I thank my God for my whole remembrance of you,
Paul writes from a Roman prison, and he opens with thanks — not for his own release, but for believers hundreds of miles away. Two questions follow: why does he call God my God, and what memory of a church can produce thanks every single time?
The two small words "my God" carry more than grammar. One writer traces those words through Paul's letters, and what they show about his nearness to God:
But we must not pass by those two little words: "my God": "I thank my God in all my remembrance of you." The Apostle had just said he was the slave of Christ Jesus, which means he belonged to Christ Jesus. Now he speaks of "my God." When speaking to the unbelievers on the ship on the way to Rome, he said he belonged to God and served Him. But now, writing to believers, he says "my God." These words are deeply personal. They also speak of love and nearness. The Apostle loved to use those words: we find them again in Chapter 4:19: "My God will supply every need of yours."
The ESV reads "in all my remembrance of you," and that wording matters. It is not a thanksgiving triggered by a few standout memories, but one that covers the whole record:
Notice how thanksgiving and prayer go together here: "I thank my God," "always in every prayer of mine." Years earlier, in the prison at Philippi, Paul and Silas prayed and sang praises. Now, in the prison at Rome, Paul is still doing the same thing… Thanksgiving sees the blessings already received, and prayer sees the needs still waiting. And Paul could never think of these dear believers in Philippi without giving thanks for them… He did not remember them and give thanks only at scattered moments. His whole memory of them filled him with thanksgiving.
Paul is not paying the Philippians compliments. He sees the good in them and turns it into thanks to God:
How constantly the apostle prayed for them! Every time he prayed, he mentioned them. Notice how he carries the church of God on his heart; and it was the same with each person. He was thinking of all the good in them, and thanking God for it. See what interest he took in these believers; he was always thinking of them.
Not every letter Paul wrote begins this way. One commentator draws a lesson from the difference, starting with a street beggar:
There used to be a beggar in Shanghai who was so busy asking for gifts that he never took time to thank those who gave to him. The result was that those who gave to beggars often passed him by. Might we not know more answers to our prayers if we spent more time in thanksgiving?… From the very first Sabbath by the river, when God opened Lydia's heart, right up to that day, Paul gives thanks for them. How different from Galatia! Not a word of thanksgiving for them — the only church the Apostle could find nothing to thank God for!
Most prayer for others is mixed — gratitude for a few bright moments, sorrow over the rest. Philippi was different:
We may be able to thank God for one another as we recall His grace shown on particular occasions. But of these believers the Apostle could say, "I thank my God in all my remembrance of you." What is more, we may pray for one another, though at times with sorrow of heart over failure and poor living. But of these believers the Apostle could pray "with joy."
That rarity turns the verse into a mirror. Another writer presses the uncomfortable question directly:
Not that even Paul could speak like this of every church, or every believer — far from it. His whole remembrance of the Philippian saints opened the floodgates of thanksgiving to God… If the Apostle were here, could he have thought this of us? Yet, wonderful as it was, it was the simple truth; and it is wholesome for our souls to judge ourselves by such a standard.
The setting makes the thanksgiving remarkable. Chains did not dry up his gratitude; they deepened it:
Paul writes his letter to the Philippians with a deep, peaceful joy. His circumstances would normally bring misery and discouragement. He was in prison in Rome, yet he counted himself the Lord's prisoner, put there by God's wisdom to carry out His will and work. So his joy comes from the highest source. His loneliness and chains only give him closer, more constant fellowship with God, and his cup runs over.
- My God. Paul does not say "God" at arm's length. The word "my" speaks of belonging, love and nearness, the same God who, he later says, will supply every need of theirs.
- All remembrance. Not a few bright moments. His whole memory of them — from the day God opened Lydia's heart — filled him with thanks.
- Thanks first. Thanksgiving looks at blessings already given; prayer looks at needs still unmet. He keeps both together, in a prison cell, as he did years earlier in Philippi's jail.
- Upward credit. He thinks of all the good in them and thanks God for it, carrying the whole church on his heart.
- A mirror. Paul could not write this to every church — Galatia got no thanksgiving at all. So the fair question is whether our lives would give anyone cause to thank God at the memory of us.
constantly in my every supplication, making the supplication for you all with joy,
Paul writes from prison, chained and waiting for a verdict. Even so, he tells the Philippians that praying for them makes him glad. That raises two questions. What kind of prayer is he talking about? And how does praying for other people, which is hard work, turn into joy?
