What Holds When You’re Tested

Sermon Introduction: “What Holds When You’re Tested”

Philippians 1:12–26

Let me tell you about two people.

Both go to church.

Both say they follow Jesus.

But one wants just enough Jesus to feel better—

to ease the guilt,

to call for help when things go wrong.

The other?

They’ve given Jesus everything:

Their future. Their pain. Their plans.

At first glance, they might look the same.

Same songs. Same prayers. Same Bible.

But when life breaks apart—

when faith is tested—

that’s when the difference shows.

There’s an old Greek story about a boy named Icarus.

He and his father tried to escape by flying with wings made of feathers and wax.

And Icarus… he flew too high.

The sun melted his wings.

And he fell.

He looked free... but he wasn’t ready to be tested.

He rose on borrowed strength—

and it didn’t hold.

Now—

in Philippians 1, Paul is in prison.

He’s chained up.

He doesn’t know if he’ll live or die.

He’s lost his freedom—

but not his faith.

He hasn’t fallen apart.

He’s full of hope.

Why?

Because Paul didn’t just invite Jesus into the corners of his life—

he surrendered.

And Philippians 1 asks all of us—young and old:

When life tests your faith, will it collapse like wax wings?

Or will you stand, like someone who can say,

“For me, to live is Christ—and to die is gain”?

12 Now I want you to know, brothers and sisters,[a] that what has happened to me has actually served to advance the gospel.13 As a result, it has become clear throughout the whole palace guard[b] and to everyone else that I am in chains for Christ.14 And because of my chains, most of the brothers and sisters have become confident in the Lord and dare all the more to proclaim the gospel without fear.

15 It is true that some preach Christ out of envy and rivalry, but others out of goodwill. 16 The latter do so out of love, knowing that I am put here for the defense of the gospel. 17 The former preach Christ out of selfish ambition, not sincerely, supposing that they can stir up trouble for me while I am in chains. 18 But what does it matter? The important thing is that in every way, whether from false motives or true, Christ is preached. And because of this I rejoice.

Yes, and I will continue to rejoice, 19 for I know that through your prayers and God’s provision of the Spirit of Jesus Christ What has happened to me will turn out for my deliverance.[c] 20 I eagerly expect and hope that I will in no way be ashamed, but will have sufficient courage so that now as always Christ will be exalted in my body, whether by life or by death. 21 For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain. 22 If I am to go on living in the body, this will mean fruitful labor for me. Yet what shall I choose? I do not know! 23 I am torn between the two: I desire to depart and be with Christ, which is better by far; 24 but it is more necessary for you that I remain in the body. 25 Convinced of this, I know that I will remain, and I will continue with all of you for your progress and joy in the faith, 26 so that through my being with you again your boasting in Christ Jesus will abound on account of me.

Point 1 – A Surrendered Life Sees Purpose in Pain

(Philippians 1:12–14)

Paul is in chains.

He’s under arrest for preaching the Gospel.

Now if it were me?

I’d be praying for release.

If I were writing a letter from jail, I might start with:

“Y’all better pray hard—I need to get out of here.”

But not Paul.

Paul doesn’t sit in prison wishing things would go back to normal.

He writes:

“I want you to know, brothers and sisters, that what has happened to me has actually served to advance the Gospel.”

Let that sink in.

Paul sees the prison cell not as punishment—but as a platform.

He sees the guards not as captors—but as a congregation.

He sees his pain—not as a reason to panic, but as a chance to point people to Jesus.

That’s not natural.

That’s not optimism.

That’s surrender.

A surrendered life says,

“God, I wouldn’t have chosen this…

but I trust You’ll use it.”

It stops asking, “Why me?” and starts asking,

“What now, Lord?”

It’s like a flashlight in a storm:

Everything else may go dark—but it still shines.

Even a prison—Paul says—can become a pulpit.

And kids, I see you too.

Maybe you had a rough week.

Maybe someone was mean to you at school.