Philippians 2:1-13
World Communion
October 1, 2023
William G. Carter
If then
there is any encouragement in Christ, any consolation from love, any sharing in
the Spirit, any compassion and sympathy, make my joy complete: be of the
same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind. Do
nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as
better than yourselves. Let each of you look not to your own interests, but
to the interests of others. Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ
Jesus, who,
though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death— even death on a cross. Therefore God also highly exalted him and gave him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bend, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.
Therefore,
my beloved, just as you have always obeyed me, not only in my presence, but
much more now in my absence, work out your own salvation with fear and
trembling; for it is God who is at work in you, enabling you both to will
and to work for his good pleasure.
Will Willimon, Methodist preacher and raconteur, was reminiscing about the first church he ever served. It was a little one room building, a bit outside of town. He thought it might be a good idea to drive out there ahead of time, look around, and get the lay of the land. He contacted one of the church leaders and set up a time to meet. When the day arrived, he got in the car and drove out to Friendship Methodist Church.
Yes, that was the name of the congregation: Friendship Methodist Church. Will says it was a misnomer, if there ever was one.
He arrived before his host, which was a good thing. He was surprised to find a huge padlock and chain barring the front door. When the lay leader arrived, Will said, “I’m glad you are here to open the lock on the door.”
“Oh, that ain’t our lock,” said the lay leader. “The sheriff put that there. Things got rough here at the meeting last month. Folks started yelling at one another. One opened the trunk of his car and put in a box of silverware that his mother had donated to the kitchen. Somebody else tried to cart off some furniture they had given.”
“It got so bad,” said the man, “that I called the sheriff, and he came out here and put that lock on the door until the new preacher could get here and settle ‘em down.” He paused, looked at Will, and said, “We’re glad you are here. Welcome to Friendship Methodist Church.”[1]
Now, I do have to say, as churches go, you are remarkably well behaved. The silverware stays in the drawer. The furniture remains where it belongs. Yet this is a very human community. It’s like any other human community. There are diverse perspectives, different opinions, and a multiplicity of life experiences. The fact that we can gather under one roof without calling in the sheriff is a Christian miracle.
We don’t know what First Church Philippi was arguing about, but it must have been something. From the scant information we have, that little congregation was Paul’s favorite. He initiated that fellowship. He told them how much he loved them. Given his repeated run-ins with the powers and principalities, they were the only ones who paid attention to his troubles and sent him a financial gift. He’s grateful and he tells them so.
But something’s going on. We’re not sure what it is. Perhaps the preachers who followed him pointed out his deficiencies; every preacher has them. There is evidence that he had opponents, specifically those who disagreed with his emphasis on grace; there are always good-hearted religious people who struggle when God shows too much grace (you heard a sermon about that last week!).
And bless their hearts, two women were bickering with one another, to the point that he writes down their names from 300 miles away, forever immortalizing their argument in the pages of the New Testament. It’s there in chapter 4: “Tell Euodia and Syntyche to agree in the Lord” (4:2). Stop fighting. Knock it off. Probably not on the order of padlocking the sanctuary, but you know arguments can get out of hand.
Maybe you’ve been watching the circus in Washington as the Congress tries to keep their own lights on. Regardless of how we vote, we perceive a battle of egos, a contest with implicit threats, and unserious people who do a whole lot of grandstanding. It’s almost as harsh as some family skirmishes at the Thanksgiving table. Grievances long nursed bubble up for one more round. Somebody gets hurt. And for what possible benefit?
So, Paul clears his throat and writes a second page to the Philippians. “Do you have any encouragement in Christ?” he asks. “Have you all experienced any consolation from love?” “Are you sharing in the Spirit? Do you experience any compassion and sympathy?” The questions dangle out there – and one by one, the church folk nod their heads.
There was that phone call that came at just the right time. That casserole Euodia dropped off when Mom died. That hug Syntyche gave me when my troubled son didn’t make it home. That spiritual energy I received when the choir was singing. “Yes, yes, yes,” is the Philippian response. They are experiencing the Gospel of God even in that imperfect gathering at Friendship Church.
With that, Pastor Paul goes to the heart of it: “Have the same mind.” It’s a curious thing to say. “The same mind?” But there’s disagreement. We come from different places. We have different minds. So, he clarifies: “Not your mind. Have the mind of Christ.” Then he bursts into song…
Have the
mind of Christ Jesus, who was the perfect form of God,
yet he did not clutch onto that, he did not exploit that, but emptied himself…
It sounds like old Paul is singing to them out of their own hymnal. Maybe he taught them the song. The scholars tell us, by syntax and content, this is a perfect hymn to honor Christ Jesus. He was completely with God but came to us. He gave up any semblance of superiority – which he had every right to hang onto - and became our servant. He “emptied himself.”
It’s a remarkable turn of phrase: he emptied himself. He gave himself away. He lost his stature intentionally. And this was not a career move for him, as in, if you relocate to Podunk for three years, we’ll give you a promotion. No, no, no – Jesus gave up the glory and that is his glory. He emptied himself. It’s the only time the New Testament talks this way, but to hear Paul say it, it’s the point of the whole life of Christ – and it’s the point of the life in Christ.
Here's the question for you and me: when do we lose ourselves? When do we lose all track of time? When are we caught up in something beyond ourselves? When do we give up everything else for the sake of something more important.
· Maybe it’s that great old Welsh hymn and every time
we sing it, you throw back your head and belt it out, even if you’re Italian.
· Maybe it’s that conversation filled with
laughter – or the sympathizing tear.
· Maybe it’s that argument that you decide you don’t
need to win because you love your opponent too much.
· Maybe it’s that quilt you’re stitching for the
homeless, or the sandwich you’re making for the outcast teenager, or that box
of food you packed for the forgotten folks, and it feels so good to do something
for somebody else.
· Maybe it’s that moment when you hold the broken
piece of bread in your hands and realize it really is grace and it has come as
a gift.
· Maybe it’s the insight that comes only from the
Spirit of God, that Jesus-who-is-equal-with-God has emptied himself completely because
he believes the world is worth saving, and you’re worth saving, and so are your
friends and enemies.
This is the mind of Christ, the self-giving service for the benefit of everybody else. When we share in that mind, all divisions fade, all differences cease, as we discover we are part of God’s mission to the world. We are partners and participants of a good far greater than ourselves. And the more we think like this, the more such thinking is renewed.
I like the story that N. T. Wright tells. The former Anglican bishop of Durham, he was invited to a small banquet, twenty or thirty people of great importance. Notable, well-known people. When the host offered a blessing he said, “Remind us, O God, that the most interesting person in the room is the one we’re sitting next to.” When the blessing concluded with an Amen, Bishop Wright opened his eyes and discovered the room had changed.[2]
[1] Will
Willimon, “One in Christ,” preached on Day 1, 2017. Link: https://day1.org/weekly-broadcast/5d9b820ef71918cdf200416b/will_willimon_one_in_christ
[2] N.T.
Wright, Paul for Everyone: The Prison Letters (Louisville: Westminster
John Knox Press, 2002) 99.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment