Sermon on Philippians 4:1–9: resolving conflict, overcoming anxiety, and the peace of God
Rev Harry Newton preaches at Sumner Redcliffs Anglican Church on Philippians 4:1–9.
Summary
Rev Harry Newton delivers a Sunday sermon at Sumner Redcliffs Anglican Church, working through Philippians 4:1–9. He opens with an extended account of the Apostle Paul's history with the church at Philippi — from his vision in Troas, to the founding of the church through Lydia and the jailer, to his eventual expulsion from the city — establishing the relational context behind the letter. He then draws out two major themes from the passage: first, Paul's public appeal to two feuding women in the church, which Newton uses to address how Christian communities should handle conflict; and second, Paul's command to "rejoice always" and his instruction to bring anxiety before God in prayer with thanksgiving, which Newton applies directly to the growing mental health crisis in New Zealand and beyond.
To illustrate the power of beginning prayer with thanksgiving, Newton draws on a sustained personal account: as a young man he watched his father, a minister, sit broken and anxious in his office while Newton's mother faced a life-threatening illness. The family had sold their home and moved to Wellington to be near the hospital, and his father had been given a struggling parish as a source of income. When Newton asked his father how he was coping, his father's answer was simply, "I always begin by saying thank you" — an image Newton uses as the emotional centre of his application of Paul's counsel on prayer and anxiety.
Key Takeaways
FULL TRANSCRIPT
Background: Paul and the founding of the church at Philippi
Rev Harry Newton: This reading today is really interesting — lots going on. But a little bit of context. There's a guy, his name was Paul. I'm not going to harp on about Paul because I speak about him a lot, and I'm sure a number of you know a lot about him. If you don't know much about Paul, suffice to say he was a bad guy who became a Christian, a follower of Jesus, and went on to be one of the most influential people in the history of what we call Christendom, of the Christian church. He planted, depending on who you talk to, between nine and fourteen major churches, depending on how you define them, and approximately twenty other minor churches. Now, that doesn't sound like a lot, but remember, Christianity didn't really exist — it was a brand new kid on the block. And he went out across Asia Minor and across the known Roman world planting these churches. So there were a lot of churches to plant. And then he wrote letters to them. Some of those letters are extant to us in a collection known as the Bible, because the Bible is not actually a book — it's a collection of books and letters and poems and all sorts of things. One of the letters he wrote was to the church in Philippi, otherwise known as the letter to the Philippians. And as far as we can tell, the church in Philippi was his favourite.
Part of the reason he seems to have had such a love for these people is that, according to the early church historian Luke, Paul was staying in a place called Troas and he had a vision — an angelic vision in a dream. Luke tells us it went like this: in the dream, there was a man in Macedonia standing, begging him, Paul, and saying, "Come over into Macedonia and help us." And obviously there was something about this — it may not have just felt like a bad dream from eating too much blue cheese. There was something visceral about it. He woke up, packed his belongings, awoke his mates, and immediately, we're told, they sought to go out to Macedonia, concluding that the Lord had called them to preach the good news to the people in the region of Macedonia.
The founding of the Philippian church: Lydia, the earthquake, and the jailer
So anyway, they arrive in Philippi, and by all accounts it gets off to a ragingly good start. He and his mate Silas rock up, they go down to the local waterway, and there's a bunch of Jewish women there on the side of the river worshipping. What we know is that in the Diaspora — that means outside of Israel where Jewish people were gathering — they would find different places to worship. If they didn't have the equivalent of a synagogue, often they would gather near water, partly because you needed water for some of the rituals of worship, to cleanse yourself. So they go there, they stumble upon this group of Jewish women, and the women say — this is my take on it, for the record — "You don't seem too weird. Do you want to share with us?" And so he got talking and told them about Jesus. He was so convincing that a number of them came to faith. In particular, a woman called Lydia, quote-unquote, opened her heart to Jesus. She accepts Jesus as her Saviour. She asks to be baptised — but not just her, her whole household. And then she invites Paul and Silas to stay in her home for as long as they're in town. As far as we can tell, her home becomes the base of operations for what they go on to do. I suspect — we don't know this for sure — but I suspect that at least at the beginning, the church met in her home. As far as we can tell, she was quite wealthy and had a lot of staff, so she would have been able to facilitate this.
