Having the Mind of Christ

Lecture 1 — Introduction to Philippians & Philippians 1:1–11

The Background of Philippi

Philippi was a Roman colony in northern Greece — Macedonia — named for Philip, the father of Alexander the Great. After the assassination of Julius Caesar, Octavian (who would later become Augustus) and Mark Antony defeated Cassius and Brutus at a decisive battle there, in that northern Greek region of Philippi. And so it became a Roman colony — a place where Roman soldiers and veterans were settled and given rights, and potentially property. If you know anything about the Roman military, you wanted your veterans well honored — and far away from Rome. So there they were: in Philippi.

And that history comes into play in this letter, because a good bit of Paul's language will have to do with a heavenly citizenship — a heavenly colony — set against this idea that permeates the letter: life in a Roman colony.

**The colony's job is to make the frontier look like the homeland; the church's job is to make earth look like heaven.

The church at Philippi was established on Paul's second missionary journey — you can see it in the book of Acts, especially Acts chapter 16 — and it is really the first European church. And we note from the letter itself that Paul is writing from prison, most likely from prison in Rome. So there is the picture again: yes, the Romanness of it all is impressive — but our citizenship is in heaven.

We also see the movement of the letter through Epaphroditus, who carried the Philippians' gift to Paul and now carries Paul's letter of encouragement back to them. And that name is worth pausing over, because Epaphroditus means "one who belongs to Aphrodite." It is contextual — it reminds us of what is happening here. The gospel is coming into the Greek and Roman world. The gospel is coming to people whose very names announce that they belong to the goddess Aphrodite — and here they are, given a new name, a new belonging, a new citizenship in heaven. (Lydia, slave girl fortune-teller, Philippian Jailer).

The great theme of Philippians — the theme we are naming this Sunday school series after, having the mind of Christ — lives in exactly this context: a shifting political sphere, the shifting sands of ubiquitous idolatry and paganism, and into it, the gospel of Christ. And you have that great clarion moment with the Philippian jailer, who sees the hope and the mind of Christ in Paul, and asks the clearest question in the book of Acts: What must I do to be saved?

The Great Themes of Philippians

Multiple themes run through any book of Scripture — no letter is designed around only one — but the great themes of Philippians are these.

First, it is a book permeated by joy.There is so much buoyancy and hope in this letter. Paul describes, even through his sufferings, the joy of Christ. And part of that joy sits under the banner we are giving this series: joy comes because we have a new way of thinking— a new way of seeing our lives — even, as we will see in chapter 1, whether we live or whether we die. Our hope is Christ.

Second, it is a book about the mind. The word phroneō — to think, to set the mind — is used more in Philippians than in any other of Paul's letters. This is a book about growth, about discernment, about the process of being renewed in our minds — that we literally have the ability to have the mind of Christ, to be reshaped into Christ's way of thinking. And the great poetic summit of the letter, the doxology we all remember from chapter 2, is exactly this: "Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus — who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but humbled himself, taking the form of a servant, becoming obedient even to death on a cross. Therefore God has highly exalted him and given him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord."

This mind can be ours. The great gospel, the great new citizenship, the great re-forming of our minds can literally be ours now — and therefore our lives can be filled with great joy and great strength, even in the face of death.

That will be our anchor for the whole series: having the mind of Christ.

And let me encourage you, as we prepare to study this book over the next several weeks and months: read through it — multiple times. Let it begin to be meditated upon in your own thinking and heart, and you will see more and more in these texts as we go.

Philippians 1:1 — "Paul and Timothy, servants of Christ Jesus"

Let's get into the text, and we'll see these themes borne out.

"Paul and Timothy." So often Paul's letters open not with his name alone but with the name of a companion the church could also receive — you get the flavor of the testimony of two witnesses, the words carrying additional weight. And we see explicitly in chapter 2, verses 19–30, that Timothy is commended to them. We will see more and more in this letter the real benefit of such men — the tangible weight and significance of their ministry.

"Servants of Christ Jesus."This is not an uncommon way for the apostles to describe themselves. But think about it for a minute. What do we ascribe to the word servant — or bondservant? We typically hear it as a statement of lowly status. And there is a true humility in it — you think of Psalm 8: "When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place — what is man, that you are mindful of him, and the son of man, that you care for him?" At first, that thought lands on our smallness. What are we?

But Psalm 8 doesn't stop there, and I think it shapes the way we should think about humility. It continues: "Yet you have made him a little lower than the heavenly beings and crowned him with glory and honor. You have given him dominion over the works of your hands; you have put all things under his feet — all sheep and oxen, and also the beasts of the field, the birds of the heavens, and the fish of the sea... O LORD, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth!"

