Philippians 1
FBMeyerPhilippians 1:1-11
Rejoice in Growth and Seek Increase Philippians 1:1-11 It is exceedingly difficult to compress this Epistle, which is the tenderest and most personal of them all. Every word merits consideration; every paragraph is full of linked sweetness long drawn out. In the opening verses we are taught that we may further the gospel, not only by direct efforts, but by helping those who, like the Apostle, are devoted to its spread. From the early beginnings of their friendship, this Church had never faltered in its loving gifts, which Paul sought to repay with prayers on their behalf. He regarded them as comrades fighting the same enemy, on the same field, and sharing in the same grace. The Apostle’ s confidence that whatever God begins will have its perfect end, Philippians 1:6, is very reassuring. This is what we need, though we must not take it for granted apart from faith and prayer. Each of the Epistles has its “ collect,” its comprehensive prayer offered in the name of Christ. This one is especially beautiful. Abounding love will lead to increased knowledge; and this to quicker discrimination between things that differ, however similar they may appear; and this, in turn, to freedom from blame and offense. And all will result in the fruit of a holy life, pleasing to Jesus and bringing glory and praise to God.
THE OF THE EPISTLE
Philippians 1:1-2THIS is the tenderest of all the Epistles. There is no chiding or rebuke. It is suffused throughout with words of good cheer, of joy and peace, though it was written in bonds to which the Apostle makes frequent reference (Philippians 1:7; Philippians 1:13-16). There is no trace of despondency or gloom, and though sent to a Church which he had not seen for five or six years, there appeared no necessity for those strictures and reproofs with which the other Epistles are filled.
Date and Occasion of the Epistle. If, as is supposed, this Epistle was written at the beginning of Paul’s imprisonment in Rome, we must assign to it the date A.D. 62. It is the beginning of the precious prison literature of the Church which is amongst our greatest treasures. It was a persecuted Apostle writing to a persecuted Church, but his soul was unfettered and unchoked by prison damp. Perhaps his hired house in its discomfort would compare favourably with the gaol at Bedford, which Bunyan describes as “a den,” but the Apostle was conscious, as Bunyan never was, of the daily clank of the chain which accompanied every movement.
The occasion of the writing of this Epistle is clearly indicated by the references which the Apostle makes. Philippi stood at the head of the Aegean Sea, about nine miles from the coast. Its earliest name was the Fountain City, afterwards it was enlarged by Philip, the King of Macedonia, and called after himself. It was the scene of the great battle between Brutus and Cassius on the one side, and Octavius and Antony on the other. In commemoration of the decisive victory of imperialism over republicanism, Augustus gave it the dignity and privilege of a Roman colony. It was, in fact, a miniature Rome, hence its consuls and lictors (Acts 16:20). The great Egnatian Way passed through it; and as a Roman colony situated on this great thoroughfare, it was flourishing and wealthy, though now it is a desolation, trodden only by the traveller and shepherd.
The Apostle had been brought there in answer to the vision of the man of Macedonia, but had met with a poor response. His first sermon was preached to a few devout Jews, especially women, who, unable to erect a synagogue, were wont to gather by the riverside on the Sabbath day. The story of the opening of Lydia’s heart, and the subsequent formation of a Christian Church, which was favoured with two visits on the part of the Apostle, is too well-known to need detailed retelling.
Epaphroditus, whom the Philippians had sent with their greeting and pecuniary assistance, had fallen ill during his stay at Rome, and as the tidings of this misfortune caused great anxiety to his fellow-disciples, on his recovery the Apostle hastened his return and entrusted to his care messages of gratitude and affection; hurrying him back, that by his presence he might dissipate the anxiety which had cast a gloom over the entire Christian community.
It is sufficient to say that this Epistle has received unmistakable testimony as to its authenticity and genuineness. It is referred to by Ignatius and Polycarp, quoted by Clement, Irenaeus, and Tertullian, and bears in its texture abundant evidence of having issued from the heart and mind of the great Apostle to the Gentiles.
“Paul and Timothy, bond-servants of Christ Jesus.” Years before, when quite a youth, Timothy had been brought to Christ on Paul’s first visit to Lystra. Having been well instructed by his mother, Eunice, and his grandmother, Lois, when Christ was presented as the fulfilment of the Old Testament by Paul, he received Him with all the ardour of young manhood. The Apostle ever after considered him as “his own son in the faith.” During the seven following years he grew in knowledge and love, and on Paul’s second visit he was judged capable of accompanying him, and sharing his hardships and labours on behalf of the Gospel.
