Free to Suffer

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Good morning, Chapel family. Good to see you all today, and for those of you online, good to be seen by you.

(Prayer for racial healing, police officers).

We’re taking this spring to walk through Paul’s letter to the Philippians, and we’re calling the series “True Freedom.” As usual, our discipleship team has developed some great resources to help us get the most out of this series. Let me tell you about two of them: there’s a brand new Facebook group called True Freedom. So you can interact with other people about what you’re learning from Philippians. So I encourage you to join that group. We also have this new feature called “Live it Out!” It takes the teaching of each sermon, and it gives a few practical ways to live it out that week. Really well done. So you can find both of resources on our web site; just go to Connect and then select Small Groups, and you’ll see it all right there.

So when Paul was writing the letter to the Philippians, he was locked up in a Roman prison cell. So from every outward measure, he was not free. And yet, when you start reading the letter, you quickly realize that he wasn’t feeling sorry for himself; he didn’t view himself as a victim; he wasn’t complaining about how his rights had been violated, or all the things he couldn’t do. It becomes obvious that you’re listening to a man who was free. Not on the outside! But in the place where it really counts—on the inside—Paul was a free man.

So how does that relate to us? Well, we all have our prisons, don’t we? Last week someone said to me, “My prison was getting Coronavirus. Other people were supposed to get the virus—not me! And all of a sudden, I felt trapped by this sickness.” On the True Freedom Facebook group, someone said, “I’m deaf, and recently that’s felt like a prison. I read lips, but now that everyone is wearing masks, that’s been taken away and it felt so isolating.” We’ve all got our prisons. And it’s easy to let those things own us and define us. And through this letter, Paul shows us what it looks like to have inner freedom, no matter what walls might be around us. It’s a life-altering concept.

So last week we talked about being free to encourage. And today we’re going to look at probably the hardest concept in the whole series: we are free to suffer. Why would anybody want to be free to suffer? Well, because whether we like it or not, suffering is a part of life. And if we choose to follow Christ, there’s an extra kind of suffering that comes along with that. And the way we respond to that suffering matters. In fact, I would say it’s one of the most important things about us. Eugene Peterson said, “There is a way to accept, embrace, and deal with suffering that results in a better life, not a worse one, and more of the experience of God, not less.” The way we respond to suffering affects our life so much.

In today’s passage, the word that Paul uses for suffering is the Greek word agon. It originally meant “a place where athletic contests were held.” So the agon was the arena, where people would compete and sweat and fight. There’s a big wrestling match at the agon on Tuesday night!” And over time, in the Greek-speaking world, that word started being used for the struggle itself—any kind of struggle. Any guesses what English word we get from agon? Agony. Agonizing. So whatever the most painful things in your life are, that’s what this section of Paul’s letter is all about.

So let’s look at the passage together—Philippians 1, verses 12-30. I invite you now to hear the Word of God…

12 Now I want you to know, brothers and sisters, that what has happened to me has actually served to advance the gospel. 13 As a result, it has become clear throughout the whole palace guard and to everyone else that I am in chains for Christ. 14 And because of my chains, most of the brothers and sisters have become confident in the Lord and dare all the more to proclaim the gospel without fear.

15 It is true that some preach Christ out of envy and rivalry, but others out of goodwill. 16 The latter do so out of love, knowing that I am put here for the defense of the gospel. 17 The former preach Christ out of selfish ambition, not sincerely, supposing that they can stir up trouble for me while I am in chains. 18 But what does it matter? The important thing is that in every way, whether from false motives or true, Christ is preached. And because of this I rejoice.

Yes, and I will continue to rejoice, 19 for I know that through your prayers and God’s provision of the Spirit of Jesus Christ what has happened to me will turn out for my deliverance. 20 I eagerly expect and hope that I will in no way be ashamed, but will have sufficient courage so that now as always Christ will be exalted in my body, whether by life or by death. 21 For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain. 22 If I am to go on living in the body, this will mean fruitful labor for me. Yet what shall I choose? I do not know! 23 I am torn between the two: I desire to depart and be with Christ, which is better by far; 24 but it is more necessary for you that I remain in the body. 25 Convinced of this, I know that I will remain, and I will continue with all of you for your progress and joy in the faith, 26 so that through my being with you again your boasting in Christ Jesus will abound on account of me.

