Imagine receiving a letter from a dear friend who is in prison. You might expect a detailed description of the harsh conditions, the uncertainty of the trial, perhaps even notes of fear, frustration, or despair. Philippians is a letter from prison—but when Paul writes to this little church in a Roman colony, the first words that pour out of him are not complaint, but thanksgiving, joy, and heartfelt prayer. In Philippians 1:1–11, we get to listen in as a man in chains calls ordinary believers “saints,” speaks words of grace and peace over them, thanks God for their gospel partnership, and prays that their love may abound more and more. To appreciate the weight of these opening verses, we need to remember what kind of letter this is and who is writing it.
Philippians is one of Paul’s warmest and most personal letters. He’s not writing to strangers; he’s writing to people he loves—people he knows, people whose stories he remembers. This is the church Paul helped plant in Philippi during his second missionary journey (Acts 16). Philippi was a proud Roman colony—citizenship mattered there, privilege mattered there. And Paul takes that familiar category and redirects it: “Yes, you live in a Roman city, but you belong to a greater kingdom.” Live as citizens of heaven (Phil. 1:27; 3:20). Now picture Paul as he writes: he is in chains, imprisoned in Rome—around A.D. 62—with Timothy at his side. And yet the tone is not cold or bitter; it’s affectionate. He’s writing to a largely Gentile church that has stood with him in gospel partnership “from the first day until now.” Their story began with dramatic conversions—Lydia, the freed slave girl, the Philippian jailer—and it began in the middle of real opposition. From the start, this church learned that following Christ often involves suffering, and Paul remains mindful of that shared struggle as he reminds them that it has been “granted” to them not only to believe in Christ, but also to suffer for His sake (Phil. 1:29–30).1
So when you read Philippians, hear it this way: it’s both a thank-you note and a pastoral charge. Paul thanks them for their generosity and support. He updates them on his imprisonment. And he wants them to know—very clearly—his chains are not stopping the mission. God is using them. The gospel is advancing even through prison doors. But Paul is also shepherding their hearts. He calls them to unity when pressure could divide them, to humility when pride could creep in, and to steadfast joy when circumstances tempt them to despair. He anchors everything in Jesus Himself—the pattern of Christ’s humble descent and glorious exaltation (Phil. 2:5–11). Then he lifts their eyes beyond the present, urging them to press on toward the final hope— resurrection life, heavenly citizenship, and the return of Christ (Phil. 3:7–14, 20–21). And as Reformed commentators often emphasize, woven through all of this are the deep notes of grace, union with Christ, suffering, and perseverance—so that the church can rest in this confidence: the God who began His good work in them will surely bring it to completion (Phil. 1:6).2
These opening verses open a window into Paul’s pastoral heart. Even before he addresses the church’s challenges, he steadies them with grace, anchors them with assurance, and shapes them with prayer. And the same God who was at work in Philippi is at work among us. So let’s walk through the passage in three movements.
Outline
- Paul’s Greeting (vv. 1-2)
- Paul’s Thanksgiving (vv. 3-8)
- Paul’s Prayer (vv. 9-11)
- Paul’s Greeting (vv. 1-2)
Scripture: Philippians 1:1-2
1 Paul and Timothy, servants of Christ Jesus, To all the saints in Christ Jesus who are at Philippi, with the overseers and deacons: 2 Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.
If you’ve spent any time reading the New Testament letters, Philippians 1:1-2 will sound familiar right away. In Paul’s world, letters usually began the same way: the writer introduced himself, named who he was writing to, and offered a greeting. Paul follows that pattern here—but he’s not just going through the motions. He takes this simple opening and turns it into a pastoral word. Even in these first lines—how he speaks of himself, how he addresses the church, and how he pronounces grace and peace—Paul is already preparing our hearts for everything he’s about to say.
If you’re wondering why Timothy appears in the opening line, it’s because he was closely involved with Paul in the planting of the Philippian church. Timothy wasn’t a distant assistant; he had shared in the labor there and cared deeply about their spiritual welfare. When the believers in Philippi saw his name, they would have remembered his presence and pastoral concern. So this isn’t something like a cold, formal co-signature—it’s two shepherds addressing a congregation they both genuinely love. The letter is addressed by both Paul and Timothy as co-senders, even though Paul is the primary author. Timothy’s presence with Paul is one of the reasons many believe this epistle was written during Paul’s house arrest in Rome, where Timothy is known to have been with him. According to Acts 16–18, Timothy had also been with Paul in Philippi when the gospel was first preached there. So, the Philippian believers not only knew Paul, but they also knew Timothy.
