who is your archippus?
My church recently completed a study of the book of Colossians, and the entire series hinged upon verse 3:17, “And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.” We were blessed to have guest speaker David Nasser share his testimony during the closing week of the series in which the title of the message was "Whatever the Story." We had two short verses to cover, 4:17-18, and Nasser brought them to life while sharing his own remarkable story.[1]
One of Paul’s final instructions in the book of Colossians is to encourage Archippus to fulfill his ministry. Paul, arguably the most famous character in the entire Bible after Jesus himself, takes the time to name a man we know next to nothing about. The only other place Archippus is mentioned in the Bible is the opening of his letter to Philemon where Archippus is called “our fellow soldier,” and is apparently part of Philemon’s household, perhaps even his son. Essentially, the sum total of what we can deduce about Archippus is that Paul considered him a brother in the faith who worked to advance the gospel.
As the people of God, most of us will go down in history as obscure as Archippus. Name on a headstone. Little else. (If you’re lucky like me, your husband will inscribe your most notable words spoken. If I die before him, I’ve been told I’m stuck with “Where’s my phone?”) In all seriousness, centuries down the road, very few of our names will be known, but because of our faithfulness, God’s fame will continue to spread.
That Sunday, David Nasser asked us, “Who is your Archippus?” As a part of his own story, he talked about the obedience of Aubrey Edwards, a man of faith who the Lord used to open the door so that David’s Muslim refugee father would allow him to attend a church service that David was ironically counting on him to forbid. (See the footnote for access to the story—it’s it well worth your time to listen!) Aubrey Edward’s ordinary faithfulness had a snowball effect in David’s life, and he likened Edwards to Archippus, someone we know astonishingly little about. As I sat captivated by the tale, one name instantly filled my mind when David asked, “Who is your Archippus?”
Christine Barron. (Now Whittemore, but at 19 years old she was still Christine Barron to me).
Chris is one of my oldest friends, with our relationship harkening back to the days when two frizzy haired girls rode bikes to the gas station to pay for candy with bags of pennies, much to the annoyance of the attendant. As sixth graders, we watched Silence of the Lambs together in unadulterated terror. In fairness, her parents strictly forbade us to watch the movie when they embarked on their date that evening, but the temptation of that forbidden Blockbuster rental staring us in the face coupled with her older sister’s sudden desire to spend time with two annoying middle-schoolers overcame our good sense. I have paid the price for our disobedience ever since!
Forbidden movie aside, we were actually two really good kids. Chris was kind, gentle, artistic and absolutely hilarious. She treated people fairly and did not get caught up in the popularity game. In many ways, being friends with her helped keep me grounded. Even as cliques shifted and evolved, as they always do in those early teen years, I could count on Christine to be a steady friend.
Fast-forward to the middle of high school when our “good kid” personas began to change. We still treated others well with dignity and respect, but we followed the tide of culture and succumbed to some of the worst that peer pressure has to offer. Christine could be the life of the party with her wit and gregariousness, and we all loved the way she made us buckle over with laughter. I’m not going to lie—our rebellious adventures were incredibly fun for a long time.
And then one day Chris changed. She still kept us company, but she no longer engaged in the stupidity that the rest of us did. Looking back as a mother of teenagers, I am shocked at how gracefully she accomplished this feat. We would question her lifestyle change, but she did not budge in her convictions. Christine was decidedly different, and she has since confided to me how astoundingly difficult it was to be misunderstood by her closest friends, not to mention how hard it was to watch us walk the paths of darkness, not knowing if we would ever find the light that she had discovered in Christ.
I continued living in my rebellion, wanting to satisfy my own desires, hiding my sins well enough under stellar grades and extensive volunteer work. Not only was I hiding my disobedience from my parents and teachers, I was lying to myself, accepting the culture’s message that I was only partaking in “normal teenage behavior.” Deep inside, however, Christine’s transformation was beginning to impact my soul. Even though my conscience had been pricked, it would take a couple of years for Christine’s seed to take root. My goodness, was that girl faithful! She prayed for me so often, and she just kept showing up, even when I know it would have been much easier to simply let me go.
In college, I met a dashing young blond named Brian, and along the way we started dating. His family had begun attending a non-denominational church several years earlier, and he was the first boy I met who seemed to be truly seeking God. He introduced me to preaching like my Catholic ears had never heard,[2] and the Lord began to open my eyes to the life He offers us straight out of the pages of the Bible. Christine’s seed was finally beginning to take root.
She invited me to her own church in Indianapolis, where the preacher’s words awakened my soul in a similar way.[3] She was available for endless questions from me, discussions that she later told me absolutely intimidated her. She had to fully rely on the Holy Spirit to tackle my intense interrogations. I don’t remember the conversations in quite the same way that she does—I just remember my curiosity overflowing in an abundance of words and my dear friend sitting with me patiently as I pondered her answers to my questions and proceeded to pepper her with more. She was a safe place for me to wonder, and she never cast judgement upon me.
I now understand how powerfully the Holy Spirit was working through Christine at that time. A young believer herself, she was already a soldier for the Lord, fulfilling the ministry God had given her, just like Paul encouraged Archippus to do in Colossians. Chris is another obscure believer in the pages of time, but because of the kindness of Jesus and the lives that he purchased with his own blood, her name is written in the book of life (Rev. 3:5) alongside all of us who have labored for the gospel (Phil. 4:3). No greater gift can be given to us!
I thank God all the time for placing Christine in my life. In her quiet obedience to Him, she helped my desperate soul find His truth, and for that I am forever grateful. I pray that I may be to others what she has been to me. Who, my friend, is your Archippus? Whatever your story, may you have the courage to share it when the Spirit moves you. Above all, to God be the glory!
[2] Thank you, Bob Russell and Southeast Christian Church in Louisville, KY!
[3] More thanks to David Faust and East 91st Street Christian Church in Indianapolis, IN!
Senior year of high school. Christine is on the right. The beautiful redhead on the left is Liz. She is our other total goofball of a friend. They are two peas in a pod with their own extraordinary bond, and I could always count on them for all the laughs.
Christine in 1991 (5th grade) and me in 1992 (6th grade). We had some hair to be proud of!
This is how I think of Chris. Smiling and laughing all the time. 1994, 8th grade year at St. Matthew School.
St. Mary of the Woods summer camp shortly before I did that horrible chop to my locks you saw above!
Her silliness is contagious.
Oh my. We tried our hands at theater.