The two names are associated in 2 Corinthians, Colossians, Philippians 1:1-30 and 2 Thessalonians, and we can never forget the touching last letter which the Apostle dictated to him from the Mamertine prison on the eve of martyrdom. It is worthy of notice that the Apostle, who will presently refer to the saints at Philippi, classes himself with Timothy as the “bond-slaves of Christ Jesus.” There is no assumption, no priestly prerogative, no pretentiousness in this simple designation. Though the Apostle had much in which he might glory, when he reviewed the work of his crowded life, he had so great an estimate of his Master, Christ, that in His presence he took the lowliest place;–the bought chattel of Him who had purchased him, not with corruptible things, but with His precious Blood. Men would have little fault to find with the ministers of the Churches, if they breathed the same spirit of simplicity, humility, and abandonment to the will of the great master.
Saints and Saintship. “To all the saints in Christ Jesus which are at Philippi, with the bishops (R.V. marg. overseers) and deacons.” The word “saint” is frequently used by the Apostle, in the opening words of the Epistles. In that to the Romans, he describes believers as “called to be saints.” So in 1 Corinthians 1:2, see also Ephesians 1:1; Colossians 1:2. We are not to infer from this that they were perfect in character, but that they were set apart from the world, by the cross of Christ and the anointing of the Holy Spirit, for high and holy service in the world. Men use this term of the departed, and canonise their fellow-believers only after many years have elapsed since they passed to the service of the eternal world. But the Apostle did not hesitate to describe very imperfect men and women, who needed a large amount of tuition and admonition, as saints; thus imputing to them God’s great ideal, as perhaps the likeliest means of inspiring them to deserve the title.
Is not this a true way of dealing with men? Do not be content with rebuking them when they do wrong, but lay your hand upon their shoulder, and tell them that you are sure that they are capable of better things, that the angel lies hidden in the marble, that the possibility of saintship is deep down in the soul, in virtue of the regenerating grace of the Spirit, who is forming Christ within. Thus you will inspire hope, resolve, high purpose, and the resolute intention that the character and walk shall not fall beneath this great word with which God does not hesitate to designate all who are incorporated in a living union with His Son.
Would you be a saint indeed? Then live “in Christ Jesus” as your King (Christ), and in Jesus in all the human relationship of daily life (Jesus). Let Him be your atmosphere and environment, your protection from the assaults of evil from without, and the sweet fragrance which will exhale through the inner sanctuary of your nature, in speech and act.
Bishops and Deacons. As to the “bishops and deacons”: “There is now no question,” and this is endorsed by Bishop Ellicott, “that in the Holy Scriptures, the two titles of ‘bishop’ and ‘presbyter’ are applied to the same person.” For this see Acts 20:17-28. Bishop Lightfoot affirms, “It is a fact now generally recognised by theologians of all shades of opinion, that in the language of the New Testament the same officer in the Church is called indifferently ‘bishop,’ or ’elder,’ or ‘presbyter.’” He goes on to say: “The opinion hazarded by Theodoret, and adopted by many later writers, that the same officers in the Church who were first called apostles came afterwards to be designated bishops, is baseless.” According to this dictum “a New Testament bishop is a New Testament presbyter, and New Testament bishops and presbyters are simply ministers of Jesus Christ and pastors of churches.”
Dr. Moule in his valuable book, Philippian Studies, says: “It is important to remember that our word bishop cannot properly translate the Greek word as it is used in the New Testament, for it is not used there as the special title of a superintendent pastor set over other pastors.” For the office of deacon we have simply to refer to Acts 6:1-15. In the early Church there were evident ranks of gift, but not of grace. As believers gathered at the Lord’s Table, or Love Feast, there was no distinction but that of humility and service. All were redeemed by the same Blood, stood on the same level; and each strove to be the lowliest and humblest of all.
The Combined Salutation. “Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.” Grace was the western, and Peace the eastern salutation. The Apostle combines them. He desired that his absent friends might know more and more of the free favour of God, of forgiveness and acceptance, and of the enjoyment of help and comfort. He would also have them know that peace which filled his own heart, amid trials of no ordinary description, and which was bequeathed by the Master,–“My peace I leave with you, My peace I give unto you.”
Notice how closely he conjoins the Father and the Redeemer. He did not think that he was robbing God of His unity or supremacy when he included our Lord in the same sentence. Though all his early training had recognised the Oneness of the Divine Nature, he had no scruple in adding to God the Father the Lord Jesus Christ.