But it wasn't all sunshine and lollipops. Despite a great start, it wasn't long before Paul and Silas ran into trouble. I'm not going to give you the long version because it's quite a long story. Suffice to say, they're accused of sedition, they're thrown into jail. And jail is not a good place — in the first-century world, if you got thrown in jail, there was a good chance you weren't coming out alive. They're in there in the middle of the night, chained together, and it's midnight, and they're doing what any good law-abiding Christian would be doing: they're singing praise music, which I imagine would be really annoying to the other people in the cells. Particularly if they could sing. We're presuming they could sing, but I always wondered in my head if Paul was tone deaf. Imagine they're singing off-key — it's a bit awkward, but they're enjoying themselves.
And then a massive earthquake hits. Those of us who were in Canterbury a few years back know what that's like. Boom. Destruction, chaos. Inmates get out of the cells and are going to make a run for it. The jailer comes in. He has a sword. He's going to run himself through, because he's responsible for what's going on — these guys have escaped, he's had it anyway, it's like an honour killing. He comes forward, and then he hears a voice yelling, "Don't do it, don't do it." Paul and Silas have stopped the other people from escaping. Now, the text doesn't tell us how they stopped them. If I was an inmate and someone told me I couldn't leave, I would be like, "Yeah, no, I'm leaving" — unless something was done to physically stop me. So I don't know. Just fill in the blank. But something happened, and the jailer obviously sees this as a miraculous thing. He turns to them and says, "What must I do to be saved?" To which Paul replied, "Believe in Jesus." And he did. Then he invites Paul and Silas into his home, and his whole household is baptised that night.
Long story short, eventually Paul and Silas get out of prison. They're turfed out of the city — told by the authorities they're not allowed to come back, they're expelled. So they go to Lydia's home, say goodbye, and continue on to a place called Thessalonica. They promise they'll stay in touch by letters. And that brings us full circle to this reading, which is from the end of the letter — from the last section, the last little part of the letter to the church in Philippi.
Theme one: conflict, peacemaking, and the mindset of Christ
In our reading this morning there's lots going on, but there are two key themes I want to unpack and focus on. I genuinely reckon they're incredibly relevant to your life and mine, but also to our common life as a church, and beyond that to contemporary society. If anyone ever tells you the Bible is irrelevant to modern-day life, open it up to Philippians chapter 4 and read them this section. And here's why.
Verse 2 — and I apologise in advance for my pronunciation of the names: "I, Paul, plead with Euodia, and I plead with Syntyche, to be of the same mind in the Lord." All right, what's that mean? What's going on? What Paul is doing is addressing a growing public feud between two women in the church. He pleads with them to, quote-unquote, be of the same mind in the Lord. In other words: stop fighting, get your act together, and behave like Jesus.
Now, can you imagine how awkward it would have been when this was read aloud? This isn't a church newsletter sent out anonymously via email with a nice read-between-the-lines kind of message — the way the English always say stuff between the lines, where the way it's actually presented is very polite but the implications are immense. This is really blunt. And most of the congregation aren't literate. So someone who is literate stands at the scroll, opens it, and reads it aloud. The women are in the room with their friends, with their family members. There's all the gossip over the cups of tea and all that kind of injury going on, and they hear themselves called out. It's awkward, right? Maybe we should start doing that. I think it's awkward.
But we get a glimpse here of Paul's pastoral heart. He doesn't call out either woman over the other. He doesn't take a side. He doesn't get bogged down in the details. But neither — and I find this really interesting — does he condemn them. He's simply calling on them to adopt the mindset of Jesus, a mindset which, as we read the wider letter, is defined by humility, love, and forgiveness. He calls on them to set aside their hurt, to set aside their offence, and to simply sit down together and resolve their differences.
