Philippians 4:4 – “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say rejoice!”
We sing songs about this verse, we memorize it, we embroider it on pillows and hang it in picture frames. Yet like any familiar verse in scripture, we can gain a deeper appreciation for this text as we dig a little deeper; like going from 2D to 3D or black and white to color.
What continues to strike me about joy as we study this letter, is how much of a gift it truly is. Joy is a fruit of the spirit. Like the spirit, it comes and goes and blows where it will. We might not always feel joyful. Some of us are in circumstances that are difficult or unjust, especially as we think of people trapped in extreme poverty and violence in our own city and around the world. Certainly, those people and situations weigh heavy on our hearts.
Paul is no stranger to this either. Neither is the Philippians. If we forget the context of this passage, this verse becomes a cliché religious platitude. We must not do that. We must not be trite with the text, or the real-life, flesh-and-blood situations of those around us. We must handle this text with care and our neighbors with love, otherwise, we become like a noisy going, uncredible and hollow, ringing of lofty piety but lacking incarnate substance.
Indeed, in this passage, we see that joy does not come by escaping the world and its troubles. Rather, it comes as a fruit of the spirit only as we follow Jesus in this sin-sick world, through our own crosses, as we bear witness to the reign of God.
Two things we must bear in mind as we read this familiar passage. First, Paul is in prison as he writes this letter, and it’s not his first time either. On top of that, he’s been beaten, run out of town, demonized, and scapegoated (similarly as Jesus was). Paul’s joy is therefore not some pie-in-the-sky escapism but is rather the result of one who has been through difficulty and has learned what is of ultimate value.
Secondly, when Paul encourages the Philippians to rejoice in vs. 4:4, he is telling them to do so amid church conflict. Euodia and Syntyche aren’t getting along (4:2). Though the exact nature of their disagreement isn’t mentioned, just imagine what it would be like for these two prominent women leaders in the church to be at odds.
Have you ever been in a church conflict? If you’ve been an invested member of a faith community, the answer is yes. The sides, the factions, the dueling convictions, the parking lot conversations, gossip, and triangling. It’s pretty messy. Not fun. Not a lot of rejoicing.
From a position of being stuck in a physical prison, Paul writes to a community stuck in emotional and relational prison. In both cases, it’s easy for our sinful nature to come out, and for our false-self and ego to rear its ugly head. It’s easy to fall into disfunction and unhealth; to become hyper-critical, cynical, sharp with our words, angry towards others, resentful towards God. At one time or another, we’ve all been overcome by this.
What can we do? How can we rejoice while trapped in these “prisons” when all we want to do is either blow things up or give up entirely?
Even in these kinds of circumstances, it is possible to remain true to our Lord and Savior. With God’s help, we can be strengthened in our spirits, given grace, and given strength. With God, the fruit of the spirit might ripen at opportune times. We might find the strength to be self-controlled when we want to lash out. We might take a moment to pause and be patient when all we want to do is fix things now. We might somehow be kind to the person who annoys us. We might, just might, even find it within us to love the person who has angered and hurt us.
To do this Paul reminds the Philippians that “The Lord is near” in vs 4:5.
Let us be careful as we read that verse. This is not a theological threat. Paul is not saying, “The Lord is near so shape up or God will judge you.” Of course God is the ultimate judge, but is this really what Paul means to this Philippian church whom he loves and whom they have been such a support to him?
I think there’s a better way to read it.
Anytime we are in a “prison” of any sort, a major tendency is to think that God has abandoned us. Whether we think we are in a prison unjustly, or whether we think we’ve messed up and are getting what we deserve, either way, the feeling is abandonment. It feels lonely, hopeless like God isn’t even here doesn’t care, or worse, that God put me in this prison.
Does a person in that situation need a theological threat? Does a threat help a person simply snap out of it? I don’t think so.
The statement, “The Lord is near,” isn’t a threat. It’s not the Santa Clause theology that you better not pout, you better watch out. Instead, it’s good news.
The Lord is near!
You think you are alone, but God is near!
You think you are abandoned, but God hasn’t forgotten! You think that someone must cross land or sea or scale heights or depths to bring God near, but no. God is near you. In your mouth and in your heart. The Kingdom of God is within you. (Cf. Deuteronomy 30:13; Jeremiah 31:33-34; Luke 17:20-21).
