To Live Is Christ, and to Die Is Gain (Philippians 1:21–26)

Phil. 1:21. For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain.

I trust, he says, that through your prayers and God’s ordering all things will be for my good—whether I remain alive or am put to death. For “to live is Christ”: to Him I devote everything, and this is a great good; and “to die is gain”: not any kind of loss, but also a good, because to die for Christ is supremely glorious, and because after death I shall immediately see Christ the Lord face to face, in which lies all our blessedness. In this last respect I may say that for me it would actually be better to die. Living here, I only labor for Christ, toil for Him; but there—I shall immediately begin to enjoy communion with Him. That life for him is Christ contains both the thought that his spiritual life is from Christ and in Christ, and the thought that the primary object of his cares and strivings is to please Christ and to fulfill His commandments (St. Chrysostom, Oecumenius, blessed Theophylact, blessed Theodoret). But in the present passage the Apostle chiefly wished to express by this that his whole life is devoted to the work of preaching the Gospel, with the aim of teaching all that our salvation is in the Lord Jesus Christ alone, and of disposing all to seek and find their salvation in Him (St. John of Damascus). This does not exclude the first two meanings, but on the contrary encompasses them within itself.

“Death is gain” for all, because it delivers from the burden of the present life with its many tribulations and introduces into a better one. But in this sense death is a gain not in itself, but because the Lord was pleased to associate this with it. In itself it is neither a loss nor a gain and occurs according to God’s order. If, therefore, St. Paul specifically calls death a gain, he means by it not ordinary death, but death as a martyr—death for Christ and for the Gospel. Such death truly is gain, for it in itself crowns the sufferer with a most glorious crown. And it was precisely such a death that the Apostle was expecting.

Phil. 1:22. But if I live in the flesh, this is the fruit of my labor; yet what I shall choose I do not know.

It would be better for me to die—both for the worth of a martyr’s death and for what naturally follows it. But here, as a counterweight to this advantage in my situation, stands another advantage: the “fruit of my labor”—my apostolic labor—if I remain alive: the spreading of the light of the Gospel and the salvation of so many souls. When, he says, I set these two advantages over against each other, I do not know what I desire—what I would prefer, what to choose.

“What philosophy! He both rejected love of the present life and did not slander it! For by the words: ‘to die is gain’—he rejected love of this life; and by the words: ‘to live in the flesh, this is the fruit of my labor’—he showed that the present life is also necessary. How? If we make use of it as we ought, if we bear fruit. If it is fruitless, then it is no longer life. Trees that bear no fruit, as well as dry ones, we throw away and give over to fire. To live is something intermediate and indifferent; but to live well or badly is in our power. Therefore one must not hate life. For it is possible to live well. But if we misuse life, even then one must not accuse it. Why? Because life is not the cause of it, but the will of those who misuse it. God gave you life that you might live for Him; but you, by inclination toward evil, living sinfully, bring every fault upon yourself” (St. Chrysostom).

When the Apostle says: “what I shall choose I do not know”—he conveys the thought that the choice of life or death lay within his power. But life and death are in God’s hands. In what sense, then, did the Apostle say this? Perhaps he had in mind a choice of the heart. Reviewing the contingencies that his present situation made possible, he could not but suppose the possibility that he might be given over to death. To this the heart might respond with a desire, for the sake of the brightness of the martyr’s crown and for the sake of the sooner personal communion with the Lord. But at the same time, conscience might present to him that he is an Apostle and, while strength remains, ought to desire to live in order to spread the Gospel of Christ. Devoted to his apostolic duty, he could not but desire that things should go according to this righteous prompting. And it is of this contest of good desires that he speaks—that, standing in the midst of them, he does not know what to desire.

But one may also understand quite directly that here the choice is not of desire or preference, but of the event itself—of life or death—by virtue of the fact that he might have prayed for it, and God would have done according to his prayer. Hezekiah prayed, and God added years to his life. And in the lives of the saints there have been many instances where some died and others had their life prolonged by prayer. In this sense the Apostle could have said: I do not know what to choose, for what to pray, that God might do it for me. St. Chrysostom understands these words thus: “Here the Apostle discloses a great mystery—that it was in his power to die. For where there is a choice, it means we are masters. ‘What I shall choose’, he says, I do not know. Does this mean it is in your power? Indeed, he says, if I wish to ask this grace from God.”

