But I would have you know, brethren, that the circumstances in which I am have turned out rather to the furtherance of the glad tidings,
Paul writes from prison in Rome. His friends at Philippi feared his chains had ended his work, yet his first word about himself is a report of progress — so how can a shut door open?
Paul answers a fear he knew his friends were carrying. He had faced it first himself, alone with God.
He knew well how much they might be tried by the report of his own imprisonment, with no deliverance coming as yet. But he had gone through the trial himself. He had weighed it all. He had brought it into God's presence. He had put all, as it were, into the hands of Christ, who had Himself given him His own comfort about it... Once you are right about Christ, you are right about everything while He is before you.
The ESV says what happened to Paul "has really served to advance the gospel." Older translations use the word "rather" here. That one word carries the verse.
Prison had now silenced the great apostle to the Gentiles. It would be only natural for the believers to assume that the gospel entrusted to him would suffer. So the very first thing the apostle tells them is that this is not the case... That little word rather seems to say, "Contrary to what might be expected." The apostle's captivity has not hindered the gospel. It has helped it. It has advanced it. It tells of progress, not failure.
The chain did not block the advance. It carried it.
That very imprisonment chained the apostle to a Roman soldier for 24 hours a day. The soldier could not leave him even if he wanted to... Day by day the guard changed, and many a soldier heard the gospel from Paul's lips... Each guard went back to the barracks after his shift. He would tell the other soldiers about the strange prisoner he had watched that day: not a criminal, not a political prisoner, but a prisoner for Christ's sake alone.
The arrest struck back at the one who planned it.
The devil had hoped to lose the apostle in the common crowd of criminals. But God, always watching for good, made it plain that His servant was in prison for no wrongdoing. He was there because of Christ. So the enemy's clever plan ended in a testimony for the Saviour. The gospel reached where it had been completely unknown.
Another writer sets this prison beside the cross:
When Satan shut Paul up in prison, he thought he had gained a victory. He thought the same in the most notable case of all, when he urged the Jews to demand the crucifixion of their Messiah. In both cases his apparent success was a most disastrous defeat.
The chains also worked on the believers in Rome.
Besides this, most of the believers gained confidence in the Lord through his chains. They grew much bolder to speak the Word without fear. So workers multiplied — in Rome itself, and before the emperor had even ruled in his favour. It was not a few who grew bold, but the mass of them — the many. They spoke, they preached. If then the apostle's mouth was at present shut, the mouths of many were opened, and Christ was proclaimed.
Paul could have blamed his own choices for the prison. He never did.
He might have blamed himself and said, "Ah, if you had not gone to Jerusalem, if you had not appealed to Caesar, you might still be preaching everywhere. You might have gone to Spain." But such was the will of God, and He was with him in his trouble. He submits to that will. So he rises above his circumstances. He gives thanks to God for everything. He finds that His wisdom is better than freedom, and he works where God has placed him.
The point reaches beyond prison walls.
Through the mercy of God, you and I are not chained to anyone. But every day we meet many people. We go to school, or to the shop, or office; we do our shopping; the baker calls or the postman. I wonder, is it clear to each that we belong to Christ? Are these daily contacts helping the gospel forward? Were Paul in our place, they surely would be.
- Rather — the key word means "contrary to what might be expected." Prison did not slow the gospel. It moved it forward.
- Chained — every guard on duty became a listener. The chain that held Paul carried the message into the barracks.
- Outwitted — the plan to bury Paul among criminals only proved he suffered for Christ. The attack became a testimony.
- Multiplied — one mouth was shut, and many opened. Fearful believers grew bold and preached.
- Contented — Paul never looked back in regret. He judged God's wisdom better than his own freedom and worked where God put him. Do the same, and an ordinary day becomes an open door.
so that my bonds have become manifest [as being] in Christ in all the praetorium and to all others;
Paul writes from prison in Rome, chained to a soldier. What he reports to his friends in Philippi is not his own hardship but how far the message has travelled. Older translations read "my bonds in Christ are manifest in all the palace." Commentators focus on two things: what Paul calls his chains, and how far the news of them spread.
Paul does not describe his chains by the power that fastened them. He names them by the One he suffers for, and that single phrase changes everything about how they can be carried.
This is how he looks at it: "my bonds in Christ." What an honour, and how sweet and precious, to have bonds in Christ! Other people would only have seen chains put on him by the Roman emperor, the chains of that great city that ruled over the kings of the earth. Not so with Paul. They were bonds in Christ. How then could he be impatient under them? How could anyone complain who believed they were truly bonds in Christ?
The word behind "imperial guard" is praetorium. One writer explains what it points to, and how the guarding worked day by day.
after
That very imprisonment meant that for 24 hours a day a chain bound the Apostle to a Roman soldier, who could not leave him even if he wanted to. A "coupling-chain," or handcuff, joined the Apostle's right arm to the soldier's left. As the guards changed, day by day, many a soldier would hear the gospel from Paul's lips… The "praetorium" probably does not mean the emperor's palace, as the English version suggests; it almost surely means the great Imperial Guard, quartered in a fortified camp on the east side of Rome. This guard is said to have been made up of 10,000 picked men, all of Italian birth.
after As each guard returned to the barracks after his spell of duty, he would tell his comrades of the strange prisoner he had been watching that day: not a criminal, not a political prisoner, but a prisoner solely for Christ's sake.
What became plain was the reason for his arrest. That reason pointed people past the prisoner to the One he suffered for.
His bonds were plainly for Christ and for Christ alone. They marked him out as a martyr, not a criminal. They could not help drawing attention to him, and making people realize what Christ must be to His own — One who could make His people able to suffer, and to suffer with joy, for Him.
The news did not stop at the guardroom. Tighter confinement made people ask what Paul was charged with, and the answer travelled through the city.
The recent order for his close detention had no doubt revived this interest, and prompted a closer inquiry into what he was actually charged with. So it became widely known in Rome that his bonds were in Christ. That fact led people to ask further where that Name came from and what it meant, and why the imperial power so clearly opposed it. It began with the praetorium, where the guards who had special charge of Paul belonged. From there the report of Christ spread easily through Roman society at large.
Paul's calm has a cause. He refused to trace his situation to the men who arrested him.
It is a great blessing to see how the apostle looked beyond men to Christ. He was Christ's prisoner. He did not fret at the tyranny and injustice of the Roman authorities. He looked at the Lord. It was His will for him, and that was enough. Christ was his jailer, as it were. He who sent His angel and released Peter could have done the same for Paul had it suited Him. The heart never finds rest while it looks at the nearer causes instead of at Him.
The verse has an obvious use for readers who will never see a prison.
