Sermon Notes

Philippians 4:2-9 February 14, 1999
God’s Gift of Peace

Valentine’s Day, which was once reserved for friends and lovers, has fallen into the clutches of marketers and political correctness. Valentine’s Day is second only to Christmas as the biggest source of revenue for the greeting card industry, as Americans purchase over 900 million cards, according to the Greeting Card Association. But that which was designed for the exchange of romantic love is more like stepping onto a minefield, especially for kids in school. In the effort to be sure no one is hurt by not receiving a card, schools often require that each child include everyone in the class. In recent years I’ve noticed an additional prerequisite, that some piece of candy be included as well. All this can create some degree of turmoil, stress, anxiety, hurt feelings, divisiveness. But then again what do you expect from a holiday named after a guy who was clubbed to death, then decapitated?

Send cards to all, or none. Just send them out, not caring who gets what. But, indiscriminate giving blunts the force of Cupid's arrow. If everybody gets one, I'm not real sure what the effect of that is, except that everybody gets one. But those are the rules.

Yet enforced peace and manufactured accord has little value. Like indiscriminate Valentine’s cards, demanding peace with little understanding of how we must arrive at true peace is like an armistice in war; it only gives each side the time to reload before the battle resumes. What is needed is real peace, real harmony. What is needed is a change within which makes giving and receiving love not a perfunctory act, but from the heart.

In our passage this morning Paul prescribes real peace for real problems. His letter is a Valentine’s card sent to people he loved, in which he calls them to get along, not just on the surface, but to know the peace, the harmony, the freedom from anxiety which should be a part of each of our lives. We have here a real Valentine’s card, an expression of love’s source for each of our lives.

2.  I plead with Euodia and I plead with Syntyche to agree with each other in the Lord. 

 3.  Yes, and I ask you, loyal yokefellow, help these women who have contended at my side in the cause of the gospel, along with Clement and the rest of my fellow workers, whose names are in the book of life. 

 4.  Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! 

 5.  Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. 

 6.  Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. 

 7.  And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. 

 8.  Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable--if anything is excellent or praiseworthy--think about such things. 

 9.  Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me--put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you. 

Peace with Others

Paul’s letter to the Philippian believers does not evidence the doctrinal discord evident in his other letters, but rather has a pervasive joy through each section. But all is not right in Philippi; there is a problem in the church and Paul calls attention to this situation.

Two women, Euodia and Syntyche are not getting along. We know nothing of the problem and Paul does not take sides. In light of that the issue appears not to be doctrinal, but personal. If one was teaching truth and one was teaching error, he would have sided with one or the other. This is a personality conflict, which is most often the case in church conflicts. It has to do with opinion rather than doctrine.

Verse 3 tells us they have a history of usefulness in the church, working with Paul in the past. If you recall from Acts 16, Paul’s first Sabbath in Philippi was spent outside the city, along the river with a small band of Jews. Unlike other cities Paul visited, Philippi was so Roman that there were not the requisite ten men to form a synagogue. Rather the leader of this group was Lydia, a businesswoman, who invited Paul and his fellow missionaries into her home and there the church had its beginning. Perhaps other women, namely these two, were instrumental in the beginning of this church.

He calls for unity, but not unity for the sake of agreement. Rather they are to be on the same page in a very important area: "in the Lord." The foundation of their unity is based in the work of Christ for them. It is not as though they must cease being the individuals they are and become cookie cut-outs in order to get along. Rather their unity is based in the person and work of Christ for them.

But this process of unity, of agreement, is not to take place alone; it is a community project.

Paul mentions another name which gives us little insight into the situation. He calls on a "loyal yokefellow," a genuine colleague in Philippi to lend a hand.

Again, we know nothing about this person. The word used here, "syzygus" was not used as a name, but a description of a person. Most often it is used of a spouse, pointing to the unity of a marriage partnership. (Doesn’t sound romantic: "dearest syzygus". I wouldn’t recommend snuggling up to you loved one and whispering it in his or her ear.) But Paul had no wife, so we are left wondering. So whoever it is, it is someone who has struggled with Paul did in establishing the church in Philippi. So this fellow, along with Clement and others in the church should come along side these women and be certain that there is unity in the church. Peace among each other is not just the duty of individuals who are not getting along, but is a community project. Everyone must pitch in.