It is remarkable to notice also the number of times in which he mentions the Saviour’s name. It occurs forty times in this Epistle, that is, on an average, in every two or three verses, but this is characteristic of the New Testament, and especially of the writings of this Apostle. He was a slave of Jesus Christ; he viewed all saints as living, with himself, in Christ; his life was full of Christ; Christ was his life; to die was to depart to be with Him; his rejoicing was in Christ Jesus; and steadfastness was only possible, as he and his converts stood fast “in the Lord.” The Lord was always at hand to him, and because all believers were in Christ, they could count on God to supply all their need.
Let us rejoice to know that “grace and peace” are not exhausted, but that they flow down to us still in this remote century, and amid the altered circumstances of modern life. Christ was, and is, and is to come. In Him the Church still exists, through Him she is still supplied with grace upon grace, and unto Him she will be gathered without spot, or wrinkle, or any such thing.
Philippians 1:12-21
“ To Live Is Christ, and To Die Is Gain” Philippians 1:12-21 It was a matter of comparative indifference to Paul what happened to himself so long as the gospel progressed, because the extension of the gospel meant the growing glory of Jesus. He was quite content to be in bonds, if only by his chains he might gain access to new realms, hitherto untrodden, for proclaiming his Lord. He could even view with equanimity the envy and strife of some, if Jesus might be named to those who had never heard of Him, He was prepared to live or to die, that Jesus might be magnified. He was willing to remain for a little longer outside of heaven, if that would better serve the cause he loved. His main argument for consistency of life on the part of his converts was that the success of the gospel might not be impeded. It seemed good to suffer, if only it were on the behalf of Christ. Oh that we might experience a similar absorption in the great interests of the gospel! It is clear from this paragraph that death is not an unconscious sleep. It is gain. It is a loosing from anchorage so that the soul may go forth on the broad ocean of God’ s love. It does not interrupt our conscious fellowship with the Lord. The moment of absence here is the moment of presence there. To die is therefore gain.
THE OF THE GOSPEL
Philippians 1:12-18 Man’s Purpose and God’s Power. In Psalms 75:1-10, breathing courage and confidence, which exalts the mighty Sovereign of all and magnifies His mighty power, the Psalmist tells us that the wrath of man shall be made to praise God. The wicked may plot against God, seeking to injure His servants and obstruct the progress of His truth, and within certain limits they may appear to succeed; but when they expect to reap the harvest of their evil machinations, they suddenly find themselves put to the worse, and God takes all that they had meant for the suppression of the Gospel, to promote its progress and triumph. There are few instances establishing this fact more striking than the story of the Apostle, for the misfortunes which befell his human life, and the difficulties over which he was compelled to make progress, were used by God to promote the highest interests of that very Gospel which was so dear to his heart, and for which he suffered so much.
St. Paul’s yearning for Rome. How eagerly he set his heart upon reaching Rome! In the Epistle to the Roman Christians, he tells them that he hopes presently that he may see Rome, not only that he may comfort them and be comforted by them, but because Rome was the metropolis of the world. From the golden mile-stone that stood in the Forum the mighty roads emanated to the far East and West. What Jerusalem was during the one week of the Passover, Rome was always. The statesmen who filled her Senate would be commissioned to all parts of the known world as consuls and praetors; the soldiers who gathered in her barracks might be despatched to the far Euphrates on the one hand, or the white cliffs of Britain on the other. To reach Rome seemed like standing in some telephonic centre, from which a whisper would reverberate to the ends of the world.
The Apostle Paul was a great strategist. He knew the value of cities; they were the head of waters, into which if seed were dropped the current would carry it everywhere. Therefore, as he had spoken in Jerusalem, the heart of Palestine; at Antioch, the heart of Syria; at Ephesus, the heart of Asia Minor; and at Athens, the heart of Greece, he was desirous of preaching at Rome also, the heart of the empire of the world. No doubt he expected to get there as to other places, paying his own passage, going freely, and being welcomed by the little Churches of the saints, which were beginning to shed their light amid the surrounding gloom. But it was not thus that Paul accomplished his life-purpose. He came to Rome a prisoner, his passage paid as a convict by the Roman Government; and the hatred of his enemies was the breath of the Almighty that wafted him to his chosen destination.
Thus, constantly, God allows men to rage madly against His Gospel up to a certain point, which may cause annoyance, inconvenience, and pain, but there is always a “thus far and no further,” and the Gospel proceeds upon the very lines which God from all eternity had determined.
This wonderful truth, which is capable of almost endless application, meets with three very remarkable illustrations in this paragraph.
