Justin Bair

Philippians 2:19-30

Timothy and Epaphroditus

19 I hope in the Lord Jesus to send Timothy to you soon, so that I, too, may be consoled by news of you. 20 I have no one so like myself who will be genuinely concerned for your welfare. 21 All of them are seeking their own interests, not those of Jesus Christ. 22 But Timothy’s worth you know, how like a son with a father he has served with me in the work of the gospel. 23 I hope therefore to send him as soon as I see how things go with me, 24 and I trust in the Lord that I will also come soon.

25 Still, I think it necessary to send to you Epaphroditus—my brother and coworker and fellow soldier, your messenger and minister to my need, 26 for he has been longing for all of you and has been distressed because you heard that he was ill. 27 He was indeed so ill that he nearly died. But God had mercy on him, and not only on him but on me also, so that I would not have one sorrow after another. 28 I am the more eager to send him, therefore, in order that you may rejoice at seeing him again and that I may be less anxious. 29 Welcome him, then, in the Lord with all joy, and honor such people, 30 because he came close to death for the work of Christ, risking his life to make up for those services that you could not give me.

Reflection:
Life in the 18th century was… not easy. Infrastructure and governments and societal systems in the rural United States were sparse if nonexistent. Disease was rampant. Proper sanitation was centuries away. Families and homesteads were constantly at risk from inclement weather, failing crops, warring indigenous tribes, and just plain hard existence. Few felt the burden of this more than itinerant ministers. The little safety the homestead brought to these families was all but absent on the roads between towns and camps where the Wesleys, among others, found themselves living out a difficult, but rewarding, existence.

John Wesley was in the habit of opening meetings with the hymn “And Are We Yet Alive” because it was all too possible that many people who were there the last time they met were no longer alive. The closest I’ve ever come to that feeling was in March 2020. There was no way of knowing if everyone I had last seen at my church and my job would still be there when we all got back. It was an anxious and terrifying time. Yet, there was so much comfort to being in the church of the COVID-diaspora, where we all pulled in the same direction; we looked out for each other, prayed for each other, wept with each other, and, maybe most importantly, DoorDashed each other food.

Paul can’t be with the Philippians, so he’s sending his extensions: Timothy and Epaphroditus. Epaphroditus had nearly died between the time they saw him last, and I can feel deeply the eager anticipation they had of seeing him again, and he, them. What joy it must’ve been to embrace someone who, in a tumultuous, chaotic, dangerous world, shared the love and devotion to Christ that they did. What encouragement. What hope. Which begs the question: do we remember that feeling? Or have we lost our joy of sharing in the body of Christ and returned to complacency so quickly? “Glory and thanks to Jesus give for his almighty grace!”

Prayer:

Father, what a joy to share in this body, YOUR body, each week and throughout the week in our daily lives. Let us not become complacent with this joy. Let us remember that we return together every seven days by your grace to remember and multiply your love so that we may invite others to share in our joy.

Amen.