The Apostle is sure that all the experiences of his prison will turn to
his ultimate salvation, because he is sure that his dear friends in
Philippi will pray for him, and that through their prayers he will
receive a 'supply of the Spirit of Jesus Christ,' which shall be enough
to secure his steadfastness. His expectation is not that he will escape
from prison or from martyrdom, both of which stand only too clearly
before him, but that whatever may be waiting for him in the future, 'all
boldness' will be granted him, so that whether he lives he will live to
the Lord, or whether he dies, he will die to the Lord. He had so
completely accepted it as his life's purpose to magnify Jesus, that the
extremest possible changes of condition came to be insignificant to him.
He had what we may have, the true anæsthetic which will give us a
'solemn scorn of ills' and make even the last and greatest change from
life to death of little account. If we magnify Christ in our lives with
the same passionate earnestness and concentrated absorption as Paul had,
our lives like some train on well-laid rails will enter upon the bridge
across the valley with scarce a jolt. With whatever differences--and the
differences are to us tremendous--the same purpose will be pursued in
life and in death, and they who, living, live to the praise of Christ,
dying will magnify Him as their last act in the body which they leave.
What was it that made possible such a passion of enthusiasm for a man
whom Paul had never seen in the flesh? What changed the gloomy
fuliginous fanaticism of the Pharisee, at whose feet were laid the
clothes of the men who stoned Stephen, into this radiant light, all
aflame with a divine splendour? The only answer is in Paul's own words,
'He loved me and gave Himself for me.' That answer is as true for each
of us as it was for him. Does it produce in us anything like the effects
which it produced in him?