Phil. 1:23. For I am pressed between the two, having a desire to depart and be with Christ, which is far better.

“I am pressed between the two”—I am pulled in both directions; it is not thought against thought that contends in me, but desire against desire, sympathy against sympathy, inclination against inclination. I have the desire to “depart from the body” by means of whatever death it shall please God to send me. And this “would be far better,” because through it I would immediately “be with Christ” and find blessedness in Him. Such is the direct hope of all Christians who have remained faithful to the faith, and all the more so of the Apostles. Where else should those dwell after death who from the very moment of first coming to Christ have been clothed in Christ and all their life have lived in such a manner that they did not live, but Christ lived in them—where else should such persons be but with Christ? St. Chrysostom draws from this: “Death is a thing indifferent. Since death is not an evil, but it is an evil to be tormented after death; so also death is not a good, but a good is to be with Christ after death. What happens after death is good or evil. Therefore we ought not to mourn for all who die, nor to rejoice for all who live. How then? We ought to weep for sinners—not only when they die but also when they live—and to rejoice for the righteous—not only when they live but also when they depart. For the former, even in life, have died; and the latter, even after death, live. The former are pitiful to all even in this life, since they offend God; and the latter, having departed there, are blessed, since they have gone to be with Christ. Sinners, wherever they are, are far from the King, and are therefore worthy of tears; but the righteous, here or there, are together with the King—and there they are far nearer to Him, not by contemplation, not by faith, but, as it is said, ‘face to face’ (1 Cor. 13:12).”

Phil. 1:24. Nevertheless, to remain in the flesh is more necessary for your sake.

The other counterweight to the desire is: “it is more necessary for your sake.” The sense of apostolic duty compels him to desire to remain yet a little while in the flesh—to strengthen those who have believed, to convert those who have not, to lead all to Christ. Between dwelling with Christ in the other life and the present life there could not even be a comparison. It is not this latter life as such that the Apostle sets in counterweight to the former, but rather what he can still do in this life. The aim of the present life lies in the future. The future is bright; but if in the present life the opportunity yet remains to accomplish much more, through which the future will be all the brighter—then one cannot but desire the prolongation of life, not for its own sake, but for the sake of what can be attained through it. When the Apostle perceived that remaining in the flesh “is more necessary” and that he still has the strength to fulfill what is most necessary, then within him the better future and the best future came into contention—the latter being one for which the prolongation of the present life serves as the means—and then the resolution came of itself: “I shall remain and continue with you.” However hard the present life, I must desire its prolongation, and I do desire it.

St. Chrysostom marvels both at this wavering of desires in St. Paul and at this resolution: “What are you saying? You are departing from here to heaven and will be with Christ, and yet you do not know what to choose? No! This is not characteristic of Paul’s soul. For who would not have chosen this (that is, to be with Christ), if someone told him of it and firmly assured him of it? Certainly no one. But it is not in our power either to depart and be with Christ, or to remain here still when the time for that comes. For Paul, however, and for a soul like his, both were possible. What then are you saying? You know and are confident that you will be with Christ, and yet you are perplexed, saying: ‘I do not know what I shall choose?’ More than that, you even decide to remain here, that is, to remain in the flesh. Why so? Do you not lead a bitter life? Are you not in calamities, in hunger, thirst, and nakedness? And you still desire this passing life? Even if none of this had happened to you, but you had accomplished all your work safely and pleasurably—even then, ought you not, fearing the uncertainty of the future, to have hastened toward the safe harbor? Even if the present life were filled with countless goods, even in that case one ought to desire to be released from them for Christ, whom you have loved. No, he says, this also (that is, to remain in the flesh) is for Christ—so that those whom I have made His servants may be still more firmly established in a good disposition, so that the field I have planted may become fruitful. Have you not heard that I could wish to be separated from Christ, if only many would turn to Him? If I was resolved upon this, shall I not with still greater readiness resolve to sacrifice my delay and remaining here, if only it may serve somewhat for their salvation? This is why: ‘to remain in the flesh is more necessary for your sake.’ — Paul could have departed to Christ and chose not to go to Christ—to Christ, whom he loved so much that for His sake he was ready even for hell, yet remained to strive here still for the sake of men. With what, then, shall we justify ourselves?”

