Philippians 2:16

“Wherefore” (hṓste) ties this command to the verses just before it, where Christ humbles himself, becomes “obedient unto death, even the death of the cross”, and is highly exalted by God (Philippians 2:5–11). Christ’s obedience led to his exaltation, and so believers are called to the same obedient humility. Paul softens the command with an affectionate address, “my beloved” (agapētós), so that it comes from a pastor to people he loves and trusts.

He begins with praise. The Philippians have always obeyed (hypakoúō), and their obedience held up while he was away, even more than when he was with them. Paul was in prison, which is why he was absent, and the church had to grow and keep its unity without him there to watch over it. Their faithfulness while he was out of sight showed that they answered to God more than to any human leader.

Then comes the command itself, “work out your own salvation”. The verb katergázomai means to work something fully, to accomplish it or bring it to its finish. Paul is calling for steady, careful effort that carries to its goal what God has already begun. The word for salvation, sōtēría, means rescue or safety, and here it takes in the whole of God’s saving work: the believer declared righteous at the start, made holy day by day, and finally glorified. “Your own” (heautoû) makes it personal, since each believer answers for how he lives it out.

The command also has a whole church in view. Philippi was a Roman colony whose citizens prized their Roman citizenship, and Paul reminds the believers there that “our conversation is in heaven” (Philippians 3:20). In this letter the working out of salvation is bound up with the unity Paul has been pleading for, so it shapes how believers live together as well as how each one lives alone.

Verse 13 gives the reason the command can be obeyed: “For it is God which worketh in you”. The verb energéō means to be active and effective, and it is the word for a power that is at work and produces results. Its present tense describes God’s work as continuous. He lives in his people and shapes them from within, all the time.

His work reaches two places. First it reaches the will. Thélō means to choose, to prefer, to be inclined toward something, and God works on our desires and intentions until they line up with his own. Even the wish to obey, to grow or to serve is his gift. Then it reaches the deed, “to do”, for he gives the strength to carry out what he has made us want. In the Greek the word behind “to do” comes from the same root as “worketh”, which underlines how active God’s part is.

All of this is “of his good pleasure”. Eudokía means satisfaction or delight, and also kindness, wish or purpose. God works in us because it pleases him and to fulfil his kind purpose, and that purpose is that we be “conformed to the image of his Son” (Romans 8:29). Our growth is for his glory.

The command covers everything. “Do” (poiéō) is the broadest word for making or doing, and “all things” (pâs) takes in every part of life, at home, in the church, at work and in public.

Gongysmós, “murmurings”, comes from a word meaning to grumble, and it is the low muttering of a discontented person. It is complaint under the breath, the resentment a person nurses quietly until it eats away at joy and trust. Dialogismós, “disputings”, comes from a root meaning to reason something through. It can mean inward thought, but here it means argument and contention, the quarrelling that comes from pride and the wish to be right, and that divides people. The two belong together because inward discontent so often breaks out into open quarrels.

Both strike at the unity Paul has been pleading for. He wants the church “likeminded, having the same love, being of one accord, of one mind” (Philippians 2:2), and he tells them, “Let nothing be done through strife or vainglory; but in lowliness of mind let each esteem other better than themselves” (Philippians 2:3). Grumbling and arguing put self at the centre, the opposite of the mind of Christ that he goes on to describe (Philippians 2:3–5). Later in the letter he pleads with Euodias and Syntyche to “be of the same mind in the Lord” (Philippians 4:2).

Complaining also shows a lack of trust in God’s care, as if he were less good or wise than he is, and James traces quarrels back to the desires that war within us (James 4:1–2). Trusting God’s provision and accepting his will lead to a grateful and peaceable spirit. A church torn by strife commends the gospel poorly, and that is why Paul turns next to the church’s witness.