Through the mercy of God, you and I are not bound to anyone with a coupling-chain, but we meet many people every day. We go to school, or to the shop, or the office; we do our shopping; the baker calls, or the postman. I wonder: is it plain to each of them that we belong to Christ? Are these daily contacts helping the glad tidings forward? If Paul were in our place, they certainly would be.
- Chain — a Roman soldier stayed handcuffed to Paul day and night, and the guard changed shifts. The chain itself brought him a new listener every time.
- Claim — Paul calls the chain "in Christ." So it stops being the emperor's punishment and becomes an honour, with nothing left to resent.
- Clarity — what became plain was that he was a martyr, not a criminal. That made people ask what Christ must be worth.
- Circulation — from the guardroom the questions spread outward through Roman society, right up to the highest places.
- Contact — no chain binds us to anyone, yet every errand puts someone beside us. The test is whether they can see we belong to Christ.
and that the most of the brethren, trusting in [the] Lord through my bonds, dare more abundantly to speak the word of God fearlessly.
Paul writes from a Roman prison, and his chains have produced more preachers, not fewer. The verse asks how chaining one servant spread the work it was meant to stop, and where the others found their courage.
Paul's arrest looked like a defeat. One writer describes what the enemy expected from it, and what came instead:
I have no doubt what the great enemy thought when he got Paul imprisoned. The less bold would then be afraid to take a stand, or to speak for Christ, in case it brought them the same troubles. The exact opposite was the result.
Some of them were shaken at first. One writer traces their new confidence to trust in the Lord, and shows what their boldness meant to Paul:
His bonds had worked in another way as well. At first his imprisonment discouraged many brothers in the Lord. Now they were growing confident about it, trusting the Lord. They were much more bold to speak the word without fear. What a cheer to the heart of the true-hearted prisoner! If he was bound, the Word of God was not: it was running its course.
The number matters, and so does the timing. Rome had not yet judged Paul's case:
Besides this, the greater part of the brothers had confidence in the Lord through his bonds. They were much more bold to speak the Word without fear. So workers multiplied, and that in Rome itself, before the emperor had given any sentence in his favour. It was not a few who took courage, but the mass of them — the many. They spoke, they preached. So the apostle's mouth was shut for the present, but the mouths of many opened, and they proclaimed Christ.
Paul names no office and no commission behind these speakers. One writer adds that their motives were not all pure, and that no human rule could have prevented that:
At Rome, most of those in the Lord grew confident through the bonds of Paul. They were much more bold to speak the word without fear. It is true the motives of all were not good; but this is a danger no human restriction could guard against.
What did they speak? The verse says the word; one writer points to the fuller reading behind it:
So it was in Philippians 1:14. The brothers there had become confident about the character of the apostle's imprisonment. They were much more bold to speak the Word of God (which is the undoubted reading) without fear.
Paul was the leading worker, now taken out of the field. One writer sees the setback as gain:
God had entrusted the gospel of the glory of Christ to this great vessel. He was doing greater things when that vessel was set aside from its active work. Most of the brothers were growing confident now. Paul himself stayed quiet in heart, left his case in God's hands, and waited on His vindicating love. Everyone knew his bonds were for Christ, and others were the more bold to speak the word without fear.
What actually moved them? One writer says comfort and ease never produce this kind of courage:
The sight of Christians living in ease and luxury does not stir the heart to follow Christ, to be confident, and to dare far more to speak the Word without fear. The fearless servant of Christ does. For Christ's sake he is ready to suffer for the One he loves and follows, and such a person stirs my heart to go and do the same. And this was the unexpected result of Paul's chain.
One writer turns this into a question about our own influence:
They had seen how Paul could rejoice in the middle of persecution and trial, and how he had hoped in the Word of the Lord. How do others see you and me? What example or influence are we to the people around us? Whether we are conscious of it or not, we are an influence for good or for bad.
- Chain. The enemy meant Paul's chains to scare weaker believers into silence. The opposite happened.
- Confidence. Those first discouraged by his bonds ended up trusting the Lord — Paul was bound, the Word was not.
- Many. Not a brave few but the greater part started speaking, and workers multiplied in Rome before Paul's verdict came.
- Free. No office and no licence — just brothers in the Lord, speaking the Word of God.
- Example. A servant willing to suffer stirs boldness in others. So the verse asks what influence we carry.
Some indeed also for envy and strife, but some also for good will, preach the Christ.
Paul writes from prison, and he reports that the gospel is spreading — yet not every preacher had a clean heart. The verse sorts them into two camps by motive alone, which raises a hard question: can real good come from a bad motive?
The verse does not contrast two messages. It contrasts two sources. One writer looks at where each kind of preaching came from:
In Philippians 1:15, envy was the moral source of the character of the preaching for some, as goodwill was for others.
Where does a wrong motive in gospel work come from? One writer points to an enemy who could not stop the preaching, and to Paul's answer:
Here was another step in the blessing, and full of promise too. The enemy never expected it! But he was on the alert. If he could not silence the tongues that bore their testimony to the Saviour, he would bring in mixed motives instead. He would tempt some to an unholy spirit and aim, even in a work so holy. The Apostle did not miss it. It did not disturb his triumphant assurance in the least — his assurance that all things were working together for good, not only for those who love God, but for the advance of the glad tidings of His grace. So he does not hide this in sorrow or shame, but cheerfully explains it.
One writer explains the word Paul uses here — "strife" in older translations, "rivalry" in the ESV — and finds the same fault today:
The word for "strife" really means partisanship, or rivalry. Faction, party-spirit and intrigue all belong to this word. Perhaps it is hard to imagine how anybody could do that. And yet, I grieve to say, we find the same thing very often today. On the mission field we find one mission trying to get ahead of another. And we need not look so far from home. Even among God's people at home, who love the Saviour and preach the gospel, we have seen rivalry, competition, and party-spirit come in.
Envy needs someone to envy. Prison removed the man whose gifts had made these preachers look small:
Many of them, as one writer has said, were bound to be powerless and insignificant next to his power and his gifts. They could make themselves important once God, in His unsearchable but perfect ways, set this mighty instrument of His grace aside. They could hope to shine and attract attention once prison walls blocked the rays of this brilliant light. Jealous but hidden while he was there, they took advantage of his absence...
Whatever was wrong with these preachers, it was not their message. One writer proves it by comparing them with the teachers Paul cursed in Galatia:
Some have thought that the people acting in this way were the same sort as those who preached the law to the Galatians. But surely the Apostle would never have called such preaching "the gospel." He tells us it is a different gospel, and not another one at all. What those men in Galatia preached was no gospel at all. These men, on the other hand, "preached Christ." Paul could pronounce a curse, twice repeated, on those; over these he could rejoice. And so we must conclude that it was the true gospel, preached by untrue men, or in an untrue way.