The word used here is not the general word for prayer. Older translations render it "supplication" or "making request," where the ESV has "prayer." Writers set the words for prayer side by side:
Supplication means being earnest in pressing a case of need. Prayer is more general; it puts forward wants and wishes. Intercession means free and trusting conversation with God, whether for ourselves or for others. And thanksgiving tells out the heart's sense of favour given, or counted on.
So Paul is not making a passing mention. He is pressing their case before God — and doing it with joy.
The verse says "always" and "every." Writers take those words at full strength. The Philippians were never off Paul's prayer list.
The Philippians had taken a zealous part in the gospel, and had shown a loving spirit. How constant the intercession of the apostle was for them! Every time he prayed he was making mention of them. Notice how he carries the church of God on his heart. And it was the same with each person. He was thinking of all the good in them, and thanking God for it.
Paul did not always pray this way. One writer sets this prayer beside a very different one:
And prayer goes with his thanksgiving. This time it is not with "anguish of heart" and "many tears," as it was when he wrote his first letter to the Corinthians (2 Cor. 2:4). It is "making request with joy." They were going on well, and his heart was free, and full.
Kelly turns the verse into a question for the reader:
Not that even Paul could speak this way of every church, or every saint of God — far from it… From the beginning there was need of prayer, and he kept praying for them all… He never prayed for these Philippians without joy. Yet he kept carrying them before God. Had the Apostle been here, could he have thought so of us? Yet, wonderful as it was, it was the simple truth; and it is wholesome for our souls to judge ourselves by such a standard.
Commentators differ on where the joy comes from. Grant reads it as a response to how well the Philippians were doing. Darby turns it round: the praying itself opens a person's eyes:
Praying for saints gives a person the power to see all the good in them… If we prayed more for the saints, we would have more joy in them and more courage about them. It is always wrong to lose courage about the saints… The Lord is always there, and love cannot fail. So we can count on it with joy, comfort, and courage.
The little word "all" is not filler. It shapes how Paul greets this church and how he prays for it.
He uses this form of greeting only in this letter. He does not write to them as a church, because Christian experience is personal, and he wants to build it up in each of them. He is careful, too, to avoid even the slightest favouritism, for he writes to "all the saints." Five times in the first eight verses he says "all" about them — a lovely sign of his pastor's heart.
Verse 3 gives thanks; verse 4 asks. The two belong together, and one writer explains why:
Notice how thanksgiving and prayer go together here: "I thank my God," "always in all supplication." In the prison at Philippi in the early days, Paul and Silas prayed and sang praises. Now, in the prison at Rome, Paul is still doing the same thing… Thanksgiving sees the blessings already received. Prayer sees the needs still unmet.
Paul's chains stopped his travelling, not his work. That makes this verse a lifeline for anyone whose usefulness looks finished.
Aged brothers and sisters, crippled ones, imprisoned ones, take courage! Although you can no longer run the Lord's errands, you can still serve the people of God at the throne of grace.
- Always — every prayer, every time: Paul never left the Philippians out.
- Supplication — the word here means pressing a real need, not a passing mention.
- Joy — Paul had prayed elsewhere with anguish and tears; here his heart was free and full.
- All — he says "all" five times in eight verses, with no favourites.
- Anywhere — chains ended his travels, not his service; the throne of grace is still open.
because of your fellowship with the gospel, from the first day until now;
Paul thanks God for the Philippians, and here he names the reason: their partnership in the good news. It had not broken off since the first day. So what is this fellowship — a feeling, an activity, or something that costs?
The word behind it is not a church word. It comes from business, where people are tied together in one job.
The Greek word for it comes from the word used for "partners" in Luke 5:10. James and John were partners with Simon in the fishing business. I believe that in the New Testament fellowship always means a relationship between people, based on Christian unity. Perhaps "joint participation" is one of the best definitions of it. When Lydia welcomed Paul and his companions into her house, she was in joint participation in the Gospel. When Paul was preaching in Thessalonica and the Philippian believers sent him gifts (Phil. 4:16), they were in joint participation in the Gospel, or "fellowship in the Gospel."
Paul does not praise them for preaching. Their share was something else, and one writer rates it above public service.