“That” (hína) gives the purpose of everything Paul has just said: “that ye may be blameless and harmless”. Ámemptos, blameless, describes a life beyond fair accusation. Paul does not mean sinless perfection. He means a consistent uprightness that stands up to the scrutiny even of the gospel’s opponents.

Akéraios, harmless, is formed from a negative and a word meaning to mix, so it literally means unmixed or unadulterated. It describes a pure and sincere heart, free of malice and guile, with motives that are simple and open. Together the two words describe a life of transparent honesty that reflects the character of God.

Behind “the sons of God” stand téknon and theós, and the phrase speaks of a family tie with God. Being his children is a privilege, and it carries the duty of showing the Father’s character. Believers become his children by faith: “For ye are all the children of God by faith in Christ Jesus” (Galatians 3:26). “Without rebuke” (amṓmētos) means unblemished or faultless, like a sacrificial animal without spot, a life that is examined and found pure.

The setting is hard: “in the midst of a crooked and perverse nation”. Skoliós, crooked, describes something warped or bent away from what is straight, and so what is dishonest and twisted away from righteousness. Diastréphō, perverse, means turned aside or distorted from the right path. Geneá, the KJV’s “nation”, is the generation or society of the day. Paul is borrowing the words Moses used of rebellious Israel, “they are a perverse and crooked generation” (Deuteronomy 32:5), and applying them to the pagan world around Philippi. The call to be blameless sets the church apart from the values of its city, and that distinct life is itself a strong case for the gospel.

“Among whom ye shine as lights in the world.” Phaínō, shine, means to give off light that can be seen, and phōstḗr is a luminary, the word for heavenly bodies such as the stars. Believers in a dark generation are like stars in the night sky, clearly seen, giving light and guidance. Their light is purity and integrity lived out “in the world” (kósmos), and it draws attention to God’s truth and goodness.

Jesus said the same of his disciples: “Ye are the light of the world” (Matthew 5:14–16), and “Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven” (Matthew 5:16). Paul writes, “For ye were sometimes darkness, but now are ye light in the Lord: walk as children of light” (Ephesians 5:8–9).

That light comes from Christ, who said, “I am the light of the world: he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life” (John 8:12). We shine as we are “changed into the same image from glory to glory, even as by the Spirit of the Lord” (2 Corinthians 3:18), so a believer’s light is the reflection of Christ’s glory. Holiness is God’s way of showing his character to a watching world, and he has set his church within the world as a light.

The light shines mostly through a changed life: love, honesty in business and in speech, purity in relationships, and steadiness in trouble. Those who see it are drawn to ask about the hope believers have.

Epéchō is made from epí, upon, and échō, to have or hold, and it can mean both to hold something out to others and to hold fast to it. Here it chiefly means holding out, presenting or offering the word of life to others, the way a person holds out a lamp in the dark, which fits the lights of verse 15. It also carries the sense of keeping hold of that word oneself and showing its truth by the way one lives. So believers hold it forth in word and deed, by speaking the good news and by lives that show it to be true.

Lógos, “word”, is something said, a message, and here it is the gospel. Zōḗ, “life”, is the spiritual and eternal life God gives through the gospel, a life of fellowship with God and righteousness that lasts for ever, set against the spiritual death of the crooked generation around them. The phrase points to Christ himself as well, the Word who “was God” (John 1:1), of whom John says, “In him was life; and the life was the light of men” (John 1:4).

Paul now speaks of his own possible death. “Yea, and if” (allá with ei kaí) opens the possibility. He was writing from prison, most likely in Rome around AD 60 to 62, and execution was a real prospect. Even so, Philippians is full of joy, and it is often called the epistle of joy.

“Offered” is spéndō, to pour out as a libation, and so to devote one’s life or blood as a sacrifice. A drink offering of wine or oil was poured out over a main sacrifice as the closing act of worship, a sign of dedication and completion, and both Jews and Gentiles knew the practice. Paul pictures his life, and perhaps his death, as that final pouring, a life spent wholly for the gospel and for them. Near the end of his life he writes, “For I am now ready to be offered, and the time of my departure is at hand” (2 Timothy 4:6).

