Rome. Ten years ago the arrival of Paul of Tarsus, a leader within the sect known as "the Way," led to a riot in our city's marketplace. Paul and a man with him were arrested and imprisoned.

Today, this troublemaker is again in prison, this time in Rome. From there he recently wrote a letter to followers of the Way in Philippi. He spoke of his joy—despite all he's suffered—and proposed that they be joyful, too, despite their circumstances. Is this another example of Christian absurdity or a demonstration of remarkable fortitude? I traveled to Rome to find out.

Paul looked worse than I remembered him 10 years ago, haggard and a bit humped over now. Repeated floggings seem to have taken their toll. His eyesight is weakening. But despite the physical diminishment, his disposition seemed wholly unaffected. I saw no trace of the bitterness typical in prisoners. He welcomed me warmly and seemed comfortable despite the chill of late-autumn air in the house that serves as his holding cell.

I questioned him first about an outrageous statement in his letter to the Christians in Philippi.

What did you mean when you wrote that everything you used to value you now consider "rubbish"? You've lost your rights as a Roman citizen, your status and privilege among your own people—even your freedom.

Oh, but I've gained so much more.

Gained?

Yes, I've gained Christ Jesus, and He is everything to me. And I believe I do have freedom—a greater freedom than I've ever had, but a different kind than what you value. True, I am in chains, but God's Word isn't.

I should have been put in chains when I was persecuting Christians. I would have deserved them then. I was in chains of a sort already—imprisoned by my own rage. But God was merciful to me and gave me what I didn't deserve when He set me free in Christ. No, the only status that matters to me now is that I am His servant for as long as I'm alive. My greatest privilege is to know Christ Jesus and proclaim Him.

You seem to have convinced yourself that you've gained more than you've lost, Paul. Yet it would seem to most that you've gained only misery.

Do I seem miserable?

Your circumstances certainly are enough to make most men miserable.

Here? I've been in far worse predicaments.

Indeed you have. You've even been slandered by some of your own. You mentioned them in your letter, those who "preach Christ out of envy and rivalry."

That makes me sad. . . . But Christ is proclaimed by those men, and I'm glad for that, even if it comes at my expense.

Some—including Governor Porcius Festus—think you're insane. You regard yourself as free though you obviously are not. You write to Christians about joy though neither you nor they seem to have anything to be happy about. Can you see why some might think that you aren't living in reality, Paul? Isn't that a mark of insanity?

I have been called many things . . . [Paul chuckled]. However—to answer your question—I am not insane. Festus thought I was crazy because I preach that Jesus is risen from the dead, and therefore all believers will rise. That isn't insanity, it's the reality in Christ.

And that is why I am free, though I am presently in chains, and why I rejoice, even though now I am treated like a criminal. It's also why I wrote to the church in Philippi to rejoice with me, though they too are suffering. What is our present pain compared with the glorious future we'll have in heaven?

Yes, but so much is against Christians now—today. Philippi is particularly inhospitable to the Way, so how can you . . . ?

Because of my hope in Christ. Do you think merely of the here and now, never the eternal?

[Paul directed my attention outside his window to a large tree in the distance. Hundreds of blackbirds had perched on its leafless branches.]

The tree is barren today because it is autumn and winter is coming. Yet it will bloom in spring. Hope in Christ is like that: the promise of spring after the bitterness of winter is past. And just as the birds can still perch and sing on barren branches, because of my hope I can rejoice even while I am in chains.

Hope in Christ is every Christian's source of joy. Christ conquered death through His resurrection. I now live in Him, and later I will live with Him. No matter what happens to me, that is assured.

You've watched the games, haven't you? What do the athletes hope for?

Victory, of course. The laurel crown.

And what does victory mean to the victor?

When I asked our most celebrated athletic champion, the great Sergius Trechos, for a one-word description of victory, he used the word consummation. He said victory completed all his training efforts. It was the fruition of his exertion, the reward for his endurance.

Most insightful! An athlete exerts himself in the hope of victory, and that victory makes the effort he expends worthwhile. It is the same for Christians, except that we know the outcome of our race: Jesus has already secured victory over death. His victory becomes our victory when we believe in Him. When we endure trials, it is not in vain, just as the crowns we'll receive from Him will not wither as laurel does. Assured of this—of our consummation—I instruct Christians to rejoice in the Lord. For our rejoicing orients us to all He is and all He has done and will do for us.

Are you saying then that a Christian experiences joy when he denies his troubles by reminding himself what will happen in the future?

Not exactly, but you're close. To deny something is to pretend it doesn't exist—Christians don't do that. We know trials, perhaps better than anyone else. The Lord Jesus said we would suffer because the world is evil. So we don't deny trouble as if it doesn't affect us. It affects us, but it doesn't devastate us. Christ has overcome the world, so the world can't overcome us.

Listen, I've gone hungry, and I've been well fed. I've enjoyed the hospitality of friends, and I've slept on dungeon floors. Which do I prefer? I don't like being in chains, but I'm willing to suffer anything, even death, for Christ's sake. So I rejoice because the hope He has given me lifts my perspective beyond what's here and now. As the prophet Habakkuk wrote:

You see, because Habakkuk understood the certainty of what he hoped for, he could rejoice in the Lord.

So you don't deny present troubles. But the beatings, Paul, the imprisonments—all the things you and other Christians endure. Is following Christ really worth all that?

Would I be sitting here if it wasn't? They would let me go if I recanted my faith or simply stopped preaching, but I won't.

Aren't you ever tempted to give it all up?

I'm not saying that I've never been discouraged. I've even known despair at times. What happened to me 10 years ago in Philippi, for instance, was hard to endure. It was evil and unjust. But I'll tell you what I've seen repeatedly: Jesus can overcome evil and even bring good from it. The jailer was saved during our imprisonment in Philippi. Silas and I might never have had the joy of seeing Christ redeem that man and his family if we hadn't been in prison.

Did you really sing in there?

Yes. Despite the flogging we received, we rejoiced in the Lord. We didn't sing to cheer ourselves up, though. Those psalms sprang up from the joy within.

You Christians must be very resilient people.

Only if we keep our attention fixed on the Lord Jesus.

And how do you do that?

Do you remember what I wrote to my friends in Philippi about not being anxious about anything, but praying about everything? That's very important if we want to keep our attention focused on Him. Another essential is disciplining ourselves to think about whatever is excellent and praiseworthy—especially when surrounded by the opposite. Is that easy? No. Possible? Indeed!

Paul began to say something about Christians being "citizens of heaven," but we were interrupted by a palace official who came to escort him to the barracks, where a centurion wanted to talk with him. The interview was over. Paul winced as he rose from his chair. "My back," he said. His grimace then changed to a grin, "It's a temporary thing, though."

Before he left, Paul tried to persuade me to become a Christian. The guards allowed him the extra time to say what he wanted. His leg chains clanked as he walked away. As I watched him cross the courtyard, I'm sure I heard him singing.

Cole Huffman (the real author of this "interview") is a teaching pastor at Fellowship Bible Church in Murfreesboro, Tennessee. He says, "Paul's joy is utterly remarkable. I can't get over 2 Corinthians 6, where he admits to being ‘sorrowful, yet always rejoicing' (v. 10). I knew I needed to ‘sit down' with Paul and discover the why and how for his joy."

1. Describe a time when joy surprised you amid painful circumstances.

2. Why is joy possible in tough times, according to the following verses?

Ps. 31:7

Ps. 94:19

Lk. 6:22–23

1 Cor. 3:16, Gal. 5:22

Jas. 1:2–4

1 Pet. 1:3–9