Note: the following is the manuscript the message and will not match exactly the recorded message above.
Introduction
What is your vision of a life well-lived? Perhaps it is someone who has discovered that virtue is what really matters in life. Things like integrity, courage, wisdom, self-control, and generosity.
A person like this has learned to focus on what they can actually control: their own character, their own responses to circumstances, and their own choices. And they’ve learned to accept what they cannot control with grace and dignity.
This is someone who remains steady no matter what happens around them. Whether times are good or bad, whether they’re praised or criticized, whether they have plenty or very little—their inner peace remains undisturbed.
Because they understand that external circumstances don’t determine who they are. True goodness comes from within, from the kind of person you’re becoming, not from what you possess or what happens to you.
This person lives according to reason and in harmony with the natural order of things. They don’t fight against reality as it is; they accept it with patience.
When difficulties come—and they do come—this person sees them not as tragedies but as opportunities. Opportunities to demonstrate virtue. Opportunities to grow stronger.
They’ve learned the art of self-discipline. They master their impulses rather than being mastered by them. And in this mastery, they find a profound kind of freedom. Not the freedom to change everything around them, but the freedom that comes from changing themselves and becoming what they believe they are meant to be.
This is a person who has found fulfillment through rational self-improvement, who accepts their fate with dignity, who seeks to become the best version of themselves through careful attention to their own character and choices.
What I’ve just described to you is Stoicism. It is a philosophy developed by a man named Zeno in Athens, three hundred years before Jesus was born.
While Stoicism shares many similarities with Christianity in terms of virtue, it is missing a vital element.
Stoicism was based on philosophical speculation about the world, with human reason serving as its primary source of wisdom.
Christian faith centres on direct divine revelation through Jesus Christ and the Christian life is not about becoming virtuous but about imitating Jesus, taking on his identity in how we live.
One commentator wrote that our faith is not based on some abstract series of virtues or divine principles that are greater than God to which both God and humans conform. Rather, Christ is the true definition of virtue and true moral character.
This doesn’t mean that the ancient Stoic or modern virtues necessarily contradict Christ’s character. It just means that the source for wisdom and understanding of a good life is found best by looking at Jesus.
Character formation is not just a matter of following good examples, though it does involve that. It is first and foremost a work of God in the believer. Believers must work out what God is working into them and energizing them to do.1
The fundamental difference between Stoicism and Christianity is ultimately defined by the crucified and risen Christ. This is why this sermon series is called The Cruciform Life and not The Virtuous Life.
All throughout Philippians, as we have been learning about the cruciform life, we have seen Paul’s concern that the church finds its primary identity in the crucified Christ.
Without this as our identity, any attempt at a virtuous life is reduced to something like Stoicism. It may be a good way to live by most standards, but in the end it falls short because it is grounded in human wisdom and not in the wisdom of God revealed in Christ.
Today is the final message in Philippians. We come to Paul’s closing words, which demonstrates that the cruciform life is fundamentally about Christ-centred friendship that transforms conventional relationships into gospel partnerships.
It is where mutual self-giving for the sake of the gospel and in the humble way of Jesus becomes sacrificial worship that God richly rewards.
I’ll read the passage, which is Philippians 4:10-23. Then we will break down the passage into four sections, as is outlined in the sermon notes on the back side of the bulletin.
The Philippians’ Gift (10)
The closing remarks of this letter are mainly about the church’s expression of partnership with Paul demonstrated in some sort of gift. Paul “rejoiced greatly” that they renewed their concern for him.
Paul’s joy isn’t only or even primarily about receiving material help. His joy is the friendship he and the Philippian church have, which is grounded in gospel partnership.
The gift Paul is grateful for is both the presence of Epaphroditus, who was sent by the Philippians to bring aid to Paul, and whatever money or supplies he brought.
Being a prisoner in Rome, Paul depended on friends and family for everything. Roman prisoners were not fed or nor any of their other needs met unless someone brought them what they need.
So, the arrival of Epaphroditus would have brought material comfort to Paul, but there is far more going on here than his gratitude for these comforts.
There is an interesting word in the Greek which is translated as renewed. It’s actually a horticultural term.
Think of a perennial garden after a harsh winter. The gardener knows the roots are alive beneath the frozen ground, but there’s no visible evidence through the long cold months.
Then spring comes, and suddenly those same plants push through the soil and blossom again. You don’t say, “Finally, you decided to grow!”