The main sacrifice is theirs, “the sacrifice and service of your faith”. Thysía is a sacrifice, either the act or the offering, and here it is a spiritual one: their devotion, obedience and endurance. Leitourgía, the word that gives us “liturgy”, is a public duty such as a priest’s ministry or an almsgiver’s gift, and it shows that their faith (pístis) is active service rendered to God. Believers are called to this kind of offering: “present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God, which is your reasonable service” (Romans 12:1).

The small word “upon” (epí) joins Paul’s offering to theirs. Their faith is the main offering, and his life poured over it completes it. So the apostle and the church share one act of worship, as they share one call to live “as it becometh the gospel of Christ” (Philippians 1:27).

Verse 18 turns Paul’s joy into a command for the church. “For the same cause” (autós, the same) points back to verse 17, to the gospel’s advance and their faith, even at the cost of Paul’s life. They are to “joy” (chaírō) and to “rejoice with” him (synchaírō), where the prefix syn- means with. Paul is asking them to see his suffering as he sees it, as an offering that serves God’s purpose, and to be glad together with him.

The Philippians loved him. They had sent him gifts more than once (Philippians 4:15–16), and the thought that he might die would have grieved them. He calls them instead to share his gladness, a joy grounded in Christ that holds in every circumstance, the joy of “Rejoice in the Lord alway” (Philippians 4:4).

This is how the body of Christ lives: “Rejoice with them that do rejoice” (Romans 12:15), and “whether one member suffer, all the members suffer with it; or one member be honoured, all the members rejoice with it” (1 Corinthians 12:26). Paul could write elsewhere, “Who now rejoice in my sufferings for you” (Colossians 1:24). Verse 18 closes the section that opened with his plea for unity and humility, and he turns next to his plans to send Timothy and Epaphroditus (Philippians 2:19–30).

Everything in this passage flows from Philippians 2:5–8, where Christ “made himself of no reputation, and took upon him the form of a servant” and “became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross” (Philippians 2:7–8, 2:8). The obedience Paul asks of the Philippians is the obedience Christ showed first. He did his Father’s will to the end, praying, “nevertheless not my will, but thine, be done” (Luke 22:42), and he carried out his mission without a murmur. He secured our salvation on the cross, crying, “It is finished” (John 19:30), and our working out of that salvation is our answer, by his Spirit, to his finished work.

The life Paul describes is Christ’s own life in us: “I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me” (Galatians 2:20), and “Christ in you, the hope of glory” (Colossians 1:27). The Spirit of Christ dwells in believers (Romans 8:9–11) and makes us able to obey, and as we are conformed to his image we grow in his humility, contentment and peace.

Paul’s drink offering points to a far greater sacrifice. Christ “poured out his soul unto death” (Isaiah 53:12) as “the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world” (John 1:29), and he came “to give his life a ransom for many” (Mark 10:45). His labour bore its full fruit: “He shall see of the travail of his soul, and shall be satisfied” (Isaiah 53:11). The joy he gives his people lasts, for “your joy no man taketh from you” (John 16:22). To follow him is to deny ourselves and take up the cross (Matthew 16:24), and Paul’s readiness to be poured out is a life shaped by his Lord.

We live among a crooked generation too, and these verses speak to us as they spoke to Philippi. God is at work in us, so we can take up the work of obedience with reverence and with confidence at once, knowing that both the desire to please him and the strength to do it come from him. Our faithfulness counts in the hours when we are unseen, as the Philippians’ did while Paul was away.

The plainest place to see the difference is in our speech. Grumbling and quarrelling dim a church’s light, and patience and peace let it shine. And our service for Christ, whatever it costs, is part of an offering God receives, so we can share one another’s gladness and look ahead to the day of Christ, when the labour of his people in the Lord will be seen to have been worth it all.