That is the balance to hold. Yes — we are humble servants in God's kingdom. And yet the servants of God are made a little lower than the angels, crowned with glory and honor, set over the works of His hands. There is great dignity in this service. God gave Paul a ministry of the gospel; Christ has given us this new mind in Him, this new life in Him. To be a bondservant carries the emphasis of humility — and it carries the privilege of belonging and dominion.

In fact, follow the bondservant idea through Scripture. A man might be purchased out of slavery, or sell himself into service because of debt — and in Exodus 21, after six years, when he was free to go, he could say: "I love my master... I will not go out free." And the master would bring him to the doorpost of the house and pierce his ear — a mark that he willingly, joyfully belonged to the master, and belonged to the master's household. He was a member of the covenant household.

And now watch what Paul has done with his first word. He calls himself a doulos — a slave — of Christ Jesus. File that word away, because it is going to come back at the summit of this letter: chapter 2, verse 7 — Christ "made himself nothing, taking the form of a *doulos." The very first word Paul uses for himself is the word the great hymn will use for Christ. That is not an accident; that is the whole letter in miniature. Paul can call slavery to Christ his dignity, because Christ first made servanthood His glory*. The mind of Christ is a servant's mind — and verse one has already shown us a man who has it.

That is what you have here. Though Paul writes from prison, he is truly the Lord's servant — the willing slave of Christ. Paul is saying: I am with Him. I am of His household. And there is great worth and dignity in that; there is great hope to face the world with; there is even a great sense of dominion — because I am with His house. I am with the Lord.

"To all the saints in Christ Jesus who are at Philippi, with the overseers and deacons"

We can fly right past these greetings — past the bondservants, past the saints — but it is worth stopping to ask what exactly is being said when Paul calls the church saintsand addresses the overseers and deacons.

Saints literally means "holy ones" — those who are set apart, those who have access to the sanctuary. We recently went through a series in Hebrews, and so much of the emphasis there was that those who have been made holy by Jesus can come into the holy place — "we have confidence to enter the holy places by the blood of Jesus" (Hebrews 10:19). That is the idea here. They are not strangers and aliens; they have been brought near by the blood of Christ, and made members of His household (Ephesians 2:13, 18–19).

And this idea is so rich for us to meditate upon: the saints have access to God. He is right here with us — and as we will see through a book of suffering, persecution, and the very face of life or death, there is a great living hope in that. Think about our own worship service. We come to that point in the liturgy, the Sursum corda: "Lift up your hearts." "We lift them up to the Lord." It is exactly this idea from Hebrews: we are to draw near to the throne of grace. We can go all the way up. We can go all the way there — with our words, our hearts, our lives. We stand in the throne room before the Father, because of the Son. We have been made holy. This is a letter to those who can do that. This is a letter to the saints — and it is a letter to you.

two offices — overseers (the word is interchangeable in the New Testament with elders; compare Acts 20, where Paul calls the Ephesian eldersto himself and tells them the Spirit has made them overseers) and deacons: the ministry of oversight and the ministry of mercy. And second, plural— overseers, plural, in one local congregation. Not a solitary bishop over the city; a plurality of elders with a body of deacons in a single church. This is the pattern our own tradition reads here — it is why, when you look at our Form of Government, you find a session of elders and a board of deacons rather than one man ruling alone. The seeds of Presbyterian polity are sitting in Paul's greeting.

And notice one more thing — the order of the address. "To all the saints... with the overseers and deacons." The saints come first; the officers come with them. The offices exist for the body, not the body for the offices.

Verse 2 — "Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ"

This rounds out the greeting, and it is a typical one — but here is a theological note worth making. Is this really a Trinitarian greeting? Why does the grace and peace come "from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ" — with no mention of the Spirit? Jonathan Edwards, in his essay on the Trinity, is well known for answering: because the grace and peace that come to us are the Holy Spirit. The Father and the Son together give the Spirit — so the whole Trinity is in the greeting after all. We have participation, in other words, in God's own love — fellowship within the life of the Trinity. And notice how this serves our great theme: the mind of Christ is shaping and formative because we participatein the love of the Father and the Son by the Spirit. We are not isolated. The greeting has already reminded us of overseers and deacons, of sainthood, of covenant bondservice — and now, that we are participants in the grace and peace that come from God Himself.

And that is yet another great theme of Philippians: koinōnia — fellowship. We will come to this word several times. We can think of fellowship as merely hanging out — fellowship hour in the church foyer — but it means something more like partakingin one another. Koinōnia is the word of the Lord's Table — participation, communion. And we will see the phrase that we are partakers — partakers of grace, partakers of Christ. We really are brought into the mind of Christ, because it is shared with us by the Spirit.