So does the motive matter, if God uses the words anyway? One writer answers:
A spirit of rivalry and envy may stir up great zeal and energy. It may be that God, in His sovereignty, will bless His Word even when someone preaches it with such motives. Yet the one who preaches this way will have to answer before Him for those motives.
This danger is not rare, and it hides inside good work:
We can easily do many things which are quite right in themselves, and yet do them in the spirit of strife. We saw this in chapter 1, where we read of believers preaching Christ "of envy and strife." ... How often have we done what was right enough, but with the secret desire of gaining credit and glory among our fellows? Let us give our consciences time to answer.
- Two springs. The same message flowed from two different inner sources — envy on one side, goodwill on the other. The source shapes the character of the work.
- One word. "Strife" means partisanship, faction and rivalry — the drive to get ahead of another servant instead of reaching the lost.
- One prisoner. Men who felt small beside Paul's gifts felt large once prison walls shut him away.
- One gospel. These were true words from untrue hearts. It was not the false gospel Paul cursed in Galatia, so he could rejoice over it.
- One Judge. Paul does not excuse the motive. He leaves it with the Lord who will weigh it — a warning to search our own hearts in work that looks right.
These indeed out of love, knowing that I am set for the defence of the glad tidings;
From a Roman prison, Paul has just described two kinds of preachers: some work from envy and rivalry, others from goodwill. This verse is about the second kind — their motive, and what they knew about the prisoner.
The phrase "put here for the defense of the gospel" carries a military picture, and it explains how Paul read his own imprisonment.
"Set for the defence of the Gospel" pictures a soldier posted at a certain spot to defend it. The Captain of Salvation had posted Paul in a Roman prison to defend the Gospel. Paul could rejoice even in such a post. His Captain had put him there, and it was for the defence of the Gospel. Back in verse 7 we read about the defence of the Gospel too, and about the share the Philippian believers had in it. Now the believers in Rome are sharing in it as well.
A soldier is posted because an enemy is coming. One writer names the gospel's enemies, shows which of their attacks does the most damage, and says what form the love of these preachers took.
Wherever people preach the true Gospel of God in this world, others are sure to attack it, both openly and in secret. Traditional religion and the empty claims of philosophy are both its enemies. And the enemy usually does most damage to the truth by sly corruption rather than by open opposition. Paul knew his schemes well, and he stood watch to defend the Gospel entrusted to him against the devil's many methods. So he rejoiced warmly when he found in others the same appreciation of the matchless excellence of the truth itself and of the dangers it faced. Here the love of these right-minded believers took the form of a shared discernment, in them and in him, of the infinite value of God's words.
Some older Bibles number these two verses the other way round. The word used here for the preachers' motive is worth a pause.
The better Greek reading reverses the order of verses 16 and 17, so the description of those who preached out of goodwill comes at once. It is a joy to see that they preached out of love, and it is the stronger word for love, not just affection. The Apostle had once said, "For the love of Christ controls us." Now it is love that constrains these believers in Rome to preach Christ. May we not suppose that this little word "love" includes the love of Christ, love for Christ, and love for the Apostle? And love is the only true motive for preaching the Gospel. It must not be a cold duty, done every so often, but a burning love that comes from the heart.
These preachers stand against a group whose zeal was real but whose motive was rivalry. The problem was not the message but the self mixed into it.
The people the apostle means could not preach Christ without bringing themselves into the service. They made it an occasion for pushing themselves forward, for being ambitious, for seeking the first place among their fellow believers. The news of this self-seeking reached the apostle, and it saddened him, because it spoiled a good confession and ruined a good work. They were preaching Christ, but oh, how badly! They preached Him out of contention and strife, not out of His constraining love.
The warning here is not only for Paul's rivals. It reaches everyone who serves.
But what a serious warning for our own souls, to make sure that love is the true and real motive behind every service. A spirit of rivalry and envy may stir up great zeal and energy. God may still choose to bless His Word when someone preaches it with such motives, yet the one who preaches this way will have to answer to Him for them.
Paul knew what both groups were doing. One writer shows what his chains actually proved.
His chains only proved how completely the liberty of grace stands free of everything man or Satan can rage against the person who holds firm in it and keeps Him before his heart... Paul was not blind to the feelings of some, whose zeal did nothing to hide their malicious desires. But nothing weakened the spring of his joy in God, nor his thankful sense that, whatever man meant by it, the testimony of grace was going out far and wide with power, and Christ was held up and exalted more and more.
- Posted. "Put here for the defense" is soldier's language. The prison was the post his Captain gave him.
- Guarded. Enemies attack the gospel openly and by quiet corruption. That is why the post mattered, and why Paul welcomed everyone who shared the watch.
- Loved. These preachers acted out of love — love of Christ, love for Christ, love for Paul. Love is the only true motive for preaching.
- Contrasted. The other group could not preach without pushing themselves forward. That spoiled a good work, even though the message stayed true.
- Answerable. God may still bless His word preached from a wrong motive. The preacher will answer to Him for that motive.
but those out of contention, announce the Christ, not purely, supposing to arouse tribulation for my bonds.
Paul writes from prison, and his chains have spread the message. But some preachers proclaimed Christ hoping to make his imprisonment harder — which raises two questions: why would anyone preach for such a reason, and how could Paul be glad about it?
Older versions translate Paul's word here as "strife." One writer explains what it covers, then finds the same thing close to home.
The word for "strife" really means "Partisanship," or "Rivalry": "Faction, Party-spirit, Intrigue" all belong to this word. Perhaps it is hard to imagine how anyone could do that. Yet I am sorry to say we find the same thing very often today... even among the saints of God at home, who love the Saviour and preach the Gospel, we have seen rivalry, jealous competition, and party spirit come in.
Whatever their motive, these men were not preaching a different message. One writer weighs them against the teachers Paul condemned in his letter to the Galatians.
Some have thought that the people acting this way were the same kind as those who preached the law to the Galatians. But surely the Apostle would never have called such preaching "the Gospel." He tells us it is "a different gospel, not that there is another one." What those men in Galatia preached was no Gospel at all. These men, on the other hand, "preached Christ." Paul could put a curse on those men, and he said it twice. Over these men he could rejoice. And so we must conclude that it was true Gospel, preached by untrue men, or, in an untrue way.
"Not sincerely" points to what these preachers carried in their hearts. One writer turns this into a test for anyone who preaches today.
First, these preachers were active and eager, but God had not sent them. God's inspired servant at once denied the call they claimed to have. They pushed themselves forward. No true zeal for God drove them, and no sincere love for other people either. Other things than Christ and His saving grace were in their hearts while they freely traded in His name... Second, some men today run unsent. They know they can think and speak fluently, so they take up the work of an evangelist in a spirit of self-will. They fall under the same spiritual censure.