Knowing that the Lord is near is good news. It’s good news because when God is near, God is with us, and God can strengthen us. Emmanuel! God is with us. God came down from heaven, lived and ministered among us, did for us what we ourselves could not do, and offered us new life.
When we know that God is near, we can let go a little bit. We don’t resign ourselves to bad situations, but we aren’t only relying on ourselves. When we know that God is near, we can be gentle to others, knowing that God is at work not only in us, but in them, and the entire situation.
When we know that God is near we can pray. Prayer is hard when we think that God isn’t listening or that God has abandoned us. If that’s the case, what’s the use. But when we know that God is near, then our laments, praises, sorrows, and joys can all be lifted up.
When we know that God is near, we can pause for a moment. We can take some deep breaths. We can be still in God’s presence. Try that if you haven’t for a while. Center yourself in the presence of God. While it’s not a magical cure-all, it is amazing how God’s peace can wash over you. The peace of God which surpasses understanding can guard your heart and mind in Christ Jesus. Even for a moment, or the next hour or two. That is worthwhile and valuable.
In the stress of physical prison, Paul could easily resort to self-righteous indignation or self-defeating resignation. In the midst of their social and emotional prisons, Euodia and Syntyche could easily become mean and nasty toward one another and others. They could cause disunity in the body by doubling down on their positions.
Paul says to let that stuff go. Paul has learned to let that stuff go. He has learned that even in a world full of prisons and death, there are honorable and good things. There are just and pure excellent and worthy of praise kinds of things.
While this may not erase all bad, it’s better than the alternative. The alternative is that the bad still exists and you become bitter and resentful and cynical and hopeless.
How much better it is in a world full of bad, to realize that while the bad is there, and the bad needs to be faced, that God is also near. That God is also on your lips and in your heart. And that God can strengthen you to find joy in what is good and excellent and honorable and delightful.
One could also say, it’s like having an entirely new kind of life. In fact, I think it is having new life. May we find this new life, always.
Please join me in a familiar prayer:
God, give me grace to accept with serenity
the things that cannot be changed,
Courage to change the things
which should be changed,
and the Wisdom to distinguish
the one from the other.
Living one day at a time,
Enjoying one moment at a time,
Accepting hardship as a pathway to peace,
Taking, as Jesus did,
This sinful world as it is,
Not as I would have it,
Trusting that You will make all things right,
If I surrender to Your will,
So that I may be reasonably happy in this life,
And supremely happy with You forever in the next.
…
Paul ends his letter to the Philippians in much the same way he began; full of thankfulness because of their faithfulness to the Gospel and their generosity toward meeting his physical needs while he is in prison. In this way, it provides a nice bookend to the “Epistle of Joy” which this letter is often called.
In some ways, it might strike us as almost too good to be true. We of course know that Paul wrote this letter while he was in prison. We know that prison in the first century was a horrific experience; there was such a basic lack of care, food, and hygiene that many prisoners simply died in prison from starvation and disease. We know that Paul was in prison unfairly. We know that the Philippians themselves faced all sorts of pressures, both internally and externally.
Can Paul really mean that he has learned how to be content in all circumstances (vs. 11)? Is he being truthful when he says that he didn’t have any need (vs. 10)? Can a person really be content when they are treated unjustly or lack the necessities of life (vs 12)?
To listen to some of the political rhetoric these days would lead one to conclude the answer to all these questions is no. No, one cannot be content when they are treated unjustly or lack material goods.
In fact, some say that if you aren’t outraged by certain situations, you are part of the problem. There’s no middle ground. There’s no other way of looking at things. You are either part of the problem or part of the solution. And to be content, joyful, and at peace when evil abounds is definitely to be part of the problem.
It’s the classic critique of religion by Karl Marx; that religion is the opiate of the people. It simply numbs them to the pain and atrocities of the world.
This has led some to be skeptical of Paul’s words here in Philippians 4. It has led others to reject Christianity entirely.
To be fair, Marx has a point. To be truthful, some of the political rhetoric we hear is worth considering.
It can even be biblical.
