St. Paul’s Epistle to the Philippians is almost certainly the last one he wrote. He probably penned it shortly before his execution by the Emperor Nero. In it, Paul mentions he is expecting his case to be resolved in the imminent future.
Intellectually, the epistle is a bit boring. It’s simply a nice letter to his most beloved church. Of all the churches Paul founded or nurtured, the Philippian Church is apparently the only one that didn’t give him any major headaches.
Indeed, we know from other epistles—notably to the Corinthians—that when Paul feels a needs to cite an example of commendable behavior on the part of a church, he refers to his mission in Macedonia: in short, the Philippian Church.
Human beings tend to think of their own situations as unique. We look at the state of the church in America and we see the mainline denominations, once bastions of orthodoxy, in total disarray. At the same time, we see the blossoming of numerous sects, all professing to be Bible–based, yet preaching novel doctrines. And we imagine this has never happened on this scale before.
Paul’s epistles are proof that this is an entirely false impression. The disarray, the dissension, the abandonment of fundamental tenets of faith, the strange and novel doctrines—they have all been stooging around since the very founding of the church. But studying Philippians offers us a useful lesson in how this little church—one so much like our own—managed to remain faithful while everything was going to pieces around them.
The Philippian Church flourished in what might seem to have been extremely unfertile soil. The city of Philippi was a Roman colony settled primarily by battle–hardened veterans of the Roman Legions—not notably spiritual people. The tiny Jewish population—folks who usually formed the backbone of the new churches—didn’t even have a synagogue.
They met to pray in an open–air place, down by the river outside the gates of the city; and it was here Paul, with St. Luke and their companions, first preached the Gospel. Yet in this decidedly unpromising environment a church flourished that was far more successful in living Christ’s gospel than any of it peers.
It took courage to be a faithful Christian in Philippi—just as it does in America today. Indeed, the unremitting hostility by the pagan Roman population seems to have inspired a degree of zeal and commitment in Philippi’s Christian community that exceeded that of other churches in the empire. Its members were totally dependent on each other for spiritual support and sustenance. And out of this mutual dependence came harmony.
The antipathy of the local authorities meant Philippi was an unpretentious church. Membership carried no particular social cachet—far from it. It embraced a broad cross–section of Philippian society. We know from the Book of Acts that its earliest converts included a woman who was a wealthy cloth trader, a poor slave girl whom Paul had saved from demonic possession, and the Roman warden of the city jail.
Perhaps it was because of its broad social base, it was a warm and loving church, noted for its members’ generosity not only to their fellows but to other churches scattered throughout the empire.
The Philippians funded Paul’s mission in Corinth. It was the Philippians Paul commended for their generosity to the impoverished Christian community in Jerusalem. When Paul was imprisoned in Rome, it was the Philippians who rushed money to him to ease the conditions of his imprisonment. They gave freely—and without having to be asked. And their open–handedness and generosity put many far richer churches to shame.
This doesn’t mean to say the Philippian Church was entirely without faults. There are hints of occasional dissension in the ranks. We learn of “murmurings and disputings” involving two ladies who led the church women’s group—Euodias and Syntyche—but it doesn’t seem to have involved any major doctrinal issue or heresy. Rather, it seems to have been a petty squabble that had grown out of all proportion to its actual importance. Folks don’t change much, do they?
Paul’s advice to the feuding Philippians is well worth heeding today: “Whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report: if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.”
Perhaps the most vital lesson to be learned from the Philippians is that living is even more important than learning. The Philippians might not have been the best Bible students. Their church might not have produced brilliant teachers or cutting–edge theologians. But the Philippians knew how to live their faith—and in living it, they bore a hundredfold more fruit than many of their more learned and prosperous counterparts. The message from Philippi is that studying the faith is all very well, but sooner or later it is absolutely essential to put it in practice. GPH✠
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