They wanted Paul's imprisonment to hurt more. The word Paul chose shows the picture in their minds, and his reply follows.
Some translations say these preachers meant "to add affliction" to his chains. The better reading is to "arouse," or "raise up," or "stir up" affliction. The word they used suggests they expected "a tightening of the chain" that held Paul. And what is Paul's answer to such a cruel motive? Oh, grand answer! "What then?" he asks... "in every way, whether in pretense or in truth, CHRIST IS PROCLAIMED, and in that I rejoice. Yes, and I will rejoice."
Another writer explains why they expected preaching to hurt him.
Envious of Paul, they evidently supposed that he would suffer more in prison, the more Christ was preached. It was subtle evil, but they had not reckoned with the great power of God, or with the firm faith of the apostle.
Paul did not excuse these men or argue with them. He handed the whole matter to the Lord.
A preacher might have impure motives, a faulty manner, and methods that came from the flesh. Paul could leave all of that for the Lord to deal with in His own time and way. But he could rejoice in the fact that Christ was preached.
Leaving it with the Lord does not mean the matter is dropped. The preacher still faces a reckoning, even where God has used his words.
A spirit of rivalry and envy may stir up great zeal and energy. God may still, in His sovereignty, bless His Word even when someone preaches it with such motives. Even so, the man who preaches that way will have to answer to Him for them.
- Rivalry. The word behind "selfish ambition" means partisanship, faction and intrigue. The same spirit still shows up among people who love the Saviour.
- Rivalry with a target. These men wanted a tightening of Paul's chain. They thought Paul would suffer more the more people preached Christ.
- Rivalry, but real gospel. The teachers in Galatia preached no gospel at all, and Paul cursed them twice. These men preached Christ: true gospel from untrue men, so he could rejoice.
- Rivalry unsent. God had not sent them. They carried other things than Christ in their hearts while they traded in His name. The same censure falls on anyone who runs unsent today.
- Rivalry answered. Paul left the motives and methods to the Lord and rejoiced that Christ was preached. The motives are not forgotten: the preacher himself will answer for them.
What is it then? at any rate, in every way, whether in pretext or in truth, Christ is announced; and in this I rejoice, yea, also I will rejoice;
Paul writes from prison. Some preachers are using his chains as their chance. They preach Christ out of rivalry, hoping to make his imprisonment hurt more. His reply is not a rebuke but a verdict: what does it matter, so long as people hear of Christ?
Paul had every human ground for anger, and the striking thing is what he does not say. One writer sets the scene by asking what we would have expected from him:
He tells us of believers who took advantage of his chains and preached out of rivalry, thinking this would make his imprisonment hurt more. What was his attitude to this? What these men did was monstrous. Would it surprise us if the Apostle had burned with anger at their conduct and asked heaven to defeat them? ... This was no mere rejoicing on paper. No mere rejoicing with the lips. It was real, genuine joy that Christ was preached. He grieved over the motive that drove these men, but he rejoiced that they preached the gospel.
The fault in these men lay in their spirit, not in their message. That distinction is what makes Paul's joy possible:
He was not blind to the feelings of some men whose zeal did nothing to hide their spiteful desires. But nothing weakened the spring of his joy in God. Nothing weakened his thankful sense that, whatever people meant, the testimony of grace was going out far and wide with power, and Christ was lifted up and honoured more and more. This was no question of doctrine. There is no ground to think that even the quarrelsome men preached anything unsound. Paul's thoughts were on the good that God intended, whatever was in their thoughts.
This verse is not a blanket tolerance of anything preached under Christ's name. Elsewhere the same apostle pronounced a curse, and a commentator points to the contrast to fix the boundary:
Some have thought that the men acting this way were like those who preached the law to the Galatians. But the Apostle would never have called such preaching "the Gospel." He tells us it is "a different gospel — not that there is another one." What those men in Galatia preached was no Gospel at all. These men, on the other hand, "preached Christ." Paul could pronounce a curse on those, and he said it twice; over these he could rejoice. So we must conclude that it was a true Gospel, preached by untrue men, or in an untrue way.
The reason Paul is not crushed is not thick skin. It is that one Person filled the whole horizon:
It is beautiful to see how Christ is the sole object before the apostle. He is glad even when men preach Christ in a spirit of rivalry, as long as they preach Him. "In that I rejoice. Yes, and I will rejoice." A converted person may live in a way that does not dishonour Christ. It is another thing to have Christ as the motive for everything. When the soul is in that second state, it always lifts the mind above sorrow.
Paul was sidelined; the gospel was not. He read his own imprisonment as a move in a larger conflict, and saw who was actually winning it:
Christ, and even souls, were more precious to Paul than carrying on the work himself. God was carrying it on. So it would be a triumph for Paul, who linked himself with the purposes of God. He understood the great conflict going on between Christ (in His members) and the enemy. The enemy seemed to have won a victory by putting Paul in prison. Yet God was using that very event to advance the work of Christ through the gospel.
The verse is left standing as a test of our own hearts when the work is done by people we would not have chosen:
In some places there is a tendency to look down on evangelism. May the Lord in mercy keep us from such a spirit! ... If we were all as near the heart of Christ as Paul, we would say, even of faulty workers, "Christ is proclaimed, and in that I rejoice. Yes, and I will rejoice."
- Christ preached — Paul weighs the message here, not the motive. There is no reason to think these men preached anything unsound.
- Christ the boundary — In Galatia the message itself was corrupt, and there Paul cursed instead of rejoicing. Joy over a preacher is never joy over a different gospel.
- Christ the object — Having Christ as the motive for everything lifts a heart above sorrow. That, not indifference, is the source of Paul's gladness.
- Christ advancing — Paul valued Christ and souls above his own share in the work. So a prison that looked like the enemy's win became the gospel's spread.
- Christ still preached — A heart close to Christ rejoices when faulty workers make Him known: grief over the spirit, gladness over the Name.
for I know that this shall turn out for me to salvation, through your supplication and [the] supply of the Spirit of Jesus Christ;
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
according to my earnest expectation and hope, that in nothing I shall be ashamed, but in all boldness, as always, now also Christ shall be magnified in my body whether by life or by death.
Paul writes from prison in Rome. His trial is still ahead, and the verdict could be release or death. Yet his one stated hope says nothing about that outcome. It is about whether people see Christ in him either way.
"Eager expectation" is one word in the original. It carries a picture.
"Earnest-expectation" is only one word in Greek. It means literally "watching (for some expected object) as with outstretched head." … But you must picture the aged apostle in his Roman prison, his head stretched out with longing expectation. Our English cannot say it. You must picture him in your mind. And what is his "longing-expectation" for? "That in nothing I shall be ashamed." Nothing would shame him into cowardice or compromise. Nothing would shame him by failure or disappointment either.
