The Book of Philippians: Rejoicing in Christ

Philippians 1

Philippians 1 — To Live Is Christ, to Die Is Gain

Today’s Passage: Philippians 1

Paul writes to the church at Philippi from a Roman prison, and he begins by thanking God for their partnership in the gospel, resting his heart on one great confidence: the God who began a good work in them will surely finish it. Then he turns his own chains inside out for them to see. Far from silencing him, his imprisonment has actually carried the gospel forward, for the whole palace guard now knows why he is there, and other believers, taking courage from his example, have grown bold to speak. Some, it is true, preach Christ out of envy, hoping to add to his distress, but Paul rejoices anyway, so long as Christ is preached at all. Out of that freedom rises the confession that crowns the chapter, “For to me, to live is Christ, and to die is gain.” He is genuinely torn, for to depart and be with Christ would be far better, and yet to remain is more necessary for them, and love for the church wins the day. He closes with a charge to the church: to live as citizens worthy of the gospel, to stand firm together as one, and to count it a gift not only to believe in Christ but also to suffer for Him.

As you read, hold this: To live is Christ, so even chains can serve the gospel.

Context The world of Philippians 1

Philippi was a Roman colony in Macedonia, settled with retired soldiers and fiercely proud of its citizenship. Paul had planted this church on his second missionary journey, and Acts 16 tells the story of how it began: a woman named Lydia whose heart the Lord opened by a riverside, a slave girl set free from a spirit that had bound her, and Paul and Silas singing hymns at midnight in the town jail. The Philippians had been his partners ever since, sending him help again and again, and most recently sending Epaphroditus himself to care for him (2:25; 4:18).

He writes as a prisoner (1:7, 13), most likely from Rome around A.D. 60–62, chained day and night to a rotating detail of the palace guard (1:13). The man who calls death gain, and who says his suffering has cut a path forward for the gospel, is saying it with a soldier shackled to his wrist and the real possibility of execution before him. His joy, then, is not the joy of a man who has never known hardship. It is a joy that has been tested, and has held.

Philippians 1:1–2 (BSB)

¹ Paul and Timothy, servants of Christ Jesus, To all the saints in Christ Jesus at Philippi, together with the overseers and deacons: ² Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.

Paul does not lead with the title apostle here. Writing to friends, he and Timothy come simply as “servants of Christ Jesus,” and the Greek word behind “servants” is doulos, a bondservant wholly owned by his master. That is no bitter claim from a man who is about to say that Christ is his whole life; it is the gladdest belonging he knows. He addresses “all the saints… in Christ Jesus,” and that little phrase, “in Christ,” will quietly govern everything that follows. He singles out “the overseers and deacons” as well, the earliest clear mention of these two offices anywhere in his letters, a sign that from the very beginning this church was shepherded and ordered, not a loose and leaderless crowd. Then comes the greeting every letter of his carries, grace and peace, given from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.

Philippians 1:3–6 (BSB)

³ I thank my God every time I remember you. ⁴ In every prayer for all of you, I always pray with joy, ⁵ because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now, ⁶ being confident of this, that He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.

Paul cannot even pray for these friends without joy, and he tells us plainly why: it is their koinōnia, pronounced koy-no-NEE-ah. Strong's G2842, fellowship, partnership, shared participation. Koinōnia comes from koinos, meaning common or shared, and it names a holding of things in common: a common life, a common cause, even a common purse. The ancient world used it for business partners who pooled their capital and shared the risk, and Paul says the Philippians had exactly that kind of stake in the gospel “from the first day until now.” They had shared his labor, funded his mission, and bound their own lives to the same Lord he served. Later English Bibles often render the word fellowship, but Paul means far more than friendly company after a service. He means a costly partnership in the work of Christ. To belong to Him is never a private transaction between one soul and God; it is to be joined to a whole people who share one life together. in the gospel from the first day until now, for they had been true partners in the work and not merely distant well-wishers. Then comes the line that has steadied anxious believers ever since, that He who began a good work in them will epiteleō, pronounced ep-ee-tel-EH-oh. Strong's G2005, to complete, finish fully, bring to its goal. Epiteleō joins epi- (fully, all the way to the end) to teleō (to finish), which comes from telos, the goal or completion. It does not mean merely to work at something, but to bring it all the way through, and it was used for finishing a building or fully carrying out a sacred duty. Notice who does the work in the verse: God is the One who began the good work, and God is the One who will carry it on to completion. Salvation is not a project you began and must now nervously keep alive by your own effort. It is a work God Himself undertook, and He is not a builder who lays a foundation and then walks away from a half-finished house. Even the deadline is fixed and sure, “until the day of Christ Jesus.” . Notice again who does all the verbs. God began it, God will carry it on, and God will bring it to its finish. Paul is “confident” of this, and the Greek means he is fully persuaded of it, settled beyond all doubt, because the good work was never their own achievement in the first place but God’s from beginning to end.