Phil. 1:25. And being confident of this, I know that I shall remain and continue with you all, for your progress and joy of faith.

“It is worthy of wonder in the divine Apostle that for the sake of the salvation of men he preferred this life with its labors and dangers. I know, he says, that I shall escape the present danger, so as to furnish you again with abundant benefit and joy, as those who have attained what they desired” (blessed Theodoret).

A difficult struggle took place in the soul of the Apostle. In it one may see a faint likeness of the struggle of Christ the Saviour in the Garden of Gethsemane. At first, in the face of the imminent danger of death, there arose the natural feeling toward life—so alive in all. It was sacrificed in the readiness to die for the Lord Jesus Christ. This sacrifice was made sweet by the certainty of nearness and communion with the Lord, and not only had nothing painful in it, but on the contrary became something longed-for. But this peace was again disturbed by the consciousness of apostolic duty, and in its turn was sacrificed in the readiness and desire to live still longer, amidst privations, tribulations, calamities, and ceaseless dyings without death, in order to glorify the name of Christ more through spreading the light of the Gospel on earth. The conviction of the necessity of this last thing gave rise to certainty of the prolongation of life in the soul of the Apostle, which was surrendered to God’s will—the hidden resolutions of which the Spirit of God dwelling in him did not fail to know. This is the source of: “And being confident of this, I know.” “The initiate of ineffable and super-heavenly mysteries saw that his life was not in danger and that he would still live; and so he spoke thus” (Photius, cited in Oecumenius).

“I shall remain and continue with you.” “If this is needed, then I shall indeed remain, and not simply remain, but with you. For such is the meaning of the word: ‘I shall continue with you’—that is, I shall stay, I shall see you again. For what purpose? ‘For your progress and joy of faith.’ — What then? Did he remain for the Philippians alone? No, not for them alone; but he says this to them in order to comfort them. How did this serve their progress in faith? In this way: that they might be strengthened, like nestlings that need their mother until they have grown feathers. This is proof of great love. In a similar way we also encourage others when we say: I stayed for your sake, to do you good. By these words he stirs them to be attentive to themselves, as if saying: since I remained for your sake, see to it that you do not put my remaining to shame. Having the ability to behold Christ, I resolved to remain here for your progress. Since my presence promotes both your faith and your joy, I resolved to remain” (St. Chrysostom).

“The progress of faith” is an ever-greater understanding of the dogmas of faith and an ever-greater perfection in living according to the spirit of faith. And “the joy of faith” is both the joy that this progress will bring them, and the joy that the meeting with the Apostle will bring—who, when he comes to them, will enrich them in the knowledge of faith and dispose them to a more perfect life. This joy awaits both the Philippians and the Apostle Paul himself—just as, in writing to the Romans, he said that he desired to be with them that he might be “comforted together” with them through their common faith—both his and theirs (Rom. 1:12).

Phil. 1:26. That your boasting in Christ Jesus may abound in me, through my coming to you again.

The consequence of the Apostle’s renewed time with them is progress and joy in faith, and the consequence of both of these is the increase of the Philippians’ boasting in Christ Jesus. They were already praised for their steadfastness in faith and their zeal for works according to faith; but when the Apostle comes to them and, imparting to them new instruction in both, advances their faith and morality, their praise will be heightened by this as well. “Boasting in Christ Jesus”—that is, in His spirit, or such boasting as the Lord Himself will praise them for. But the word “in me” also suggests the thought that this boasting will pass from them to the Apostle as well. For him, as their teacher, the praiseworthiness of his disciples will mean more praise. Or that their praise will be all the more eloquent on his lips as well—and he will have reason to boast of them (St. Chrysostom).

All of this is expected to result from the Apostle’s coming to them again. “What then? Did he come to them? Judge for yourselves whether he came” (St. Chrysostom). “This prophecy was fulfilled” (blessed Theodoret). These words contain a decisive confirmation that St. Paul was set free from his first imprisonment and visited the churches he had previously founded, including the church at Philippi. He spoke in the unerring spirit of prophecy.