The Apostle's Prayer, Philippians 1:9-11

A minister’s greatest joy—and deepest fear—is the faithfulness of his people. Paul prays not just for love, but for love with discernment, the kind that sees clearly, chooses wisely, and keeps pressing toward Christ…

Paul starts Philippians with thanksgiving. Not just a polite, thank you for the check, but deep, gut-level joy. He’s in chains, but he’s happy. Why?

The Philippians remember him. They support him. They’re not ashamed of him, even when others whisper. They haven’t outgrown him like a hand-me-down coat. More than that, they’re working. They aren’t pew warmers. They aren’t waiting for someone else to take care of the gospel. They live it. They grow.

That, for a minister, is joy.

Because a minister doesn’t just fear failing. He fears watching his people shrivel into nothing. Paul told the Ephesians, After I leave, wolves will come. Some will come from your own ranks. They’ll take disciples with them. He warned them with tears. Night and day. Galatians? He told them, I fear I have labored in vain.

But Philippi? They listened. They grew.

That’s why he prays for them.

In Philippians 1:9-11, Paul prays, that your love may abound still more and more in real knowledge and all discernment, so that you may approve the things that are excellent, in order to be sincere and blameless until the day of Christ, having been filled with the fruit of righteousness which comes through Jesus Christ, to the glory and praise of God.

He tells them what he prays. Two reasons.

First, it’s an expression of love. He calls them his joy and crown. He longs for them. He’s locked up, but his prayers are free. Do you believe that? That your prayers can shape people’s lives from a distance? Maybe you say you do. But does your practice prove it?

Second, he tells them so they’ll learn how to pray. Most people don’t pray much because they don’t know how. Even the disciples had to ask Jesus for help. Paul gives an example.

Paul prays that their love would abound more and more. That means two things.

First, their love is imperfect. Not just a little. A lot. If you think you’re doing just fine, try this: replace the word love in 1 Corinthians 13 with your name. Michael is patient. Michael is kind. Michael is not arrogant. Does that sound like you? If it does, your problem isn’t lack of love. It’s lack of self-awareness.

Second, love can grow. You can’t make it grow, but God can. He replaced your stone heart with a flesh one, but it still needs stretching. You need more love for God—because you’re distracted. You need more love for your neighbor—because some people are irritating.

When my wife and I were expecting our third child, a friend with two kids told me, I don’t think I have enough love for three. I told him, I don’t even have enough love for one. But God provides. And He does. If you ask Him, He will.

Paul doesn’t pray for blind love. He prays for love with knowledge and discernment. Love that sees. Love that isn’t stupid.

People think love means saying yes. But real love has a backbone.

I learned this the hard way. My brothers struggled with addiction and homelessness. They called me for money. For hotel rooms. I said yes, over and over. My wife told me to stop. I accused her of being unloving.

I was the fool.

My “love” was keeping them in their sin. Real love doesn’t throw money into a pit. It doesn’t pat people on the head while they destroy themselves. My wife had love with knowledge and discernment. I had sentimentality.

Real love isn’t naive. Real love doesn’t call evil good.

Discernment is rare today. People think it means calling out false teachers. And it does. But it also means knowing the difference between the good and the best. It means knowing when to keep your mouth shut and when to open it like a sword.

And we are going to need discernment for the days ahead.

Paul prays they would approve what is excellent. He doesn’t want them to stagnate. He wants them to keep pressing forward.

Many start the race well. Not all finish well.

Jesus warned the Ephesians: You know your theology. You spot false teachers. But I have this against you—you’ve left your first love. That’s chilling. You can be right and still be dead. You can be doctrinally sound and spiritually rotten. You can have truth without Jesus.

That can’t be us.

Paul wants them to bear fruit until the day of Christ. To keep growing.

Look at what God has done in your life. Look at who you were. Look at what you’ve already left behind. Now don’t stop.

Maybe today you feel the weight of your own failure. Maybe you see how unloving, how undiscerning, how critical you’ve been.

Good. That means God is working.

Don’t wallow. Repent. Press on.

Paul prays this for the Philippians. We must pray it for ourselves.

May our love abound more and more, with knowledge and discernment, for the glory of God.