In this beautiful letter to the church he founded in Philippi, Paul calls his beloved friends into the humility of Christ by recalling one of the earliest hymns of the Christian church.
This “Christ hymn” was likely very meaningful to the Philippians; perhaps they even knew it by heart, much like we know the Lord’s Prayer or the Apostle’s Creed, or our own favorite hymn. In it, the very essence of Christ’s self-sacrificing heart is captured poetically. Paul uses the hymn to comfort the Philippians who face difficult times and to nudge them in the direction of Christ’s humility and unity as a church. Maybe during these days, we need that comfort and nudge too.
Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, Paul writes. I don’t know about you, but most time the thought of “having the same mind that was in Jesus Christ” – seems like one tall order. How exactly am I to empty and humble myself like Christ, when Christ went so far as to lay down his life for me, for us? Where does one go for “practical advice” on this seemingly impossible ask?
When I search for contemporary examples of Christ-like humility, I immediately jump to giants of the faith like Mother Teresa. Now here was a young Catholic girl from Albania named Agnes, who, at the age of twelve, heard a strong call from God. She became a nun and lived a life of devotion and self-sacrifice, working tirelessly on behalf of the poorest of the poor in the slums of Calcutta, India. Her missionary work spread all over the world, earning her numerous awards and distinctions, including the Nobel Peace Prize in 1979. Surely, this was the kind of life Paul had in mind as he wrote to his church in Philippi.
Yet did you know that a book of Mother Teresa’a letters published after her death revealed that she, in fact, was deeply tormented about her faith throughout her life? She was deeply doubtful about God, spiritually empty more often than not. She was, indeed, deeply human.
Still, she continued, holding the hands of lepers, and kissing the cheeks of those who were starving to death…witnessing to Christ through her hands, her smile, and her loving presence. I wonder if she was also searching for Christ in the faces of those she served.
It seems that no matter who we are in this life, to allow the mind of Christ to be shaped within is, in part to know deeply that we need one another.
As I listen to Paul’s letter to the Philippians again, I’m struck by how deeply Paul and the members of his church needed one another as they collectively persevered in the faith. Paul calls the Philippians his beloved (Phil 2:12), joyously recounting all they have meant to one another. The truth is that even as Paul’s founding words and presence led many in this early church to Christ, it is the people of the church who have sustained Paul’s broader ministry, spiritually, emotionally, and financially. Now, in prison and facing an uncertain future at the hands of the Romans, Paul reached out once more in solidarity, to help them with their internal conflicts, to rekindle their unity and shared purpose in Christ. As one commentator put it: “[Paul and the Philippians] are coparticipants in the good news about the things God has accomplished through Jesus Christ.”[1]
To co-labor with Christ is to open our hearts to both the giving and receiving of love and fellowship – to open our hearts to the reciprocity of being Christ to one another – just as was the case between Paul and the members of this early church in Philippi.
Sometimes, this reciprocity hits home in a moment shared with a complete stranger.
Last year, about this time of year, I had just started working at Methodist Hospital as a chaplain. I was rushing to work one morning and everything seemed to be going wrong. I had slept through my alarm, I had no time to make coffee, the kids barely got to the bus on time…and when I finally got on the highway to work, there was a major traffic jam. And then, when I got into the parking garage at the hospital, I took a wrong turn, and ended up going in circles for a while. I was nervous to be seeing patients that day for the first time, and now I was late for work.
As I yanked my heavy bag out from the car, and rushed into the hospital, I noticed from a distance a nurse in scrubs standing outside the parking lot door, holding it wide open for me. She had warm eyes and a knowing smile, and she simply said, “I’m leaving and you are coming.”
It was a small act of kindness, really, but the moment we shared was sacred. Something inside of me really saw this nurse. I saw that she looked weary after a long night of work, her ponytail messy and her mascara smeared. And she clearly saw me, harried and anxious, and looked out for me by opening the door. We were two strangers who saw one another as beloved. One person giving what she could give, the other receiving what she needed. Christ was present, I am certain of it.
That’s the other piece about taking on the mind of Christ. It means having a capacity to really see people, for who they are, beloved children of God, and opening their doors when we can. Not just literal doors, though that is kind too. But when we act with the heart of Christ, we open metaphorical doors for others: we share our time and attention, we share our resources, and we are willing to share our own power and privilege with others who lack it. This is exactly how Christ emptied himself for us.
To find Christ, is to need and seek out one another. To really see one another as beloved. To give graciously and receive gratefully. And to share what power and privilege we have in this life with others. Even as I write these words, they seem like such simple truths about humility. But they are profoundly counter-cultural, in Paul’s day and today, in a world that says greed and power should rule the day. In a world that says the first shall be first, and the last shall be last. In a world that says hold on to whatever you have for yourself.
Jesus came into this world to show us a different way.
It is not an easy way. And it is not a comfortable way. And sometimes it doesn’t even seem fair. But our God gives us a precious gift, the gift of abundant faith and with it the vision to see Christ working in the world, and the strength to be Christ working in the world.
Dear friends, may you find comfort and unity in the humble heart of Christ and in one another today.
Amen.
[1] Matthew L. Skinner, A Companion to the New Testament: Paul and the Pauline Letters (Waco, Texas: Baylor University Press, 2018) 197.