In Joy and in Faith
Philippians 1:21-31
For to me, living is Christ and dying is gain. If I am to live in the flesh, that means fruitful labour for me; and I do not know which I prefer. I am hard pressed between the two: my desire is to depart and be with Christ, for that is far better; but to remain in the flesh is more necessary for you. Since I am convinced of this, I know that I will remain and continue with all of you for your progress and joy in faith, so that I may share abundantly in your boasting in Christ Jesus when I come to you again.
Only, live your life in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ, so that, whether I come and see you or am absent and hear about you, I will know that you are standing firm in one spirit, striving side by side with one mind for the faith of the gospel, and are in no way intimidated by your opponents. For them this is evidence of their destruction, but of your salvation. And this is God’s doing. For he has graciously granted you the privilege not only of believing in Christ, but of suffering for him as well— since you are having the same struggle that you saw I had and now hear that I still have.
So— over these past couple weeks, I’ve come to find out that there seemed to have been quite a bit of anxiety that I might not come back after my maternity leave. And sure, there were texts and emails I didn’t or couldn’t respond to, especially in the beginning; I spent that first month overwhelmed with feeding issues and fear of Frankie receiving a failure to thrive diagnosis and needing a feeding tube; and the next two months I spent feeling completely overwhelmed with love for this baby I went through a lot to bring to this world. These past three years in general have been filled with covid waves and personal tragedies—things that just didn’t allow me to do the kinds of things I wanted to do with you all; and things that just didn’t allow me to be the kind of pastor that I wanted to be. But let me tell you— it never once crossed my mind to not come back to this church. It never once crossed my mind that that was even an option.
So in my sort of reentry meetings over these past couple weeks, when it was asked if I had reflected on the state of the church at all, I had a hard time answering— because most of my deeper thoughts over my leave—the thoughts that did not have to do with bodily fluids—were about the difficulties of parenting in this country, and the lack of support for new parents. During that first pretty harrowing month, I couldn’t help but think about what it would’ve been like had Chris not been able to be home with us during that time, and how solo parenting due to the lack of parental leave in this country is the norm. I thought a lot about how the three short months that I got, that I am deeply grateful for, is the normal generous maternity leave, but how that’s exactly when babies start showing their personality, when they really start to grow and learn and bond, and how hard it is to leave them. On my first really full day back to work here on Monday without Frankie, she was being extra cute in the morning, as if to convince me to stay home and just snuggle with her all day, warm in bed, protected from the rain. I thought about the parents who don’t even get to know their baby’s personality yet before they have to take them to daycare at something like two or three weeks.
But that doesn’t mean this church wasn’t on my mind. Because something else I thought about was how privileged and blessed I am to be raising a daughter in a community like this—in a community that does support me, that supports one another; I thought about all the surrogate grandparents she’s going to have; I thought about how grateful I am that I have a vocation in which I can take my daughter to work when I need to—even just when I want to.
So it seems like one thing that hasn’t changed in these three months since I’ve been gone—is that I am still obsessively thinking about this church in terms of the incredible community in Christ that it is. I’m still thinking about the radical hospitality that this church shows day in and day out. I’m still thinking about how this church always comes through for one another, how they always come through to make sure this remains a place people feel safe and loved, where their spirit can be fed. My heart is still bursting with love and gratitude that Chris and I, and now Frances, are a part of such an open and welcoming community of people truly and completely walking in the ways of Jesus. I just needed those past three months to focus on Frances and this new family I went through so much tragedy and grief over the past two years, really, to create. It’s been a wild three years, both for the greater world, and for me personally. But I also know, and I want you all to know, that I wouldn’t have gone through all of that here if I wasn’t so incredibly confident and excited about the type of community in which I will raise my baby; I wouldn’t have gone through all that if I wasn’t totally confident that this faith community has so much more to give and do, so many exciting things on the horizon.
Now in today’s passage read so beautifully by our youth, we have Paul writing to the new budding Christian community in Philippi, and he’s writing this letter from prison. Paul’s letter to the Philippians is unique among his letters because there’s a real mutual love and respect, and an openness throughout that isn’t always present in his letters to the Romans or the Corinthians. There’s no real scolding; there’s no sarcasm, his usual dry, sometimes sardonic wit isn’t very apparent here. In fact, this letter is remarkably personal and vulnerable. He’s in prison contemplating the very real possibility that he could be put to death. And not only is he contemplating the very idea of death, but he’s actually wondering if maybe it would be better if he died and was then together with Christ. “…dying is gain,” he says. “I am hard pressed between the two: my desire is to depart and be with Christ, for that is far better; but to remain in the flesh is more necessary for you.” He continues to say that he is, essentially, convinced he still has more work do to with his beloved Philippians, and it is therefore not his time to die. And yet—he continues to sort of prepare the Philippians for the possibility that he will not return: “…live your life in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ, so that whether or not I come and see you or am absent and hear about you, I will know that you are standing firm in one spirit…and are in no way intimidated by our opponents.” He seems to be encouraging them to do the classic ‘hope for the best, prepare for the worst.’
But the most interesting part of that section is the command, “…live your life in a manner worthy of the gospel.” Because this is actually better translated as something more specifically like, “live as citizens,” or “engage in politics.” So Paul is telling his new followers not to be so focused on him. He’s assuring them that regardless of what happens to him, whether he lives or dies, they will be okay, but they must, regardless of whether or not he’s able to return to them, be a real force out in the public sphere— that they must not just be focused on one another in this insular new Christian community, but rather on the greater community, Christian and non-Christian alike. See, this letter has two main concerns, as we’ll see over the next few weeks while we continue to explore Paul’s letter to the Philippians—one is joy—joy in Christ, and the mutual joy that Paul and the Philippians feel creating this new community in Christ; but the other main concern is discerning what matters and what doesn’t. And Paul, being very humble here is saying he doesn’t matter. While he does believe he has more work to do with Philippi, and therefore doesn’t believe his time is up, he’s trying to convince them that they’ll be okay without him; a community in Christ is not dependent on one person. A community in Christ is just that—a community. “…standing firm in one spirit, striving side by side with one mind,” Paul says.
Don’t be “intimidated by your opponents,” Paul writes to his friends. Paul, writing from jail and facing a possible death sentence, is writing about real, physical opponents and threats here— oppressors trying to quell this budding and enthusiastic Christian movement. Thankfully, that’s not something we have deal with today, but we have our own opponents that can be deeply intimidating; more existential opponents like declining church numbers and declining interest in or affinity for religion. We have existential opponents like the oppressive economic system under which we live, that make it near impossible to be many, acting as one. We have the financial opponents of inflation, of stagnant wages, making it hard for religious and other nonprofit organizations to stay afloat. And these are, indeed, intimidating.
And I wonder, Church, if there has been a general anxiety floating around that I’ve been a little oblivious to. I wonder if these all these existential opponents and anxieties have kind of festered and led to a real fear that, in addition to dealing with all the existential threats the capital-C church, this little-c church would be out a pastor. I think, with everything I had going on, in addition to starting my time here during the peak of covid, if these were things I just couldn’t meet head-on, in the moment.
Well, I can assure you, you’re not out a pastor, and hopefully won’t be for some time. At the risk of comparing my maternity leave to prison, I, like Paul, had a lot to think about during late night feedings and being nap-trapped under Frankie these past few months. I did, though I never considered it, think deeply about what life as a stay-at-home parent would be like; I thought about my new life as a mom, and my future as a working mom, leading me to think of the existential threats to society in general—this national lack of support for parents, working or otherwise, and how that stops many people from feeling like they can or should start a family; and that led to other existential and anxiety-inducing thoughts about the world, (postpartum hormones didn’t help); but then I would force myself to think a little smaller—to think about the community I’m in now; and I would think about the work this church does—and it’s work that can help alleviate some of that strain and stress of this broken world. It’s a place that can make us feel a little more hopeful about the future for a time, despite all the existential threats we’re facing. And it’s a place where people really and truly come together as one.
I think that’s part of what Paul was trying to tell the Philippians, how he was trying to encourage them during trying times—while he is away, whether because he’s imprisoned, or he’s died, he will know by their actions that they will be “standing firm in one spirit, striving side by side with one mind for the faith of the gospel,” not being intimidated by opponents. He’s telling the Philippians, “you can do this without me.” It’s something he doesn’t really say to other groups of people in his other letters. There’s something he really loves and respects about the Philippians. And maybe because of that, even though they’re perfectly capable without him, he knows if they continue to work together, they can accomplish great things.
But to accomplish those great things, they have to figure out what’s really necessary, what really matters in this world. Paul wants to make it clear that it’s not him—it’s working and acting and loving as one, for the community.
Yesterday, we celebrated the life of Joe Reilly, and one of the biggest themes of that service was Joe’s humility, his modesty, his humble nature; how he would drop anything he was doing for the people in this community. And that’s the kind of thing that really matters; that’s the kind of nature that’s necessary in this world. It’s people like Joe, working selflessly for others. It’s serving this community so that it can continue to work as one body. Individual leaders don’t really matter. And Sunday mornings here are wonderful, but what really matters is living our lives in a manner worthy of Christ—living our lives as citizens out in the world and walking with Christ in the public sphere, refusing to be intimidated by existential threats… but it starts here— in this sacred gathering space where, each week, we begin our discernment of what really matters, of what’s really necessary. And I’m so grateful to have a kind of reset with you all after my leave and after these very strange three years; and in the words of Paul, “Since I am convinced of this, I know that I will remain and continue with all of you for your progress in joy and in faith…” And we will progress in joy and in faith, together, as one. Amen.