And then he takes it a step further. He calls on the wider church to be involved in resolving what is obviously a serious dispute. It's obviously causing enough of an issue that he's heard about it — he's miles away, and word travels slowly because it's not like you flick a WhatsApp message. So he's got it, he's heard about it, he's written a letter, it's travelled all the way back. This feud is serious. It's growing. And he says, "Help these women, since they have contended at my side in the cause of the gospel." In other words: these women are important to me, I care about each one of them. Help them.
He makes it clear here that resolving this falling out does not involve taking sides or even ignoring the issue. Instead, Paul is calling on others in the church to be peacemakers. Notice what he's calling on everyone involved to focus on. He's not telling them to focus on the disagreement itself. Have you ever noticed that particularly in communal settings — and it doesn't even have to be a church, any community gathering — the what always divides and the why always unites?
For example — and I know music is not an issue in this church, ever — that was a joke. In my last church, I had this woman who was stoic. Her husband had been quite important to the Church of England and he was long dead. She was quite older, very well-to-do. As our church began to grow, she felt the music had to go in quite a highbrow direction. Now, to be fair, we didn't have the skills to do it, but she wanted to go that way. I then had a guy turn up who had just retired from being the lead worship pastor at a mega church for his entire working life — a professional musician. He called himself Ash and the Machines, because he had a whole bunch of machines he could tap to play different beats. He rocks up wanting to start a youth band and do contemporary Hillsong and Bethel worship. And I'm like, huh.
Now, the feud between the two of them came to loggerheads and started to blow up. But they never fought each other directly — it's always through intermediaries, little comments made. Amy and I went away with the kids for a couple of weeks, came back, and you could have cut the tension with a knife. So I sat down with them and said: the what here is preference. You have a preference for highbrow. You have a preference for poppy music. And frankly, I don't like either of those — I've got a preference all the way over here. The what is dividing us. But what unites us is the why. And Paul tells us what the why is: it's our shared faith in Jesus Christ. We focus on Jesus. We focus on what unites rather than what divides. Does that make sense?
And that's what Paul is saying here. The reason this is pertinent, the reason this is relevant to your life and mine, is that the sad reality is that disagreement and disunity often raises its head among Christians. Be it at a macro level between theological factions, or within a congregation — as I say, back in Greytown about music. We once had a massive argument about whether we should have arrowroot biscuits. That was early days. The point is, conflict happens. And those of us who follow Jesus are not immune to the temptation to argue and take offence.
So right here, Paul's teaching is incredibly relevant to those of us in this room who want to follow the way of Jesus. We must remember our shared identity is in Jesus Christ. We must adopt his mindset — a mindset defined by humility and love and forgiveness. And then, according to Paul, we must work alongside each other as peacemakers when disagreement does occur. Because it will occur. It will.
And over the last few years, our church has begun to grow — isn't that lovely? I've lost count of how many baptisms we've had in the last couple of years. I think it's about seventeen or eighteen. Isn't that exciting? That brings friction, because over time a community will morph and change shape, and there will be disagreement. That's not a bad thing per se, but how we deal with it is important. And so that's the first theme within our reading this morning, which I think is incredibly relevant to our contemporary church and society.
Theme two: anxiety, prayer, and the peace of God
But I'm going to change gears, because the next theme relates to something quite different. It relates to anxiety. Now, bear with me for a second.
Anxiety is a massive issue. It's a growing phenomenon. It isn't new — Paul's writing about it here two thousand years ago — but it's growing in prevalence. Did you know that one in four Kiwi young adults, that's people between the ages of eighteen and twenty-four, experience severe mental health distress from anxiety? Do you know that eleven percent of primary school children in New Zealand are on medication for anxiety? Anxiety is the most common mental health disorder in the Western world, and it's growing. Post-COVID lockdowns, we have seen a twenty-five percent rise in anxiety-related mental health distress in adults across the Western world — that's according to studies, so it might be less or more in certain communities. And it's not just young people being impacted. Almost one third of Kiwi adults self-report having experienced severe mental health distress due to anxiety. That's a lot of people.