Take the prophet Jeremiah for example. In an era of mass corruption and impending doom for the people of Israel, he criticized the well-to-do peddlers of a false peace who ignored the injustice toward others and the idolatry against God that was all around.
“They treat the wound of my people as if it were nothing: ‘All is well, all is well,’ they insist, when in fact nothing is well.” (See Jeremiah 4-13).
In our world also, all is not well. We should not act like it is.
So, what are we to do? Are we to embrace Jeremiah and throw out Paul? Or do we go with Paul and prepare to be chastised by Jeremiah? Or is there another way we could look at all of this?
I think of an experience I had while in seminary. I took part in a community organizing training. It was good training, I learned a lot, and I continue to apply lessons from the world of community organizing to my ministry as a pastor.
In the training, they used a metaphor of a washing machine. If a washing machine were just a bucket of standing water, the clothes wouldn’t get clean. But there is a special part of the washing machine called the agitator. The agitator is what stirs up the water, mixes the soap, and scrubs the clothes. If you want your washing machine to get your clothes clean, you need an agitator.
It’s a good metaphor. If you want change, growth, and justice, someone needs to agitate. Jesus was known as an agitator. Martin Luther King Jr. was known as an agitator. Paul was known as an agitator.
The question is what stirs you up? What agitates you? What inside of you motivates you to do the dirty work to make the laundry come out clean?
To answer this question, they asked another question; “What makes you angry?” It’s a good question. What makes you angry? What makes you so angry that you are willing to do something about it?
Jeremiah was angry, and he was agitated because of it. Jesus was angry at times too. Scripture even talks about God’s holy and righteous anger.
It’s an interesting question to reflect on.
Then at one of the breaks I was debriefing with another participant. We thought it was going well. We were learning a lot. He said, however, that he thought one thing was missing. He said that anger isn’t the only agitator. It might not even be the best agitator. He said, “I think love can do that too.” Perhaps love can agitate even better than anger.
Our world today is good at tapping into its anger. People sure know what their grievances are and are in an all-out race to the bottom to see who has the bigger grievance.
And I’m angry too. We in the Anabaptist tradition often talk about a 3rd way. Yet too often we default to either/or thinking. We either fight or run away, we either go left or go right, we lean liberal or conservative.
It seems to me like you can either fight or flee out of anger. It seems to me you can either go right or left out of anger.
What if instead of doing that we would take a third way? What if instead of the liberal course of anger or the conservative course of anger, we took the Jesus way of love?
I think that’s the difference in a passage like Philippians 4:9-23. The difference is love over anger.
Let’s not forget that Paul had his own list of grievances. Jesus had his own list of grievances too. Paul could have analyzed the power differentials and the cultural dynamics at work. He could have tapped into his anger at Rome and false religiosity.
That’s necessary and appropriate in ways. You can find that in the bible.
But you can also find Philippians 4 in the bible. In this passage, Paul taps into a third way. He draws on the power of love.
In Paul’s younger days I can imagine that he would have easily tapped into the power of his anger. He could do that pretty well.
Here in Paul’s older days, as he sees the end in sight, he draws on a different source. He draws on the divine source of love. As a result, he could endure the hardships he faced by the power of Jesus who strengthens him.
Jesus was no stranger to cruelty and corruption. Jesus got angry when the widow, the poor, and the orphan were taken advantage of by the rich and powerful.
Yet in the end, it was his love that guided him. And it is this love that remains. In fact, it is love, and love alone, that can truly drive out sin and evil.
God cares deeply about justice. In no way does God want us to ignore evil or pretend like everything is ok.
Yet in this passage today, God’s word to us is that while anger has its place, love prevails.
Let us be rooted and grounded in this divine love.
The love the Jesus showed,
The love that Paul understood.
May it be so. AMEN.
Joel Shenk is the pastor of Toledo Mennonite Church and lives in Toledo with his wife and two daughters. Originally from Scottdale, PA, Joel studied at Hesston College, Eastern Mennonite University, and Fuller Theological Seminary. He has been pastoring since 2010 and is also an amateur blacksmith apart of the RAW Tools disarming network turning guns into garden tools. He likes baseball and is an avid fly angler.