1 Timothy
1:12-17
When our youngest child, Tim, was about
10 years old, he discovered that the internet was really good for discovering
sources of free merchandise. For a few
months, he spent countless hours filling out request forms, hitting the “send” button
on his computer, and then eagerly awaiting a package or large envelope to come
in the mail addressed to him.
He ended up with travel brochures and
posters, a few pamphlets on a variety of topics, a small white hand towel from
Guinness Brewery (That was a real find!), and a t-shirt from a church supply
company. Well, to be honest, he almost
ended up with a t-shirt.
You see, one morning, shortly after the
kids had left for school, the phone rang. I answered it, and a woman with a
heavy Southern accent asked to speak with Rev. Tim. I am sure that there was a moment of stunned
silence before I told her that I was the only Reverend at this number and that
Tim was our young son. It was then that
she began to chuckle.
Tim is a young man in his mid-20’s
now. He is not a reverend – or even much
of a regular church-goer really – though you will see him here on Christmas
Eve. Most recently, he has been preparing
to move from Minneapolis to the Los Angeles area, where he will start a new job
next week with Uber, a highly successful and fast-growing internet company
based in California.
Though my Tim was not drawn to
the church, the Timothy to whom the letter (of which we just read a small
portion) was written, that Timothy most certainly was. In fact, he was the pastor of one of the
congregations in Ephesus that Paul had started during his travels through the
Roman Empire in the first century CE, travels spent spreading the Good News of
Jesus the Christ.
We know that Paul had made a practice
of not only evangelizing, that is, telling both the story of God’s saving works
through Christ and relating his own personal story, but he also gathered people
together into small communities that today we call churches. We also know that Paul continued to stay in
touch with the churches he started, writing letters to these fledgling
congregations – letters of hope and encouragement, of caring and advice.
This first letter to Timothy, grouped
as one of the so-called “pastoral epistles”, is one of those bits of
writing. If we had read all of it, we
would have found it filled with instructions on how a congregation can best
survive – not as an informal gathering of enthusiastic converts but as an
institution faced with all the challenges, questions, and rough spots a growing
organization is likely to face.
We do not actually know if the Apostle
Paul really wrote this letter called First Timothy. Upon careful research and study, many
Biblical scholars believe that the letter contains themes, vocabulary, and even
theology that are different from the letters we know that the Apostle himself
wrote.
Now wait a minute, you might say. The letter says it is from Paul and even indirectly
refers to Paul’s conversion experience outside the city of Damascus when he was
struck blind and heard the voice of Jesus calling him to the Gospel. If Paul did not write this letter, then
someone must have forged his name.
Most likely, someone did forge
Paul’s name. However, in the ancient
world, it was a common and accepted practice to write in the name (and even the
voice) of a respected and authoritative teacher. Doing so gave a less known writer much greater
credibility. Most Biblical scholars
believe that is what is happening here.
The author wants so much to suitably
encourage and adequately guide the young pastor Timothy that he, according to
United Church of Christ pastor, Kate Huey, “begins his letter of instruction by
establishing his own credentials, or at least his credibility, by reminding
Timothy that he, Paul, was ‘the foremost’ of sinners, and yet one whose life
was transformed by the power of God's mercy and grace in his life.”
Whether Paul wrote this letter or
someone else wrote it using Paul’s name is really inconsequential because the
author – whoever he or she was – touches in beautiful and timeless words on the
sacred promises of mercy and grace that even we – down through the ages – still
hold close to our hearts, most especially in those difficult times when we feel
so alone, so fearful, so worthless.
Perhaps these words are able to fill
our souls with hope because they are so human and so accessible. In some ways, they are like a story. As New Testament scholar Christian Eberhart
wrote, “For the author of First Timothy, personal experience trumps doctrine
and theory, especially when it comes to grace and salvation…. what the author
of First Timothy wrote is no theoretical treatise. Instead, he evokes the way
in which God has changed a human life, and his example is the life of Paul.”
An article I read this week referenced
a book entitled Why Am I Afraid To
Tell You Who I Am?".
A Jesuit priest, John Powell, wrote it just over 30 years ago. It has
sold millions of copies and is still in print. Powell's thesis is that people
hide who they really are from others because of one basic fear. He describes
this basic fear in an actual conversation he once had.
Powell: "I am writing a booklet, to be called, Why Am I Afraid to Tell You Who I Am."
Other: "Do you want an answer to your question?"
Powell:
"That is the purpose of the booklet, to answer the question."
Other: "But do you want my answer?"
Powell: "Yes, of course I do."
Other: "I am
afraid to tell you who I am, because, if I tell you who I am, you may not like
who I am, and it's all that I have."
If you have ever felt
that way (and I would submit that all of us at one time or another have), then
the opening of this letter of First Timothy is for you. It is for all of us.
