Newnham, 27 September 2026
Good morning everyone!
Today I would like to use one example from fairy tales which, I think, is a great metaphor for how the Philippians passage works. How many of you still remember any of Hans Christian Andersen’s or the Brothers Grimm’s fairy tales? All right, I see a few hands. Thank you.
The first illustration comes from “The Six Swans.” Here is the plot.
A princess named Eliza must save her eleven royal brothers after their wicked stepmother uses witchcraft to transform them into wild swans. To break the curse, she is commanded to weave coats for them entirely from stinging nettles, while maintaining an absolute and agonising vow of silence. Even when she is falsely condemned as a witch and sent to the stake, Eliza continues her silent work.
At the very end, just as she is about to be executed, she throws the eleven coats over the flying swans. They immediately become handsome princes again. But the youngest still has one swan’s wing instead of an arm, because she had not been able to finish the last sleeve.
Remember?
What if I tell you that, to my mind, this is a good illustration of the invisible work of God in us, based on this text:
12 Therefore, my beloved, as you have always obeyed, so now, not only as in my presence but much more in my absence, work out your own salvation with fear and trembling, 13 for it is God who works in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure. (Philippians 2:12–13)
This rather mysterious text is planted into the heart of Paul’s letter to the Philippians.
If you are curious, it is possible to read the whole letter out loud in about twelve minutes. If you read it slower, perhaps twenty minutes. And it is not all about “working out your own salvation with fear and trembling”.
There are other themes: financial support, obedience, righteousness through faith in Jesus, faithfulness to the Gospel and, above all, joy in the Good News of Jesus Christ — joy in the fact that the Philippians, and us, are saved through Christ’s mind-boggling humility, described earlier in Philippians 2:6–11.
Very well, you might say, I already responded to Christ’s call. I am here. I am baptised. I am confirmed. I do something in this church or elsewhere in the community. What else do I lack?
I would suggest looking at this from a different, slightly fairy-tale angle.
Let us move to the final moments of Andersen’s tale.
Eliza is sewing these eleven coats from stinging nettles. It is a painful process that leaves blisters on her hands. She is determined to continue despite the pain and despite her vow of silence. She works in secluded places, even in a cave, and later in a kind of cave within the castle. She continues even when she is falsely accused and taken to the stake.
And then, at the very end, this happens:
As the executioner seized her by the hand, to lift her out of the cart, she hastily threw the eleven coats of mail over the swans, and they immediately became eleven handsome princes; but the youngest had a swan’s wing, instead of an arm; for she had not been able to finish the last sleeve. “Now I may speak,” she exclaimed.
“I am innocent.”
All is followed by a happy ending.
From this story I want to suggest that God is working in the caves of our hearts. Sometimes the work is painful. Sometimes it is hidden. Sometimes God appears to be silent.
Yet he continues his work.
He is transforming us, even when we cannot see it.
And that last swan’s wing can remind us that God’s transforming work does not necessarily mean that every scar disappears immediately. Sometimes scars remain, even while God continues his work within us.
Of course, this is an imperfect illustration. Paul is not talking here about trauma or stinging nettles. But perhaps the picture helps us understand something about the strange Christian paradox in these two verses:
God is working in us, and yet Paul tells us to work out our salvation.
Let us look at how Paul gets there and what we should do about it.
In the first chapter, Paul reminds the Philippians of the success of the Gospel even though he is in prison. He speaks about his own boldness in the face of enemies of the Gospel and presents suffering as an integral part of Christian life.
Then, in chapter 2, he brings the example of Christ’s incarnation as something that they should emulate for the benefit of the entire community.
He is not simply asking them to be better, more moral or less sinful.
He starts talking about Jesus and how a relationship with Jesus changes people.
In fact, from Philippians 2:12 onwards, Paul keeps giving us examples of what the Gospel looks like when it is actually working in people.
Look at Paul himself. He is a living paradox: a pharisee who is preaching Christ crucified!
Paul is in prison, yet he is rejoicing over people who are preaching Christ, even when some of them are trying to make his imprisonment harder.
