Philippians 2:25–30 — Epaphroditus and the Hard Work of Living the Gospel

Hands sharing bread and water beside a travel bag on a wooden table

This post is adapted from a sermon I preached on Philippians 2:25–30 as part of a series through the book of Philippians. It has been lightly edited for reading, but it keeps the spoken style of the original.


All right, we are waist-deep in what at first glance might seem like transitory material in Philippians chapter 2. But viewing it as transitory would be short-sighted. There’s meat here in the verses we have been reading. Right? We talked about Timothy—Paul sending Timothy—last week. This week we’re talking about somebody else. And both of them, Timothy and the fellow we’re talking about this week, provide an example of what faithful service to God is and looks like. There’s no way around it.

I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again right now. One of my greatest fears, which comes back around over and over again, is that what I preach, what I teach, will go to waste in practice. I preach, I teach, you hear part of it, and you never put it into action. Or even in my own life: I put forth all of this effort for teaching and preaching and studying scripture, and I don’t take it seriously; I don’t put it into action in my own life. It’s so hard for us as humans to take information and actually do something with it. Sometimes we do real well at that; sometimes we don’t.

We know, for example—and the details vary on this—that fresh, clean foods are better for us. We know it. We know we should eat good food. Not tasty food, but good food. And yet, do we always do that? I don’t. I know what I should eat, but instead I eat three bowls of cereal in a day. Okay? I know the right thing. I don’t necessarily do the right thing. We know we should get up and move around. We should be active, we should exercise, we should find activities that get our heart rate going. We know that, but do we all do it consistently? No, we don’t. We should look at our screens less, but do we? Almost all of us in here know that staring at our screens all day long is probably not good, right? If we know it’s not good for our children, it’s probably not good for us. And yet, most of the time, do we do anything about it? Some people do, but a lot of times we don’t. We know we should put the dish in the dishwasher instead of the sink, but do we always do that? I do. Always, every single time. Right? My wife has no idea what I’m talking about. She’s so fixated on a thousand other things. It’s okay. We have told our children a thousand times, “This is where your dirty clothes go.” Do the dirty clothes end up where they go? No. As a matter of fact, one of my children—I won’t name names—is progressively getting closer and closer to putting them where they need to go. Even last night, they took off their clothes and left them right next to the hamper. Not in it, just right next to it.

We know what to do. We’ve all been in church long enough to know the right thing. You’ve heard me preach enough to know how to apply certain things to your life. And so the challenge then is, well, how do we do that? How do we put it into action? And that’s the problem here in Philippians.

Listen, elsewhere Paul says, “I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do, I do not do, but what I hate, I do.” Does that make sense? We know the right thing, and sometimes we do the very opposite of what we know to do. It’s the human condition. Thank God for His grace, thank God for His mercy, thank God for the help of the Holy Spirit, because otherwise we stand no chance of doing the right thing the right way a hundred percent of the time. We’re going to get it wrong. Even the most disciplined people can never get it right 100% of the time. And so thank God for grace and mercy.

And this is part of the problem with the Philippian church. They know the right manner of living. They know they’re supposed to live in a manner worthy of the gospel. They even know a little bit of what that looks like. But implementation is difficult. And one thing that can help in this process—this ties into our scripture today—is that in community, together, we are sometimes provided examples of the right thing. If you see someone doing the right thing around you, you are encouraged to do the right thing. If you see someone handle a situation well, you now know how to handle a similar situation well. Listen, if you go to a gym and you watch closely those around you who have been working out longer than you have, you will learn from watching them, because you are seeing them in community. This is a touch of what we are going to see in our scripture today.

Philippians chapter 2, verses 25 through 30.

“I have thought it necessary to send to you Epaphroditus my brother and fellow worker and fellow soldier, and your messenger and minister to my need, for he has been longing for you all and has been distressed because you heard that he was ill. Indeed he was ill, near to death. But God had mercy on him, and not only on him but on me also, lest I should have sorrow upon sorrow. I am the more eager to send him, therefore, that you may rejoice at seeing him again, and that I may be less anxious. So receive him in the Lord with all joy, and honor such men, for he nearly died for the work of Christ, risking his life to complete what was lacking in your service to me.”

