What It Really Means to Be a Servant of Jesus. A Fresh Look at Philippians 1

There is a question many of us carry but rarely say out loud. What does it actually look like to be a servant of Jesus. Not in the overly religious sense that gets shaped by church culture, but in the way the earliest Christians understood it. That question sits right at the front of the letter to the Philippians and it is one of the reasons this ancient writing still has something to say to people who are spiritually curious and unsure how faith works in real life.

When Paul opens this letter, he uses a word that hits us differently than it hit the ancient world. He calls himself and Timothy slaves of Christ Jesus. The Greek word is dulos. In English the word slave feels heavy because of our history with it. It pulls in a world of suffering and oppression. But in the ancient Mediterranean world, that word did not carry the same cultural meaning. It described a relationship of allegiance, loyalty, and surrender. Someone could actually choose that path as a way to survive or repay a debt. It could be a path toward stability and belonging.

So when Paul calls himself a dulos of Christ, he is saying something about identity and allegiance. He is telling this little community in Philippi that Jesus is the one who has authority over his life. Not in a harmful way but in a way shaped by trust. He believes Jesus is a good king with a good kingdom, and that the way of Jesus leads to a fuller life than the way of self. I have always appreciated translations that make this clear, like NT Wright’s choice to use the phrase King Jesus. Christ is not a last name. It is a title that tells us who Jesus is and what kind of authority he carries.

Once you see that, you begin to see why this matters. If Jesus is king, then I no longer get to build my world only around my own agenda. I learn to trust his. And that trust shows up in the smallest parts of daily life. How I treat people I disagree with. How quickly I either shut people out or welcome them in. One of the easiest ways to tell if I am following Jesus or following myself is to look at the people I keep at a distance. Jesus moved toward outsiders. If I move away, I already know where my allegiance is.

Right after Paul names his identity as a servant of Jesus, he shifts into prayer. And what he does here is worth paying attention to. Instead of saying I am praying for you in the vague way many of us have learned to say it, he tells them exactly what he prays. He thanks God every time he remembers them. He feels joy when he thinks about them. He sees them as partners in the gospel, not passive observers. Partners. People who have stood with him from the first day they met in Acts 16.

There is something grounding about the way he prays because most of us are used to prayer as something we reach for when things are falling apart. But Paul’s first instinct is gratitude. He looks at this group of people and his heart goes straight to thankfulness. It makes me pause and ask myself when I last thanked God for the people in my life. Not because everything is perfect. Not because it all makes sense. Just because people themselves are gifts and gratitude has a way of reshaping how we see the world.

Then Paul tells them the heart of his prayer. He prays that their love will grow more and more in knowledge and wisdom. For Paul, love is not something that just happens. It grows when understanding grows. Understanding becomes wisdom when it starts shaping your choices. I have always seen wisdom as the application of knowledge. You learn something and then you apply it in a way that creates good.

Paul wants their love to grow and overflow. He wants their understanding to expand. He wants them to apply what they learn with discernment so that they will be able to choose what is best. Not what is convenient. Not what is easy. What is best. And he believes that when this happens, their lives will begin to bear the fruit of right living. Not from effort alone, but because the life of Jesus is shaping them from the inside out.

I love this connection between love and discernment because so many of us try to figure out what is right from a place of fear, suspicion, or defensiveness. Paul reminds us that clarity flows from love. If I assume the worst about people, if I lead with judgment, if I close myself off, then I limit my ability to see what is truly good. For years Jane and I have taught our kids to assume the best first. Not because everyone will always deserve it. But because love makes space for understanding, and understanding makes space for wisdom. When I listen well, I learn. When I learn, I gain understanding. And once I have understanding, I can apply it with wisdom.

Paul’s confidence in this community is anchored in something deeper. He is convinced that the one who started a good work in them will bring it to completion. That word good carries the same idea as the Hebrew word tove. It reminds us of God naming creation good in Genesis. Life giving. Whole. Exactly as it should be. Paul believes this good is already at work in them, shaping them through every season. Even the painful ones. Even the confusing ones. God has a way of taking the pieces of our story and forming us into the people we are meant to be.

And maybe that is the heart of this whole passage. Being a servant of Jesus is not about losing yourself. It is about growing into the person Jesus is shaping you to become. Being someone who prays with intention is not about looking spiritual. It is about choosing gratitude and hope. Growing in knowledge and wisdom is not about collecting information. It is about letting love guide your understanding and letting understanding guide your actions.

Philippians invites us to slow down, read Scripture in its ancient context, and let its wisdom speak into real life. These first eleven verses hold a depth of insight that grows each time you sit with them. And if you keep reading, you may find that this ancient letter has been speaking to people like you for a very long time. People who are curious, thoughtful, unsure what to make of religion, and still hoping there is something good and true at the center of it all.

If something here stirred a question or opened a new thought, follow it. Write it down. Sit with it. Let it shape the way you see God and the way you see others. And keep reading slowly. There is more ahead, and this letter is just getting started.