Paul is in prison, yet he still hopes to see the Philippians again. He does not simply rely on his own strength or willpower. He knows that his life is hidden with Christ in God. (Col.3:3)
This is the person transformed by the Gospel, the person who works out his salvation with fear and trembling, because:
“it is God who works in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure.”
And then Paul has just shown us Jesus.
Jesus emptied himself.
Jesus became obedient.
Jesus went all the way to death — even death on a cross.
This is the humility of Christ described in Philippians 2:6–11.
And now Paul says, in effect:
This is what the Gospel produces in you.
The Gospel does not simply give us something to believe. It begins to form a particular kind of person.
So Paul says again:
12 Therefore, my beloved, as you have always obeyed, so now, not only as in my presence but much more in my absence, work out your own salvation with fear and trembling, 13 for it is God who works in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure.
He is not saying, “Try harder to be a good Christian.” Instead he emphasizes the “how to” of one’s salvation, a reverential posture of awe and wonder – with fear and trembling.
Trembling — tromos — does not necessarily mean being in a state of panic. It is a call to take Christian life seriously. It is that sudden realisation: God is here — the same fear and wonder Jacob felt waking from his dream at Bethel, or that Psalm 2 calls kings to when it tells them to serve the Lord with fear and rejoice with trembling. It is awe and wonder rather than terror.
Paul leaves us with no room for a casual response to the Gospel. We do not treat important things casually — a confirmation, a job interview, a conversation that matters. We are careful. We are solemn. We are serious. And Paul says: take your Christian life just as seriously.
Be trembling — God is holy.
Be trembling — salvation is serious.
But then Paul immediately gives us the reason for that seriousness.
Not because you are in control of your salvation.
Not because God has left you to save yourself.
No.
It is God who is working in you.
And this is where I think the two verses must always be kept together:
Work out your salvation with fear and trembling — for it is God who works in you.
God works in us, but we are not passive.
We work, but we are not alone.
And if God is working inside your heart, the changes will eventually become visible on the outside.
Changes in your patience.
Your forgiveness.
Your generosity.
Your marriage.
Your relationships with your neighbour.
Your willingness to serve.
Your complete trust in God when things spin out of control.
Let me bring in some stinging nettles from the Wild Swans story again. When we read that fairy-tale to kids, especially the second time, we anticipate the reward – no more blisters on Eliza’s hands, no more swan spell, just a lovely rose bush and a happily ever after. That is a wonderful image of life in Heaven. Life here though is wrought with blisters, with pain, with disappointments. However, all of that has got some sense in the eternal plan of God, who collects all of our prayers and all of our tears. That’s why I find the stinging nettle coats so compelling — once completed, they don’t just lift the curse; they reveal God’s sovereignty and the reward waiting on the other side of the pain.
And my interpretation of Philippians 2:12–13 is strongly communal. Paul has already called them to unity and to being of the same mind (vv.1–3) — humility, after all, only makes sense inside community — and concern for others (v.4) is something worked out among the saints, not alone. Don’t misunderstand me, I do believe that the Lord changes us individually, but he does it within a particular community of faith.
That means that people around you in Newnham and beyond are not strangers. They are instruments in God’s hands as he works in us and makes us holy. God is working both in them and in you to weave us all into a body of Christ without a spot or wrinkle.
And perhaps this is one of the reasons Paul places the example of Christ’s humility immediately before these words in vv.12–13.
The Gospel is not simply about me becoming a nicer person.
It is about Christ forming a people who learn to live differently because Christ himself has shown us what humility, obedience and love look like.
So perhaps the question is not:
“Can I transform myself?”
Paul has already answered that.
God is at work in you.
The question is whether we will resist that work, or surrender ourselves to it.
Sometimes that work may feel like stinging nettles — for us, and, in some mystery, for God too. Sometimes it may be painful. Sometimes God may seem silent.
But Paul says:
Work out your salvation with fear and trembling — for it is God who works in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure.
Amen.