Side By Side

Philippians 2:19-30
October 8, 2023
William G. Carter

I hope in the Lord Jesus to send Timothy to you soon, so that I may be cheered by news of you. I have no one like him who will be genuinely concerned for your welfare. All of them are seeking their own interests, not those of Jesus Christ. But Timothy’s worth you know, how like a son with a father he has served with me in the work of the gospel. I hope therefore to send him as soon as I see how things go with me; and I trust in the Lord that I will also come soon. 

Still, I think it necessary to send to you Epaphroditus—my brother and co-worker and fellow soldier, your messenger and minister to my need; for he has been longing for all of you, and has been distressed because you heard that he was ill. He was indeed so ill that he nearly died. But God had mercy on him, and not only on him but on me also, so that I would not have one sorrow after another. I am the more eager to send him, therefore, in order that you may rejoice at seeing him again, and that I may be less anxious. Welcome him then in the Lord with all joy, and honor such people, because he came close to death for the work of Christ, risking his life to make up for those services that you could not give me.

Let me begin by admitting an insider secret from my line of work: not every scripture text lends itself easily to a sermon. Maybe some of you think a preacher’s task is easy. Open the Bible and let the words fall out. Once in a while, that could happen. But not often. 

I like to work ahead. The second week in May, I start planning my sermons for the whole next year. By the first of June, the worship committee gets an Excel spreadsheet from me. There are titles and topics. The musicians begin picking their music. Two of our great volunteers start selecting some of the hymns. And I’ll say, “Oh, Philippians – we haven’t looked at that letter for a while. Let’s do that.”

And then in October I get to these two paragraphs in chapter two and wonder, “What was I thinking?” The text seemed so promising when I took an initial glance. At sermon writing time, that pleasant little text is sticking out its tongue, as if to say, “You aren’t getting anything out of me.”

When that happens, perhaps the preacher is not in a frame of mind to see what’s hiding in the text. Or maybe it will take a while to find something helpful to share. The Bible is infinitely interesting, but not always obviously so. Once in a while, hopeful on rare occasions, there simply isn’t much there.

For instance, you don’t hear me preach a lot of sermons from the book of Proverbs. Here is a proverb from Proverbs 15: “The eyes of the Lord are in every place, keeping watch on the evil and the good.” Can we get an eighteen-minute sermon out of that? Not sure. Proverbs are wise one-liners discerned from life experiences. They are conclusions, not stories. Put a proverb into the air and it will shut down conversation.

Or the opening two or three chapters of the Old Testament book of Numbers. Moses takes a census of the tribes of Israel. Perhaps you came to church today to learn there were 151,450 people in the camp of Reuben (Numbers 2:15), but I’m going to guess the people around you will start to slip out when we start reciting their names.

So, I am sure you were listening when I read today’s text. Paul is sharing the travel plans of two men we do not know. “I hope to send Timothy to you,” he says. “And I know you were worried about Epaphroditus. All of us were worried. He was in bad shape, almost didn’t make it. But he wants to return. I want him to go. And maybe I will get back to see all of you sometime.” That’s the text for today. Travel plans. Can you get a sermon out of that?

Next month, I have a church meeting at headquarters, so I am flying out to Louisville. As the plans developed, I learned I’d have a bit of free time. Two friends live out there, so I dropped them a note: “My flight gets in early. How about grabbing some lunch?”  Terry responded, “Sounds great. I will pick you up from the hotel and we will find something interesting to eat. Can’t wait to see you again.” Now, can anybody make a sermon out of that? I don’t know.

We are reminded once again that, before the letters of Paul were ever considered scripture, they were letters, handwritten notes to keep in touch, to share information, to express concern, to connect with one another. In the first century, nobody picked up the phone or logged on for a Zoom meeting. They didn’t send e-mails or text messages. They sent notes, usually with someone who was traveling in that direction.

Paul is in jail; Timothy is with him. Epaphroditus arrived with a letter from the Philippians. The journey almost killed him, but he had to get there. He was bringing a gift of money from the church to assist Paul. Today, Paul is writing to say he is sending Epaphroditus back home. As we will hear later in the letter, he wants to express his gratitude. “Thank you for the gift.” But is that all that’s going on? No, there’s more.