Here it is their fellowship with the gospel. Not only as a blessed message they had received themselves, but in its progress, its conflicts, its dangers and its difficulties. It does not have to mean preaching it. It means something as good, or in itself even better — their hearts fully in it and with it. Why should I hesitate to say it? Whatever honour is given to those called to spread the gospel, to have a heart in tune with the gospel is a better portion than any service as such. The Philippians' affections were bound up with the gospel in the simplest and warmest way. They identified themselves with its course from first to last. This was really fellowship with God in the spread of His own good news through the world.
The two time markers matter. Their interest was not a burst of early feeling that faded.
It had always been so, as the apostle lets us learn. It was not a sudden burst of feeling, nor the effect of passing circumstances. It was a calm, settled, warm habit of their souls, and it had marked them out from the first.
Such steadiness is rare. Trouble, bad reports and needs at home cool it.
Sometimes believers grow tired of sharing in the Gospel. Trouble comes. Bad reports spread. There are heavy demands at home. And the fellowship in the Gospel grows cold. It is usually the poor, like the Philippians, who keep that unbroken fellowship in the Gospel, the kind that never grows tired... But what is so precious is the fellowship that never gives up. It holds on when people speak badly of you and when they speak well; through dark days and bright; through poverty and plenty.
Later in the letter Paul names what they actually did. They sent him money, more than once.
The fellowship of the Philippian saints had been very practical, for Paul was able to write to them, "Now you Philippians yourselves know that in the beginning of the gospel, when I left Macedonia, no church entered into partnership with me in giving and receiving, except you only. Even in Thessalonica you sent me help for my needs once and again" (Phil. 4:15-16). They had received the blessings of the Gospel themselves. So the believers at Philippi worked to spread it, helping the Lord's servants in every way.
The ways to share in it are more ordinary than most people expect.
But gifts are not the only way of showing fellowship in the Gospel: there are countless other ways. Epaphras worked hard in prayer, and so may we. What a cheer an encouraging letter is! Some hold the hats of those preaching in the street. Some help with the singing. Some bring friends to the meetings. Love for the Gospel, and love for the One the Gospel is about, will find ways to share in its work.
Their partnership also told Paul something about them. It showed him where the work had really come from.
Now that fellowship showed not only love for him, but a real work of grace in their souls. It was a work started through Paul and his companions (Acts 16:13), but truly begun by God, who will complete in His goodness what He has begun in His grace.
- Partnership. Fellowship here is joint participation. The word comes from fishing partners: a shared stake in one business, not just a warm feeling.
- Heart. It does not need preaching. It needs a heart bound up with the gospel's progress, its conflicts and its difficulties.
- Constancy. "From the first day until now" — a calm, settled habit, not a passing burst of feeling.
- Practice. It showed in money sent again and again. It still shows in prayer, a letter, singing, or bringing a friend.
- Proof. Such steady partnership shows that God Himself began the work. He finishes what He begins.
having confidence of this very thing, that he who has begun in you a good work will complete it unto Jesus Christ's day
Paul thanks God for the believers at Philippi, and his thanks turns into certainty about their future. His confidence does not rest on their record. It rests on the One who started the work in them, and Christ's own day sets the finishing date.
One writer weighs the word "began" and what that beginning cost.
In the sentence, "He Who has begun a good work in you," the word "begun" has a solemn, ceremonial ring to it. "Inaugurated" might be a better word. It was no light matter to begin that work: let us always remember it cost the life of the Son of God to begin it in any of us. But what comfort it is to look away from ourselves and our failures to Him Who began the work! We may count on HIM to finish it. … And if it is God's work, it cannot fail, for "HE DOES NOT FAIL."
Paul had grounds for his certainty in what he could see. Writers compare how he wrote to other churches.
Notice the ground of his confidence. With the Corinthians it is because God was faithful. In Galatians, where the trouble was more serious, the Apostle says he was in doubt about them, until he thought of the Lord… Here it is different. His confidence rests not only on what God is in character and purpose. It rests on what he saw of Christ in them, by the Holy Spirit… He saw such clear enjoyment of Christ, and he saw them making Christ's interests on earth their own. So his confidence went past a general hope of seeing them with Christ one day. He was sure the work of God in them was solid all the way through.
The love and devotion Paul saw came from somewhere. Where it came from changes what a believer can count on when human help is gone.