You understand the dormancy wasn’t death, just a season without opportunity.
Paul uses this exact metaphor. Their care has “blossomed again.”
Sometimes in our relationships, circumstances create winters where love can’t find visible expression.
But when spring comes and friendship blooms afresh, we don’t question the winter, we celebrate the spring.
After a long winter of being unable to show their concern for Paul, the Philippians have blossomed again in their care for him by sending Epaphroditus.
This rejoicing “in the Lord” reveals a bond which is central to cruciform living. It is a bond between Paul, the Philippians, and Christ.
Their gift is tangible evidence that their relationship isn’t utilitarian or merely practical, but it is rooted in mutual participation in Christ.
Next, let’s look at Paul’s contentment, which is an often-quoted verse and unfortunately widely misunderstood by many Christians.
Paul’s Contentment (11-13)
“I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength.”
Paul radically transforms Stoic self-sufficiency into Christ-sufficiency. Where Stoics found contentment within themselves, Paul’s contentment flows entirely from being in Christ.
This isn’t independence but total dependence on Christ who empowers him. He’s learned the secret of handling both humiliation and abundance, neither of which determine his life’s meaning.
When he says, “I have learned the secret of being content…” he is not saying that he can do without material wants as we so often associate with contentment.
Earlier in the letter, he wrote about desiring to know Christ, becoming like him in his death and resurrection.
The contentment he is referring to is not the emptying of desire for what he doesn’t have. It’s a redirection of desire toward that which truly satisfies and is actually available in Christ.
To illustrate this, I’ll draw your attention to C.S. Lewis’ famous illustration in his sermon, The Weight of Glory.
In the sermon, he observes that our desires are not too strong, but too weak—we’re like ignorant children who want to go on making mud pies in a slum because we cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea.
This gets at the heart of what separates Stoic contentment from Paul’s contentment.
When the Stoic says, “I have learned to be content in all circumstances,” he means, “I have learned to reduce my desires to match what I can control. I have learned to be satisfied with virtue alone. I have mastered my expectations so thoroughly that nothing external can disturb my inner peace.”
The Stoic makes mud pies and calls it enough.
But when Paul writes, “I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances…” he isn’t reducing his desires, he’s anchoring them in something infinite.
He’s not lowering his expectations to match his circumstances; he’s discovering an identity and source of life that transcends all circumstances. The Stoic finds contentment by needing less. Paul finds contentment by receiving infinitely more in Christ.
Notice Paul’s language: “I have learned the secret” (v. 12). A secret implies something hidden, something that looks like one thing on the surface but is actually something else entirely.
From the outside, Paul’s contentment in a Roman prison might look exactly like Stoic resignation.
Both the Stoic and Paul can say, “External circumstances don’t determine my peace.” But the Stoic’s peace comes from detachment, from caring less about what happens.
Paul’s peace comes from attachment, from being so deeply connected to Christ that even in prison, even in hunger, even in need, he has access to strength beyond himself.
The Stoic is self-sufficient. Paul is Christ-sufficient. The Stoic says, “I am complete in myself.” Paul says, “I can do all things through him who gives me strength.”
Lewis would say the Stoic has settled for the mud pies, for a self-contained contentment that asks for nothing beyond what human reason and willpower can achieve.
But Paul has accepted the invitation to the holiday at the sea. He’s discovered that true contentment isn’t about needing less, but about being loved more. Not about managing with less, but about receiving from an inexhaustible source.
The Stoic’s contentment is the contentment of lowered expectations. Paul’s contentment is the contentment of participating in divine abundance, even when that abundance doesn’t change his external circumstances.
We are far too easily pleased when we settle for Stoic self-mastery and call it Christian discipleship.
Paul invites us to something far more costly and far more glorious: dependence on Christ that opens us to resources we could never manufacture on our own.
If you want to be this sort of person, who knows the secret of contentment, the answer is not found in the Stoic philosophy of just taking whatever life throws at you.
Rather, it is found in identifying with Christ in his life, death, and resurrection.
This contentment mirrors Christ’s own humiliation (2:6-8), as Paul’s desire and definition of contentment is not about having less but about not needing anything except identity with Christ in order to be content.
And, it is this which he claims to be able to do with the power of Christ, who is the source of his strength, as he says in verse 13.
Paul models what he just urged in verse 9: leaving circumstances in God’s care while experiencing the peace that guards hearts and minds.