Paul’s Imprisonment in its Effect upon the Soldiers. “My bonds became manifest in Christ throughout the whole praetorian guard, and to all the rest” (Philippians 1:13). It would be better translated—to the whole circle of the imperial life-guards. We are all familiar with the fact that the Apostle was chained to a Roman soldier during the entire term of his two years’ imprisonment, the soldier being changed every six hours. What an exquisite torture this must have been to a sensitive nature like his! Bad enough never to be alone, but still worse to have to spend the long hours always in company with a man chosen from the Roman guard.
In the Epistles of Ignatius, the good bishop of Antioch, who was entrusted to such guards to bring him from his see at Antioch to be thrown to the wild beasts, describes himself as fighting day and night with ten leopards, who, the more kindness was shown them, waxed worse and worse. Though we may well imagine that some of the soldiers chained to the Apostle may have been quiet and wistful men, eager to know the truth, yet, quite as likely, others would fill the room with ribald songs and jokes, and turn into blasphemous ridicule the words they heard the Apostle speak to those who came to visit him.
At times the hired room would be thronged with people, to whom the Apostle spoke words of life; and after they withdrew the sentry would sit beside him, filled with many questionings as to the meaning of the words which this strange prisoner spoke. At other times, when all had gone, and especially at night, when the moonlight shone on the distant slopes of Soracte, soldier and Apostle would be left to talk, and in those dark, lonely hours the Apostle would tell soldier after soldier the story of his own proud career in early life, of his opposition to Christ, and his ultimate conversion, and would make it clear that he was there as a prisoner, not for any crime, not because he had raised rebellion or revolt, but because he believed that He whom the Roman soldiers had crucified, under Pilate, was the Son of God and the Saviour of men. As these tidings spread, and the soldiers talked them over with one another, the whole guard would become influenced in sympathy with the meek and gentle Apostle, who always showed himself so kindly to the men as they shared, however involuntarily, his imprisonment.
The Witness of the Consistent Life. How absolutely consistent the Apostle must have been! If there had been the least divergence, day or night, from the high standard which he upheld, his soldier-companion would have caught at it, and passed it on to others. The fact that so many became earnest Christians, and that the Word of Jesus was known far and wide throughout the praetorian guard, indicates how absolutely consistent the Apostle’s life was. Do you not see how this applies to your own life? You may be bound to unsympathetic companions, as the Apostle to his soldier, as Ignatius to his ten leopards, or as Nicholas Ridley, afterwards Bishop and martyr, to the bigoted Roman Catholic Mayor of Oxford; but by your meek consistency and purity of life you may win these for God, and what might therefore have appeared an obstacle to your growth in grace, and to the progress of the Gospel, may turn out just the opposite. See to it that you so live and speak that it may be so.
The Imprisonment: its Effect upon the Brethren. “Most of the brethren in the Lord, being confident through my bonds, are more abundantly bold to speak the word of God without fear” (Philippians 1:14). That is, courage was supplied them by the striking example of this noble man. Many who realised that, notwithstanding his chains and bonds, he was as enthusiastic in spreading the Gospel as he had been when his life was at his own disposal, and that, in spite of every difficulty and obstacle, he was still doing so much for the Gospel he loved, were rebuked for their lack of zeal and said: “If the Apostle is so strong and brave and energetic, when there is every reason for him to slacken and mitigate his energy, how much more reason there is for us, who have unrestrained liberty of action, to be unceasing in our endeavours for that Gospel for which he suffers.”
The man who works for Christ when everything is against him stirs those up who have no such difficulties; just as he who makes confession for truth and righteousness, when there are many reasons for him to hush his voice, incites others to break forth in confession of Jesus Christ. They who dare to speak for God, even to death, are the means of stirring others to heroic defence of the Gospel. Think, for instance, of one of the greatest men that ever lived in England— a man whose name is almost forgotten now, but who is immortally associated with the cadence and splendid diction of the Bible— William Tyndale. It was his avowed purpose that every plough-boy in England should be able to know as much of the Bible as the priests. To accomplish this he appealed to the Bishop of London, but received no sympathy, and sorrowfully discovered that England could not hold the translator of the Bible. He was compelled to flee from England to Hamburg, from Hamburg to Cologne, from Cologne to Worms, and finally to Antwerp, where he was executed as a martyr; but not before he had put his imprimatur upon the magnificent English of the Bible, and had invested the Scriptures with priceless interest for the minds and hearts of those who had watched his noble life, his beneficent career, and his bloody death, so that out of his ashes there sprang a hundred, nay, a thousand men, to scatter the Bible for which he died.
A Call to You. This may also be the case with you who are called to suffer for the Gospel. It may seem as if your voice were being hushed in blood and tears; but others are being made bold. Many a young man in that worldly society or godless counting-house is saying “If he dares to stand for God, I too will be a hero”; so that the very effect of your example is to stimulate weaker ones to become confessors and martyrs for Jesus Christ. Has not this been the result of the wholesale martyrdoms of Chinese missionaries and converts?
