Summary
Focus
When the magistrates of Philippi sent word that Paul and Silas could quietly slip out of jail, Paul refused. "They have beaten us in public, uncondemned, men who are Roman citizens, and have thrown us into prison; and do they now throw us out secretly? No! Let them come themselves and take us out" Acts 16:37. At first glance this sounds like wounded pride or jailhouse crankiness. It is neither. Paul's refusal is a deliberate act of pastoral concern—for the fledgling church in Philippi, for the missionaries who would follow, and for the public reputation of the gospel in that city. He would not let himself and Silas be dismissed as criminals sneaking out under cover. The magistrates had to walk them out in daylight.
That is why, the moment they are released, they go straight to Lydia's house—not to nurse their wounds or collect sympathy, but to encourage the brothers and sisters before they leave town Acts 16:40. Paul's whole posture in this episode is what the "Focus" October 27, 2019 lesson calls "the other focus": eyes lifted off the self and fixed on God's glory and the good of the neighbor.
Luther named the opposite of this disposition with a Latin phrase: incurvatus in se—curved in upon oneself. This, he taught, is the very shape of sin. Eve sees that the tree is good for food and a delight to the eyes Genesis 3:6. The mother of James and John angles for the best seats for her boys Matthew 20:21. The Pharisee thanks God that he is not like other people Luke 18:11. Nebuchadnezzar surveys his city and asks, "Is not this great Babylon, which I have built… for the glory of my majesty?" Daniel 4:30. One writer calls it the gravity of self-concern—the relentless pull of me, myself, and I, expressed in questions like "How does this affect me?" and "How can this make me look good?"
Luther knew the burden of that inward curve firsthand. As a young monk in Rome in 1510, he climbed the so-called Holy Stairs on his knees, kissing each step in the hope of earning forgiveness for himself and release from purgatory for his father. At the top he wondered: is any of this true? He could not square the works-righteousness of medieval Rome with Scripture, nor the claim of papal infallibility with the conviction that Scripture alone is without error. The Reformation that followed was not, at its heart, about Luther. Its focus was God's glory, the church under God's Word, and the people who had yet to hear the gospel clearly preached.
The cure for the curve is the outward act of God in Christ. To our hunched-in selfishness, Jesus stretches out His arms on the cross, bears our sin, and rises from the tomb. We are saved by grace through faith, "and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast. For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them" Ephesians 2:8–10. Notice the order: grace first, then faith, then works—not works that merit salvation, but works that flow from it. The Christian is freed from the bondage of self and freed for the neighbor.
That freedom blossoms into purpose, and purpose blooms into joy. The endless introspection our culture prizes is itself a symptom of the inward curve. The gospel turns the gaze outward: not "Who will serve me today?" but "Whom can I serve? Who is hurting? Who needs to be encouraged?" This was Paul's focus in the Philippian jail, Luther's focus before pope and emperor, and the same gift given now to the baptized—to live with eyes off the self and onto God and the other.
Video citations
- "Focus" October 27, 2019 — As you turn the pages of Scripture, and you meet various folks, it becomes evident, right? A little bit about their personalities. You've got extraverts, Scripture, you've got introverts, you've got…