Paul introduces himself and Timothy as “servants of Christ Jesus”—a title he otherwise uses only in his letter to Titus. Already in verse 1, he is embodying what he will later command in 2:5–7—laying aside status and embracing the lowly path of service under Christ. Apart from calling himself a “prisoner” in Philemon and using no title at all in 1 and 2 Thessalonians, Paul identifies himself as “an apostle of Christ” in his other eight letters. In other words, this choice of title in Philippians is unusual and deliberate. Paul and Timothy identify themselves as bond-servants of Jesus Christ. In the Greco– Roman world, slaves were viewed as their master’s property with few rights—a vivid backdrop for the apostles’ use of redemption and slavery-to-Christ imagery. In Scripture’s metaphor, that cruel tyrant is sin, and the purchase price securing our freedom is the shed blood of Jesus.
When Paul and Timothy call themselves “slaves” of Christ, they are confessing a new ownership. In the eyes of the world, they may look weak and unimpressive—but they belong to a new Master. They have been chosen, purchased, and set apart by Jesus for His purposes. And Paul is doing more than signing his name; he is setting the tone for the whole letter. He wants the Philippians to adopt the same mindset: a willing servant, gladly devoted to the honor and will of Christ, regardless of the assignment. As the letter unfolds, Paul will point them to examples worth imitating—himself, Timothy, Epaphroditus—and ultimately Christ Himself, calling them into a humble, trusting posture under God’s providence in every circumstance.
Then Paul addresses “all the saints in Christ Jesus who are at Philippi.” That word all matters. Even in the opening lines, Paul makes it clear: he is speaking to the entire church, not just a select few. And the word saints is not spiritual flattery—it is covenant language. It reaches back into the Old Testament, where God claimed a people for Himself (Ex. 19:5–6), and it carries into the New Testament church as Peter says, “you are a holy nation” (1 Pet. 2). “Saints” simply means “holy ones”—those set apart by God and for God. Not because they are naturally better, but because God is holy and He has laid claim to them: “Be holy, for I am holy” (Lev. 11:44). And that is why Scripture can speak of God’s people as His saints—His treasured possession and His delight (Ps. 16:3; 34:9).
Just as Israel was set apart to belong to God and to serve Him in truth, so the Church is set apart today. In the New Testament, the word “saints” is consistently used to refer to all believers in Christ Jesus, those whom God has claimed as His own possession. The title “saint” rests not on our perfection, but on God’s grace in setting us apart in Christ. They are saints not because of their own moral perfection but because they are “in Christ Jesus”—united to Him by faith, clothed in His righteousness, indwelt by His Spirit. Notice the double location: they are in Christ and at Philippi. They live in a real Roman colony with real pressures and problems, yet their deepest identity and security are found in Christ.
Finally, Paul includes ‘the overseers and deacons.’ This shows that the Philippian church is well-ordered, with recognized leaders who shepherd (overseers/elders) and serve practical needs (deacons). By naming them with the saints, not above them, he affirms both their legitimacy as the two primary offices of church leadership (in line with his qualifications in 1 Timothy) and their responsibility to lead the congregation toward the unified response he is calling for in this letter.” Yet he mentions them with the saints, not above them. The whole church—ordinary believers and officers together—stands under Christ, belongs to Christ, and receives this letter as one body.
Then comes the greeting: “Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.” Paul takes the conventional greeting of the ancient world and transforms it into a gospel blessing. Instead of the ordinary word for “greeting,” Paul uses a closely related word that means grace, turning a polite salutation into a theological pronouncement.3
This is the typical apostolic greeting, but “grace” and “peace” are far from empty Christian slogans when we grasp what they contain. Together, they represent every true good because they both point us directly to Christ Himself. John 1:17 declares, “Grace and truth came through Jesus Christ,” and Ephesians 2:14 tells us, “He Himself is our peace.” When Paul pronounces “grace and peace,” he is expressing nothing less than this desire: that his readers would enjoy every blessing that exists in Jesus Christ.