The Imprisonment: its Effect upon the Opponents of Evangelical Truth. “Some indeed preach Christ even of envy and strife, and some also of goodwill.” “What then? Only that in every way, whether in pretence or in truth, Christ is proclaimed; and therein I rejoice, yea, and will rejoice” (Philippians 1:1-18). There were two parties in Rome. The one loved Paul enthusiastically, and accepted his teaching; the other, though professedly Christian, held by the Temple, the Pharisees, and the old restrictions of Judaism. They avowed Christ, but often looked backward to the Old Covenant and tried to weave the two together. Paul’s coming aroused these to more earnestness in promoting their own views of Christianity, but he said: “It does not matter, if Christ is preached; they do not love me, they do not come to me for help, they are doing all they can to make my life difficult; but nevertheless, if my Lord Jesus Christ is being preached, I am more than thankful.” Perhaps that explains why God has permitted the various denominations to divide England between them.
Perhaps it is better that it should be so, because one stirs up the other. It may be that the efforts of the Nonconformists stir to more activity the members of the Church of England, and vice versa. In any case the various doctrines of Christianity are more likely to be strongly enforced and maintained, when they underlie the very existence of a body of Christians, than if they were held in common by all.
All through the history of the world God has taken what seemed to be a hindrance and obstacle, and, if only His servants were patient and true to Him, has converted it into a pulpit from which they could better promulgate the truth. Remember how Nebuchadnezzar harried the Jews. It seemed as if the holy city was never again to wield an influence for good over the world; but the chosen people were scattered with their Scriptures throughout the world, and the world of God was magnified much more than it could have been by their concentration in their own city. The devil stirred up the Jews to murder Christ, but the grain of wheat which fell into the ground to die, no more abode alone, but has covered the world with the harvests of rich grain. The Emperors persecuted the early Church, but only drove the disciples everywhere preaching the Word. King Charles chased the Puritans out of England, but they landed on Plymouth Rock, and founded the great Christian commonwealth across the Atlantic. Out of the awful Civil War the conditions arose that made it possible for Abraham Lincoln to free the slave, and again the wrath of man turned out to further the Gospel of Jesus Christ. “Careless seems the great Avenger, History’s pages but record One death-grapple, in the darkness, ‘Twixt old systems and the Word. Truth for ever on the scaffold, Wrong for ever on the throne; Yet that scaffold sways the future, And, behind the dim unknown, Standeth God within the shadow, Keeping watch upon His own.” So it May be with us. So it will be in our life. Let us begin to rejoice at difficulties, to rejoice when Satan rages. The power which is used against us, God will convert for our good; only let us always cherish the eager expectation and hope that Christ may be magnified in our body, whether by life or by death, whether by joy or by shame, whether by good fortune or by misfortune, whether by success or by failure. Christ, Christ, Christ, the Blessed Christ–not the Bible alone, not the creed alone, not doctrine alone, but Christ, Christ, Christ, always Christ manifested in our body, whether it be by life or by death.
Is Christ dear to you? Do you live for Him? Is the one passion and aim and purpose of your nature to glorify Him? Can you say: To me to live is Christ, and to die is gain? Oh, let us from today begin to live for this!
And if you are discouraged and disheartened, be of good cheer. When you are devoted to Christ, your very bonds will become electric chains through which the pulsations of energy shall go to others, and your very troubles will be pulpits from which you shall preach the unsearchable riches of Christ.
Storms cannot shipwreck the Gospel; they waft it forward. Its foes contrive ingenious devices to obstruct it, but they awake to discover that all they had done to hinder is used to help. The lines of rail and the rolling stock which the enemy elaborated for incursions of hostile intent, are found to be simply invaluable to bear forward the precious message of the Gospel they would overthrow. It will be found, doubtless, at the end of all things, that the beneficent purposes of God have not been hindered one whit, but promoted and fostered, by all that has been done to frustrate them. This is the mystery of God’s providence— that, so far from being set aside by evil, evil helps by furnishing the material on which the fire of the Gospel feeds, and flames to the furthest limits of God’s universe.
