Tag: prisoner

Making The Most Of Difficult Circumstances

Perhaps you are facing a difficult circumstance. It should not be trivialized or minimized. It might be painful and protracted. But it should neither be the source of defeat or an excuse to stop serving the Lord.

Neal Pollard

In Acts 28:16, Luke tells us that when Paul came to Rome he was allowed to stay by himself (in a house he paid for himself, according to verse 30). However, he was guarded by a Roman soldier. Paul again refers to this in Philippians 1:13, 17, and your version probably has either the word “imprisonment” or “bonds.” Many ancient historians tells us that the Romans would chain the prisoner and soldier together in a practice known as “Custodia Militaris.” Polybius, a Roman historian writing more than a 100 years before the first century, wrote, “They kept them bound with a chain to a soldier who was responsible for their custody” (Histories 1.88.8). Seneca and Josephus also record this practice.

Can you imagine what a daily problem this would have been? Consider the invasion of privacy, the unpredictable disposition of your companion, and the potential for scorn and humiliation? Yet, day after day, Paul would be chained to a soldier. The chains were 18-24 inches long (the British Museum has archaeological finds from the period), and the guards were rotated every four to six hours (Vegetius 3.8). Maybe the last guard was a nice guy, but the next was not so much. It could not have been an enjoyable task for the soldier either, and he might be inclined to take that out on the prisoner. 

But, how did Paul respond? Paul implies what he did as one guard came and another went. “my imprisonment in the cause of Christ has become well known throughout the whole praetorian guard and to everyone else” (Phil. 1:13). These praetorian guards were elite Roman soldiers, also known as the imperial guard. This might further explain how the gospel reached members of Caesar’s household (Phil. 4:22). Imprisoned for preaching Jesus and shackled to worldly, hardened men, Paul taught the gospel. He learned to be content in every circumstance (Phil. 4:11), but that didn’t mean idle or self-absorbed.

Perhaps you are facing a difficult circumstance. It should not be trivialized or minimized. It might be painful and protracted. But it should neither be the source of defeat or an excuse to stop serving the Lord. Paul had a captive audience, literally bound to hear the good news from a man enduring what most would deem a bad fate. He transformed his difficulty into opportunity. May we have the will and wisdom to do the same! 

The Art Of Contentment

Neal Pollard

Paul mastered the art of contentment despite extreme adversity. Behind prison bars he wrote, “I have learned to be content…” (Phil. 4:11). It didn’t come naturally to him. He learned it in the proverbial “school of hard knocks.” Contentment suggests the idea of supporting oneself without aid from others. Vincent adds, “By the power of his own will, to resist the shock of circumstance. Paul is self-sufficient through the power of the self; not he, but Christ in him” (459-460).

Everybody has met malcontents. Such are rarely happy, satisfied, or appeased. They are always holding the short end of the stick. They are forever the victim. From their point of view, nothing seems satisfactory. Aren’t they such fun?

The church where they are attending is always deficient in some way. The leadership is not enough of this and too much of that. The same applies to the Bible school, worship services, preacher, song leader, missionaries, facilities, deacons, or programs of work. Others find them a mine field, and interacting with them is comparable to walking on egg shells.

Malcontents have failed to grow in the important spiritual area Paul references in Philippians. The sniping and yelping of the discontented interferes with the good it can do. It is destructive, divisive, discouraging, and devilish. John Bunyan concluded, “If we have not quiet in our minds, outward comfort will do no more for us than a golden slipper on a gouty foot.” Or, as another put it, “The crown of life looks funny on a sore head.”

In an English cemetery stand two sad epitaphs on slabs of granite. The wife’s reads, “She died for want of things.” Her husband’s says, “He died trying to give them to her.” No doubt the man never made her happy because he had not the power. Only she did. Sadly, she never exercised what Paul did in adverse circumstances.

Perhaps Paul wrote above the howl of a dying fellow-prisoner in the squalor of a dirty cell, looking up to see the scowl of a godless prison guard. Perhaps, with Christlike peace, he shook his head, smiled, and sealed up that inspired epistle to the church at Philippi. Perhaps, there persecuted but not forsaken (cf. 2 Cor. 4:9), he sang a hymn (cf. Acts 16:25). Whatever happened, one thing is certain. Paul found a way to be content. Let us learn that.