Philippians 1:7–11 (BSB)

⁷ It is right for me to feel this way about all of you, since I have you in my heart. For in my chains and in my defense and confirmation of the gospel, you are all partners in grace with me. ⁸ God is my witness how I long for all of you with the affection of Christ Jesus. ⁹ And this is my prayer: that your love may abound more and more in knowledge and depth of insight, ¹⁰ so that you may be able to test and prove what is best and may be pure and blameless for the day of Christ, ¹¹ filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ, to the glory and praise of God.

Here the thanksgiving grows warm and personal. Paul carries these believers “in my heart,” and even in his chains he counts them “partners in grace” with him, for the partnership holds firm right across the prison walls. He longs for them, he says, “with the affection of Christ Jesus.” The Greek word behind “affection” pointed to the inward organs of the body, for the ancients located their deepest feeling in the gut much as we speak of the heart. This is no polite sentiment offered from a distance. It is the very compassion of Christ moving through His servant toward the people he loves.

Then he prays for them, and it is worth noticing what he asks. Not that their circumstances would improve, but that their love would “abound more and more,” and abound with direction, “in knowledge and depth of insight.” Christian love is not a blind and shapeless warmth; it grows wise as it grows, learning “to test and prove what is best.” Paul’s aim is that they be found “pure and blameless for the day of Christ,” filled with “the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ.” And the final goal, as always with Paul, is not their own glory at all, but that everything should redound “to the glory and praise of God.”

Philippians 1:12–18 (BSB)

¹² Now I want you to know, brothers, that my circumstances have actually served to advance the gospel. ¹³ As a result, it has become clear throughout the whole palace guard and to everyone else that I am in chains for Christ. ¹⁴ And most of the brothers, confident in the Lord by my chains, now dare more greatly to speak the word without fear. ¹⁵ It is true that some preach Christ out of envy and rivalry, but others out of goodwill. ¹⁶ The latter do so in love, knowing that I am appointed for the defense of the gospel. ¹⁷ The former, however, preach Christ out of selfish ambition, not sincerely, supposing that they can add to the distress of my chains. ¹⁸ What then is the issue? Just this: that in every way, whether by false motives or true, Christ is preached. And in this I rejoice. Yes, and I will continue to rejoice,

Now Paul takes up the very thing his friends must have dreaded, his imprisonment, and turns it inside out before their eyes, showing them two ways it has served the gospel. First, the whole palace guard now knew that he was chained “for Christ,” so that the gospel had reached even into the heart of Roman power. And second, his courage had proven contagious, for most of the brothers, emboldened by his example, now “dare more greatly to speak the word without fear.”

Then he names a painful complication. Some were preaching Christ “out of envy and rivalry,” actually hoping to add to the distress of his chains, while others preached out of goodwill and love. Yet Paul’s response is wonderfully free, for he will not let anyone’s motives rob him of his joy. “Whether by false motives or true, Christ is preached. And in this I rejoice.” He is so wholly consumed with the honor of Christ, and so free from anxiety about his own reputation, that as long as the name of Jesus is going out into the world he is glad, even when the men who preach it are aiming their words to wound him.

Philippians 1:19–26 (BSB)

¹⁹ because I know that through your prayers and the provision of the Spirit of Jesus Christ, my distress will turn out for my deliverance. ²⁰ I eagerly expect and hope that I will in no way be ashamed, but will have complete boldness so that now as always Christ will be exalted in my body, whether by life or by death. ²¹ For to me, to live is Christ, and to die is gain. ²² But if I go on living in the body, this will mean fruitful labor for me. So what shall I choose? I do not know. ²³ I am torn between the two. I desire to depart and be with Christ, which is far better indeed. ²⁴ But it is more necessary for you that I remain in the body. ²⁵ Convinced of this, I know that I will remain and will continue with all of you for your progress and joy in the faith, ²⁶ so that through my coming to you again your exultation in Christ Jesus will resound on account of me.