Philippians 1:22-30
Privileged to Suffer in Christ’ s behalf Philippians 1:22-30 Our “ manner of life” is all-important. In the open day and in the hours of darkness it must be worthy of the gospel. We must show ourselves to be of a heavenly tone and temper, as citizens of that “ city which hath foundations, whose builder and maker is God.” Lady Powerscourt used to say that she dwelt in heaven, but came down for a few hours each day to do her work on earth, returning home at night. Clearly, then, our dress, accent, and behavior should betray us as strangers and pilgrims who can well endure the discomfort of the inn or the troublous experiences of the place of our sojourn. Notice that remarkable expression, For unto you if is given in the behalf of Christ… to suffer, Philippians 1:29. This is an added honor conferred on us by our Lord. The King gives us the opportunity of lying in the stocks with Him, of standing at the same pillory, and of being crucified on the same Calvary. But those who have drunk of His cup shall share His throne. When earth and heaven shall pass away, His fellow-sufferers shall be His chosen body-guard and attendants in a world where all shall love and honor Him.
WHETHER TO LIVE, OR TO DIE!
Philippians 1:21-26 Life and Death. Omit the words “Christ” and “gain” and you are reminded how very close life and death lie; they are separated only by a comma. Life is the vestibule of death, and death follows closely upon life. The little babe is born and dies; the flower opens and fades; the spring seems hardly to have unfurled herself in summer before the leaves begin to fall; you clasp the hand of your friend in vigorous life to-day, to-morrow you hear that he has passed beyond the confines of our world. Life and death, the systole and diastole, the beat and throb of the pulse, the swing of the pendulum hither and thither. Every man stands where that comma stands, between life and death; all men are balancing between the two.
Probably there is not a single man or woman— the exceptions, at least, are very rare— that does not at some time of life count the gain of life against death; and there is the balance on one side or the other, and sometimes the equilibrium. Now life is the heavier, and again death. So Hamlet and Paul may be compared, as representing two classes of men. There is the one class, represented by Hamlet, who weigh the evils of life and death; there are other men, like St. Paul, who weigh the blessings.
Hamlet weighs the sorrows of life, from which death would relieve him, against the terrors of death, from which life delivers him. “To be, or not to be, that is the question.” There are the sorrows of life, the whips and scorns of time, the rich man’s pride, the proud man’s contumely; and as he weighs these up upon the scale, he thinks that probably it would be better to die to escape them; but when he considers what death might bring, what dreams might come in death’s sleep, he turns back to life as after all to be preferred.
St. Paul, on the other hand, is impressed with the riches of life and death. He does not know which to choose, because each is so sweet. Life is sweet, because it is Christ; death is sweet, because it is more of Christ. And so he balances the one against the other, and presently exclaims: “I am in a strait between the two. I do not know which of them to choose, but on the whole death preponderates, death is gain, to depart is far better.” So that we have just these two thoughts: the blessings of life, and the blessings of death, as regarded by the Apostle Paul.
The Blessings of Life. “To me to live is Christ.” We may picture the Apostle Paul landing on the quay at Neapolis, the port of Philippi. His dress betokens travel and toil. Evidently a poor and somewhat insignificant man, unattended save by two or three as poor as himself. As he lands upon the busy quay he encounters many different men. There, for instance, is the merchant receiving his wares from the Orient, and preparing them for transit; he cries: “To me to live is wealth.” Near him are the men who carry the packages from the ships to the emporiums of trade, or the great warehouses— the poor slaves— for them to live is toil and suffering, heavy blows and privations. Beside stands the philosopher, in his hand the scroll with the mystic words of wide knowledge, and as he looks upon the toil of the trader he prides himself that he lives for a superior aim, as he says: “To me to live is knowledge.” Near to the little group is a soldier, who looks with contempt upon the man of letters, and cries: “To me to live is fame.” Then the shadow of Octavius, the mighty emperor, who not far from Philippi won the great battle that gave him the empire of the known world, seems to rise amongst the group, crying in awful accents: “To me to live is empire.” Amid all these voices the affirmation of the Apostle strikes in: “To me to live is not wealth, nor hard work, nor literature, nor fame, nor glory, but Christ. Christ first, last, midst, all in all, and perpetually Christ.”
Christ— The Origin of our Life. If you had asked the Apostle just what he meant, he would probably have replied, as William Tyndale brings out in his translation, that Christ must be the origin of our life. The Day of Pentecost meant that from that moment, and onward, the Holy Spirit should bring the germ of the Christ-life, and sow it in the soil of our spirits, so that the very nature of Jesus glorified, transfigured and Divine, might be sown in the soil of our humanity, as incorruptible seed, to reproduce in endless succession the growth of the Christ-life.
The Essence of our Life. Christ must be the essence of our life. As we reckon ourselves dead to our own selfish existence, Jesus Christ will take its place, so that we may be able to exclaim with the Apostle: “I live, yet not I, but Christ liveth in me.”