Being "ashamed" here is not about whether Paul is safe with God. Commentators press that the concern is what today's conduct looks like.
But "that in nothing I shall be ashamed." What a word, and how fitted to make us ashamed! It is not a question of acceptance in Christ. No; it is practical. It is his state and experience every day, and his hope about it was that in nothing he should be ashamed.
Notice how Paul words it. He never puts himself in the active role. These writers quote an older translation: where the ESV has "honored," it reads "magnified."
What a word this is: "Christ shall be magnified!" The apostle does not say, "that I may magnify Christ." It is in the passive voice. The instrument is forgotten. Notice also that he does not say, "that Christ shall be magnified in my life, or in my soul." … the apostle's longing is that Christ shall be magnified in his body. … It is, I think, like the lens in a telescope, through which some distant star in the heavens "is magnified." It does not make the star any greater. But it shows in some small degree the greatness of that star. The telescope and the lens are forgotten: and the star fills the vision.
But Christ cannot be made to look bigger than He is. So what did Paul want?
To magnify anything is to make it appear larger than it is; that could not be so with Christ. But Paul wanted everything to shine out in him, so that Christ should be magnified through him.
Paul names the body, not the mind. One writer looks back at what Satan once did with the body.
The one desire he had, the ruling desire of his soul, was that Christ should be magnified in his body, "whether by life or by death." That is to say, man's body was once the platform where Satan displayed his power. There he showed all his hatred and all his malice against God and Christ. Now God says, "I am going to take that same vessel and make it the platform on which I will display the power of Christ." … "I have full communion with what God is doing." That is the meaning of the words, "My earnest expectation and my hope."
This reaches even a body that can do nothing.
Take an illustration. You may see a poor, weak, feeble creature tossing from side to side on a bed of pain, saying, "What use am I? A trial to myself, a burden to others, no good to anybody." Yet that sufferer has a body full of pain, and everything about him would naturally make him the opposite of this. By the power of Christ he may be so in communion with Him that his body shows no grumbling and no discontent. Instead it shows a soul filled with joy and peace, controlled by His presence and satisfied with Himself. And as you look at this you do not say, "What a wonderful creature." You say, "What a Christ that must be, to be shown out in such a poor, weak house of clay as this!"
The hope is deliberately left open at both ends, and that is the point.
This hope was not for his release from prison, but rather that, whatever his circumstances, "in nothing" he "should be ashamed," but that with all boldness, as always, Christ should be magnified in his body, "whether by life or by death." Whether life or death, he would be completely content with one or the other, if only he might boldly and unashamedly magnify Christ in his body.
The setting sharpens it. Paul was about to stand where his Master had stood.
He was about to appear before the Roman emperor. His Lord had once stood before that same power, and there He had witnessed a good confession. … He calls it his salvation to be delivered from everything of self, whether his natural cowardice or his courage, so that he would show nothing but Christ. Christ had stood before this court and was condemned to the cross. Now these rulers and judges were to find this same Christ in the body of Paul.
- Expectation — the word pictures a prisoner craning his neck toward one outcome. Not freedom, but that in nothing he would be ashamed.
- Shame — the fear is not about acceptance with God. It is about daily life: being shamed into compromise, or shamed by failure.
- Magnified — the verb is passive. A lens adds nothing to a star. It only shows the star's greatness, and then the lens is forgotten.
- Body — God takes the very platform where Satan displayed his malice and makes it the stage for showing Christ. Watch a believer suffering in bed and you say, "What a Christ that must be."
- Either Way — with self set aside, life and death become equal options. The judges who once condemned Christ were to meet Him again in the body of His prisoner.
For for me to live [is] Christ, and to die gain;
Paul sums up his whole life in two short clauses — one about living, one about dying. Is this the report of one exceptional man, or a description of what every Christian life is meant to be?
The setting matters. This was not the first flush of a new convert's enthusiasm but the settled verdict of a long and costly life.
His eye was on Christ, not for the beginning and the end only, but all the way... Here, speaking of his own daily practice, he shows he had but one aim, motive, object, and business — Christ. And he said this, not at the start of his career, in the overwhelming sense of the Saviour's grace to His proud and self-righteous persecutor. He said it after long years of unmatched toil, danger, trouble outside and sorrow inside the Church.
Other letters say Christ is our life. This one says something different.
In Galatians 2 and Colossians 3 the Apostle tells us that Christ is his life... These Scriptures tell us of the inner Source and Power of the life the Apostle lived day by day. But in Philippians the Spirit is not speaking of "Christ our life". He is speaking of the day by day life that the Apostle lives — the outer life that others see... We see people of the world. Of one we say: "For him to live is wealth"; of another: "For her to live is pleasure"; or again, "For such a one to live is study, or power, or some other pursuit." We know this means that these things are the absorbing interests in their lives, to the near exclusion of everything else.
There is a gap between having that life and living it.
It is one thing to have Christ as our life — every believer can say this — but it is another thing to live the life that we have. Is Christ the one Object before us, that occupies us from day to day — the motive for all that we think and say and do?
If Christ is the one object, rival objects have to go.
Let Christ be then the controlling object of our life in the power of the Spirit of God. There is no rest while the heart is divided between Christ and self, or the world, or our friends, or our brothers and sisters. Whoever makes Christ, and Christ alone, his object enters into the joys of God.
The two halves of the verse are built differently in the original, and the grammar carries the sense.
The words "to live" are in the present infinitive. That means the continuous, day-after-day life that the Apostle lived down here. In the other half of the verse, "and to die is gain", the Spirit of God changes to the aorist infinitive, which points to one single act: "the having died is gain." It is not "the dying" that is gain, but "the having died". As the Apostle points out, that is "to depart and be with Christ, for that is far better."
Some have tried to read the gain as a gain to Christ's cause rather than to Paul himself. That reading has been challenged on the wording:
The emoi gar ("for to me") standing at the start of the sentence is necessarily related to both clauses of it: "to me to live is Christ, and (to me) to die is gain." Nor does he say, "to me to live is gain to the cause of Christ" at all, but to me to live is Christ, Christ is the object of my life. And when he comes to speak of death being gain, he never says, "to the cause of Christ" at all, but "(to me) to die is gain."
Paul faced death in a way Rome could not explain.
He felt that he was for Christ, and for Christ only, whether in life or in death... If, therefore, they had beheaded Paul, would he have lost anything? No! Christ would have been magnified in his body still. What sort of testimony was that in Caesar's court? A Roman knew how to face death as a display of courage. But to walk toward death thinking it was gain, because there was a Jesus who had been crucified between two thieves, and He was the joy of a man's heart — a Roman could not have understood that.
