A prosecutor I know confirmed my fear of Atlanta jails: they're awful—overcrowded, dangerous, and filthy. I'm not sure Rome cared more about the condition of its facilities. If I were sent to one for my faith, it would be hard to see it as a gift from God to share the gospel with new audiences. But Paul and the Philippians think otherwise. Their friendship is so intimate that Paul claims to hold them in his heart. As he proclaims the gospel to magistrates, bound with heavy chains, he feels they are standing with him. Rather than finding any way to spare his life, Paul sees his trial as an opportunity to defend the gospel to people who need Jesus. Then Paul extends the courtroom scene and calls God as his witness. He takes an oath, and testifies that his love overflows for them from his very guts. In the most intimate way he can, he's saying, "God's love is right behind my love for you." I've thought of Paul as a brilliant theologian, a daring church planter, and a willing martyr for Jesus. But before all that, he was an open-hearted, vulnerable lover of his dear friends. The Philippians got this letter, read his oath, and said to themselves, "Sounds like Paul." That's why they had raised money to send Epaphroditus on a hazardous journey halfway across the empire when they heard he was bound by chains. Paul loved his friends with everything he had. They loved him back. And they all felt this was God's love flowing through them to their dearest friends.