The Model of our Life. Christ must also be the model of our life. Every man works to a model. Consciously or unconsciously, we are always imitating somebody; and every true Christian will endeavour, in ever-growing perfectness, to approximate to the measure of the stature of his Lord. “It is enough that the disciple should be as His master.”
The Aim of our Life. Christ must also be the aim of our life. We desire to make Him known, loved, and revered, that His will may be done on earth as it is done in Heaven; that others may know Him as we know Him, love Him as we love Him, live for Him as we live for Him; that He may be the crowned King of men, putting down war and strife, and hastening on that glorious consummation, for which the Church prays and creation groans.
The Solace of our Life. Christ must be the solace of our life. Amid all the storm, strife, and tumult, there is no cleft where the Christian finds safe abiding, but in the riven Rock of Ages, in the side of the pierced Christ, in the heart of the Redeemer, the doors of which always stand open, and He is evermore bidding us come to Him for rest.
The Reward of our Life. Christ must be the reward of our life. The one reward for every Christian man is to get more of Christ; the one crown for every brow is to know Him better; the one infinite gain that comes for every labour, every tear, every act of sacrifice, is that Christ gives Himself, nearer, dearer, better than ever.
This enabled the Apostle, and enables us, to say, “Life is good; it is worth living.” To live down here for Christ, to live in fellowship with Christ is to have the key to nature, to beauty, to love, to everything that is true and good. Life with all its darkness and sorrow is, after all, a good thing when a man can say, “To me to live is Christ.”
The Blessings of Death. But “to die is gain.” What are the blessings to which death introduces us? Let us weigh them up. First, death is a beginning. The world says it is an end; Scripture says it is the beginning of an endless series. Take, for instance, the term employed by the Apostle Peter. He spake of his exodus, “his going out.” As the exodus was the beginning of the national life of Israel, their going out into freedom, so death is the exodus of the spirit into the freedom of eternity.
Death a Birth. The Apostle Paul speaks of death as a birth: “The first-born from the dead.” It is the emergence of the spirit from the cramped, confined conditions of the first stage of its being into its true existence. He also speaks, in this passage, of death as a loosing. “Having a desire to depart.” The Greek word there is marvellously beautiful; it is the unmooring of a vessel from its anchorage. We sometimes sing of the close of life thus: “Safe home, safe home in port! Rent cordage, shattered deck, Torn sails, provisions short, And only not a wreck.” How much truer is the conception suggested by Tennyson’s description of the death of Arthur: “So said he, and the barge with oar and sail Moved from the brink, like some full-breasted swan, That, fluting a wild carol ere her death, Ruffles her pure cold plume and takes the flood, With swarthy webs.” Death is Freedom. Secondly, in death we become free. It is the freeing of an imprisoned spirit: “We that are in this tabernacle do groan being burdened, not that we would be unclothed, but clothed upon, that mortality might be swallowed up of life.” It is freedom from sin, freedom from the limitations of mortality, freedom from temptation, sorrow, care, and the anticipation and natural shrinking from death itself.
Death reveals Self. Thirdly, death teaches us to discover our true selves. You remember Rudyard Kipling’s poem about the ship that thought she was a lump of rivets and iron; but after a while she was loosed, and glided out to the ocean to be tested by the storm and the tempest. But it was only as the winds screamed through her cordage, and every timber was strained, that she suddenly discovered that she was a ship. And so we do not know what we are, until we are loosed, until our nature, which is full of strange yearnings and discontent, finds its real consummation and bliss in eternity.
In death also the Christian who has lived Christ here passes through the veil and sees Christ. He is with Christ in a sense in which we cannot be with Him here. Here we walk by faith, there by sight, and we shall see His face, and His name shall be in our foreheads.
After Death with Christ. We can have no sympathy with the idea of some people who suppose that when we die we go into a kind of swoon, and stop there until the Judgment. Paul says: “I shall see Christ, I shall be with Christ; for me to live is Christ, to die is gain, for I shall be with Christ, which is far better.” To be asleep would not be far better. If there is in reserve for us an experience far better than to live with Christ down here, it cannot be a negation, it must consist in more of Christ: nothing less would compensate the soul. When the spirit leaves for a little while the body which has been its humble friend, its companion and vehicle, laying it aside for a moment to take it again one day in transfigured beauty, it passes immediately into the presence of Jesus Christ, where it knows Him as it is known, and sees Him face to face.