Who had produced in the Philippians this spirit of love and devotion to the work of the gospel? It was the God of the good news and of love. This was a guarantee that He who had begun the good work would complete it by the day of Christ. Sweet thought! — now that we no longer have the apostle, and no longer have bishops and deacons as the Philippians had in those days. No one can take God from us. He is the true and living source of all blessing. He never changes, and He stands above the weaknesses, and even the faults, that rob Christians of every other resource.
God has set a date for finishing. That date explains the shape of a believer's circumstances now.
From this Scripture we learn that God is working His own good work in the hearts of His people. He works in sovereignty and love. His aim is to bring them out with Christ in the day of His glory. The different conditions of life, and the varied circumstances God's people live in, are shaping in them what God will display of Christ, and with Christ, when He displays Jesus before the eyes of the universe.
One writer turns the verse on the believer who fears they will not last.
Who began the good work in you if you are a believer in the Lord Jesus? The Holy Spirit of God did. It was He who convicted you of sin. It was He who led you to put your trust in Christ… The Holy Spirit took you up in grace, and He has a definite purpose in view. He is going to make you like the Lord Jesus Christ, and He never begins a work that He does not intend to finish… When you were a poor sinner, the Holy Spirit had power enough to break down your opposition to God. Do you think for one moment that He lacks the power to finish the work He began?
The same letter also commands believers to work out their own salvation. Writers hold the two together.
Do you need assurance? Do you need a sense in your soul that what you received in trusting Christ will last, and that you cannot be lost? It is here. The work of God started your history. The work of God will complete it. But I can also tell you that you have some work to do as well. "Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you both to will and to work for His good pleasure"… He does not stop working between the start and the finish.
Paul's confidence grew out of prayer. The same habit works the same way in us.
Praying for other believers gives you the power to see all the good in them… If we prayed more for them, we would have more joy in them, and more courage about them. It is always wrong to lose courage about the saints.
- Begun — God began the work at the cost of His Son's life, so it is no light thing and it cannot fail.
- Evidenced — Paul's confidence rested on what he saw of Christ in them. The fruit pointed back to the source.
- Guaranteed — the apostle, bishops and deacons can all be taken away. God cannot, and He stays above our weakness and even our faults.
- Worked out — the same letter commands you to work out your own salvation. God keeps working in you the whole way.
- Displayed — the finishing line is the day of Jesus Christ. On that day the varied circumstances of your life will show what God has formed of Christ in you.
as it is righteous for me to think this as to you all, because ye have *me* in your hearts, and that both in my bonds and in the defence and confirmation of the glad tidings ye are all participators in my grace.
Paul writes this from prison in Rome, thanking a group of believers who had just sent him help. Here he says why his confidence in them was right, not just hopeful. They had shared his chains, his defence of the gospel, and the grace that carried him through both.
One writer sets out what lay behind these warm words:
Paul was in prison. The Philippians were very dear to him, and early in his work they had shown their affection by gifts like this one. Now they had sent help to him through Epaphroditus, at a moment when, it seems, he had been in need for some time. A prison, need, the knowledge that the assembly of God was left without his watchful care, and this love from the Philippians that thought of him in his need though he was far away — what could open the apostle's heart better?
Paul calls his confidence about them right. One writer weighs that word, and the emphatic "me":
Now we will see the reason for this confidence. It was not only that love hopes all things: it was the only right and just thing for Paul to think. The "me" is emphatic. Whatever it might be in the eyes of others, for Paul it was the only right thing. And does this "right" apply to more than his confidence? Does it not include the apostle's thankfulness in verse 3, and his joy in verse 4, every time he remembered them?
The wording can be read two ways. One writer leaves the choice open on purpose:
The answer may be rendered either "Because you have me in your heart," or "Because I have you in my heart." Which did the Spirit of God intend the Philippians to understand? We do not know. But perhaps, since both are true and the words may mean both, the Spirit intended them to understand it in both ways.
Standing with a preacher while he succeeds is easy. Standing with him in jail is another matter, and that is the real test:
They shared in the confirmation of the gospel, seen in the wonderful results it produced. They shared too in its defence against every enemy, and in the chains that held the ambassador. Many are eager to share in the confirmation, and perhaps in the defence, who are not so eager when chains and suffering come into view. Chains are the test. A readiness to share them proves the work of God within more surely than much learning in Christian doctrine.
They could have drawn the obvious conclusion about a man behind bars. They drew the opposite one:
They were throwing themselves, heart and soul, into the activities and sufferings of the grace of God in the apostle. Did his chains make them ashamed or suspicious? To have a friend in jail was never of good report. Did they begin to say to themselves, He must have been doing something wrong because he is a prisoner? On the contrary, seeing that the apostle Paul had come into the deepest suffering, they looked on it as the highest honour.