(One side note: Edwards's insight also serves as an argument touching the Filioque — the clause Eastern Orthodoxy rejects, holding that the Spirit proceeds from the Father alone rather than from the Father and the Son. If the grace and peace — the fruit of the Spirit — come to us from the Father and the Son together, as this greeting says, then Edwards's reading quietly supports the Western confession that the Spirit proceeds from both. A side note only — but a good one.)

Verses 3–5 — Thanksgiving and Partnership

"I thank my God in all my remembrance of you, always in every prayer of mine for you all making my prayer with joy, because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now."

Here is the first mention of that great theme of joy. In Paul's imprisonment, his remembrance of the Philippians — their partnership in the gospel, their continued faithfulness — brings him joy. And that, of course, is what it looks like to have the mind of Christ: to be sitting in a prison cell, filled with joy at Christ's work and at the fruit of your labors bearing out in the health of others. It is a great challenge to us: how much joy do we take in our lives — in each other? Paul prays for them constantly. How often do we pray for one another? And when our hearts are troubled and overshadowed — do we pray untilthere is joy?

• Paul finds joy in prison by looking at other people's growth (1:4–5). Whose growth could you take joy in?

Verse 6 — Past, Present, and Future

"And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ."

Here is an amazing picture of how a Christian should speak and think. Paul is able to say: I am sure of this. The doctrine he is about to state has changed him — he is confident; he has surety in this life. And what is it? That He who began a good work will bring it to completion at the day of Christ. There are three things to note here, and they cover the past, present, and future position of the Christian — and if these do not grab your life and change things, notice at least this: God has a grip on your past, your present, and your future.

First, the past: "He who began." God inaugurated this work — by His grace alone, according to His good pleasure. This is the doctrine of God's sovereign election: before the foundation of the world you were planned and chosen for salvation. It rests on no ability of your own; you can take no pride in it; it rests on God's generosity and mercy. What would your life be like if you didn't know this? What if the foundation were yourself? Is that how you see the beginning of your salvation — that it was a feeling? Can a feeling slip away, come and go? Was it a particular spark of insight? Can insight come and go? No. The foundation of our salvation, through all our fluctuations, through every cloud of mind, is this: we became partakers of grace because of the sovereign work of Christ.

Second, the present: He is completing this work. Not as though nothing is done and complete already — in the legal sense it is done: we are justified, atonement has been made, we are at peace with God. And yet there is a sanctifying work under way in our lives now. The God who by His good pleasure and mercy began the work is continuingit — and therefore we can have the mind of Christ that comes with surety, exactly as Paul expresses here. As surely as He started this grace to you, so surely this grace will continue to you. God does not forget about us. God does not give up — even when trials and imprisonments come. Paul says: I am sureof this — He who started this thing is going to see it through.

How does that reframe your mind in seasons of waiting or suffering? The one who knows this truth knows what God is doing — washing His bride to present her spotless. And so the believer can say, in any trial: “without this, I would not be ready for the day of Christ” (Alec Motyer). What a remarkable reframing of the mind. Without this circumstance, I would not be ready. I need this. He is completing me. He is working this out in me.

Third, the future: "at the day of Jesus Christ." There is a Day the Father knows, and He will complete His work by it — and it will not be a rush job. It will not be God tidying things up at the last minute because things didn't get done. God has guaranteedthe completion of His good work. The salvation you hold now began with Him; the life you are living, whatever the trial, is sustained by Him; and all that grace can no more be forfeited than God's promise to glorify His own Son can be forfeited — the Day when every knee will bow and every tongue confess. In other words: you are as safe as Christ is and will be glorified. So Paul can be confident indeed.

Indicatives vs. Imperatives in the preaching

Verse 7 — Partakers of Grace

"It is right for me to feel this way about you all, because I hold you in my heart, for you are all partakers with me of grace, both in my imprisonment and in the defense and confirmation of the gospel."

There is that koinōniaword again — partakers. Paul says: it is right for me to feel this way; I hold you in my heart; I am seeing the real grace of God in your lives, the fruit of my labor. And what were the visible markers of this genuine Christianity? They were willing to share in the gospel labor. They were willing to stand in the defenseof the gospel. They even participated in Paul's imprisonment — perhaps meaning some were themselves willing to be persecuted, or simply that they stayed unified to him when association with a prisoner was socially stigmatizing — and they were willing to do it. These are marks of genuine faith, and Paul is genuinely encouraged by God's grace in them.

