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Context No. 463 of 4322 · Philippians

Context · Reflection

Philippians 2:25-30: in context

25But I thought it necessary to send to you Epaphroditus, my brother, fellow worker, fellow soldier, and your apostle and servant of my need, 26since he longed for you all, and was very troubled because you had heard that he was sick. 27For indeed he was sick nearly to death, but God had mercy on him, and not on him only, but on me also, that I might not have sorrow on sorrow. 28I have sent him therefore the more diligently, that when you see him again, you may rejoice, and that I may be the less sorrowful. 29Receive him therefore in the Lord with all joy, and hold such people in honor, 30because for the work of Christ he came near to death, risking his life to supply that which was lacking in your service toward me.

As Paul closes this section of his letter, he turns to a man named Epaphroditus, someone we would otherwise never have heard of. Epaphroditus was not an apostle or a famous teacher. He was the Philippians' messenger, the man they had sent to carry their gift to Paul in prison and to look after his needs. And while doing that ordinary, behind-the-scenes service, he had fallen gravely ill, near to death. Paul writes with real tenderness about it: Epaphroditus had been distressed, not for himself, but because the Philippians had heard he was sick and were worried. And God, Paul says, had mercy on him, and not only on him but on me, so that I would not have sorrow upon sorrow. Paul admits, quietly, that losing this ordinary servant would have crushed him.

And then Paul tells the church exactly how to receive Epaphroditus back, and it is worth hearing. Welcome him in the Lord with all joy, he says, and honor such people, because he nearly died for the work of Christ, risking his life to make up for the help you could not give me. Honor such people. Not honor the celebrated leaders, not honor the gifted speakers, but honor the Epaphrodituses, the unfamous, largely unknown servants who quietly spend themselves, and even risk their lives, in unglamorous service. Epaphroditus did not do anything that would make him famous. He carried a gift, tended a prisoner, and nearly died doing it, and Paul insists that this kind of person deserves the church's highest honor.

That is a pointed correction of where we naturally direct our honor. We tend to reserve it for the visible and the prominent, the ones with platforms and reputations. Paul directs it toward the ones who risked and spent themselves at real cost in service no one applauds. It raises two questions. Do I honor the Epaphrodituses around me, the unsung faithful who quietly give themselves for the work at genuine cost, or do I save my admiration for the celebrated? And would I be willing, like Epaphroditus, to pour myself out in unglamorous, unnoticed service, even at real risk, for the work of Christ and the good of others?

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