The two words describe one task from two directions:
The defence is the negative, defensive side. The confirmation is the positive, forward-pressing side. The gospel has both sides: not only its defence, but also the direct establishing and advancing of it. The Philippians were fellow-partners in both. And they were fellow-partners of this grace. Grace is favour — free, unearned favour. These saints were favoured with a part in the gospel, and favoured too with a part in Paul's chains.
They shared the grace that held Paul up, and they did it by sending money:
Now they had sent him a little money. He calls it fruit acceptable and well-pleasing to God, because they gave it in the interest of Christ's gospel. It was a great thing to say of them: by helping him, the man set apart for the gospel, they shared in his grace. They might not be able to understand all the apostle's teaching, and many of them did not. But their fellowship in sending him money let the apostle connect them with the grace that worked in him to advance Christ's interests on earth.
That shared grace is why their faith held:
They willingly shared in the same grace that sustained him in all these things. They too stood firm for the gospel. What is real will absolutely endure, for it is God's work.
- Grace given. The grace that held Paul in prison was the grace the Philippians shared — the very same supply, not a lesser one.
- Grace held. That grace showed itself as love. The words can mean Paul holds them or they hold him, and both are true.
- Grace tested. Many will share the gospel's successes. Sharing a friend's chains is the surer proof of God's work within.
- Grace at work. It guards the gospel against attack and drives it forward: defence and confirmation, one task with two sides.
- Grace that lasts. The work is God's, so it endures. Paul's confidence was not optimism but the only just view.
For God is my witness how I long after you all in [the] bowels of Christ Jesus.
Paul calls God as his witness to how much he longs for the Philippians. The strong words raise two questions: why does he need an oath, and whose heart is doing the longing?
The ESV says "affection." Older translations keep the literal word, "bowels." That word was a picture:
We use the heart as the symbol of love, but people in the East more often used the bowels as the symbol of the deepest feeling of love, pity and compassion.
The point is not anatomy but depth. One writer sums it up as the language of the innermost self:
I suppose underlying this word "bowels" is the thought of deep-seated feeling, inward affections.
Paul does not choose a mild verb. One writer traces the stronger form right through the New Testament:
The New Testament never uses the ordinary Greek word for longing. It always adds a preposition, which gives the idea of "straining after" the object longed for. One writer translates it "yearning;" another speaks of it as "homesick longing." ... Paul passionately longed to see the Roman saints (Rom. 1:11 and 15:23); we passionately long to be clothed with our house which is from heaven (2 Cor. 5:2); ... The Spirit of God passionately longs over the saints (James 4:5); and we are to passionately long for the sincere milk of the Word, that we may grow by it (1 Peter 2:2).
That choice of vocabulary carries a quiet permission:
Christians are sometimes accused of being enthusiasts; but when we remember the New Testament never uses the moderate word for longing, and so often uses the more intense one, we may see that it is right for us to be enthusiasts in right ways.
In verse 8 Paul seems to correct himself. The longing sits in another heart than his own.
Now notice: in Whose heart is this passionate longing for the saints? "I passionately long after you in the heart of Christ Jesus." In verse 7 Paul had the Philippian saints in his heart. Now it is as though he said: "No, rather, in the heart of Christ Jesus I passionately long for you." ... An old writer has said, "In Paul, Paul did not live, but Jesus Christ." Galatians 2:20 tells us the same thing. But does not this verse give us a glimpse into the heart of Christ Himself, as He passionately longs over us, those He purchased with His own blood?
This is what marks it off from ordinary warmth returned for warmth:
This love was mutual; for if they had the Apostle in their hearts, he, on his side, longed after them all in the bowels of Jesus Christ. It was not simply a human love that responds to kindness, but divine love — the yearning love of Jesus Christ.
Nothing in Paul's background would have drawn him to these people. That is why the oath fits.
Love in the Spirit may well blend with pure natural affection, since that also is of God. But it shines brightest, and works most strongly, when natural affection does not support it. To Paul, as a man in the flesh, these Philippians were nothing. As uncircumcised Gentiles, they were objects of dislike rather than of love. But "in the bowels of Jesus Christ" they have become his dearest joy. God knows men's hearts, and He is Himself the true source of these tender and holy emotions. Paul calls on Him here as a solemn witness that his words are sincere.