27 Whatever happens, conduct yourselves in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ. Then, whether I come and see you or only hear about you in my absence, I will know that you stand firm in the one Spirit, striving together as one for the faith of the gospel 28 without being frightened in any way by those who oppose you. This is a sign to them that they will be destroyed, but that you will be saved—and that by God. 29 For it has been granted to you on behalf of Christ not only to believe in him, but also to suffer for him, 30 since you are going through the same struggle you saw I had, and now hear that I still have. This is the Word of the Lord.

Paul is showing us how to view three things very differently—here they are: The Purpose of our Suffering, The Perpetrators of our Suffering, and The Pinnacle of our Suffering. Okay? How do we look differently at the purpose for our suffering, the perpetrators—the people who cause our suffering, and the pinnacle—the very worst kind of suffering?

So first, let’s talk about The Purpose of our Suffering. Look what Paul says in verse 12: Now I want you to know, brothers and sisters, that what has happened to me has actually served to advance the gospel. So rather than complaining about prison—which Paul could have easily done—he’s actually noticed how being in prison has led to something really good: the gospel is advancing. It’s moving forward. Which is ironic, because why was Paul thrown in prison in the first place? Because people wanted to stop the gospel from advancing! They were threatened by this new Christian movement! But Jesus said, “I will build my church, and the gates of hell will not prevail against it.” No matter how people tried to stop it, it kept moving forward.

And Paul mentions two ways the gospel was advancing. In verse 13, he says it has become clear throughout the whole palace guard and to everyone else that I am in chains for Christ. Think about this: Paul was in Rome, which was, of course, the center of the Roman Empire. He was being guarded

by the Palace Guard, which was the Emperor’s elite troops. So every four hours, he would get a new Roman soldier literally chained to him. Do you think Paul ever talked to the guy he was chained to? A better question is, Did Paul ever stop talking to the guy he was chained to? Right? I mean, knowing what we know about Paul, you just know that Paul shared his story of conversion, and how real Jesus is, and how transformative God’s forgiveness is. And four hours later, he got to talk to another guy! So the gospel was advancing because the word about Paul’s faith was spreading throughout the prison staff.

Then here’s the second reason—verse 14: And because of my chains, most of the brothers and sisters have become confident in the Lord and dare all the more to proclaim the gospel without fear. Paul was writing this in the year 62AD. Does anyone know what year Rome burned? 64AD. Two years later. And when Rome burned, who did Emperor Nero blame for it? He blamed the Christians. In fact, in the Annals of Tacitus, which is the primary source for first century Roman History, it says that the Christians were “hated for their abominations.” He calls Christianity a “mischievous superstition.” So here’s the point: when Paul was writing this letter, it was becoming dangerous to be identified as a Christian in Rome. So you would think that when the Christians in Rome found out about Paul’s imprisonment, they would kind of lay low, right? They would keep their faith quiet. But they didn’t! Because courage breeds courage. Boldness is contagious. So the gospel advanced.

A while back, I knew a woman who was dying. She knew she had a few months to live. But her mind was sharp—just all there. Great sense of humor, warm. And she decided that she was going to use her sickness and her impending death to speak openly about her faith in Christ. Like, “What do I have to lose?” So she talked about Jesus to her nurses. To the receptionists at the doctor’s offices. To her doctors. Her main doctor was a Jewish man—and he said, “Ma’am, I just want to tell you—I’m Jewish.” And she said, “That’s okay—so was Jesus.” And she kept telling him how Jesus had changed her, and given her hope. And here’s my point: when other believers—like me—saw her boldness, it built us up. It fired me up. I became confident in the Lord, and I dared all the more to proclaim the gospel without fear. Because she was doing it. Courage is contagious.

So here’s the larger point: God was using a bad thing—Paul’s suffering—to produce a good thing—the advancing of the gospel. Even the things intended specifically to stop God’s work were ironically moving it forward. And this is the kind of thing God does all the time.

Philip Yancey, the writer, was a pretty good high school chess player. But after High School, he put the game aside. Twenty years later, he was living in Chicago, and he met a guy who challenged him to a game of chess. He didn’t know what he’d gotten himself into. Here’s what he wrote:

We played a few matches, and I learned what it’s like to play against a master. Any classic offense I tried, he countered with a classic defense. If I turned to more risky, unorthodox techniques, he incorporated my bold forays into his winning strategies. Although I had complete freedom to make any move I wished, I soon reached the conclusion that none of my strategies mattered very much. His superior skill guaranteed that my purposes inevitably ended up serving his own.