And So Far Better. This seems something of what Paul meant when he said that death was gain. There was the beginning of the real life; there was the liberation, the emancipation of his life, so that it might find itself in the presence of Christ, and in Christ the recovery of all beloved ones that had gone before. Probably they are with us now by their sympathy, their prayer, their thought of us. But we have to be with Him before we can be literally with them. When you find Christ you will find all your loved ones again in Him. Bret Harte, in a poem quoted in this connection by Dr. Campbell Morgan, says: “As I stand by the Cross, on the lone mountain’s crest, Looking over the ultimate sea, In the gloom of the mountain a ship lies at rest, And one sails away from the lea; One Spreads its white wings on the far-reaching track, With pennant and sheet flowing free; One hides in the shadow with sails laid a-back, The ship that is waiting for me.
But lo! in the distance the clouds break away, The gate’s glowing portals I see, And I hear from the outgoing ship in the bay The song of the sailors in glee. So I think of the luminous footprints that bore The comfort o’er dark Galilee, And wait for the signal to go to the shore To the ship that is waiting for me.” Do you catch that thought? Two ships lying against the shore; one ship speeding out to sea in sunlight, the other ship waiting. That is your friend who has gone to Heaven, your wife, your child; this is your ship waiting for you. Some day you shall embark on that ship, the ship that is waiting for you. Mind that when that moment comes for loosing the shore-rope, you are ready.
The Choice between the Two. Life’s Opportunities. “Nevertheless to abide in the flesh is more needful for you.” It is blessed to go when the Gate Beautiful opens to us, but there are reasons why the balance of choice may fall for the prolongation of life here. Granted that we shall know Christ there, yet here we may know Him as the angels cannot. They have never been tempted, have never fallen into sin, have never been solaced and comforted as we have been, have never continued with Him in all His trials and temptations, have never known Him forgiving sin with unwearied tenderness and pity, and lifting from the gates of death.
Granted that we may serve Him yonder, yet we can hardly do such work for Him there as here. Tears do not need to be wiped in that fair world. Words of comfort are devoid of meaning. There are no prodigals to come home, no backsliders to be restored, no lost sheep to be sought.
The Privilege of Suffering. It is a good thing also to live for Christ here, because we have the opportunity of suffering for Him. Only here can we be nailed to His Cross, bear some of His shame, share our proportion of the blasphemy which is hurled upon His blessed person, or be reproached with His reproaches. Shakespeare makes King Henry say upon the field of Agincourt: “For he to-day that sheds his blood with me Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile, This day shall gentle his condition: And gentlemen in England now abed Shall think themselves accursed they were not here.
So surely those who are beyond the reach of the pain and trouble of this world— babes like flowers nipped in early infancy,— will for ever be the losers because they never had the chance, as we have had, of standing alongside of Jesus Christ in this great battle.
The Privilege of Helping Others. It is also good to live in this world as long as we may, because of the opportunities of helping others. When a man thinks it quietly over, however great his longing, it may be, to be gone, he reasons thus with himself: “I can do good while I stay. I would like to be away, but there are downtrodden ones I may uplift, there are weaklings who want my help, there are lost ones to be saved, and for their sake I cannot wish to be gone before my time. Let me remain as a pilot at his wheel, as the shepherd near his flock, as a sentry at his post, as long as I can help one other soul.”
Often there come glimpses of the city; often there are love tokens thrown over its walls; often bunches of the everlasting flowers fall at our feet; often there are quaffs of the water of life; often the heavenly ones come and walk beside us, and speak of things in words that we cannot possibly reproduce. There are high moments in our life when the tide rises, when the chalice of our joy is full; but we turn back from the radiancy of glory, and the joys beyond compare, glad to abide in the flesh as long as there is one more lesson to learn, one more errand to fulfil, one more thirsty soul to refresh, one more backslider to bring home.
As His Lord did, so His great Apostle turned His back on the open door of Paradise, descended from the Transfiguration Mount, and set His face steadfastly to bear the Cross for a little longer. To abide in the flesh was manifestly better for these Philippian disciples especially, and indeed for many others in all the Churches, which Paul had been the means of founding; and there was borne in upon his mind the conviction that his willinghood to wait was accepted. “Having this confidence,” he said “the confidence that I can help you best by remaining with you, I know that I shall abide, and continue with you all for your progress and joy in the faith, that your rejoicing may be more abundant in Jesus Christ for me, by my coming to you again.” Not yet the final appearance before Nero: not yet the death-sentence: not yet the beheading beyond the city gate! A brief respite would be granted in which he would be able to pay another and farewell visit! One more meeting and parting, one more coming in and going out, one more Welcome and Good-bye. So the Lord had chosen for him, and so they required his help. He was therefore willing to turn back from the opened Heaven, with the immediate gain of death, to a few more tears, toils, and conflicts ere He should realise that the time of departure had really come (2 Timothy 4:6-7).