One writer traces it to what fills the soul:
It is the expression of deepest feeling begotten through the love of Christ known in the soul. For as the soul dwells upon Christ, so is it expanded in love toward His saints and in concern for His interests.
Others trace it further back, to what we ourselves have received:
And here we have the secret of power to love our brothers and sisters, to long after them all in the bowels of Jesus Christ (Phil. 1:8), because we have experienced the tenderest affection from Him, meeting our every need and sympathizing in our every sorrow.
This longing did not stay a feeling.
It was Paul's passionate longing for the Philippians that drew out that fervent prayer. May each one of us be more of an enthusiast in our longing for one another.
And it sets the standard for how we treat each other now:
What we need, beloved, in a day that is admittedly difficult, is the bowels of Jesus Christ. These are the deep and tender compassions that led Him to His wonderful and unmatched self-sacrifice, when He "loved the church, and gave Himself for it." ... Such a motive would set aside all self-interest. We should seek not theirs, but them.
- Source. This is not human warmth returned for kindness. It is divine love — the yearning love of Jesus Christ.
- Depth. "Bowels" was the symbol for the deepest feeling of love, pity and compassion.
- Intensity. The verb means straining after — a yearning, homesick longing. The New Testament never uses the mild word.
- Proof. Nothing natural tied Paul to these Gentiles, so he calls on God, who knows hearts, to confirm he means it.
- Outcome. Such longing does not stop at feeling; it drove Paul to fervent prayer, and it seeks not theirs, but them.
And this I pray, that your love may abound yet more and more in full knowledge and all intelligence,
Paul is in prison, and a church he loves has sent him a gift. His letter of thanks turns into prayer: not that they would simply love more, but that their love would grow along two lines — knowledge and discernment.
Their love was not in doubt. They had already proved it.
The gift was the expression of their love, as their earlier gifts had also been, which we read about in Philippians 4:16. There was no need for the apostle to urge these Christians to express their love. He wants the love they had shown so touchingly to abound, marked by full knowledge and all intelligence.
Paul never says who or what they should love. He leaves it open, and asks only that it grow.
Notice that LOVE is the foundation of everything… Living love must grow. A love that does not grow is probably a dead and worthless love — or at least a diseased and unhealthy love. And notice it is not spoken of as one particular love. It is not love to God only, or love to Christ, or to the apostle himself, or to other saints, or even love of the Word and prayer. It is love in general, and no doubt it takes in all of these… And the only way for that love to increase is to know more and more of His love to us. It is not by examining our love, or by trying to love more. It is by taking Him at His word when He tells us how much He loves us.
Paul is not asking for information. He asks for the kind of knowing that comes from closeness.
But it is not to be a blind love. It is to be a love in intimate knowledge and in all perception. The Spirit of God does not use the ordinary word for "knowledge." He adds a preposition to it, which gives the meaning of a deep, true, spiritual knowledge, not the shallow or merely intellectual kind… Notice what this prayer in Philippians tells us. The Spirit of God would have us, even now down here, have something of that "intimate knowledge" that we will have in full up there, when we see Him as He is and know Him as we are known.
The second word is not about knowing but about sensing. Older translations call it "all judgment."
The other word works in various directions, so it comes with the wide-reaching addition "all" or "every." It means that faculty of sensitive perception. Used rightly, it reaches the true knowledge God's children are urged to pursue, and it avoids the deceiving counterfeits of the father of lies. It is a versatile faculty. In healthy exercise it turns instinctively against every form of error and resists every departure from the truth.
These two words do not slow love down. They steer it.
He wanted no cutting back of that love. The spread of evil should not make it grow cold. Just the opposite: it should grow stronger in its beautiful course — only knowledge and judgment should regulate it. These should be the rails on which this mighty engine speeds along. Without such guides it might run a headlong course, for love is blind. Directed like this, it would tell a story of surpassing charm.
Understanding is not first a matter of study. It starts with the heart.
Remember that in divine things, spiritual intelligence springs from love. The heart attached to Christ is the heart that will learn the mind of Christ. That is not simply a knowledge of the letter of Scripture, but intelligence as to its spiritual meaning… The more we love Christ, the greater the spiritual intelligence that lets us do the right thing, in the right way, at the right moment, in every circumstance.
Love keeps knowledge safe. And the more of it you gain, the more you want.