In these verses, and the verses we covered last week, Epaphroditus and Timothy are doing double duty. Everybody say “double duty.” Bonus points if you don’t laugh after saying “duty.” There you go. You can all laugh about that later.

This passage is doing two things at one time. It’s practical: Paul is laying out in common terms what he wants to do, what he intends to do, who he’s sending, and why he’s sending them. A lot of times, if you read his letters, Paul does this toward the very end, right? But this isn’t the end of Philippians. This is still chapter 2. So why is Paul doing this thing he normally does at the very end of his letters? There’s a reason for it. This little section does separate one section from another. But at the same time, the way Paul speaks about Timothy and Epaphroditus—the way he uses his words, the way he describes them—shows us that this means something more than just a division, some way to get to the next bit of material. Because the Philippian church has a unity problem. They have a service problem. They have an arrogance problem. They have a living-in-a-manner-worthy-of-the-gospel problem. And here are some people Paul is sending, and the way he describes them contrasts with the problems the Philippian church has. The way Paul speaks here, and the way he spoke last week, gives us clues about how these verses fit within the larger letter and the larger instruction Paul has been giving through Philippians chapters 1 and 2. Timothy is an example: I’m sending him to you; he’s trustworthy; he’s going to do the right thing. And I’m also sending you Epaphroditus, who is also an example.

And Paul gives these phrases, these terms, these names, these descriptions of Epaphroditus. Epaphroditus is described as a brother. A brother. There’s affection in this. Paul also calls the Philippian church brothers and sisters. And I know it’s not the same for everybody. I really know it’s not the same. But for me, my brother—especially when I went to college and he was back home, we may have talked once a week or something like that—he was still my guy. There was something about that relationship. He was my brother; he was family. And when you are family, it changes service. It changes how you work. It changes how you deal with all sorts of different things. When someone is your brother or your sister and you take time out of your day to help them, you’re actually helping yourself, because they’re family and you’re helping your family. You’re part of a unit. When you remember that we are spiritual brothers and sisters, it goes a long way in forming our attitudes toward loving service. You’ve got to learn to love service. You’ve got to learn to help others. You’ve got to learn to set aside your own desires and your own time to help others.

He’s also described as a fellow worker. Fellow worker. Paul uses this phrase a few times throughout his letters to describe people who are essentially doing the same thing he’s doing: sharing the gospel, talking about Jesus, helping the church grow. They’re fellow workers, united in a common effort. Have you ever met somebody you didn’t know, but they had the same job you had? Like, I worked at Lowe’s, and sometimes I’ll walk into Lowe’s and talk to people, and I’m like, “I understand what you’re going through today.” There’s a connection there. Maybe you’re an accountant and you sit next to somebody else who’s an accountant at an airport. Maybe you do construction and you sit next to someone at a sporting event who also does construction. There’s a level of understanding and connection built in, because you’re both doing the same thing. And that feeling, that connection, is multiplied if you’re both doing the same thing at the same place. Right? Anyone got coworker friends? There’s a different kind of connection there, right? There just is. You both understand things. Now multiply all of that when you are part of the same goal: sharing the gospel. And then multiply it even more when we’re talking about being brothers and sisters and fellow workers in the same church. There’s a level of unity and connection there that should really help us when we’re talking about serving, when we’re talking about helping, when we’re talking about living in a manner worthy of the gospel. We are in it together. It’s encouraging. It’s encouraging.

And then he’s called a fellow soldier. Fellow soldier. Not only do they work together, but they went through some stuff together. It was a struggle; it was a battle. We know how hard it is to follow Christ. It’s not always easy to make the right choices for yourself and for your family, but we go through it and we make it through, and it puts us in these positions where we’re up against it, but we survive. Paul survived, and he suffered because of the gospel, and so has Epaphroditus. Suffering is unifying. We know what we’re going through.

