Ph 4:1-9

13 October 2002

 

“Just Do It”

 

            A few Wednesday nights ago, as I was thinking about today’s epistle reading, I invited the people to look at verses 8 and 9.  Paul encourages the Christians in Philippi to focus their thoughts on worthwhile things:  what is true, honorable, just, pure, pleasing, commendable, excellent—anything worthy of praise.  I suggested that it might seem that his message is one of positive mental attitude.  It’s mind over matter—that, and that alone.  I say that because I’ve heard people make that claim.

            That would probably work if we just had verse 8 to deal with.  But look what happens next.  The apostle says, “Keep on doing…”  It’s not enough to just think something good, to wish someone well, if there’s no action that goes along with it.  Paul says, “Keep on doing the things that you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, and the God of peace will be with you” (v. 9).

            That’s quite a claim!  So you say you’d like to know the peace of God?  Well, Paul says, be like me!  How many of us would dare to say that?  Of course, he’s really not overstepping his bounds.  Anyone who’s in Christ—anyone who’s received the Holy Spirit of God—has the same authority, the same calling, and the same privilege.  We need to, like the Nike slogan advises, “Just do it!”

            Having taken a quick look at the end of our passage, I now want us to consider the beginning.  It’s at the start of chapter 4 that we get a good feel for how Paul has presented himself throughout the letter.  He shows us his heart; we can see his sincere affection—his warm regard—for his Philippian friends.  Of course, what else should we expect, since already in the third verse of the letter, he’s said, “I thank my God every time I remember you”?

            Paul’s letter to the Philippians is one of the so-called prison epistles.  The others are the letters to the Ephesians, Colossians, and Philemon.  It’s likely that Paul wrote the letter during his imprisonment in Rome, but there are other possibilities, such as Caesarea and Ephesus.  As we’ll see, his separation from his friends causes Paul great pain.

            The apostle and the Philippians have a long history.  They were the first Europeans visited by Paul.  Throughout the entire epistle, we can see the mutual care they have for each other.  And a perfect example of that is verse 1 of our reading.

            Paul addresses them as “my brothers and sisters, whom I love and long for.”  That’s the third time in this short letter that he’s used the verb, “to long for” [epipoqein, epipothein] (1:8, 2:26).  He also calls them his “joy and crown.”  Someone of cynical disposition would say he’s laying it on thick.  Paul often has the reputation for being a cold, stern, sour kind of guy.  Maybe there’s an element of truth in it; he seems to admit as much in some places.  But he’s also the classic example of someone who Jesus Christ has transformed—and continues to transform.  Jesus can make love pour out of the coldest, iciest heart.

            The apostle does more, though, than express his fondness for the Philippian believers.  Just as he does with the list of virtues later in the chapter, Paul issues a call to action.  Working from his genuine love of a church that has helped him in so many ways, he challenges them to raise the bar, so to speak.  And he’s got a very specific situation in mind, which he lays out in verses 2 and 3.

            Paul does something that many ministers—and many people in general, I suppose—are reluctant to do:  he names names.  The situation he brings up involves three individuals in particular.  He could simply make it a case for the community at large, as he does elsewhere, but instead, he zeroes in on the persons entangled in the matter at hand.  Some would say that that’s inappropriate.

            Paul names names, but not with a view toward causing humiliation or injury.  Rather, as I’ve already indicated, he’s acting out of love.  That’s how God deals with us.  It’s true that as the church, we’re part of a community, the body of Christ.  (We tend to overlook that.)  But it’s also true that God addresses us as individuals.  And one day, sooner than we think, each of us will meet our Maker.  That can be a sobering thought.  Paul may have something like that in mind when in chapter 2, he tells the Philippians to “work out your own salvation with fear and trembling” (v. 12).

            Anyway, as for the situation at hand:  two women in the church, Euodia and Syntyche, have had some kind of disagreement, some kind of falling out.  Now, according to the way Paul portrays them, these two don’t seem to be troublemakers!  It would be wrong to label them “rascals.”

            Look how the apostle depicts Euodia and Syntyche.  He says that they’ve “struggled beside me in the work of the gospel” (v. 3).  The word for “struggled” (sunhqlhsan, sunēthēsan) has the sense of “contending in athletics” or “contending in battle.”[1]  Paul uses strong language to describe these trusted colleagues of his.  It must tear him up to see their disagreement hurting each other and the community itself.

            And that’s where the third actor in this little drama enters the stage!  Paul calls him “my loyal companion.”  I say “him” because the Greek word that he uses for “companion” or “partner” (suzuge, suzuge) can also be the masculine name Syzygus.  Still, no one really knows if that particular name is what Paul has in mind.

            In any event, Paul puts this appeal to his loyal companion, his true partner:  “help these women.”  Help these women.  We can almost hear the sense of urgency—the feeling of distress—in his request.  He follows that with the statement about their having labored with him for the sake of Jesus Christ.

            Some might wonder why the apostle wants to triangulate his companion / Syzygus into the troubles Euodia and Syntyche are having with each other.  Being behind bars, his options are limited.  Still, we might expect Paul’s request to be met with:  “Hey, it’s not my problem!  Why should I get involved?”

            I suspect that Paul is confident that he knows his friend.  He knows that he shares his heart.  And he knows that there’s a devoted community to support his friend.  Just the same, even the most committed of Christians need encouragement.  In verses 4 and 5, the apostle reminds the Philippians to let joy and gentleness continue to strengthen them, because, as he says, “The Lord is near.”

            Of course, the Philippian church isn’t the only one to have a problem like this.  Unfortunately, where there are humans, there are conflicts.  And that’s true of us here at Westminster.  There’s no one here named Euodia or Syntyche, but there are those among us who have a beef with each other.

            I won’t name names, partly because I don’t even know all the names involved.  I’m sure there’s stuff that’s been going on for years, as well as stuff that we don’t reveal to anyone else—things we keep to ourselves.  But you know who you are.  I’ll put it this way:  if there’s someone you’re reluctant to greet, if there’s someone you tend to avoid, then that’s the person you need to go to.  You need to make things right.  We need to make things right.

            To be honest, I’m not as interested in Westminster being a friendly church as I am in our being a holy church.  I know people have all kinds of ideas about what “holy” means, so I’ll explain what I mean by that.  It’s not what people think of as a “holier than thou” attitude:  looking down your nose at someone else.  Holiness means loving God—which then means loving people (all people)…it means showing that love.  A holy church can’t help but be friendly, because it’s already gone way past that into exploring the depths of Christ.

            That’s the journey I want us to be on.  And I’m confident that we are.  But we have to be careful.  If we don’t love each other, we resist the Holy Spirit.  We fight against God.  Talk about sobering thoughts!  And I believe me, I realize—love requires that we swallow our foolish, stubborn pride.  I learned that in my first year of marriage!

            From his prison cell, the apostle Paul issues a letter to a church close to his heart.  He calls on a friend to be a peacemaker between two other friends.  There’s a wealth of beauty and power in this pair of verses.  This is the gospel of reconciliation in action—something our world desperately needs.  So go to that person.  Just do it.


 


[1] Marvin Vincent, Epistles to the Philippians and Philemon (Edinburgh:  T & T Clark, 1961), 34.

 

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