Peace is a central theme in Paul’s letters, appearing throughout his epistles as a shorthand reference to the believer’s restored relationship with God. This peace rests on the fact that God’s righteous wrath has been satisfied through the suffering of Jesus in our place. Yet it does not stop with vertical reconciliation. The same gospel that makes peace between God and sinners also creates peace among believers—across lines of class, ethnicity, and culture—because all who are in Christ are united in one body.
Christ alone stands as the mediator between God and humanity. Having reconciled us to the Father, He also reconciles us to each other. Those once orphaned by the world are now joined together as one body, one family, in Him. Grace and peace are gospel gifts that reach sinners only “from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.” The Father is the architect of this great salvation, and the Son is the one who accomplished it.4
Beloved, taken together, these two great words, grace and peace, offer a complete answer to the deepest needs and profound emptiness of the human heart. Everything we most desperately require is contained in them: grace that raises us from spiritual death to new life, and peace that describes the rich, settled life we now possess through faith in Jesus Christ. These are not casual words or a polite formula Paul tacks on to open a letter. Far from it—grace and peace are the twin spiritual realities that Scripture as a whole, and Philippians in particular, holds out to us.
This is why we need the message of Philippians: grace for our sin and peace for our troubled hearts; grace for our weaknesses and peace for our fears; grace for our spiritual poverty and peace in knowing that in Christ we are immeasurably rich. It is grace that has carried us to this point and grace that will lead us safely home—and peace that quiets the accusing conscience and guards our hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Everything we truly need is encompassed in these two gifts: grace and peace. This is what the gospel offers. This is what we receive in Jesus Christ—a complete remedy for the full brokenness of life under the curse of sin.
Having spoken grace and peace over them, Paul now opens his heart—showing what gospel partnership produces in him: gratitude, joy, confidence, and deep affection. Let’s look at Paul’s thanksgiving verses 3-8.
- Paul’s Thanksgiving (vv. 3-8)
Scripture: Philippians 1:3-8
3 I thank my God in all my remembrance of you, 4 always in every prayer of mine for you all making my prayer with joy, 5 because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now. 6 And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ. 7 It is right for me to feel this way about you all, because I hold you in my heart, for you are all partakers with me of grace, both in my imprisonment and in the defense and confirmation of the gospel. 8 For God is my witness, how I yearn for you all with the affection of Christ Jesus.
In verse 3, Paul begins to give thanks to God, with great pastoral affection for those to whom he is writing. These are not strangers to him; they are his spiritual children, and he is their father in the faith. That bond shapes everything that follows. Because of this warm, reciprocal relationship, Paul opens by declaring (vv. 3–5), “I thank my God in all my remembrance of you, always in every prayer of mine for you all making my prayer with joy, because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now.”
Paul’s gratitude is directed specifically to “my God,” not to some vague spiritual force or impersonal deity. He is deeply thankful for the Philippians and remembers them consistently in his prayers. For Paul, this is both a responsibility and a delight. He had been with them from the very beginning, and from that first day onward, they had faithfully supported him in his mission to carry the gospel to the Gentile world.
Paul’s relationship with the Philippians is what he calls a gospel “partnership”— koinōnia (Phil. 1:5). This isn’t mere familiarity or friendly affection; it’s a spiritual bond forged in shared devotion to Christ and tested over time. They have linked arms in the work of the gospel, and that shared mission runs like a thread through the whole letter.
And Paul is clear: this gospel labor is not in vain. He is confident that the God who began this good work will bring it to completion on the day of Christ (Phil. 1:6). Even his imprisonment doesn’t weaken that assurance (Phil. 1:7). Paul refuses to let appearances interpret reality—God is still at work, the gospel is still advancing, and their sacrifices are never in vain. And right here, early on, Paul is already sounding a note that will echo through the whole letter: salvation, from start to finish, is the gracious work of God.
Paul rejoices over his brothers and sisters in Philippi—not because his ultimate confidence rests in them, but because it rests in God. The same God who initiated His saving work in them will also carry that work forward and bring it to its appointed end on the day of Christ. This is profoundly significant: you did not begin this work—God did. And He will not leave its completion in your hands or dependent on your own strength. With absolute certainty, Paul can say—under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit —that God is the author of your salvation from its beginning to its final culmination.
