The first point which strikes us in this self-revelation of Paul's is
his conscious uncertainty as to his future. In the previous chapter
(ver. 25) he is confident that he will live. In the verses immediately
preceding our text he faces the possibility of death. Here he recognises
the uncertainty but still 'trusts' that he will be liberated, but yet he
does not know 'how it may go with' him. We think of him in his lodging
sometimes hoping and sometimes doubting. He had a tyrant's caprice to
depend on, and knew how a moment's whim might end all. Surely his way of
bearing that suspense was very noteworthy and noble. It is difficult to
keep a calm heart, and still more difficult to keep on steadily at work,
when any moment might bring the victor's axe. Suspense almost enforces
idleness, but Paul crowded these moments of his prison time with
letters, and Ephesians, Philippians, Colossians, and Philemon are the
fruits for which we are indebted to a period which would have been to
many men a reason for throwing aside all work.
How calmly too he speaks of the uncertain issue! Surely never was the
possibility of death more quietly spoken of than in 'so soon as I shall
see how it will go with me.' That means--'as soon as my fate is decided,
be it what it may, I will send Timothy to tell you.' What a calm pulse
he must have had! There is no attitudinising here, all is perfectly
simple and natural. Can we look, do we habitually look, into the
uncertain future with such a temper--accepting all that may be in its
grey mists, and feeling that our task is to fill the present with
strenuous loving service, leaving tomorrow with all its alternatives,
even that tremendous one of life and death, to Him who will shape it to
a perfect end?
We note, further, the purpose of Paul's love. It is beautiful to see how
he yearns over these Philippians and feels that his joy will be
increased when he hears from them. He is sure, as he believes, to hear
good, and news which will be a comfort. Among the souls whom he bore on
his heart were many in the Macedonian city, and a word from them would
be like 'cold water to a thirsty soul.'
What a noble suppression of self; how deep and strong the tie that bound
him to them must have been! Is there not a lesson here for all Christian
workers, for all teachers, preachers, parents, that no good is to be
done without loving sympathy? Unless our hearts go out to people we
shall never reach their hearts. We may talk to them for ever, but unless
we have this loving sympathy we might as well be silent. It is possible
to pelt people with the Gospel, and to produce the effect of flinging
stones at them. Much Christian work comes to nothing mainly for that
reason.
And how deep a love does he show in his depriving himself of Timothy for
their sakes, and in his reason for sending him! Those reasons would have
been for most of us the strongest reason for keeping him. It is not
everybody who will denude himself of the help of one who serves him 'as
a child serveth a father,' and will part with the only like-minded
friend he has, because his loving eye will clearly see the state of
others.
Paul's expression of his purpose to send Timothy is very much more than
a piece of emotional piety. He 'hopes in the Lord' to accomplish his
design, and that hope so rooted and conditioned is but one instance of
the all-comprehending law of his life, that, to him, to 'live is
Christ.' His whole being was so interpenetrated with Christ's that all
his thoughts and feelings were 'in the Lord Jesus.' So should our
purposes be. Our hopes should be derived from union with Him. They
should not be the play of our own fancy or imagination. They should be
held in submission to him, and ever with the limitation, 'Not as I will,
but as Thou wilt.' We should be trusting to Him to fulfil them. If thus
we hope, our hopes may lead us nearer to Jesus instead of tempting us
away from Him by delusive brightnesses. There is a religious use of hope
not only when it is directed to heavenly certainties, and 'enters within
the veil,' but even when occupied about earthly things. Spenser twice
paints for us the figure of Hope, one has always something of dread in
her blue eyes, the other, and the other only, leans on the anchor, and
'maketh not ashamed'; and her name is 'Hope in the Lord.'