His life becomes an imitation of Christ, showing the Philippians, and us, that cruciform living means being freed from both poverty’s desperation and wealth’s seduction.
Paul isn’t saying “I’m strong enough,” he’s saying “My source is sufficient.” There’s a world of difference between self-sufficiency and Christ-sufficiency.
Let’s now turn from the vertical to the horizontal as we look at the partnership between Paul and the Philippian church.
Partnership in the Cruciform Life (14-20)
The Philippians’ gift represents mutual participation in affliction for the gospel’s sake.
Paul reminds them of their unique history. They were the only church with whom he entered this “giving and receiving” friendship from the beginning.
But this friendship language is shaped by the gospel. Unlike many relationships between donors and beneficiaries, their relationship is mutual partnership in Christ that levels the ground.
Their gift is more than material support. It’s a fragrant offering, an acceptable sacrifice, pleasing to God (v. 18). Paul wasn’t asking for gifts alone, but a sort of partnership that actually increases the bank account of the Philippians (v. 17).
This sort of generosity and partnership is evidence of their spiritual fruitfulness and growth in Christ.
Paul says that God will meet all their needs according to his glorious riches in Christ Jesus (v. 19).
It will help at this point to look at a passage from a different letter from Paul.
2 Corinthians 8:1–5 “And now, brothers and sisters, we want you to know about the grace that God has given the Macedonian churches. In the midst of a very severe trial, their overflowing joy and their extreme poverty welled up in rich generosity. For I testify that they gave as much as they were able, and even beyond their ability. Entirely on their own, they urgently pleaded with us for the privilege of sharing in this service to the Lord’s people. And they exceeded our expectations: They gave themselves first of all to the Lord, and then by the will of God also to us.”
Paul couldn’t reciprocate materially, so he trusts that God will credit their account.
They’re not just sending money so that he can be more comfortable, they are participating in their shared work of spreading the gospel.
When they stand before Christ, they’ll see that every dollar given in poverty, every sacrifice made in suffering, was an investment in God’s kingdom that yielded returns beyond imagination.
Finally, let’s look at how Paul ends his letter.
Final Greetings (21-23)
Paul individualizes his greeting, writing “to every saint in Christ Jesus,” emphasizing each person’s value in the community.
The mention of “Caesar’s household” is deliberate encouragement: while Philippians suffer opposition in their Roman colony where Caesar-loyalty runs deep, Paul has established relationships within the emperor’s own household.
The gospel has penetrated the heart of the empire itself. This assures them they’re not alone in their struggle. They have brothers and sisters even in Caesar’s household who stand with them in confessing Jesus as Lord.
The final benediction brings everything full circle back to Christ. As the letter began with grace, so it ends, “book-ending” the entire message.
Everything including greetings, friendships, gifts, suffering, joy, finds its place “in Christ Jesus.”
The cruciform life Paul has described throughout the letter ultimately means this: to live is Christ, to die is gain, and between those poles, grace sustains every moment.
The Philippians were suffering opposition in their Roman colony, which was loyal to their emperor, Caesar. They might have felt isolated, overwhelmed.
Then Paul’s letter arrives: “Greetings from Caesar’s household.” The gospel has infiltrated the very heart of the empire that opposed them.
They’re not isolated resisters. They’re part of a network that spans from Philippi to Rome, from Caesar’s colonies to Caesar’s palace. And the same grace that sustains believers in the emperor’s household will sustain them in theirs.
In our part of the world today, we still experience relative peace and stability. We can freely worship together without fear of persecution.
But, those days may not last forever. And when persecution comes, will we be able to say with Paul, “I have learned the secret of contentment”?
The journey to that contentment does not begin when trials begin. Contentment is available to us today. But it does not come in the way of the Stoics. In comes by knowing, trusting, and identifying with Christ.
Next week, we will begin an advent series on the posture of advent. This short series will tell us how to position ourselves in the midst of our waiting on Christ’s return. Then, in the new year, we will begin a journey through the Gospel of John.
This is a critical season in the life of our church. It is a time to become intimately connected to Jesus and each other.
Would you stand with me now as we prepare to make the declaration through song, that Christ is enough.
- Ben Witherington III, Paul’s Letter to the Philippians: A Socio-Rhetorical Commentary (Grand Rapids, MI; Cambridge, U.K.: William B. Eerdmans Company, 2011), 251. ↩︎