The longer I lingered over this little travelogue, the more I began to notice. “I hope in the Lord Jesus to send Timothy to you,” Paul says. “There’s nobody else like him. He cares about all of you – and I love him like a son.” Now, that is interesting, maybe. Love, concern, care – this is more than a simple itinerary. This is a note from a Christian who is deeply connected to other Christians. He offers his heart to those people.

Think of the correspondence that we send and receive. It doesn’t always function at that level. Yesterday, I paid two bills and put them in the mail. Purely transactional. I didn’t tell the lawn mower repairman that I love him like a son. At the same time, the Fed Ex man delivered a set of Christmas cards that we created from a good picture of our family. The Fed Ex guy did not ask, “Can I wait here and take a look when you open the package?”

Take note of the subtle difference. Paul is connected – connected to his friends, connected to his fellow Christians. There is a deeper level of engagement. This letter is more than a letter.

Listen to what he calls Epaphroditus. Three words to describe his relationship: he is “my fellow soldier” for the Gospel, not a military term per se, but recognition that the two of them serve in the same spiritual battalion. They serve on the same team. They are united in the same purpose.

And then, Paul calls him, “my fellow worker.” The word is “synergos” – “syn” means “together,” like “synagogue,” the word for an assembly. And “ergos,” the word for work or energy. “We work together,” says the apostle, “side by side we serve.” There is no hierarchy here; the two of them are united in what they do. This is one of Paul’s favorite words for describing his companions.

And then, one of Paul’s favorite words of all: he is my “brother.” Even though they are not related by blood, there is a family bond between them. It is affection, but more than affection. They share in the life of Christ. They are bound to one another. They share the same work, but more than that, they share the same heart.

Let me pause to recognize what we are seeing here. What looked at first appearance as a rather dull segment of an ancient letter is revealing something far richer. These people are knit together in a web, a community, a system of relationships. Whatever they believe about God and Christ and Spirit is expressed in the way they are living with and for one another. Faith for them is not a bullet point list of ideas; it is a life lived with love and support. Faith is embodied by real people who show real concern for one another.

Have you seen it? Yes, and we know it when we see it. One of the remarkable gifts of our family of faith is the way we handle funerals. Maybe there are other churches that do what you do; all I know is what you do. We offer a luncheon, free of charge, for anybody who would find that helpful. No charge, no time limit, no shortage of home baked cakes and cookies. And there are plenty of volunteers to prepare, serve, and clean up. If the family wants to pay for the meal, it’s my job to say, “Thank you, but this meal is a gift for you and your loved ones.” If they insist, I suggest they contribute to the next meal for somebody else. Pay it forward, but under no obligation to do so.

And what happens? A church family feeds and eats together. Everybody is regarded as brother, sister, sibling, cousin, crazy uncle, whatever. Something happens in the shared experience that we cannot quite describe. Some of us don’t quite have the words for it – which means it is the work of the Holy Spirit. God is forging a new community out of people who used to be strangers. Christ is here, present somehow.

At one of the recent funeral luncheons, a family member pulled me aside to say, “I’ve never seen anything like this, especially in a church.” She was stunned by the high level of love and support that all of you showed her. She did not have the words. Neither do I.

But we have the apostle Paul’s words: “fellow soldier,” “synergos” – fellow worker, “brother” – “sister” – family. I tell you when we discover we are part of the household of faith, this is the work of God, Christ, Spirit, the Word, the Gospel. We can marvel at it. We can thank God for it. Most of all, we can stay at it and spread the love around.

I will say it again. The Gospel is not a list of ideas. It is faith embodied by real people. They translate the big words of grace, providence, justice, and compassion into specific acts of holy love. That is how the Gospel is work. And it is the power of God to transform the world.

Meanwhile, I return to where I began: not every Bible text opens up into a sermon. I wish that we the case, but we always must wait for the Spirit. Sometimes we have to sit with the Bible open, linger for a while, and hope that God says something. From experience, I can tell you that’s true.

And I will tell you what I also believe to be true: you may be the only sermon that some people ever see.

(c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.