a threat by the powers and principalities of the segregated south. Even he likens his purpose to that of prophets and even Paul: “Just as the prophets of the eighth century B.C. left their villages and carried their ‘thus saith the Lord’ far beyond the boundaries of their home towns, and just as the Apostle Paul left his village of Tarsus and carried the gospel of Jesus Christ to the far corners of the Greco Roman world, so am I compelled to carry the gospel of freedom beyond my own home town.”

Also like Paul, Martin possessed a confidence and fearlessness born out of trust in the goodness of God revealed through the worthiness of living out this calling. The tension of imprisonment no longer frightens him. “I must confess that I am not afraid of the word ‘tension.’ I have earnestly opposed violent tension, but there is a type of constructive, nonviolent tension which is necessary for growth.” Martin, like Paul, sees his imprisonment as an opportunity to share the Gospel.

And so despite the tension, despite the discomfort, he, too, writes. “Never before have I written so long a letter,” he pens, “I can assure you that it would have been much shorter if I had been writing from a comfortable desk, but what else can one do when he is alone in a narrow jail cell, other than write long letters, think long thoughts and pray long prayers?”

How is it that Paul, that Martin, that men and women of faith and fortitude find themselves in prison or in conflict with the law? Martin writes that there are two types of laws, “just and injust.” “How does one determine whether a law is just or unjust?” He explains: “A just law is a man-made code that squares with the moral law or the law of God. An unjust law is a code that is out of harmony with the moral law. To put it in the terms of St. Thomas Aquinas: An unjust law is a human law that is not rooted in eternal law and natural law. Any law that uplifts human personality is just. Any law that degrades human personality is unjust.”

Paul’s confidence in the Gospel is born out of his experience of God’s grace through that Gospel, through his encounter with Jesus Christ, through his awareness of God’s love, not only for him, but for his oppressors. Paul’s confidence in the Gospel fuels his proclamation of the Gospel over and against the forces that feel threatened by it. Paul’s confidence in the Gospel comforts him and convicts him to work for the justice of God. And it is for that justice that he then calls the Philippians to live. Live worthy of the Gospel.

As was the case for Martin Luther King, Jr, living worthy of the Gospel might put us in positions of discomfort. This is not to say that we are to feel guilty or insufficient in our faith if through our living for Christ we don’t ultimately end up in prison. Our culture has more places of confinement than the cells of incarceration. Our faith will put us in places where our confidence in the cross convicts us to make uncomfortable decisions, or at least that’s what God hopes. “This is God’s doing,” says Paul, “For you have been granted the privilege of both believing in Christ, and also of suffering for him.”

A gospel-worthy life can take many different forms, but it moves in the direction of God’s justice, and rides the growing ripples of God’s grace, begun at the cross and ever widening. You may not end up in prison, but you might feel yourself called to make a difficult phone call. You might not end up bound in chains, but you might feel called to change your heart and mind. You might not face trial in court, but you will be tried. You might not be required to write a letter from a prison cell, but you might find yourself struggling to write a sermon in a hospital room.

Wherever your life leads you, may the Spirit of Christ find you there. Wherever you are struggling right now, may it bring you strength. Wherever this world confines, and controls, and constricts you, may God’s Spirit bring freedom, and confidence, and convict you.

How does Paul end his letter? Chapter 4 famously includes these encouraging words: “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice! Do not worry about anything, but in prayer and supplication with thanksgiving may your prayers guide you to the presence of the Holy Spirit. And may the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, [a peace which is boundless, freeing, and impossible to contain or imprison]—may that peace guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus as you live a life worthy of his Gospel.”

Amen.