My point is, anxiety is incredibly common. And if you have it, if you have battled it or are battling it, you're not alone. It's caused by all sorts of things. For some people, it's just their personality. For others, it's genetic traits that make them susceptible. For others, it's a build-up of stress factors — money, for instance. Let's be honest, the economy is not great. Fear of the world. I was talking to someone yesterday who was saying, the reality is our kids — the world might end in our kids' lifetime. If you just look at it from a pure logical perspective, setting aside all the theological elements, all this stuff is going on. It's pretty scary. And if you don't have hope in an eschatological future — end-times future is what that means — it can be pretty overwhelming.
Whatever the cause, the fact remains that anxiety is incredibly common. And it's into this context that we hear Paul's incredibly helpful words. Are you ready for it? It's the kind of words a bloke often says to his wife when she's angry: just don't be angry. Paul says, are you anxious? Don't be anxious. How helpful is that, right? Not exactly helpful on the face of it. And as I say, if you've ever tried telling someone to just not be anxious, you'll know it doesn't go down too well.
But if we consider his words in their context, we can see he's actually speaking out of wisdom rooted in a deep pastoral heart for those who are struggling under the weight of the demands of life. Because rather than just saying, "Oh, don't be anxious — take a concrete pill," or as we used to say in the military, "Fill in a hurt feelings report card" — the Padre used to carry one — he's not saying that. Paul is providing some really clear advice on how not to be weighed down with anxiety.
And he adds this: "Don't be anxious. Rejoice in the Lord always. I say it again, rejoice." Now, when he wrote this letter — and Andy explored this last week — he was actually in prison, awaiting trial. He wasn't sure if he was about to be executed, flogged, or released. He didn't know what was going to happen. And yet, despite his terrible situation, Paul commands his readers to be joyful. He goes as far as saying it twice: "Rejoice. I say it again, rejoice."
Given the situation from which he's writing, it's clear Paul is not talking here about an Oprah-style sense of positive thinking — "You get a car, you get a car, you get a car." Nothing like that. Nor is he saying just self-actualise to be happy. Nor is he saying that life is always supposed to be enjoyable. Anyone who's been around the block for more than five minutes knows that life can be pretty hard.
What Paul is doing is calling on those of us who follow Jesus to focus on Christ and the hope that we have through him for our future, and then to revel in the joy that flows from this. Now, I know that could sound flippant, particularly if you're going through something hard. Not to get bogged down on this, but many of you know that our family has been dealing with some significant health issues with our daughter. So please hear me when I say that I understand what it's like to be dealing with something incredibly heavy and wrestling with that, while still seeking to revel in the joy of Christ. Please don't hear me being flippant and just saying, "Oh, just be more happy, you'll be fine."
Paul himself is not saying that life will always be joy-filled. His point is more about the joy of knowing Jesus — the joy of having encountered Jesus Christ through his Holy Spirit, of being assured of the reality of his death and resurrection, and the fact that through him we can have peace from our past, purpose in our present, and a hope for our future. Paul is saying that this reality will help strengthen and stabilise us through life, even in dark times. By focusing on what God has done for you and for me through Jesus, we can find a centredness even amidst the hardships of life, because we know that his love for us will never fail.
Prayer with thanksgiving as the antidote to anxiety
And that brings us to verse 6 of our reading. Paul says: "Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God."
Paul is not saying that if you're a Christian there's nothing to worry about — simply harden up, take a concrete pill, you'll be right. Nor is he implying that as a Christian one will never face hardship or worries. Hardship and worries are a fact of life. Jesus endured them. And if he endured them, why should we expect to be any different?