Perhaps God engages our universe, his own creation, in much the same way. He grants us freedom to rebel against its original design, but even as we do so we end up ironically serving his eventual goal of restoration.

If I accept that blueprint—a huge step of faith, I confess—it transforms how I view both good and bad things that happen. Good things, such as health, talent, and money, I can present to God as offerings to serve his purposes. And bad things, too—

disability, poverty, family dysfunction, failures—can be redeemed as the very instruments that drive me to God.

I love that analogy. Because it reminds me that God has a purpose for everything—even things that seem random and painful. It reminds me who’s in control.

In verse 16, Paul says knowing that I am put here for the defense of the gospel. Think about that line: “I am put here.” Paul recognized that him being in prison wasn’t random. God had put him there. And I know what some of you are thinking: “But God’s not responsible for evil. God’s not responsible for the cruelty of the people who imprisoned Paul.” You’re right—God is not the author of evil. But he’s big enough, and brilliant enough, to use it for his purposes.

Some of you feel chained to an awful job. Right? Or you feel chained to home schooling your kids in this pandemic. Or you feel chained to your 6-hour dialysis sessions, or chained to your hospital or rehab bed. And you say, “God, get me out of here!” And maybe God’s answer, through Paul, is: “You were put there for a reason. I’m bringing people into your world, and giving you an opportunity to lift up Christ. To speak about Jesus, and suffer like Jesus did. To show Christ-like empathy for others who are chained up there with you.” Because God is in control, there’s always a purpose for suffering.

Secondly, God shows us how to think differently about The Perpetrators of our Suffering. Very often, the hardest thing about suffering is when your suffering is caused by other people. Right? I mean, getting cancer is hard, but getting cheated on by your spouse has a whole other level of pain—because it’s someone else’s wrong behavior that’s causing your suffering. Remember the Greek word for suffering? Agon. We have another English word that comes from that root—the word antagonist. An antagonist is someone who causes our suffering. Someone who causes our agony. We all have them, and it’s easy for our lives to be dominated by them.

And twice in this passage, Paul talks about how he views his antagonists. Starting in verse 15, he says there are people out there who are preaching the gospel for all the wrong reasons—out of a sense of envy and rivalry with Paul. So they’re probably criticizing something about Paul, and very likely, they’re successfully turning some people against Paul. Did you ever have that—someone’s out there spreading false rumors about you? Sometimes I hear people say things about The Chapel, or about me as a pastor, that simply aren’t true. Almost like they need to put down another church or another pastor in order to feel good about their church and their pastor. And that can be very hurtful.

So how does Paul respond? Look at verse 18: But what does it matter? The important thing is that in every way, whether from false motives or true, Christ is preached. And because of this I rejoice. That’s an amazing response. That’s a powerful response. Paul refuses to get pulled into resentment or revenge. He doesn’t let his ego get all wounded. He rises above all that. Because at the end of the day, Christ is being preached—and that’s what really matters. Now: there were other times when people were preaching a false gospel—and Paul took issue with that. But these people were apparently preaching the true gospel. So Paul could let the personal offenses go. It’s so powerful.

He picks up this theme again in verse 28. He says without being frightened in any way by those who oppose you. (There is again—perpetrators of suffering). And Paul says, “Don’t be afraid of them in any way. This is a sign to them that they will be destroyed, but that you will be saved—and that by God. In other words, whoever is causing suffering in your life—especially those who are opposing you for living out your faith—don’t fear them. Keep loving them and speaking the truth. And when you do that, it’s be a sign to them that that kind of love, and that kind of courage, could only come from God.

Look: we all have people who cause us suffering. But when we let them dominate our lives, either through fear or resentment or anger, it winds up being self-destructive. Listen to this quote by Fredrich Buechner:

Of the Seven Deadly Sins, anger is possibly the most fun. To lick your wounds, to smack your lips over grievances long past, to roll over your tongue the prospect of bitter confrontations still to come, to savor to the last toothsome morsel both the pain you are given and the pain you are giving back—in many ways it is a feast fit for a king. The chief drawback is that what you are wolfing down is yourself. The skeleton at the feast is you.