It is tempting to admire this from a safe distance, as if it belonged only to Paul.
We are apt to gaze in awe and wonder at the great apostle. We feel that such a statement, though true of him, is well beyond us, and not meant to apply to us at all. But you recall he tells us, not once or twice, "Be imitators of me, as I am of Christ."... The truth is that this is just the normal, proper life of a Christian: the life that every one of us should be living.
- Object — Christ was Paul's one aim, motive, and business. He said this not at the start of his career but after long years of toil, danger and sorrow.
- Living — Galatians and Colossians say Christ is our life. Here the subject is the daily life others can see, just as "for him to live is wealth" describes a person's absorbing interest.
- Gap — every believer can say Christ is their life; the harder thing is to live the life we have.
- Gain — "to live" is continuous, but "to die" is one act. It is not the dying but the having died that is gain, because it means departing to be with Christ.
- Normal — this is not an apostle's privilege. It is the proper Christian life, which is why Paul could say, "Be imitators of me."
but if to live in flesh [is my lot], this is for me worth the while and what I shall choose I cannot tell.
Paul writes from prison, not knowing if his trial will end in release or death. He is not afraid to die; the hard part is choosing between two good things, and his words about "fruitful labor" are where commentators do most of their work.
Commentators have found this verse hard to pin down. One writer paraphrases the whole thought to show how it hangs on the verse before, and where the uncertainty lies.
"For to me to live is Christ and to die is gain. But if I live in the flesh, this is the fruit of my labour [an idiomatic expression meaning 'worth my while'], yet what I shall choose I cannot tell. For I am in a strait between two, having a desire to depart and be with Christ, which is far better; nevertheless to abide in the flesh is more needful for you."
Another writer paraphrases the whole thought to show how it hangs on the previous verse, and where the uncertainty actually lies.
Everyone who has tried to state the exact meaning of this verse has felt real difficulty. It clearly stands in the closest connection with what goes before, and I think we can fairly paraphrase it like this: "I have said that to me to die is gain. But if it is my appointed lot to live on, this also has its fruit. And what I shall choose I do not know, and therefore cannot say."
The ESV says "fruitful labor" where older translations say "the fruit of my labour." Commentators differ over which wording to keep. One writer wants "fruit," because it ties the verse to the rest of the letter.
It seems to me a pity to lose the word "fruit" in the passage. It naturally takes our thoughts back to "the fruit of righteousness" in verse eleven, or to the branch remaining in the Vine to bear fruit (John 15). And it takes our thoughts forward to the end of the letter, where he writes: "I seek fruit abounding to your account." Fruit and labour seem to be linked together in the Scriptures... The thought seems to be this: if the Lord should leave Paul here a while longer, he would still continue in his labour. And that labour meant fruit for his Master.
The same writer then turns that word into a question about himself.
I know that the Lord says, "Well done, good and faithful servant," not "good and successful servant." And I know that the Lord does not reckon "fruit" as we do. But even so, it often comes home to me as a challenge to my own soul: why so little fruit?
One writer asks why Paul could not choose. His answer is about how completely Christ filled Paul's heart.
He puts it as a matter left for him to judge and decide by Christ. "If I live in the flesh, it is worth my while." But if not, what then? Why, it was gain. As far as he was concerned, then, why could he choose? In one sense he could not, and in another he would not choose. Christ was so truly before his heart that in fact there was no self left unjudged to warp the choice. This is what brings him, if one may say so, into the dilemma of love. If he left this world, he would be with Christ; if he lived longer in this world, Christ was with him.
Rome held Paul's life in its hands. Yet the emperor never enters his thinking.
For himself it was far better to depart and be free from all the conflicts, trials and sufferings. But on the other hand there were the needs down here. The saints needed him and his labours, and this led him to choose "to abide in the flesh," for it was more needful for them. So he decides to remain, no matter what sufferings were still in store for him... And there is no mention made of Nero and his power. Through faith Paul knew himself not in the hands of Rome but in the hands of Christ.
Paul wrote this while shut away from the work he loved. One writer looks at what filled his heart then.
Here the apostle gives us what his heart was occupied with when he could not go out into the activities of work. It seemed as if he had nothing to do... To one cut off from such work it was, in appearance at least, a heavy burden and an immense trial. But Christ changes all for us. His yoke is easy, and His burden light. It is Christ, and Christ only, who deals like this with grief and pressure.
Paul leaves the question open here. Another writer shows where he finally settles it.
The apostle weighs the matter: much better to be with Christ on the one hand, but on the other hand, more needful for you that he stay in the flesh. And being confident of this, he decides the matter himself: "I know that I shall remain." What a true shepherd's heart! Without hesitation he gives up his own wishes for the sake of the flock.
- Fruit — Living on is not mere survival. More time means more labour, and that labour means fruit for the Master.
- Worth while — One writer reads the phrase as an everyday saying: if I go on living, it is worth my while.
- Strait — Christ filled Paul's heart, so no self-interest was left to tilt the choice. Leave the world and he is with Christ; stay and Christ is with him.
- Silence — He weighs his own death without one word about Nero. He knew himself in Christ's hands, not Rome's.
- Shepherd — The deadlock breaks when he looks at the flock. He gives up his own wish and says, "I shall remain."
But I am pressed by both, having the desire for departure and being with Christ, [for] [it is] very much better,
Paul writes this from prison, with a death sentence a real possibility, and instead of fear he describes a dilemma: two desires pull him at once. His answer opens up what death means for a believer, and what fills a heart when Christ is everything.
Paul does not say he wants to die. The word he chooses carries a picture:
You will notice the Apostle does not say he had a desire "to die," but to depart and be with Christ. The word translated depart comes either from taking down a camp, or from letting go the cable that holds a ship to the dock. In 2 Timothy 4:6, Paul says: "the time of my departure has come." This is from the same word. When a great ocean liner is ready to leave, you see the last cable let go. Then it moves off quietly on its long journey to a distant land. And for many on board, it is going "home", to a land they love. That is how the Apostle pictures death.
Everyone must die one day. Paul speaks instead of what he wants:
The apostle does not say, "I must depart"; but, "I desire to depart." All men must depart. There is a dying principle in all.
Being "hard pressed between the two" is not indecision about things he cared nothing for:
Isn't it plain that death was gain to him, and yet he was still torn between choosing death or life? Not because, as some say, "they were equally indifferent to him." That would be a strange way of being torn between two things he cared nothing about. He was torn because the question was whether to choose his own good or the good of the saints.