This is not a cooperative project where God does His part, and we do ours; it is what theologians call a monergistic work—God alone, by His Spirit, bringing life where there was death and carrying that work to completion. That is why he goes on to say, “It is right for me to feel this way about you all, because I hold you in my heart, for you are all partakers with me of grace, both in my imprisonment and in the defense and confirmation of the gospel. For God is my witness, how I yearn for you all with the affection of Christ Jesus.” Because God has worked so powerfully in their hearts, Paul feels a deep and genuine affection for them. The Philippians have faithfully, hopefully, and steadfastly endured with him in the gospel. They are far more than contacts, acquaintances, financial supporters, or even ordinary friends. They are true partners and fellow sharers in his ministry—and Paul’s heart is deeply knit to them because of it, and he loves them for it.
Paul is not trying to sound sentimental; he wants the Philippians to know his love is real. He says it is the very “affection of Christ Jesus” at work in him—deep, tender compassion from the innermost place. The word Paul chooses is especially strong; it speaks of heartfelt mercy, the kind that moves you from the inside out. Paul’s point is this: what they are receiving from him is not just Paul’s personality—it is Christ’s love expressed through Paul.5 Can you hear his pastoral heart? He wants them to be assured of it, to feel it, to know how deeply he cares and how strongly he longs to be with them.
And that kind of love doesn’t stop with Paul. The gospel calls us beyond mere tolerance. Christian love means we actively seek the good of our brothers and sisters. We don’t simply put up with one another—we care, we welcome, we learn, we rejoice, and we open our hearts wider to include all who belong to Christ, even those we have not yet met.
As James Montgomery Boice observed, “true Christian community expands outward because our union with Christ binds us together. And the Apostle Paul reminds us that without this kind of love, doctrinal precision and spiritual activity are of no value. Without love, we are just noise—empty, hollow, and spiritually ineffective (1 Corinthians 13:1).”6
Who are the fellow laborers God has placed in your life—those with whom you share true fellowship by serving side by side in the work of the gospel? Where, specifically, are you investing your time, your gifts, your prayers, and your resources for Christ’s mission?
If we neglect to cultivate gospel partnerships—within our own congregation and with faithful churches and ministries near and far—we are not merely missing an opportunity; we are also forfeiting a vital means of spreading the gospel. We are sidelining one of Christ’s wise and strategic gifts to His people: the strength, encouragement, and shared advance of the gospel that He supplies through His body.
Paul’s gratitude does not stop at thanksgiving. It turns into intercession. Gratitude asks God to keep doing what only God can do. In verses 9–11, he opens his heart even further and shows us the kind of Christlike growth he longs to see in them. Let’s look at Paul’s prayer verses 9-11.
- Paul’s Prayer (vv. 9-11)
Scripture: Philippians 1:9-11
9 And it is my prayer that your love may abound more and more, with knowledge and all discernment, 10 so that you may approve what is excellent, and so be pure and blameless for the day of Christ, 11 filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ, to the glory and praise of God.
The final movement of Paul’s introduction is his prayer. He asks God to cause the Philippians to grow together in love as they look ahead to the day of Christ, when they will be presented to Him as a pure and blameless Bride, bringing glory and praise to God. Their love is to deepen through the means of knowledge and all discernment; its purpose is to prepare them for Christ’s return; its expression is to be the fruit of righteousness; and its ultimate outcome is the glory of God.
Paul’s request for knowledge and discernment in verse 9 echoes similar prayers in his letters to the Ephesians and the Colossians. Yet here he uniquely emphasizes these qualities as the means by which their love will “abound more and more.”
Paul begins by praying that the Philippians’ “love may abound more and more, with knowledge and all discernment” (Phil. 1:9). His request is not for love in isolation or knowledge in isolation, but for a love that grows through increasing wisdom shaped by God’s Word. True knowledge and discernment do not stand apart from love; they produce and deepen it. God calls us to study His Word not to inflate our pride or accumulate information (cf. 1 Cor. 8:1), but to shape our character and fuel our service. As we work through this gospel-rich letter and observe the deep affection and partnership shared between Paul and the Philippians, we should be asking God to use His Word to strengthen our own bonds of love within the church. What we learn here is meant to move us toward greater love for one another.
