Joy That Cannot Be Chained (Sunday, May 25, 2025)

How Resilient Faith Anchored in Christ Turns Imprisonment into Praise

Good morning, Riverside!

This morning, may I begin with a story—not from the Bible, but from a newspaper from 1973. It was a story about James Stockdale, then a Navy commander and fighter pilot, who was shot down over North Vietnam. Captured by the Communist forces who eventually won the war, he spent over seven years in the brutal POW camp nicknamed "Hanoi Hilton." Tortured, kept in solitary confinement, and offered no certainty of survival, he emerged not only as a survivor but as a victor who overcame unthinkable atrocities. To this day, he is studied as an example of "Post Traumatic Growth."

After his release, Stockdale was asked how he survived when others did not. His answer became known as the 'Stockdale Paradox':

“You must never confuse faith that you will prevail in the end—which you can never afford to lose—with the discipline to confront the most brutal facts of your current reality, whatever they might be.”

He held two truths in tension: brutal honesty about the present, and unwavering hope in the future.

Two thousand years before the Stockdale Paradox, there was Apostle Paul. Paul’s hope wasn’t just in survival or eventual release. In fact, Apostle Paul was not released, but death or the threat of death could not hold him down. In fact the history of Christian Church is full of people who lived paradoxical lives. Thousands upon thousands of Christians throughout history gave up their most precious life, even though they were tortured and threatened with death.

Their hope was rooted in the person and promises of Jesus Christ. The Christians like Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Eric Liddell, Corie Ten Boom, and so on (the list is rather long) weren’t just trying to endure; they had peace and joy that the world could not take away!

The saints who did not suffer PTSD but instead grew when faced with the "traumas" of life understood the words written in the Book of Philippians.

Paul wrote this letter not from a retreat or quiet study, but from a Roman prison, uncertain whether he would live or die. And yet, what do we hear in his words?

“I thank my God…”

“I am sure of this…”

“I yearn for you all with the affection of Christ…”

“I pray that your love may abound…”

There’s no bitterness. No self-pity. No despair. Instead, there is joy, confidence, gratitude, and deep affection. And that raises the question for us today:

How was it possible for Paul to endure such a hopeless situation—and still rejoice?

In today's passage and throughout the letter, we discover three marks of resilient, Gospel-shaped faith that not only carried Paul but can carry us today. Let's discover what they are together.

I. Gospel-Centered Confidence in God’s Sovereignty (v. 6)

Paul writes in verse 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.'

What strikes me is Paul’s certainty. Not just 'I hope so' or 'I think God might.' He says, 'I am sure.'

This is Gospel-centered confidence. Paul knows that the foundation of our faith is not our performance, but God’s grace. The same God who initiated the work of salvation is the one who will carry it through to the end.

Even in prison, Paul doesn't question whether God's purposes are stalled. He doesn't say, 'Well, maybe God's on pause because I'm locked up.' No, he says: God is still working. I am locked up, but God's Word will never be! When you can't do anything. When you feel like you are imprisoned and your life is not going anywhere, is God's work stalled? No! Absolutely not! He is working in you!

Beloved, this realization that God is up to something and that He is always up to something good is where real resilience begins—not with our circumstances, but with our confidence in God’s unchanging faithfulness. When you’re in a season of waiting, of suffering, or of apparent silence, this verse anchors your soul.

Where is your confidence anchored today? In your plans? In your progress? Or in the God who never fails to finish what He starts?

II. Christlike Love for the People of God (vv. 7–8)

Verses 7 and 8 say, 'It is right for me to feel this way about you all, because I hold you in my heart… For God is my witness, how I yearn for you all with the affection of Christ Jesus.'

Even in prison, Paul’s heart is not consumed by his own suffering. He is filled with love for the church. And it’s not just human warmth—it’s the very affection of Christ Jesus.

What kind of love is that? It’s the selfless, sacrificial love of the One who laid down His life for His friends. Paul’s suffering didn’t make him bitter—it made him more like Jesus.

This is a challenge to all of us: hardship can harden us or soften us. Isolation can make us selfish or sanctify us.

Paul shows us that when Christ lives in us, His love flows through us—even from a prison cell.

Is your suffering making your heart more Christlike—or more closed off? Who is God calling you to love today?

III. Spirit-Empowered Joy in Gospel Partnership (vv. 3–5, 9–11)

Paul writes, 'I thank my God in all my remembrance of you… because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now.'

Even though Paul is confined, his joy is overflowing. Why? Because he’s not alone. The Philippians are with him in spirit, in prayer, in giving. They are true partners in the Gospel.

Later in verse 9, he prays that their love would abound more and more, in knowledge and all discernment. Even from prison, Paul is praying, teaching, and encouraging. His mission hasn’t stopped—it’s just taken a new shape.

Joy, for Paul, is never a private possession. It’s always tied to Gospel fellowship—to the community of faith and the mission of Christ.

Who are your "Gospel partners?" Are you actively investing in others, even in hard seasons?

Conclusion: 'It Is Well' in Chains and Sorrow

Let me close with the famous story of Horatio Gates Spafford (1828-1888).

He was a successful lawyer and Presbyterian church elder who lived in Chicago in the 1800s. In 1871, his four-year-old son died of scarlet fever. Later that same year, the Great Chicago Fire ruined him financially. In 1873, he planned a trip to Europe for his family to rest and recover. At the last minute, business delayed him, and he sent his wife and four daughters ahead. Tragically, their ship collided with another in the Atlantic and sank. All four of his daughters drowned. His wife, Anna, survived and sent him a telegram: 'Saved alone.'

As Spafford sailed to meet his grieving wife, the captain of his ship told him when they were passing the place where his daughters had perished. It was there, looking out over the waters, that he penned these words:

'When peace like a river attendeth my way, / When sorrows like sea billows roll, / Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say, / It is well, it is well with my soul.'

Beloved, that’s not human resilience. That’s Gospel resilience. That’s the anticipation of more profound joy that cannot be chained or destroyed. That’s the peace that surpasses any earthly understanding.

So whatever you’re facing today—whatever prison, whatever pain—remember:

He who began the "good work" in you will carry it to completion. Christ’s love is with you. And the joy of the Gospel is yours—even now.

Hold fast to the Savior. Love deeply like Christ. Rejoice in the Gospel—even in your chains.

Let us pray.

Lord Jesus,

We thank you for the joy that cannot be chained. Thank you that our confidence is not in our ability to endure, but in your faithfulness to finish. Fill us with the affection of Christ. Strengthen us in Gospel partnership. Teach us to sing 'It is well' even when sorrows like sea billows roll. Please help us to stand firm, to rejoice always, and to live lives worthy of your Gospel.

In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.