The obvious reason to want out of prison is escape. That was never Paul's pull:
We often think that to depart and be with Christ will mean escaping the trials, worries, confusion and shame of this wilderness path. So we think it is better to depart. But such a thought never crossed the Apostle's mind. The attraction, on the one hand, was CHRIST, and nothing else. On the other hand, there was the need of the saints. He was not putting the saints before Christ. It was for Christ's sake that he cared for Christ's flock.
The emperor held Paul's life in his hands. Paul writes as though God had handed him the question instead:
So instead of thinking it was a question for the emperor to decide, he sees, feels, and speaks as if God had put it all into his own hands... He drops Caesar altogether and views it as if God were asking His servant whether he was going to live or die. His answer is that it would be much better for himself to die, but that for the sake of the Church it would be better for him to live a while longer. So the decision is truly Christlike. It goes against his own strong desire, because his aim was undivided, and he sacrificed self for the good of the Church.
Some teach that death is an unconscious sleep. If that were so, Paul's comparison would collapse:
This false teaching claims that when the believer dies he passes into a state of unconsciousness. If that were true, it would not be "far better" to depart, or as the original puts it, "much more better." Enjoying fellowship with the Lord is good and blessed. To pass out of the body and be with Him is "much more better." Apart from the body, God's saints enjoy and know the Lord in a way that is impossible down here. And the best of all is when the Lord comes and all the redeemed receive their glorified bodies.
"Far better" is real, but it is not the end of the story:
If we die we go to Him, and that is a blessed truth. But the hope of the Christian, the only full hope, is that Christ will come. It is true that to depart and be with Christ is far better. Yet that is not God's purpose for us. God's purpose is that we shall be like Christ. I do not want to be like Christ with my body in the grave, and my spirit in paradise.
- Departure — Paul's word pictures a camp taken down, or a ship's last cable let go. For the believer, death is a sailing home.
- Desire — he does not say he must go, but that he wants to go. The pull is Christ Himself, not escape from prison.
- Dilemma — the pressure is not between two things he does not care about, but between his own gain and the good of others.
- Decision — he drops Caesar out of it. He settles the question as if God had asked him, and chooses against his own longing for the church's sake.
- Degrees of better — being with Christ is "much more better" than the happiest life here, so it cannot be an unconscious sleep. Best of all is still ahead, when Christ comes and raises the body.
but remaining in the flesh [is] more necessary for your sakes;
Paul writes from prison, torn between dying to be with Christ and staying alive to serve. This verse is where the tension breaks — and it breaks not in favour of what he wants, but in favour of what others need.
One commentator points out that each phrase in the passage defines the other:
There was no third thing at all. His desire to depart and be with Christ was the pressure on one side. His remaining in the flesh being more needful for them was his difficulty on the other. And so "departing and being with Christ" can only mean his dying, just as "remaining in the flesh" can only mean his living.
Verse 23 leaves Paul unable to choose. Verse 24 ends the deadlock, and the deciding weight is not his own comfort:
He certainly wanted to cut loose from all that held him here and to be with Christ. On the other hand, he felt that staying here would be more necessary for the saints. Once that is clearly before him, all is clear. The pressure from two sides is gone. How sweet and unselfish is the love which the Holy Spirit gives to the heart that is centred on Christ! Their spiritual interest turns the scale, whatever his personal desire.
Why could Paul not decide? Both options were full of Christ, so nothing in him leaned to one side:
Christ was so truly before his heart that in fact there was no self left unjudged to warp the choice. This is what brings him, if one may say so, into the dilemma of love. If he left this world, he would be with Christ; if he lived longer in this world, Christ was with him. In short, he was so living Christ that it was only a question of Christ here, and of Christ there.
Paul does not settle the matter by consulting his preferences. He settles it by asking what Christ wants for His people — and that answer he already knows:
He had learnt to forget himself in Christ. He saw Christ fully taken up with the church, according to His perfect wisdom. And this decided the question. God taught him this. Not knowing for himself which to choose, Paul lost sight of himself. He thought only of the need of the church, according to the mind of Christ. It was good for the church that he should remain — even for one church: so he would remain. And see the peace this gives to the servant of God. Looking to Jesus destroyed selfishness in the work.
Why was staying necessary? One writer points to what Paul could already see coming on the churches:
For him it would be far better to depart, and leave all the suffering and affliction behind; but "to remain in the flesh is more necessary on your account." We must remember that decline was setting in on every hand, though the days were early. Evil men were already at work, seeking to corrupt the testimony of the Lord and lead the saints astray. Paul knew the evil would spread. He had told the Ephesian elders so (Acts 20), some time before he wrote this letter to the Philippians. So he wanted to stay and steer the church's boat a little longer over the troubled sea.
Paul's life lay in the emperor's hands. He writes as though it did not:
Was it really desirable for the church that Paul should stay? Then, without hesitation and without any selfish feeling, he can say, Paul will stay. So he settles the matter and speaks calmly and confidently of seeing them again. Yet this is a man in prison, exposed to the most reckless of Roman emperors, who thinks, decides and says all this!
Commentators do not leave the verse as history. One turns it on the reader:
Can any of us venture to say that we are so bent upon the interests of Christ concerning His members here below? That this one thing, and only this one thing, so far as our choice goes, keeps our souls away from His longed-for presence? That we know how much better it is to depart and be with Him than to be here? That we prefer His gain to our own, and so choose to stay in this dark scene? For here alone can we serve the interests of Christ, in our little measure and for His own sake. And He is infinitely more to us than even the personal blessedness we would find in His presence.
- Two doors. "Departing" means dying and being with Christ; "remaining in the flesh" means living on. Paul weighs only these two, and nothing else.
- No self to sway him. He cannot choose, because Christ fills both options — Christ there if he goes, Christ here if he stays.
- Their need decides. He cannot settle it by preference, so need settles it. The spiritual interest of the saints turns the scale.
- Christ's mind, not his own. Christ's mind about the church settled it. It was good for the church that Paul stay, so he would stay. Reading that mind gave him peace.
- The emperor is not consulted. A prisoner facing a reckless emperor calmly announces his own future. The will he reads is the Lord's.
and having confidence of this, I know that I shall remain and abide along with you all, for your progress and joy in faith;
Paul writes from a Roman prison. He has just weighed dying and being with Christ against staying alive for the sake of others. This verse is where he settles it. The striking thing is who settles it: not the emperor, but the prisoner.
Humanly speaking, Paul's future lay in the Emperor's hands. His confidence rests elsewhere. One writer ties it to the decline he could see spreading among the churches.