Martyn Lloyd-Jones observes, “Where there is no love, there is no life, and there must be life before you can impart knowledge. Paul is afraid of knowledge that is not based upon love, and in the same way, he is afraid of love that cannot be controlled and checked by knowledge.”7 His point is profound: love and knowledge are inseparable. You cannot love well without truly knowing, and you cannot genuinely know someone without opening your heart in love.
Take, for example, marriage. I love my wife, but that love requires real knowledge of who she is. If I do not know her, I am only loving my own sentimental projections—an imagined version of her shaped by my preferences rather than reality. Love must be grounded in truth. Likewise, I cannot truly know her unless I love her, because without love, I will keep my heart guarded, approaching her from a distance, analyzing rather than embracing, observing rather than entering into a relationship. Love and knowledge enrich and complete one another.
But why does Paul pray this for the Philippians? Why must their love “abound more and more, with knowledge and all discernment”? He answers in verse 10: “so that you may approve what is excellent, and so be pure and blameless for the day of Christ, filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ, to the glory and praise of God.” In other words, abounding love—shaped and informed by godly knowledge and discernment—enables believers to recognize what truly matters. It teaches us to choose what is excellent, especially the excellencies of Christ Himself.
There are many good things one can dedicate their life to, but love enriched by knowledge directs us to the best things. Growing in love through knowing and being known by Jesus leads us to a life that is fruitful, pure, and pleasing to God—a life lived for His glory and praise.
Beloved, true Christian love—produced in us by the Holy Spirit—gives both the desire and the strength to live according to what God’s Word declares to be right. The goal of growing in knowledge and discernment is that our love would overflow more and more, and the goal of abounding love is that we would become transformed people who delight in what is excellent, who walk in purity and blamelessness, and who bear the righteous fruit that comes through Jesus Christ. Through our shared life together, God uses our relationships to shape us into the image of His Son, all to the glory and praise of His name.
Paul’s deep love for the Philippians flowed from the fact that Christ had first loved him. And the Philippians could partner so faithfully with Paul because Christ Himself had united them in His grace. At the heart of all their affection, encouragement, and partnership stood the cross of Jesus Christ. Apart from the gospel, our service is merely an activity; but through the gospel, our service becomes worship, our love reflects His love, and our prayers join in the ongoing intercession of Christ for His people.
Beloved, if this is what God has done in the Philippians and what Paul prays God will complete in them, then we must ask how this same grace should be seen among us. How should our view of ourselves, our relationships, and our prayers change because of Philippians 1:1-11? With that in mind, let’s move from exposition to application.
Application
“So as we close, just let Paul’s own words lead you. In his greeting, he settles your identity: you belong to Christ—you are His servant and His saint. In his thanksgiving, he strengthens your assurance: God started this work in you, and God will finish it. And in his prayer, he directs your next steps: love that grows, wisdom that discerns, and a life that bears fruit to the glory of God. That’s why Paul can sing in chains—and that’s why you can walk in joy even when life is heavy: your story is not written by your circumstances, but by the faithful God who completes what He begins. So receive His grace, rest in His promise, and walk in His ways—until the day of Christ.
Endnotes
- ESV Study Bible (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2008), “Philippians: Introduction.”
- R. C. Sproul, ed., The Reformation Study Bible (Sanford, FL: Reformation Trust, 2015), “Philippians: Introduction.”
- J. C. Meyer, “Philippians,” in Ephesians–Philemon, vol. 11, ed. Iain M. Duguid, James M. Hamilton Jr., and Jay Sklar (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2018), 134.
- Meyer, “Philippians,” 135.
- Grant R. Osborne, Philippians: Verse by Verse, Osborne New Testament Commentaries (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2017), on Phil. 1:8.
- James Montgomery Boice, quoted in Steven J. Lawson, Philippians for You, ed. Carl Laferton (Epsom, UK: The Good Book Company, 2017), 35.
- D. Martyn Lloyd-Jones, The Life of Joy: An Exposition of Philippians 1 and 2 (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Book House, 1989), 54.
- Scripture quotations are from the ESV® Bible (The Holy Bible, English Standard Version®), copyright © 2001 by Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved.
