Bible reading: Philippians 4:4-13.

Message.

I don’t know about you, but I’m finding it very hard to be joyful at the moment. That’s not because of my personal circumstances: I’m fit and healthy, I have a loving wife and family, I live in a safe and pleasant country, I don’t have any financial worries; compared to some of you, I am extremely fortunate. Yet I’m still gloomy, because of the state of our world and the news I see and hear each day.

So – as they say, “in no particular order” – we have the completely unnecessary wars in the Middle East and Ukraine, both started by power-hungry dictators with no thought of their cost in deaths, destruction, misery or the damage they are causing to the world’s economy and the environment; we have the ongoing misery in Gaza, Israel and the West Bank which seems to have less and less hope of resolution as the years go by; we have the threat of climate change which doesn’t only have consequences for today but makes us fear for our children and grandchildren; we see the wealthy consuming the world’s resources at a stupefying rate while the poor struggle merely to survive; we witness the rise of violent nationalism, often tinged with a Christian tint which I totally refute; and we’re now being told that AI might not only put thousands of people out of work but turn out to be an unstoppable monster which will gobble up the human race. I’m sure that you share these (and other) concerns which are way beyond our control; I’m sure, too, that you have your own worries and fears, perhaps about health, family, work or money. All in all, we have good reasons for being gloomy together – yet St Paul brings us up short by saying, nay commanding: “Rejoice … and again, I say, rejoice!”.

Before we dismiss Paul’s words as ridiculous rhetoric or unrealistic optimism, let’s just think of the context in which they were written. For this letter to the Philippians is one of four which Paul wrote from prison (the other three are Ephesians, Colossians and Philemon). We’re not exactly sure where he was imprisoned; perhaps in Rome or possibly elsewhere. He tells his readers that he is “in chains”, literally or metaphorically, because of his Gospel ministry, and possibly under threat of execution; that’s because the Christians’ cry of “Jesus is Lord!” was regarded as a blatant challenge to the authority of the Roman Emperor which mean that evangelism had to be stamped out. Paul also knew the fragility of the churches he had founded, not only hounded by the might of Rome but also beset by their own internal squabbles. Paul desperately wanted to visit them but could only write letters and hope for the best. He must have been a deeply frustrated and worried man, yet he still wrote, “Rejoice”.

Now this command to rejoice isn’t something that Paul invented. It’s in fact repeated throughout the Bible (which apparently contains over 200 references to joy and rejoicing; there are 14 in this letter alone). So, for instance, Psalm 32 states, “Be glad in the Lord and rejoice, O righteous ones; shout for joy, all you upright in heart”; Psalm 97 similarly says, “Rejoice in the Lord, O you righteous, and give thanks to his holy name”. Nehemiah 8 says, “Do not grieve, for the joy of the Lord is your strength”. James told the readers of his letter to “consider it all joy” whenever they faced trials of any kind: that was an astonishing thing to say, but he was only echoing Jesus who, in the Sermon on the Mount, had not only said that his followers were “blessed” when they were reviled and persecuted but that they should “rejoice and be glad”, for their heavenly reward would be great.

At this point you may well be saying, “Hang on a moment! Rejoicing isn’t something that we can be commanded to do; we can’t rustle up happiness and put on a happy face when our whole world is collapsing. We can’t simply change our feelings to order, that’s just not possible”. I completely understand what you are saying and we all know that telling a grieving or depressed person to “look on the bright side” or that “things can only get better” is the worst thing we can do and likely to plunge them into further misery. So, if nothing else, Paul seems to be guilty of gross insensitivity – although, of course he was writing to an entire church rather than to specific people.

Having said all that, we recall that Christians aren’t just exhorted to be joyful but also to love. That too is something we bridle at, for love seems to depend on our feelings and can’t be conjured up by an act of will. Might I suggest, however, that that might be a very modern way of looking at things; I suspect we are far more governed by our emotions than people were in past times; that we follow our feelings whereas our ancestors acted more out of a sense of duty. That is, I grant you, only a suggestion; but, if it’s true, then it was perfectly possibly for Jesus to say, “Love your enemies” and for Paul to rote, “Rejoice in the Lord always”. Both commands tell us to make a conscious decision.

What I haven’t yet said is that this exhortation to “Rejoice in the Lord” and its continuation “Do not be anxious about anything” don’t come out of thin air. Paul gives us a reason for them: he says, “The Lord is near”; a statement which, when we think about it, is ambiguous and can be interpreted in two (or even both!) ways. On the one hand, we can understand it as meaning that Christ, by his Spirit, is near us, actively present with believers in every situation. We might want to link this with the promise in Hebrews 13 (not written by Paul) in which God says, “I will never leave you; I will never abandon you”; with Psalm 46, “God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble”; or with the hymn which says, “I see his hand of mercy; I hear his voice of cheer; and just the time I need him, he’s always near”. That thought must have cheered countless Christians over the centuries – although, as the Psalmist says, there are also times when we cry out, “My God, why have you abandoned me? I have cried desperately for help, but still it does not come”. I wouldn’t want to downplay those times of darkness and despair.

That’s one meaning of the phrase, “The Lord is near” which, we recall, is what Paul sees as the stimulus for Christian joy. But there is another possible meaning, which scholars would call the eschatological one (don’t worry, you don’t have to remember that): the belief that Jesus would soon return to earth and free his people from their troubles and misery. We know that many of the early Christians believed that Jesus would appear during their lifetime; indeed, some of the later New Testament letters were written to counter their disappointment at his failure to arrive. Twenty centuries later, we are still here, and it’s harder to maintain any optimism that Jesus will soon come to pluck us out of our distress and create a new heaven and earth. Although this is a core Christian doctrine, I can’t honestly say that this way of looking at “the Lord is near” gives us much courage.

So we are left with Paul’s command – written, you’ll remember, at a time when life for him was hardly sunny. We must set it alongside some words he wrote just half a page later, thanking the Philippians for their concern for him: “I have learned to be content with whatever I have. I know what it is to have little, and I know what it is to have plenty. In any and all circumstances I have learned the secret of being well-fed and of going hungry, of having plenty and of being in need”. Paul’s faith has enabled him to transcend his circumstances.

Can we cultivate such an attitude of gratitude and contentment which focusses on God’s blessings and promises rather than the challenges of life? I’m not sure that we can but, in a world so marked by so much despair and dissatisfaction, any joy we do manage can be a witness to the power of the Christian Gospel. It invites other people to ask where that joy comes from, it can lead to conversations about our faith.

I close with words from two of the 20th century’s greatest theologians. Karl Barth, writing as Nazism was spreading across Europe, declared, “Joy is a defiant ‘Nevertheless’ that Paul sets like a full stop against the Philippian anxiety”. And Dietrich Bonhoeffer, in a German jail under sentence of death for defying Hitler, penned this famous prayer:

O God, early in the morning I cry to you.

Help me to pray

and to concentrate my thoughts on you;

I cannot do this alone.

In me there is darkness,

but with you there is light.

I am alone, but you do not abandon me.

I am feeble in heart, but with you there is help.

I am restless, but with you there is peace.

In me there is bitterness, but with you there is patience.

I do not understand your ways,

but you know the way for me.

…

Lord, have mercy on me!

Deliver me and make me live now

responsibly before you and before men!

Lord, whatever this day brings me,

let your name be praised! Amen.