We must remember that decline was setting in everywhere, though the days were early. Evil men were already at work. They wanted to corrupt the testimony of the Lord and lead the saints astray. Paul knew the evil would spread. He had told the Ephesian elders so (Acts 20), some time before he wrote this letter to the Philippians. So he wanted to stay, and steer the Church's boat a little longer over the rough sea. He had this desire, and he was sure that his remaining in the flesh was needed. So he knew he would remain and stay with the saints, for their progress and joy in the faith. Notice how calm and lifted above it all this man is! From a human point of view, it was up to the Emperor whether he stayed or not. But he did not look at man, in power or otherwise. He quietly settles his own case in the presence of the Lord.
The words "I know" are bold. One commentator traces them to a man whose own will was broken, so that he could think God's thoughts about the church.
I know of no more astonishing and instructive proof of the power of the Spirit of God, giving a man real fellowship with God in daily life. The flesh in him was broken and judged, so he could enter into the mind and feelings of God, and into Christ's heart about the Church. Was it really desirable for the Church that Paul should remain? Then, without hesitation and with no thought for himself, he can say, Paul will remain. So he settles the matter and speaks with calm certainty about seeing them again. Yet this is a man in prison, exposed to the most reckless of Roman emperors, who thinks, decides, says all this!
The verses just before set two good things side by side. Paul lets the second one win, and not because he wanted Christ less.
He weighs the matter up. On one side, it is much better to be with Christ. On the other side, it is more needful for the Philippians that he remain in the flesh. Being confident of this, he decides the matter himself: "I know that I will remain." What a true shepherd's heart! Without hesitation he gives up his own wishes for the sake of the flock. Another Apostle could write, "We ought to lay down our lives for the brothers." (1 John 3:16). They were of one mind.
That care was not affection for people as such. It had a deeper root: they were not his.
Who will doubt that Paul's desire was a true and precious spiritual one? Yet he will give it up for the time being, because he adds, "to remain in the flesh is more needful for you." It is a blessed thing to see this spirit of unselfish devotion to the care of the saints, because they belonged to Christ.
Paul stays for their advance and their gladness. The next verse names the outcome, and the word behind "rejoicing" is worth catching, because it points the result away from Paul.
The word translated "boast" has the thought of "joyful exultation." … Their joy would produce boasting, or joyful exultation, not in Paul, but in Christ Jesus. Paul's presence with them once again would cause it, yet their boast would be in Christ Jesus.
Commentators differ on how strongly to press this. Some say only that Paul was "pretty certain" to have been justified in his confidence; others go further, on the ground that what he wrote is Scripture.
From this there can be no doubt at all that the apostle was later set free and saw the Philippians again. True, here he is only expecting it. But he writes as one who has learned the mind of God in the matter. And since what he writes is Scripture, we are left with no choice but to treat it as a prophecy inspired by God.
The freedom came, and it was used the way he said it would be — before a very different letter closed his life.
He was granted not only to visit Macedonia again, and to make the boasting of the Philippians abound in Christ Jesus through him by his presence with them once more. He was also granted to see again at least some of the churches in Asia Minor, and the one at Corinth. … In Philippians he says, "I am going to remain;" in 2 Timothy, "I am going to depart."
- Pressure — Paul writes as a prisoner. His life hung on an emperor's word. Yet he leaves the emperor out and settles the question before the Lord.
- Ground — Paul can say "I know" because the flesh in him was broken and judged. He thinks God's thoughts about the church instead of his own.
- Choice — He gives up what was better for himself, because others needed him more. A shepherd's heart puts the flock first.
- Purpose — He stays for two things: their progress in the faith and their joy in it.
- Praise — The result overflows in joyful exultation. It lands on Christ Jesus, not on the man whose return caused it.
that your boasting may abound in Christ Jesus through me by my presence again with you.
Paul writes from prison, having chosen to stay alive for the believers at Philippi rather than depart and be with Christ. This verse gives the result of that choice: their glorying would grow, and it would rest on Christ Jesus, not on Paul.
Verse 26 grows out of the choice Paul made just before it. One writer sees in that choice a striking proof of the Spirit's power.
Here is the most astonishing and instructive proof I know of the power of the Spirit of God. It gave a man real fellowship with God in practice. The flesh in him was broken and judged, so he could enter into the mind and feelings of God, and into Christ's heart about the Church. Was it really desirable for the Church that Paul should stay? Then, without hesitation and without fleshly feeling, he can say, Paul will stay. So he settles the matter and speaks calmly and confidently of seeing them again. Yet this is a man in prison, exposed to the most reckless of Roman emperors, who thinks, decides, and says all this!
Paul expected his visit to add something to their faith, and their joy to rise with it.
This verse is closely connected with the one before it. Paul trusted that his presence at Philippi once again would be so full of the power of the Gospel that it would add something real to their faith and knowledge. Joy would increase in proportion. With joy would come more of that glorying in the Lord which is a proper mark of all true worshippers of God. His words seem to point two ways. They could glory in the Lord as the faithful helper of His people in their times of trouble. They could also glory as a fuller knowledge of the unsearchable riches of Christ, through further apostolic teaching, worked on their souls.
The word Paul uses means a boast. Where that boast lands is the point.
The word translated "boast" carries the thought of "joyous exultation." … Their joy would produce boasting, or joyful exultation, not in Paul, but in Christ Jesus. Paul's presence with them once again would cause that joy, yet their boast would be in Christ Jesus.
Paul had authority, yet he speaks of his return as a help to them. One writer notes how he handled that authority.
Notice, he wanted to stay for their "progress and joy in the faith." Sweet and simple language from an apostle, a man armed by the Lord with authority. As far as he could, he avoided any display of authority. In spirit he was very far from those who would lord it over God's heritage. He preferred to say, "Not that we lord it over your faith, but we work with you for your joy, for you stand firm in your faith" (2 Cor. 1:24).
Paul does not say he hopes to return. He says he knows. One writer asks what that settles.
Notice that he is not giving his opinion, but facts. "To remain in the flesh is more necessary on your account," not "I think it is." "I know that I will remain and continue with you all," not "I think I will." And verse 26 is most explicit. He is to remain, so that their boasting may abound in Christ Jesus through him by his presence again with them. If we doubt that Paul went free, left Rome, and saw the believers at Philippi again, we all but deny that this part of the Word is inspired.
Two things would feed that rejoicing when he arrived.
His coming again to the Philippians would give them abundant rejoicing in Christ Jesus. God's hand had so plainly preserved and delivered him, and he would also be a help to them.
- Priority — Paul chose to stay alive for their sake, not his own. Their need settled what his own desire could not.
- Presence — His return would add to their faith and knowledge, not just cheer them with a familiar face.
- Progress — Joy rises in proportion to growth; he came as a worker for their joy, not a lord over their faith.
- Praise — The boast is "joyous exultation." It rests on Christ Jesus, though it comes through Paul.
- Proof — Paul states his release as fact, not opinion. God's hand kept him, and that is one more reason to glory in Christ.