Here Paul lets us see how a man can rejoice inside a prison. His confidence is that his distress will finally turn out for his deliverance, through their prayers and “the provision of the Spirit of Jesus Christ.” And his one deep desire is not for his own release at all, but that “Christ will be exalted in my body, whether by life or by death.” Either outcome would content him, for by either road the same end is reached and Christ is magnified.

Then comes the great confession, “For to me, to live is Christ, and to die is gain.” The word for gain is kerdos, a ledger word, the profit a merchant walks away with at the close of business. To the Roman world death was the final debit, the total loss of everything a man had. But Paul turns the ledger over. Because Christ is his whole life, death cannot possibly be loss to him; it can only mean more of the very One he already lives for, now seen at last face to face, and so he calls it “far better.”

He is genuinely “torn between the two,” for love for Christ pulls him homeward while love for the church holds him here below. To remain means “fruitful labor” and is “more necessary” for them, and in the end love for the church wins the day. “I know that I will remain,” he says, and he remains for their prokopē, pronounced pro-kop-AY. Strong's G4297, progress, advancement made against resistance. This word comes from a verb that pictures a pioneer cutting a way forward through the wild, chopping through underbrush and felling trees so that an army can advance behind him, and so it came to mean progress made against real resistance. The Philippians would naturally have expected Paul’s arrest to hinder the gospel, but back in verse 12 Paul said instead that his very circumstances had cut a path forward for it: the chains that were meant to stop him became the road along which the message traveled. Here, of their own progress and joy in the faith, the same word returns. The gospel does not merely survive its opposition; God takes the opposition itself and makes it the very instrument of the gospel’s advance, and He does the same in a believer’s own growth in the faith. , the same word Paul used of his own circumstances back in verse 12, “and joy in the faith.” Even his willingness to go on living in a hard and dangerous place is itself an act of self-giving love.

Philippians 1:27–30 (BSB)

²⁷ Nevertheless, conduct yourselves in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ. Then, whether I come and see you or only hear about you in my absence, I will know that you stand firm in one spirit, contending together as one for the faith of the gospel, ²⁸ without being frightened in any way by those who oppose you. This is a clear sign of their destruction but of your salvation, and it is from God. ²⁹ For it has been granted to you on behalf of Christ not only to believe in Him, but also to suffer for Him, ³⁰ since you are encountering the same struggle you saw I had, and now hear that I still have.

Having laid his own heart open, Paul now turns to charge the church itself: live as politeuomai, pronounced pol-it-YOO-om-ahee. Strong's G4176, to live as a citizen, conduct one's public life. This word comes from polis, the city, and it means to live as a citizen, to discharge your civic duties, to conduct your public life as a member of a commonwealth. Philippi, a proud Roman colony, prized its citizenship above almost anything else it had, and Paul takes that civic pride and lifts it up to a higher city. Conduct your common life, he says, as citizens of the gospel, for believers are a colony of heaven planted down in an earthly town. Later in the letter he will say it plainly, “Our citizenship is in heaven” (3:20). And just as a citizen abroad represents his homeland, so the watching world reads the gospel itself in the way its citizens live. worthy of the gospel. The mark of that life, whether he is present with them or far away, is unity under pressure, for they are to “stand firm in one spirit, contending together as one for the faith of the gospel.” The picture is a battle line drawn up shoulder to shoulder, and the enemy it faces is fear. Their fearless steadfastness is itself “a clear sign” of two destinies at once, destruction for those who oppose them and salvation for the church, “and it is from God.”

Then Paul reframes their suffering itself. It “has been granted” to them, given as a gift, and given not only that they should believe in Christ “but also to suffer for Him,” so that faith and suffering alike come to them from the hand of God. Nor do they suffer alone, for they share “the same struggle” they once saw in Paul and still hear that he endures. So the chapter that opened with partnership closes with it as well: they are partners now even in suffering, and therefore partners too in a joy that no chain on earth can bind.

Study notes Going deeper

“To live is Christ” is a whole way of seeing the world. Paul’s accounting in verse 21, that death itself is gain, makes sense only because Christ Himself had become the very content and substance of his life. He says the same thing another way when he writes to the Galatians.

"I have been crucified with Christ, and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself up for me." Galatians 2:20 (BSB)

When Christ becomes not merely a part of a life but its very center and substance, then to go on living is communion with Him and to die is simply to have more of Him. The arithmetic of Philippians 1:21 only works from inside that union. And the Philippians had already watched Paul live it out before their own eyes, that midnight in their own town jail, singing hymns while the other prisoners lay listening. The joy of this chapter is not a fine theory. It is a life they had seen with their own eyes.