By "don't be anxious, but in every situation," Paul is essentially telling us not to fall into the trap of wallowing in our mental distress, but instead to use the following instructions he's about to give us as a game plan for how to defeat anxiety, regardless of its cause. And his game plan is really simple — and once again it runs the risk of sounding flippant. Pray. That's it. Talk to God. Bring your needs before God and lay them out. Paul is telling us to let our anxieties drive us to prayer, never to panic.
And when you pray, Paul says, begin with thanksgiving. That is such wise advice. Because when you're battling something as all-consuming and crippling and intense as anxiety, when you can't see the wood for the trees, to force yourself to pause and think of things to give thanks for helps to right the scales.
Years ago, my mum got really, really sick. My mum's mum died very young. Most of the other women in the family have died. A lot of my female cousins have died. There's a thing in our family which just ails the women. And my mum just got it — something wrong with the lungs. Many, many moons ago, we had to sell our house, sell everything, and move to Wellington to be near the hospital. And we hated it. It was horrible. My poor dad was so stressed. He got given a church because he needed a job. The local bishop said, "David, it's so bad, you can't cock it up." And then he gave him a parish, and Dad cocked it up, because there were only ten people and they all left in protest over Dad. It was pretty bad.
And I remember going to my old Dad's office, and he was sitting there, and he just looked so broken. And you know, your father, when you're growing up, is Mr. Big Man. Even when you're a teenager and you kind of think you know better, there's an element to which you look up to your father. And my Dad has done amazing things. I've seen him face down armed bandits. I remember there was a soldier potentially about to shoot me, and my Dad stood between us and just berated the guy into submission. My Dad's not a big fella — he's small, and he's got a pot belly — but he's tough. And I remember seeing him sitting there broken, and I said to him, "Dad, how are you doing this? How are you getting through this?" Because I could see he was anxious for my mum — there was a good chance she was about to die. And he said, "I always begin by saying thank you."
Thanksgiving helps to right the scales. It doesn't fix it, but it helps focus the heart. It helps focus the soul. It can give us a sense of balance in our context. Because when things are hard and anxiety begins to set in, it can be so easy to forget all the blessings of God that we've experienced in the past. So yes, bring your concerns and your needs before God, but as you do, begin with the posture of thanksgiving. Seek out things — no matter how seemingly minor and insignificant — seek out things to give thanks to God for, and that in itself will help relieve any sense of disquiet. Because prayer with thanksgiving is how we defeat anxiety when it strikes at our heart. Or to use a firefighter analogy, prayer is the water that extinguishes the fire of anxiety.
The peace of God which transcends all understanding
And the result of this is in verse 7, where Paul says: "The peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus."
Because the peace of God that flows out of prayerful trust — the peace of God which exists in contrast to anxiety and the worry of our world — you and I can experience this, even in our darkest moments, says Paul. Through prayerful trust in the goodness of God, by remembering all that God has done for us in Jesus, by adopting the mindset of Christ and seeking to live in an intimate and tangible, real relationship with Jesus himself, by adopting a habit of prayer where we begin by giving thanks to God for all that is good, and by bringing before God those things which plague us and keep us up at night — by doing these things that we've touched on over the last three weeks, you and I can experience the peace of God which transcends all understanding, even in our darkest moments.
If you would like to think about this a bit more and you're worried you might forget, in the newsletter there's information on how to access the church app if you don't have it. If you go into the church app and go to the journal section, you'll notice there are some notes there, including some personal application and questions for you to think about and dwell on this week — about how this might apply to your life over the coming days. I encourage you, if you've got the app, to do so. Or if you haven't got the app, get it and have a look.
Because I think it's important that when we come to church, we don't just sit there and listen to some nice words that go in one ear and out the other — that's how my brain works. But we hear them, do our best to dwell on them, and then go home and rethink it all. Think about how this applies to your life. Because the thing about scripture is it's weird at times — it really is, because it's written in a different context and everything — but it has something to say to your life today. Maybe it's about conflict. Maybe it's about anxiety. Maybe it's about thanksgiving. I don't know. But I encourage you to take that away and look into it.