Paul uses these three terms to signify his deep connection to Epaphroditus and to remind the Philippian church that they have the same connection with him and with each other. They’re connected to Paul as fellow workers. They’re connected to Paul as brothers and sisters. They’re connected to Paul as fellow soldiers. And they’re connected to Epaphroditus, they’re connected to Timothy, and more importantly, through this process, they are connected to God. All of them could potentially be described the same way Timothy and Epaphroditus are described. Paul’s calling them out. He’s reminding them that these are people who are doing the right thing the right way. You can too.

There are two more terms Paul uses here. He calls him a messenger. Messenger. This is essentially the same word we get “apostle” from. Paul had sent him back with a message for the Philippian church. He’s a messenger. It’s an honor. Paul’s been preaching about sharing the gospel and the good news and being a light for almost two full chapters. We’ll come back to that in a second.

He’s called a minister—a minister to Paul’s needs in particular, which is a great term of honor. This word “minister” is connected to those who served in a civic role. It was a political term that Paul uses in a spiritual sense. Ministers are those who serve a group of people. They serve a church; they serve a congregation. Epaphroditus, in every sense of the word, in every description, was an example of who you should be with Christ.

From those descriptions, Paul moves on to some details. Epaphroditus was ill. He was really sick, close to death, but now he’s not. That’s great news. Paul would have been really sad—which, by the way, is the same Paul who talks about rejoicing always a couple of chapters later, and here he’s talking about being sorrowful. That tells me that when he says, “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice,” he’s not talking about not having any feelings. That’s clearly not what it is, because he says if Epaphroditus had died, he would have been full of sorrow. But then Paul gives the practical reason for sending him back: you guys are worried, he’s worried, I’ve got a message for you, so he’s coming back to you. Celebrate him. Receive him with joy, because he did a great job. He did the right thing.

What does all of that mean for us in practical terms? Why does it matter to be a messenger? Why does it matter to be a minister? Why does it matter to be a brother or sister in Christ? Why does this stuff matter to us? What does it mean for us?

Timothy and Epaphroditus were examples of living in a manner worthy of the gospel. If you recall, that’s how Paul starts this section. It was a call for them to live in a way that brings glory and honor to God. In other words, Timothy and Epaphroditus put the gospel to work. They didn’t just hear what Paul was saying; they lived it out. They didn’t just accept that Jesus was King; they lived like Jesus was King. And that’s not always easy to do, on a large scale or a small scale.

I’m talking to a church right now. I’m talking to a group of believers right now. And I’m just going to go ahead and tell you, even churches struggle with this. Just this week, I watched on X, or Twitter, whatever you want to call it, a particular denomination go through its annual meeting of all its ministers. All their ministers were meeting and talking about things. They were planning the year. They were making theological choices for their groups, for their churches. And I’m going to be real honest with you: it was insane listening to them. I won’t name the denomination, but it was insane. I sat there and watched clips and saw little excerpts of what people said, and it was an entire week of them talking about the craziest stuff, the most maddening things. At one point I heard someone say, “I can’t read this particular scripture without getting triggered, because it’s so hateful.” And I’m just like, what are you talking about? But then it made me realize—and this isn’t in my notes—yeah, guess what? The gospel can seem hateful if you’re living in sin. It’s going to seem a little hateful. The point is, these are supposed to be leaders of the church. They’re supposed to be the examples for their congregations. They’re supposed to be leading their sheep, helping them. And yet it’s just madness, uselessness.

You can also look at the academic world, at some of these left-leaning academic centers and places. You have these theologians and biblical scholars, and you look at what they’re talking about, what they’re thinking, what they’re studying, what they’re writing, and it seems so divorced from the church, so divorced from historical Christianity, that they might as well be talking about zebras and donkeys. Because what they’re talking about certainly isn’t the gospel. It doesn’t look like the truth.

