Dual Citizenship, Philippians 1:27-30

Paul sat in chains, but his soul was free. He wrote to the Philippians like a man who knew where he was going and wasn’t afraid to get there. If you call yourself a citizen of heaven, then stand firm, strive hard, and don’t flinch when the world bares its teeth.

Philippians 1:27-30 reads:

²⁷ Only let your manner of life be worthy of the gospel of Christ, so that whether I come and see you or am absent, I may hear of you that you are standing firm in one spirit, with one mind striving side by side for the faith of the gospel, ²⁸ and not frightened in anything by your opponents. This is a clear sign to them of their destruction, but of your salvation, and that from God. ²⁹ For it has been granted to you that for the sake of Christ you should not only believe in him but also suffer for his sake, ³⁰ engaged in the same conflict that you saw I had and now hear that I still have.

Paul wrote his letter to the Philippians from prison, though which imprisonment it was is hard to say. Likely, it was one of the later ones, perhaps when he was under house arrest in Rome, as Acts describes. Being a Roman citizen, Paul had the right to appeal to Caesar, and when the Jewish leaders conspired to kill him, that’s exactly what he did. Festus, the Roman governor, granted his request: “To Caesar you shall go.”

The journey was no easy one. A storm battered the ship, and the crew, convinced they were done for, panicked. But Paul, steady as ever, told them not to fear. An angel had assured him he would stand before Caesar, and God, in His mercy, would spare the lives of those with him. So they clung to bits of wreckage and washed up, half-drowned, on Malta.

Nero was the Caesar who would judge him, and Nero was a madman. At first, he was guided by his mother and Seneca, but power soured him. He had his mother killed, indulged every wicked impulse, and finally, after the Great Fire of Rome, found a scapegoat for the rage of the people: the Christians. He tortured them, burned them as torches, fed them to wild beasts. This was the man Paul had appealed to.

We don’t know how the trial went, but Paul’s second letter to Timothy gives a clue. His first defense, he says, left him utterly alone. No one stood with him; they feared Nero too much. He writes, “But the Lord stood with me and strengthened me.” He knows death is near. He calls it his “departure,” as if it’s a train he’s about to board. “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the course, I have kept the faith.” The executioner’s sword is only a means to bring him to Christ.

If this is the imprisonment from which he writes to the Philippians, then the letter is the words of a man weighing life and death. “To live is Christ, to die is gain,” he says, and you can hear the longing. But still, he tells them, he believes he will live a little longer, for their sake. He is a father thinking of his children, not quite ready to leave them to fend for themselves.

And so, he turns from his own trial to theirs. “Conduct yourselves in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ.” The word he uses—politeuesthe—has the idea of citizenship. The Philippians, as a Roman colony, knew what it meant to be Roman citizens. Paul reminds them they are citizens of something higher. “Our citizenship is in heaven,” he tells them. Just as Rome demanded certain virtues—comitas, dignitas, pietas—so does heaven. And what are the benefits of such citizenship? Assurance of God’s love, peace of conscience, joy in the Spirit, perseverance to the end. When they die, their souls will be made perfect. And when Christ returns, their bodies will rise in glory.

Yet just as Roman citizenship had its privileges, it had its obligations. “You were bought with a price,” Paul writes elsewhere. “Glorify God in your body.” The Christian life is not passive. “Stand firm in one spirit, striving together for the faith of the gospel.” Stand and strive—action words. Christianity is not for the lazy.

Some will say Christianity isn’t about “do’s and don’ts.” But if you belong to Christ, there are things you do and things you don’t. Worship God with His people. Read Scripture. Pray. Work hard. Show hospitality. And don’t—don’t waste your mind on worthless things, don’t let anxiety rule you, don’t indulge in gluttony or drunkenness.

Paul used his Roman citizenship to advance the gospel, and Christians should use their earthly citizenships in the same way. Vote with a conscience shaped by Scripture. Run for office. Influence laws. But remember, you are first a citizen of heaven. There will be times when these allegiances clash, as they did for Paul. Rome tolerated all gods, as long as one said, “Caesar is Lord.” Christians would not, and so they were hunted.

Paul knew what was coming. He warned Timothy, “All who desire to live godly in Christ Jesus will be persecuted.” Christianity, properly lived, will put you at odds with the world. And yet, Paul tells the Philippians not to be alarmed by their enemies. Their calmness is a sign—to their persecutors, a sign of destruction, to themselves, a sign of salvation.

He tells them plainly: “It has been granted to you not only to believe in Christ, but also to suffer for Him.” Suffering is a gift, a mark of belonging. And so the question comes—are you willing to suffer for your true country? Are you willing to die for it?

Your citizenship is in heaven. Live like it.