The Unchained Gospel, Philippians 1:12-20

Suffering doesn’t shackle the gospel—it fuels its advance, turning chains into pulpits and martyrs into seeds of revival. The kingdom of God marches on, not despite hardship, but through it—so bring it.

In Philippians 1:12-20, the apostle writes:

¹² I want you to know, brothers, that what has happened to me has really served to advance the gospel, ¹³ so that it has become known throughout the whole imperial guard and to all the rest that my imprisonment is for Christ. ¹⁴ And most of the brothers, having become confident in the Lord by my imprisonment, are much more bold to speak the word without fear.

¹⁵ Some indeed preach Christ from envy and rivalry, but others from good will. ¹⁶ The latter do it out of love, knowing that I am put here for the defense of the gospel. ¹⁷ The former proclaim Christ out of selfish ambition, not sincerely but thinking to afflict me in my imprisonment. ¹⁸ What then? Only that in every way, whether in pretense or in truth, Christ is proclaimed, and in that I rejoice.

Yes, and I will rejoice, ¹⁹ for I know that through your prayers and the help of the Spirit of Jesus Christ this will turn out for my deliverance, ²⁰ as it is my eager expectation and hope that I will not be at all ashamed, but that with full courage now as always Christ will be honored in my body, whether by life or by death.

Paul loved the Philippians like a father loves his own, not with some distant, formal affection, but the deep, visceral longing that binds families together. They had stuck by him through thick and thin, never ashamed of him, never outgrowing him, always laboring in the gospel like sturdy farmhands bent to their work. He knew they prayed for him, and he prayed for them—that their love would deepen, tempered with wisdom, so they could recognize what truly mattered and be found full of righteousness at the end of their race.

But Paul knew they were worried. News had spread—he was imprisoned, awaiting trial. They had questions, maybe even fear. Was this the end? Had the gospel itself been shackled? So Paul wrote to set them straight:

“My circumstances have turned out for the greater progress of the gospel.”

Prison hadn’t silenced him. If anything, it had amplified his message. He was chained to the elite Praetorian Guard, men who moved in the highest circles of Roman power. Each shift, a new soldier stood watch, bound to a preacher who wouldn’t shut up. They saw he wasn’t a criminal. His words took root, spreading like fire in dry brush. The gospel had infiltrated the empire’s backbone.

And it wasn’t just Paul preaching. Seeing him suffer yet remain unshaken emboldened the brethren. Cowards became lions. They spoke of Christ in the streets, in the markets, in the halls of power. If Paul could rejoice in chains, what excuse did they have to remain silent?

Not everyone’s motives were pure. Some saw Paul’s imprisonment as their chance to shine. They preached Christ, yes, but out of rivalry, hoping to add to Paul’s burden. Yet Paul, unbothered, simply shrugged: “What then? Only that in every way, whether in pretense or in truth, Christ is proclaimed; and in this I rejoice.”

The gospel’s power didn’t hinge on the preacher’s heart. The Word itself carried the weight. If Christ was made known, Paul counted it as victory.

This was the pattern of the kingdom—advancement through suffering. It had always been so. Consider Stephen, standing before the Sanhedrin, preaching until stones shattered his skull. His death scattered the church like seeds on the wind, and the gospel spread. Consider Hugh Latimer, bound to the stake, turning to his friend Nicholas Ridley and declaring, “We shall this day light such a candle in England, as I trust shall never be put out.”

And consider Paul, shackled in a Roman cell, rejoicing in what men called misfortune.

Too many think their circumstances are their biggest problem. If they had a better job, a different spouse, a different church, better finances—then they’d be faithful, then they’d be happy. But Paul would shake his head. “God has appointed your times and boundaries,” he would say. “Your circumstances are not obstacles. They are your mission field.”

God works all things according to His plan. He uses suffering to refine us, to advance His kingdom, to stir the brethren to greater faithfulness. The gospel does not move forward by ease but by blood, by hardship, by chains and fire.

Paul had lived it. He had seen it. He had suffered beatings, shipwrecks, hunger, cold. And he had sung hymns in his prison cell.

“Thanks be to God, who always leads us in triumph in Christ.”

What of us? We live in an age of apostasy. We see wickedness enshrined as law, truth scorned, children slaughtered. The world is dark. But so was Rome. And Rome, which once took Paul’s head, lies in ruins while the kingdom of God marches on.

The joy of the Lord is our strength. Let them come with threats, with slander, with chains. Let the world rage. The gospel will prevail. We are on the winning side.

So bring it.