Therefore, my dear friends, as you have always obeyed—not only in my presence, but now much more in my absence—continue to work out your salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you to will and to act in order to fulfill his good purpose.  (Phil 2:12-13, NIV)

Of all the letters of Paul, none radiates more warmth and joy than the one to the church in Philippi.  He writes to them from prison, where he thinks about them daily, praying with a grateful heart that he can count on them as friends, partners in the work of the gospel.

He seems to have heard reports about some tension that’s arisen in the church, some conflict that threatens their unity.  So he writes, not to scold but to encourage them to be of one mind and to look out for each other.  Above all, he teaches them the importance of humility in their life together.  And that means having the mind of Christ.

He then recites what many believe to be an early Christian hymn about Jesus, telling the story of the One who gave up equal status with God to become a servant.  Taking on human form, Jesus became obedient to the point of a humiliating death on a cross.  But in the ultimate reversal of fortune, God then exalted him, that all might bow to Jesus as Lord (Phil 2:6-11).

It’s in this context that Paul commands the Philippians to “work out their salvation with fear and trembling.”

Some have found Paul’s language disturbing, thinking him to be threatening the Philippians with damnation if they don’t earn their way into heaven with diligent good works.  But nothing could be further from the truth.  Paul assumes that they have already received God’s grace and forgiveness, and is urging them to let the reality of that salvation “work itself out” in their lives, to let it be expressed in their lives as individuals and as a community.

But why “fear and trembling”?

The fear of God is a robust concept in Scripture.  But it may be largely lost on us today; we prefer a more comforting version of God.

Think of the disciples out in a boat on the Sea of Galilee as a storm rages (Mark 4:35-41).  They fear for their lives.  Then Jesus gets up from his nap and rebukes the wind and the waves–and suddenly the water is like glass.

But the disciples don’t shout, “Hooray for Jesus!  We’re saved!”  Now they’re really terrified; they’ve seen real power, a power over nature itself.  Their shared attitude seems to be, Just who is this guy we’ve taken up with?

Annie Dillard once asked, “Why do we people in churches seem like cheerful, brainless tourists on a packaged tour of the Absolute? … Does anyone have the foggiest idea what sort of power we so blithely invoke?  Or, as I suspect, does no one believe a word of it?”

Think of what Paul is saying–really think about it.  This is not a distant God who waits for us to get our act together, to want the right things, to do the right things.  God works in us as well as through us.  As the Common English Bible translates it: “God is the one who enables you both to want and to actually live out his good purposes.”

The God of the universe, working in us.  The God of all creation, working through us.  All for his good purpose.  That is our vocation as Christians.

Isn’t that reason enough to tremble?  But not with terror, with thanksgiving.  We are called to do good work for God, but the same God works in and through our work.  That should make us humble.

And it should take our breath away.