See, if you hold onto anger and hatred, you might think you’re punishing the person who offended you; but you’re actually destroying yourself. And through the power of Christ—the one who forgave his enemies as he was dying—we can be free from that prison.

And then—last thing—Paul shows us a new way to look at The Pinnacle of our Suffering. What is the pinnacle of suffering—the ultimate suffering, for every person? Death. All the struggles we face throughout life are really a prelude to the final struggle with death. And as Paul sat in this prison, he realized that his own death might be very near.

And he lets us in on his inner thoughts about the possibility of death. In verse 23, he says I desire to depart and be with Christ, which is better by far. There’s a lot of theology packed in there. Because it means Paul didn’t believe in soul sleep; he didn’t believe in purgatory. When Paul looked ahead to the inevitable moment of his death, he knew that as soon as he departed this world, he would be with Christ. Like he says in 2 Corinthians 5—absent from the body, present with the Lord. But here’s the main point: for Paul, that was a really good thought. In Paul’s mind, when you compare life here with life there, there’s no contest. That’s why he says in verse 21, For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain. If I go on living in this world, I get to walk with Christ, and serve Christ. But dying would be even better, because I get to be with him.

Is that the way you look at death?

There’s a freelance writer named Greta Christina. She’s an atheist, and a few years ago, she wrote a column in a magazine that’s popular with atheists called The Skeptical Inquirer. It’s all about her thoughts on death. Here’s what she wrote:

Death can be an appalling thing to think about. Not just frightening, not just painful. It can be paralyzing. The fact that your life span is an infinitesimally tiny fragment in the life of the universe, that there is, at the very least, a strong possibility that when you die, you disappear completely and forever, and that in 500 years nobody will remember you and in five billion years Earth will fall into the Sun—this can be a profound and defining truth about your existence that you reflexively repulse, that you flinch away from and refuse to accept or even think about, consistently pushing it to the back of your mind whenever it sneaks up for fear that if you allow it to sit in your mind even for a minute, it will swallow everything else. It can make everything you do, and anything anyone else does, seem meaningless, trivial to the point of absurdity. It can make you feel erased, wipe out joy, make your life seem like ashes in your hands.

She’s pretty honest, right? You have to appreciate that. Brutally honest. But later on, she tries to give some glimmer of hope—she says:

What matters is that we get to be alive. We get to be conscious. We get to be connected with each other and with the world, and we get to be aware of that connection and to spend a few years mucking around in its possibilities. We get to have a slice of time and space that's ours.

I have to tell you: that’s one of the most depressing things I’ve ever read. The name of the article was “Comforting Thoughts about Death That Have Nothing to do With God,” and I don’t know about you, but that is not comforting to me at all. But when you pull God out of the picture, that’s the best you can do. If you’ve ever read the atheistic, existentialist authors, like Sartre and Camus, this is the best they can do. Life is meaningless, so do your best to create your own meaning. And then you die, and that’s it.

Without the hope of Christ, the very idea of death would be the worst suffering imaginable. But Paul says, “For me, to die is gain. It’s a great thought!” In the book of Hebrews it says Jesus comes to people who, all their lives, have been captive to the fear of death, and he frees them from that fear. And Paul had been freed from that fear. Even though he was sitting in a physical prison as he wrote this, he was completely free from the fear of death. That’s got to be the best kind of freedom there is.

There was a well-known professor named Lewis Smedes. And he would ask his students, “Who wants to go to heaven when you die?” Every hand would go up. And then he’d say, “Who would like to go today?” And a few students would raise their hands slowly—like, “I think this is the right answer.” But most people wanted a raincheck on the whole death thing. But then he would say, “Okay—who wants a world where there’s no cancer, no hunger, no abuse, everyone’s at peace with each other and at peace with themselves?” And there would be this frenzy of hands flying up in the air. And Dr. Smedes would say, “If that’s what you really want, then heaven is where you want to be.”

If we can get to the point where you not only say, “I don’t fear death,” but where you can actually say, “I’m looking forward to death,” it creates an incredible kind of freedom inside us.

Look: as long as we’re living in this world, there will be suffering. If we choose to follow Christ, there will be an extra kind of suffering added on. So don’t be surprised when it happens—it is part of life in this broken world. But here’s the amazing thing: we don’t have to be trapped and imprisoned by our suffering. It might affect us outwardly in terrible ways, but on the inside, we can be truly free.