In these verses we read,
the author reminds Timothy of Paul’s former life – of his Pharisaic arrogance,
of his delight in being the chief Christian persecutor of his day. He calls Paul the very worst of sinners. And yet, he says, through Christ Jesus, even
Paul was deemed worthy in God’s sight.
How do we know this? Because Paul
was appointed to serve the Christ, the Messiah, the Anointed One. Paul was healed. His relationship with God was restored. He was saved (in the truest and
least maligned sense of that word)– saved to do the work of Jesus.
However, this salvation
was not accomplished by chance. It was
not possible by magic. It did not happen
as a result of Paul’s own self-delusion.
This salvation, this healing, this transformation was possible because
of God’s endless mercy. It was possible
because of the abundant grace that was poured out on Paul, even on Paul who was
Public Sinner Number One.
And so then surely it
must be for us. As New Testament scholar
A.K.M. Adam wrote, “If we grant that God does not
hold the sins of even the worst sinner ever -- blasphemer, persecutor, insulter
-- then surely God's grace extends to us less hyperbolic sinners” – sinners
like you and me.
A
Catholic priest was being honored at his retirement dinner after 25 years in
the parish. A leading local politician and member of the congregation was to
make a presentation and give a little speech at the dinner. However, he was delayed, so the priest
decided to say his own few words while they waited:
“I
got my first impression of the parish from the first confession I heard here
(he said). I thought I had been assigned to a terrible place. The very first
person who entered my confessional told me he had stolen a television set and,
when questioned by the police, was able to lie his way out of it. He had taken money from his parents, had an
affair, and had used illegal drugs . . . I was appalled. But as the days went
on, I learned that my people were not all like that, and I had, indeed, come to
a fine parish full of good and loving people.”
Just
as the priest finished his talk, the politician arrived full of apologies at
being late. He immediately began to give his speech:
”I'll never forget the
first day our parish Priest arrived,” said the politician. “In fact, I had the
honor of being the first person to go to him for confession.”
We
are all sinners or one sort or another.
And yet, this passage reminds us not to despair – for God is merciful,
and God’s grace is abundant. As the New
Living Translation of our text reads: “The sin and brokenness of humankind is
great…but the grace of God is greater still. In fact, it is amazing!"
We all have issues to sort out about
who we really are. We all have fears to
face when we look in the mirror. We all
have stories to tell of actions we regret.
We all have tales to whisper that are filled with shame.
Like that politician at the priest’s
retirement dinner, we have – each in own way – cheated, lied, crossed ethical
and moral lines. If we engage in any
sort of self-reflection at all, we know that we all desperately need healing,
restoration, transformation. We all need
mercy, and we all need grace.
And it is in the midst of this essential
human primordial need that the author of this little letter of encouragement to
Timothy reminds us that God has the ability to transform lives – even ours. God has the capacity to restore, to heal, to
save. God has the ability to look not at
the past, not even at the present, but at the future, at who we can
be.
As Presbyterian pastor Bill Hayes
reminds us, “It comes down to this. You can forget the past,
because God has forgotten the past. (God) is concerned with who you’re
becoming, rather than who you’ve been. If there are mistakes you made years
ago, or months ago—or even days ago—I want you to know that God is willing to
put it behind you and give you a chance to start over.
You may have to live with the consequences of your mistakes,
but you don’t have to live with the guilt or the shame. (God) will set you free
from all of it, and (God) will give you a chance to start again. It doesn’t
matter who you used to be. In spite of your past, God loves you, (God) will
change you, and (God) will use you—if you open your heart.”
These verses we read are verses about
grace. They are about God’s abundant
mercy and love. However, if we read
between the lines, there is more. And so
I ask you: What else can we tuck away in
our hearts as we ready ourselves to head back into our worlds this week? Three things really – three things that all
center on the old, old story of God’s love and grace – and that is our story.
First, we ought to remember that the
author of this letter openly tells Paul’s faith story – honestly and without
shame. Perhaps we should be unafraid to
do likewise - tell our own stories – stories of shortcomings and weaknesses,
stories of healing, stories of how this church fits into our spiritual
well-being, stories of how God’s love and grace have restored our lives. That
is evangelism at its very best – simply telling our stories.
Second, we ought to remember that, in
order to tell our story, we probably need to be a bit more intentional about
looking in the mirror, doing a bit of self-reflecting – certainly in lieu of believing
ourselves in a position to make claims about the outcomes of the stories
of people around us. As A.K.M. Adams
suggests, “Any arguments about
who may not under any circumstances be accorded mercy, or what might constitute
an "unforgivable sin," must come to terms with the many passages like
this one in the New Testament.” We are
challenged to tell only our own stories and not critique those of others.
And third, we ought to remember always
to tell the climax of our story and not to get caught up only in sharing the
fear and the shame. For the climax is
where our hope lies. The climax is where
the endless possibilities reside – in the sure and steadying knowledge of God’s
love, God’s mercy, and God’s abundant – and amazing – grace.
by Rev. Nancy Foran, Raymond Village Community Church, Raymond, Maine
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