Peace within

Peace with others, getting along when conflict seems the only recourse, is only possible when there is peace within. The problem is, we tend to be victimized by our circumstances. We have our highs and our lows and we fluctuate and vacillate all dependent on how stuff is going on the outside. If I'm successful in my job, if my relationships are what they ought to be, if there's calmness in my life, if everything is going the way I'd like it to go, if everything is in a sort of peaceful mode externally, then I have joy. But if stuff starts to disintegrate, then I lose it. You see, that's not at all what this is saying.

Rather than depending on external circumstances to be so orchestrated that I can then have internal contentment, internal contentment must be the foundation of our lives. How can these women be helped to be unified? How can we get along with others we have a difficult time loving?

How can this take place? Verse four gives us the answer: "rejoice in the Lord always." But how can joy be commanded?

The command to rejoice is sewn throughout the fabric of this Philippian letter. You can hardly read a paragraph without finding some reference to Christian joy. Yet this letter is also filled with descriptions of difficult, demanding human circumstances, such as imprisonment, execution, sickness, deprivation, spiritual danger, betrayal. We ought to conclude something from that: the joy to which Paul refers has nothing to do with our circumstances. We are not being told to "Put on a happy face. Smile and the world smiles with you." That would be a phony cover-up, a denial of hurts we feel deep inside. Nor are we being told that every cloud has a silver lining. Some clouds do not. They are big black thunderclouds which are immediately followed by other big black thunderclouds with not a silver lining anywhere in sight.

The command is not just to rejoice, not just to be happy no matter how you really feel. Rather, the the command gives the context in which our joy must be found: “in the Lord.”

This term is easy to pass by, like a meaningless add-on, a religious phrase that has no content. But to think that is to ignore everything Paul argues in this letter. Writing from prison, having been betrayed by his own people, while the churches he planted were falling prey to theological error and sinful activity, while his very life was hanging in the balance, at the whim of a pagan emperor, Paul talks of joy. That joy is based not in the circumstances in life, but the foundation of that joy is his identity in Christ.

What is reflected in this statement in Philippians about rejoicing is the idea to not try to make the circumstances somehow look better but to recognize that underneath everything are the everlasting arms of God, that God is sovereign over, above and around all our circumstances, that He is greater than whatever we are going through. Our joy is to be in Him. If we believe that, if we are convinced that God stands behind whatever we are going through, that He is a purposeful and loving God, then we can have a deep joy and contentment, despite our circumstances, and still be honest about how much it hurts. This joy too is related to the peace of God. Our deep sense of well-being, our assurance that things are just as they ought to be gives us a sense of joy.

One immediate by-product of a life that finds satisfaction in God’s sovereign grace, is the benefit of knowing that you don’t have to try to fight to secure your own satisfaction in life, but rather your joy comes in being "in Christ," knowing that God’s favor rests on you because Christ secured your status before the Father. What happens? The need to scrap and fight for your own happiness begins to mellow. For this reason Paul continues in verse 5 with the command: "Let your gentleness be evident to all."

Another way to say that would be, "Let your nondefensiveness, your willingness to yield be known to all." That is the opposite of having a chip on your shoulder. Far too often we are prickly, our personalities are on edge, because we must be so careful that no one steps on us, takes advantage of us. We live like orphans, protecting ourselves instead of trusting another to come to our defense. We have to demand our rights; we have to defend our own name.

There is in this command a graciousness of humility which basically says, "You may have offended me, you may have mistreated me, you may have misjudged me, misrepresented me, maltreated me, you may have not given me what I deserve, you may have given me what I do not deserve, you may have ruined my reputation, I may the recipient of your inequity and injustice, but I humbly and graciously accept it." That's what it means.

Isn't that exactly what the grace of God is like? "You may have hated Me. You may have been My enemies," God could say. "You may have shaken your fist in My face. You may have blasphemed Me. You may have mistreated Me, misjudged Me, you may have done all of that and I still reach out to you in love."  When you have that kind of an attitude, you know a peace within which far exceeds what you can manufacture on your own.

The basis of this attitude, the reason we can rejoice, can be gentle, is because we know God is not distant; God has not forgotten us. The Lord is near. But far too often we live as though He were a million miles away. Our theology works on Sunday but when we hit the wall on Monday when some trauma comes into our life, we loose our self-control. We flip out and it's a lack of confidence in God. You see, if I have a confident trust that the Lord is near, what am I worried about?