Love is the basis. Without it there would be no building up. With love laid down and abounding, full knowledge guides and guards instead of puffing up. The more intelligence we have, if it is real and spiritual, the greater the desire to grow in it… Whenever we begin to be satisfied with what we have gained, growth is over. But when we make a little real advance, we want to make more.
The danger runs the other way too:
It is sad that too often, when knowledge increases, love begins to grow cool. We must watch against this with the greatest care… Knowledge is badly abused if it decreases love in any measure.
- Love first. It is the foundation of everything, and a love that stops growing is a sick love.
- Love more. Paul asks for no reduction of a love already proved by their gift — only that it abound more and more.
- Love knowing. The word is not surface information but deep, intimate knowledge — a taste now of what we will have when we see Him.
- Love perceiving. "All discernment" is a trained sense that instinctively turns against error and counterfeits.
- Love guided. Knowledge and discernment are the rails this engine runs on. Take them away and love runs blind. Let knowledge cool love, and knowledge itself has been abused.
that ye may judge of and approve the things that are more excellent, in order that ye may be pure and without offence for Christ's day,
Paul's prayer in Philippians reaches its aim here. Love that grows in knowledge produces a trained eye — one that can sort what is merely good from what is best. The verse then ties that daily skill to a fixed point: the day of Christ.
Condemning what is wrong is the easy part. Seeing what is excellent takes something more:
With this God-given intelligence we will be able to approve things that are excellent. It is fairly easy to condemn what is wrong. Even someone who does not know God can do that to a large extent. But to see and approve what is morally excellent takes spiritual discernment. The more we are attached in love to Christ, the greater our spiritual intelligence will be. It will help us do the right thing, in the right way, at the right moment, in every situation. Approving what is excellent, and acting with a pure motive, we are kept without offence until the day of Jesus Christ.
This phrase can be translated two ways. Both describe a grace that is rarer than we assume:
"Approve what is excellent" can just as well be translated "distinguish the things that differ." Other Scriptures translate these same words both ways. The meaning is really the same. Such people have learned to take the precious out from the worthless (Jer. 15:19). For a Christian, telling apart things that differ is the same as approving what is excellent. It is strange and sad that this grace is so rare.
Avoiding sin is only the floor here. The prayer asks for something finer:
He prays that they might have all kinds of knowledge and spiritual judgment, so that they would do just what fits to be done. They would know how one thing differs from another. They would be experts in the Christian path — not only not falling into sin, but knowing just the right thing to do in the circumstances. The standard is satisfying the heart of Christ, not "Where is the harm?" The apostle wants them to discern things now as they will be seen when brought into the light in that day of Christ.
Discernment shapes character. Where the ESV says "pure," older translations read "sincere." The word behind it is rich:
The Greek word properly means what is "distinct" and "unmixed." … Some think it comes from a word meaning "that which is cleansed by much rolling and shaking to and fro in the sieve." Others suggest a more beautiful origin, if only we could be sure it is right: "that which is held up to the sunlight and in that proved, and approved." … This grace shuts out all double-mindedness, the divided heart, the eye that looks two ways, all hypocrisies.
The next word, "blameless," reads "without offence" in older translations. It points to stumbling, and works in two directions:
The instruction here may mean either that we do not stumble ourselves, or that we do not cause others to stumble. I like to think it has both meanings. If we walk without stumbling ourselves, then we will not cause others to stumble. In Acts 24:16 the same word describes a conscience free from offence — a conscience that looks back on the path and sees no stumbles. That should be our aim.
Older translations read "till the day of Christ." That day tests today's choices:
The test will be "the day of Christ." It would keep a person from trying things that look good on the surface but may not be good underneath. That day will show everything up in the light.
Commentators differ on what that day covers. One calls it "the day when He comes to judge; it is always so when it refers to our responsibility" (J. N. Darby). Another calls it "the day for the saints when they meet Him in the air and then appear before His judgment seat" (Arno Clemens Gaebelein).
Notice how much Paul expects — and where the strength for it lies.
The apostle prays for these believers as if he thought it possible. Growing in love and intelligence, they might walk the path of faith till the day of Christ without a single false step… No progress in the things of God will ever keep a person. Nothing keeps us but real nearness to Him and dependence on Him… And remember, this is the only approved path for all believers. It does not belong by right to some advanced souls. It is what every Christian has to desire.