There are churches and Christians so focused on wanting 100% agreement over every single little theological gray area that they verge on legalism. Legalism. It doesn’t matter that this church and that church agree on 99% of what they believe—all the big stuff. The 1% matters so much that it creates disunity and division. As a matter of fact, sometimes it might even produce a level of arrogance that will damage their potential. Right? They’re close to the truth. I’m not saying they’re going to hell, but they are damaging their potential and their witness because of their fixation on wanting to be right 100% of the time. And wanting to be right 100% of the time about everything is not Christianity. You’ve got to be right about one pretty big thing: you need Jesus Christ, He’s going to transform your life, and He’s going to take care of the sin in your life. And then there’s a lot of stuff where, well, there’s room to talk about it, okay? And trust me, I’ve got my own firm beliefs about the right way to believe things. But if I’m in a conversation with some other believers and we’re in alignment on 99%, I can’t fixate on the 1%. I can’t. There are bigger things to worry about.

We have pastors and preachers and ministers who can put together a really great sermon. They’re going to be incredibly entertaining on the stage. They’re going to be much funnier than I am, much more talented than I am. They might have cool graphics, they might have an organ player doing cool things at cool times, they might have a good rhythm and a good natural ability to engage people. But for them, the stage is the only thing that matters. They don’t pay a lick of attention to their congregation. They don’t exist for their congregation. It’s almost as if the congregation exists for them and for the stage the congregation gives them. And while part of that is good, it doesn’t look like Christ. It doesn’t look like the gospel.

We have churches that look healthy. They have nice budgets, nice buildings. Everybody looks nice when they get there. But the congregants are never challenged and they’re never changed. And many times, they walk out the doors of the church into the world, and the people they rub elbows with outside the church wouldn’t even know they’re Christians.

We have a problem, in the church and as humans, with taking the gospel and applying it to our lives in a way that matters. And it goes from the top, with ministers, all the way down to the lowest of the low congregants who might just open a door or show up on a Sunday. We’ve got to look like what we believe.

Against this psychologically and spiritually unhealthy separation of belief from behavior, Philippians 2:19–30—what we’ve read the past two weeks—places the example of Timothy, Epaphroditus, and Paul himself. Because of their commitment to the gospel, Paul and Timothy have adopted the role of slaves. They call themselves slaves at the very beginning of the book. He uses that language again in chapter 2, verse 22. And both have been willing to put the spiritual welfare of the Philippians above their own interests. Epaphroditus likewise has been willing to risk his life to help Paul as he seeks to fulfill his calling, his mission. Timothy, Epaphroditus, and Paul have this understanding of what Christian commitment really is. It means losing one’s life in order to find it. A divided commitment to the gospel—as Jesus teaches in several ways, over and over again—is actually no commitment at all.

And that’s terrifying, because it’s not easy to think that way. It’s not easy to think in those terms of totality in your life. Listen, we’re in a world that makes it easy to take the easy way out. We’re in a world where it’s easy to serve yourself, where it’s easy to celebrate being prideful. The church is not immune from these struggles and these trials and these tribulations. So what do we do? What do we do?

Paul, Timothy, and Epaphroditus are slaves to the gospel. Slaves to the gospel. That’s a negative term, is it not? Who wants to be a slave? It’s not a good thing. It’s a hard word. It’s a difficult thing to wrap your mind around. You mean I’ve got to give up all my hopes and dreams to follow God? You mean I’ve got to love God more than I love my spouse? You mean I’ve got to love God even more than I love my children? You mean the gospel has to impact every single cell and fiber of my being? You mean God has to become the framework for every word I speak, every thought I have, every dream I have, every hope I have—every pursuit in my life has to be grounded in God Himself and what He wants for my life? Isn’t that a little extreme? Isn’t that impossible? Isn’t that difficult?

It is extreme. And by ourselves, it is impossible. But what you will find, if you lay yourself down and pick up Christ and His cross, is that the hardest part of that entire process is simply saying yes. Yes is the hardest part. Yes is the hardest part. It’s like a child learning to swim and jumping into a pool for the first time. After a certain point, they have every ability to survive that jump. They have every ability to swim. They can hold their breath. They can make it back to the edge. They can make it back to the steps. They might even have a floatie on. They’re going to be okay. Sometimes the hardest part about saying yes to God is simply saying yes and taking that first step into the pool.