When our joy is located not in God’s sovereign work, we must defend ourselves and gentleness goes right out the window. If I forget God’s constant presence, His care for me, joy is no more than a dish detergent. When I no longer realize that the God who said He would never leave us or forsake us is there, then that sense of calm which should pervade my life is out the window. It is then that anxiety then sets in.

What hinders this peace and what is the only solution? - (verse 6)

When we do not understand God’s closeness to us, when we forget what is ours in Christ, when we imagine that our happiness, our satisfaction in life, our peace and security are manufactured by our own hands, anxiety ferments. For this reason Paul commands us not to be anxious about anything.

Anxiety and worry is assuming responsibility that God never intended for us to have. It's playing God, trying to control the uncontrollable. The word "worry" comes from the Old English word meaning to "choke or strangle." That's what worry does to our peace, productivity, and joy. It chokes and strangles them. Someone said, "Worry is the advance interest you pay on troubles that seldom come." George Muller said, "The beginning of anxiety is the end of faith. The beginning of true faith is the end of anxiety."

We all know in the abstract the stupidity of anxiety. But in reality, we often have a difficult time turning it off. One study of worry, by Dr. Walter Cavert discovered that :

40% of our worries never happen
30% of our worries concern the past
12% of our worries are needless worries about our health
10% of our worries are insignificant or petty concerns
8% of our worries are really legitimate concerns

But oddly enough it has been pointed out that we are addicted to stress, we have a love affair with anxiety. Robert Samuelson in the Chicago Tribune said:

We deplore it and claim to resist it, but we actually crave it and pursue it aggressively. We overschedule ourselves and our children and try to cram ever more activity into the day. The very timesaving devices that were supposed to ease the demands on our time create new demands. We're flooded with faxes, recorded messages and e-mail. This is virtual anxiety. Since 1995, the share of households with pagers has jumped from 8 percent to 28 percent. Do one in four Americans need to be beeped? These are new expressions of an old condition. Even in 1971, 73 percent of adults (those 18 and over) judged themselves "always" or "sometimes" rushed. By 1995, that was 83 percent. Yet, our sense of siege is compulsive. It's cultural. In 1840, Alexis de Tocqueville wrote in "Democracy in America" that the American "is always in a hurry. . . . Besides the good things that he possesses, he every instant fancies a thousand others that death will prevent him from trying if he does not try them soon. This thought fills him with anxiety, fear and regret." Sound familiar?

So what is the answer to anxiety?

The answer given seems woefully inadequate: Prayer. But why pray when you can worry? Here is the antidote to worry; here is relief from anxiety. But the answer betrays an attitude that is very important. The response here is not just crying to God when the chips are down, not just complaining when life is sour, not blaming God and voicing your discontent about life. Look how we are to pray: with thanksgiving.

When anxiety appears to be the normal response, but we respond with thanksgiving, there is an attitude adjustment which betrays a radical response. It knows that God is at work not despite the troubles, but through the troubles. This response lives out an inward peace; it demonstrates a life lived in dependence on God’s grace.

We are tempted to say: "How can I be thankful until I know how He will answer?"

That we think we must know the answer to our prayer before we can be thankful only further illustrates our deep distrust of God. If we wait for thankfulness to come only after we get what we want, we place ourselves in command and anxiety will still be present. The key to peace is knowing that God cares enough for you that whatever He sends is what is necessary; whatever He keeps from you is not necessary.

What comes in return

When we find our joy not in our circumstances, but in our being united to Christ, when God’s presence enables us to moderate our lives, when anxiety melts away as we become thankful for whatever comes our way, then God’s peace will be in the forefront of our lives. It is then that we realize God’s peace is not contingent on answered prayer, but on His character.

When we grasp God’s wise care, His compassionate providence is a constant in our lives, even those circumstances which appear to be beyond our comprehension will still issue peace in our lives. This peace will guard our hearts.

Paul uses another military term to a people well acquainted with military images. Like a garrison of Roman soldiers stationed to protect and defend, God's peace will be present in your life, guarding against encroaching worry when you embrace the wonderful truth of God’s Fatherly care.

All this takes place in the context of being "in Christ Jesus."

Again we see that recurrent phrase that says far more than we imagine. God’s peace which is beyond our understanding will guard our hearts and our minds. How? As they are in Christ, as we understand our position as His sons and daughters, as we in faith trust that we are clothed with His righteousness, believe that Christ’s death is sufficient for us, and that God the Father cares for us as His own children. Now that is a Valentine’s Day present we can never repay.

Sermon Notes