- Love first. Discernment is not cleverness. It grows where the heart is attached to Christ.
- Sift, then choose. "Approve what is excellent" also reads "distinguish things that differ" — taking the precious out from the worthless.
- Christ's pleasure, not permission. The question is never "where is the harm?" but what fits the moment and satisfies His heart.
- Character follows. Two things come out of that sifting. A life that is unmixed, held up to the light. And a walk that trips no one — not you, not anyone watching.
- Measured by that day. The day of Christ brings everything into the light. A walk with no false step is not for a select few. It is every believer's aim, kept only by nearness to Him.
being complete as regards the fruit of righteousness, which [is] by Jesus Christ, to God's glory and praise.
Paul's prayer for the Philippians ends here. It moves from growing love and testing discernment to something you can see: a life full of fruit. The verse raises three questions — what this fruit is, where it comes from, and who ends up with the credit.
One writer lists the requests in this prayer. The fruit is the last of them.
In these verses the Apostle tells the saints what he was asking God for. There were four main requests: that their love might overflow more and more; that they might have the grace of discernment, able to test the things that differ; that they might be sincere and without offence; that they might be filled with the fruits of righteousness.
Paul writes "fruit," not "fruits." One writer explains why that matters.
"Being filled with the fruit of righteousness" is literally "having been filled." This seems to look forward to Christ's day. Then the Apostle will rejoice to see these beloved saints like a tree well filled with fruit, with not an empty branch among them. And notice it is fruit, not fruits. This fruit is like a bunch of grapes: "the results of grace are many, yet in substance they are one, and each is needed to make the rest full."
So does this fruit grow out of keeping rules? One writer answers that plainly.
More than this, notice that he prays for them to be filled with the fruit of righteousness. He does not ask only for this or that righteous act. He asks for the blessed product of righteousness by Jesus Christ, to the glory and praise of God (v. 11). There is no thought of the law here, and no room for it. The law is shut out as the proper standard for the Christian. There is Another, who is both our new object and our rule: Christ Himself, the image of God, the life and power of fruit bearing for the believer. What a rule for our practical, everyday walk!
So can a person simply try harder to do right? One writer says that road never reaches the fruit.
It is important to notice what produces "the fruits of righteousness by Jesus Christ." Merely trying to do right never produces them. Only the pure love of God, known and answered in the soul, can do that, and that love is enough for a real fulness of these fruits. Nothing can be truly right unless it is held in close relationship with God.
Fruit grows only where the branch stays joined to Him. Even His painful dealings serve the same end.
But let us never forget that "the fruit of righteousness" comes only "by means of Jesus Christ." He is the "Tree of Life" and the "True Vine," and only branches that remain in Him bear fruit (John 15). "Every branch that does bear fruit He prunes, that it may bear more fruit" (verse 2). And so we find in Hebrews 12:11 that discipline, painful rather than pleasant at the time, yields "the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who have been trained by it."
Paul does not pray for a little fruit. He prays for a full tree.
Those who are justified by faith have Christ as their righteousness. When they walk in the light, keep the flesh judged, and train themselves in godliness, their walk shows "the fruit of righteousness." And do not forget this: there is to be not only "the fruit of righteousness," but a tree filled with it. It is as we find in John 15: "fruit," "more fruit," and "much fruit." True fruit of righteousness will not bring glory to us, but to God.
This fruit pleases the Father now. It will also be on show on a coming day.
This prayer shows us how God produces the fruits of righteousness in the saints, ready for the day of display, the day of Christ. God works sovereignly in the saints, and He also works through the exercises of His own people. Love, divine knowledge and spiritual judgment produce in God's people the precious fruits of righteousness, the features of Christ. They are for the Father's pleasure and glory now, and for His praise and glory on the day when Christ "comes on that day to be glorified in His saints, and to be marveled at among all who have believed" (2 Thess. 1:10).
- Root — the fruit comes "through Jesus Christ." Trying hard to do right never produces it. Branches bear only while they remain in Him.
- Rule — the law is shut out as the Christian's standard. Christ Himself is both our object and our pattern for everyday life.
- Fruit — it is one cluster, not scattered good deeds, echoing John 15's "fruit," "more fruit," "much fruit."
- Fulness — Paul prays not for a token crop but for a tree so filled that not an empty branch is left among them.
- Fame — the harvest brings no glory to us. It ends "to the glory and praise of God," grown now and shown in the day of Christ.