Be a slave to the gospel. Be a slave for Christ. It seems extreme. It seems difficult. But the yes is the hardest part. When you say yes and give everything to God, you will find that everything good you thought you were sacrificing becomes enriched in a way that could never happen if you never gave it all in the first place. A level of happiness becomes accessible when you decide to give away everything.

When you say yes to being a slave to Christ, the love you have for your spouse, the love you have for your family, the love you have for your children—what you sacrifice in order to serve God first—is actually multiplied. Does that make sense? Because of Christ and my commitment to Christ, I love my spouse and my family more than anyone who does not serve God. I don’t care what the argument is. I love them more because I love Christ. Every dream, every hope, every desire that I lay aside, saying, “God, I want this, but I want you more”—those dreams and hopes and desires are replaced by things that fit me better, even better than my original desires did. “I want this type of job, God. I want this kind of life. But before I even think about that, Lord, I want a life connected to you.” And in return, you’re given something that goes above and beyond what you wanted by yourself to begin with.

The image you have for yourself—of who you want to be as a person, as a man, as a woman, as a wife, as a spouse, whatever, it doesn’t matter—the image you sacrificed, this thing you wanted to be, you sacrificed it to be one with Christ. It’s replaced with God’s image for you, of who He wants and who He designed you to be. Do you know how incredibly important that reality is in a world that celebrates pride? Do you know how incredibly important it is to realize that you can sacrifice even your identity in order to gain a new identity in Christ? They call it identity politics, right? Identity philosophy. People are obsessed with “This is who I am, this is who I was born to be, this is the image I want to display to the world. I am trans, I am G-A-Y, I am this, I am that. That is my image.” Right? That’s the image people have. And what they’ve got to know is that to be a servant of Christ, you sacrifice that image at the cross. And Jesus Christ gives you the image you were designed to have to begin with. And that goes for anything in your life. It doesn’t have to be as dramatic as that. You have an image, a desire, a design for your life: sacrifice it at the cross, and He will be gracious to give you an image that is above and beyond what you ever thought you could have.

You want wholeness, you want fullness, you want to be able to sleep at night without worrying about this or that. Be a slave to Christ. Paul, Timothy, and Epaphroditus serve as examples of this process in action. And while the journey is rife with difficulties and troubles and trials, it’s a journey full of holy joy, peace, and rejoicing that you can’t get anywhere else. A job can’t give you the joy Christ can give you. A relationship can’t do it. An amount of money can’t do it. Stuff can’t do it. A life lived for Christ provides you with joy and rejoicing that nobody can take away, no matter the circumstances. And it only happens when God is at the center of who you are. Be slaves to Christ. It’s not easy. That’s not the point. The point is we are called to be slaves to Christ, and if we are called, we are also equipped to be slaves to Christ this morning.

I think I might be finished. Can we do that?

Heavenly Father, we love you. We love you so much. And Lord, I pray, as scary as it might be, that you would call us deeper and deeper into our slavery to you. Let every part of our lives be submitted to you. Let every part of our lives be defined by you, be decided by you. Lord, we set aside every dream and every desire. We set aside every little thing in our existence in order to serve you, Lord. I pray for this church. I pray that you continue to help us, guide us, lead us. I pray that you would connect us with the right people, that you would inspire us to go out and get the right people. Let people walk in here; let us walk out there and bring people in here, Lord. I pray that you’d help us find a new facility that will serve us for what we want to do in this community and for our families. I pray that you would anoint us with your Holy Spirit in every area of our lives, Lord. If there are areas in our lives that are being impacted by sin, I pray for your deliverance and for your grace and for your mercy, Lord. Help us, God, to be your church above all else. In Jesus Christ’s name we pray, and we all said together, Amen.



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