And of course, not all conflicts and disagreements are created equal. Within the church, you have to distinguish big theological controversies that may be worth breaking fellowship over from the small, petty, insignificant disagreements. There are some sins that are so serious that Paul tells the church to purge the evil from your midst. And then there are situations where Paul tells two people to, “agree in the Lord.”

We live in a world that tells us to follow our hearts, indulge our appetites, and pursue whatever makes us happy. Comfort has become the highest good, and pleasure the ultimate goal. But Scripture gives us a sobering warning — that the pursuit of comfort and self-gratification is not neutral; it reveals what we truly worship. The apostle Paul warns the Philippians of those who “walk as enemies of the cross of Christ,” whose “god is their belly.” They may claim Christ, but their lives tell a different story — they are ruled by desire, not by devotion.

What if the Christian life isn’t about finally arriving at comfort, success, or respect? What if it’s about running—straining—not for something temporary, but for something eternal? What if God never meant for you to settle into spiritual autopilot, but to live with a holy dissatisfaction—a contentment in Christ that still hungers for more of Him?

I want you all to imagine standing before the God in the heavenly realm, as He’s seated on His throne, high and exalted, while the cherubim and the seraphim are all around crying out, “Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord of host; the whole earth is full of His glory!” And it’s in that exact moment, you begin to recall all the terrible things you’ve ever done—all the sins of your life come flooding back into your mind. What would you do at that moment?

The Christian life is change. It’s growth. It’s transformation. It’s putting off the old self and putting on the new (Ephesians 4:22–24). The gospel never leaves a person where it found them. When Christ saves you, He begins a work in you—reshaping your heart, renewing your mind, and reorienting your desires toward His glory and the good of others.

That means Christians, of all people, should be the most humble and the most willing to grow. We should be quick to acknowledge sin, eager to learn, and ready to change when confronted with God’s Word. After all, the goal of the Christian life isn’t self-preservation—it’s Christ-conformation. You and I are supposed to become more and more like Jesus.

And that’s exactly what Paul shows us in Philippians 2:19–30. He doesn’t give us a lecture on humility this time—he gives us examples of it. After spending the first part of the chapter explaining what Christlike humility looks like in theory, Paul now introduces two men—Timothy and Epaphroditus—who embody that humility in practice.

Jesus said His followers are the light of the world, a city set on a hill that cannot be hidden. Faith that remains private is faith that fails to shine. God didn’t save us simply to keep us safe until heaven; He saved us to display His grace and truth through our lives right now. When we live out our faith publicly—with integrity, compassion, and joy—we show the world what God is like. Christianity isn’t a private belief system; it’s a visible testimony to the transforming power of the gospel.

The point that the Apostle Paul is pressing upon the church in Philippi is the importance of their humility. And so, in order to further drive his point home, he points to the ultimate example of humility: Jesus Christ.

If someone asked you today to give them ten ways to unite a church, what would you say? Maybe you’d start with obvious answers: strong leadership, a clear vision or mission statement, engaging programs. A church without leadership or a clear direction can aimlessly wander about, but none of those things are what Paul points to. According to Paul, humility is the key to church unity.

From his own imprisonment, Paul writes to encourage the Philippians to stay faithful and stand courageous in the face of opposition and suffering — a reality he himself knew intimately.

When life shows its frailty, when we see how quickly everything can change, we’re forced to ask: what do we count as gain? What holds weight in our estimation of a life well-lived? So many of the things we chase—comfort, influence, recognition—can vanish overnight. They can slip through our fingers like sand.

Which is why today’s famous passage from the Apostle Paul is so timely! “For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain” (Philippians 1:21). These are radical words: in the face of real danger, real uncertainty, real mortality, Paul tells us what it means to truly live: to truly live is to live for Jesus Christ! 

That is the shocking, countercultural reality of the gospel: where the world expects defeat, the gospel often advances in greater power. Where the world sees rivalry as a threat, Paul sees Christ being lifted up. The very circumstances that should have crushed his spirit instead became reasons for his joy, because his ultimate concern was not his reputation, not his comfort, not even his freedom—it was the exaltation of Jesus’ name.

Paul’s letter to the Philippians overflows with joy, encouragement, unity, and generosity – those are the sorts of themes you wouldn’t expect from someone behind bars. Which is exactly why Philippians is so powerful! It shows us that true joy isn’t rooted in circumstances, but in Christ Himself.