And I resonate with Paul here, as a minister. At your worst moments you doubt — you think your sermons are useless, that people won't change, the congregation won't grow, no one will repent. And then you look up and you see God's hand. And you are filled with joy — you hear the stories of God's movement in someone's life, changing the generations of a home; you see with your own eyes people giving generously, loving sacrificially, forgiving — and you hold that dear in your heart. These are the marks of genuine Christianity.

Assurance and Action — Why Pray, If God Is Certain to Finish?

Go back to the idea of prayer for a moment. Paul prays for them — and he is confident that the Lord who began a good work will see it to completion. That raises a question: why pray, then? If he is confident God will complete the work, is he somehow not confident when he goes to pray?

I raise it because Philippians is filled with these tension moments — there are several of these pairings in the letter: assurance, and then action. . (Watch for the greatest of them in chapter 2: "work out your own salvation with fear and trembling — for it is God who works in you.”) And they remind us that assurance is no place for pride. We pray in the confidence of God's work. Assurance does not put us on our heels; assurance keeps us on our toes — assurance keeps us on our knees. It reminds us that all things are grace.

Think of the parable of the seed growing secretly (Mark 4:26–29): the farmer plants, and the seed sprouts and grows — and we are told explicitly, he knows not how. That is a good picture of it. There is an assurance — God is going to do this — and yet I do not know how; I do not know how He is bringing about this miracle. And my assurance that He will do it does not override my obedience to plant the seed. So here is Paul: great confidence and assurance that God will work all things out in the Philippians' lives and bring them to the day of completion — and at the very same time, poring over their lives in great joy and in prayer, continuing to pray for them. (As we will hear in this morning's sermon as well, on the power and joy of prayer.)

Verses 8–11 — The Prayer

"For God is my witness, how I yearn for you all with the affection of Christ Jesus. And it is my prayer that your love may abound more and more, with knowledge and all discernment, so that you may approve what is excellent, and so be pure and blameless for the day of Christ, filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ, to the glory and praise of God."

First, notice how Paul yearns: "with the affection of Christ Jesus." The word is splanchna— the deep places, the gut, the heart of hearts. Some of you will remember that word-family from last week in James, where the Lord was called polysplanchnos— many-hearted, deeply compassionate. Paul is saying: I do not merely love you forChrist; I love you with Christ's own affections. Union with Christ goes that deep — and the mind of Christ includes the heart of Christ.

Look at Paul’s prayer: "that your love may abound more and more, with knowledge and all discernment, so that you may approve what is excellent."

Notice that the prayer for knowledge and discernment grow out of love — abounding love is the soil they grow in. Growth happens at a heart level. Knowledge is necessary, but there is a difference between someone who just knows the facts and the trivia, and when that knowledge has gripped their hearts and their affections. This is why preaching is aimed at the heart. It is, to use Martyn Lloyd-Jones’s phrase, “logic on fire”. It is the truth, but applied and exposed to the heart. We are people who are shaped by and end up doing the things that we love. If you want your children to continue worshipping the Lord after they leave your house, then be assured that they will continue to do what they love when no one is around to make them. The goal is not only to know God’s word and to know God, but to love Him. That’s Paul’s prayer as it is our prayer and should be all of our prayer for one another.

Paul prays for love — because he wants them to see. As our love for Christ grows, we come to see more of Christ.The one who loves Him lingers over Him — in the Word, at the Table, in prayer — and the lingering trains the eye. And a heart trained on Christ begins to discern: it can approve what is excellent; it develops a taste, an instinct, for what is good and right and true and holy and pure — you can hear chapter 4 coming already: "whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely... think on these things." That discernment is an appetite you grow. As the heart grows, the eyes and mind sharpen.

And now look back over everything we walked through this morning, because — did you notice? — this thread was running through the whole hour. Why did the bondservant stay in the house? Not the debt — the debt was paid. "I love my master."Love is what pierced the ear; and love is why the servant knows the house — every room, every custom, every wish of the master — the way no hired stranger ever could. Why do the saints draw near, all the way up, into the throne room? Because they are loved, and brought near by blood — and it is in the nearness that they come to know Him. They lift up their hearts. Why is the greeting Trinitarian? Because, as Edwards saw, what the Father and Son give us is participation in their own love — we learn God from inside His affection, not outside it. Why is Paul sure of verse 6? Because the God who beganthe work loves it too much to abandon it — and the one who knows himself loved that way can look at his hardest trial and say, "I need this; He is completing me." Even the assurance-and-prayer tension resolves here: assurance keeps us on our knees because we do not pray to inform our Master — we pray because we love Him, and love keeps company.

The mind of Christ grows in the soil of the love of Christ.

So your assignment stands — fourteen minutes, once a week —

pace, before discussion.