Several years ago, I met with a friend who wanted to learn how to grow as a disciple of Jesus. At the beginning of our time together he informed me that, although he wanted my advice, he really didn't want me recommending any books (he knew me well enough to know there was some danger of that). He said to me, "I have to read all the time at work, and by the time I get home I'm ready to do something else; so I don't want to do any reading." I agreed to this, because God deals with us differently; not everyone benefits from reading in the way I do; discipleship is a matter of learning how to follow Jesus with the personality and gifts He's given us. But as we continued talking, it seemed to me that, because of his personality and gifts and the point where he was in his Christian walk, he needed to do some reading. So, near the end of our conversation, I encouraged him to think about doing a very moderate amount of reading each week for the benefit of his spiritual life. I suggested that if he would read a page or two a day, he would be feeding his mind with something of spiritual value, and that I thought this would help him. So he did that, because he really was committed to doing everything he could to grow as a Christian. And the interesting thing is that he went way beyond what I had in mind. He started reading regularly for spiritual benefit, not because I dragged him into it, but because he tried it in a very moderate way and found it so helpful that he wanted to do more.
The point of this is not that everyone needs to enter into a program of reading, because it really is true that God has made us all differently. Not everyone will find the same benefit in a reading program that this man did. The point of the story is this: Christian discipleship requires stirring ourselves to do things that go against our natural inclinations. It means taking ourselves in hand and saying, "it doesn't matter whether I feel like doing this or not; I'm going to do it, because God calls me to." Timothy, it seems clear, was a naturally timid person, so Paul reminds him to kindle afresh, or fan into flame, his spiritual gifts, knowing that God would enable him, by the Spirit's power, to overcome his natural timidity. But doing that would mean stirring himself, going against what was natural to his personality.
It's a good thing to be aware of our differences in temperament. I've known many people who struggled for years to have a consistent devotional life but failed again and again. The problem wasn't that they were unwilling to stir themselves to obedience; they did that. The problem was that the tools they were given didn't fit their personality, and what they needed was help in cultivating a life of prayer that was more suited to their natural temperament. They were willing to exert the necessary effort.
But we're often tempted to use our temperament as an excuse for disobedience. We say to ourselves, "I just don't have that kind of personality," and then we rationalize our lack of growth in Christian discipleship. Jesus said: "Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple" (Luke 14:27). Notice that He doesn't say, "whoever goes in for this sort of thing; any among you who have the kind of personality that enjoys laying aside your own desires and walking in the way of the cross...." He says, "if you don't follow me in the way of the cross you cannot be my disciple." This is not a matter of temperament; it's a matter of obedience. Just before He says this, Jesus tells a story about sending out a dinner invitation: "Come; for everything is ready now." But, He says, "they all alike began to make excuses" (vv. 17-18). They all had important, pressing things to do, which prevented them from responding to the call. No doubt they felt a pressing need to do the things they were doing; maybe they couldn't imagine that it was possible to lay those things aside right then. The invitation came at an inconvenient time. They had too many important things to do. But it wasn't a problem of temperament; it was a problem of disobedience, and Jesus ends the story with these words: "none of those who were invited will taste my dinner" (v. 24). Following Jesus is a matter of obedience to His call on our lives (our lives which He has bought with a price) and it always leads us to deny ourselves, to do things which go against the grain, things which we really don't feel like doing.
Timothy's great danger is not his natural timidity, but the sin of sloth. When we hear the word "sloth," we usually think of laziness, but that's really not what sloth is. Here's a definition: "The root of sloth and that which makes it sinful lies in the will. Sloth is an infectious evil that poisons the will so that there is no motivation – no passion – to act. Sloth is the cause of the self being overly protective of one's time and energy.... Sloth persuades the will to make no effort... expend no energy. Sloth says, ‘It's not worth it.' Sloth makes that which is of ultimate importance seem not worth the effort" (David Hall, The Seven Deadly Sins, p. 57). Sloth destroys our motivation to do that which is most essential. Some of the most slothful people I've known have been workaholics, because they were using work to escape from other things God wanted them to do. They weren't lazy; they were slothful. Work, for them, was the path of least resistance, and they were able to rationalize what they were doing: "work is a good thing, and after all, I have a family to support." Sloth prevents us from acting in response to God's call in our lives. We make excuses for ourselves, like the people in Jesus' story, but the truth is that the sin of sloth is destroying us. That's why sloth is one of the seven deadly sins; it undermines the work of God in our lives. God has given Timothy the resources he needs: "a Spirit of power, of love, and of self-discipline" (notice that two of these are also listed as fruits of the Spirit), but sloth would prevent him from stirring himself and acting on what he knows to be true.
The Screwtape Letters, by C.S. Lewis, is a series of letters from Screwtape, a senior demon, to his nephew, Wormwood, advising him on how to destroy the life of God in his victim. In one of the letters, the human victim has just experienced spiritual renewal and repentance. Here's what Screwtape says about it: "The great thing is to prevent his doing anything. As long as he does not convert it into action, it does not matter how much he thinks about this new repentance. Let the little brute wallow in it. Let him, if he has any bent that way, write a book about it; that is often an excellent way of sterilising the seeds which the Enemy plants in a human soul. Let him do anything but act. No amount of piety in his imagination and affections will harm us if we can keep it out of his will. As one of the humans has said, active habits are strengthened by repetition but passive ones are weakened. The more often he feels without acting, the less he will be able ever to act, and, in the long run, the less he will be able to feel" (pp. 60-61). As long as he doesn't do anything, as long as he doesn't follow up on it, the "little brute" can wallow in his repentance all he likes and the demons will be pleased. As long as he doesn't act on it, his repentance is imaginary, because true repentance involves a change of direction, turning around and going the other way. Following Jesus is a matter of obedience, which always leads us to deny ourselves and walk in the way of the cross. If we don't deny ourselves and follow Jesus in concrete acts of obedience, our repentance is imaginary, and our discipleship is also imaginary.
One of Timothy's great resources in the life of faith is the gift of remembrance. Paul speaks of remembering four times in this short passage. He remembers Timothy in his prayers and is reminded of Timothy's tears the last time they parted. He is reminded of the great heritage of faith that Timothy inherited in his family, and then he reminds Timothy to stir up his spiritual gift. Paul isn't engaging here in nostalgia. He's not being sentimental; he's reminding Timothy of things that will help him stay on track.
One of the hazards in the life of discipleship is forgetfulness. We see, over and over, in the Old Testament, that Israel wanders from the path of obedience because they've forgotten all the great things God has done for them. So God raises up prophets who remind them of the truth. The prophets aren't primarily concerned with predicting the future; their primary function is to remind Israel of God's call on their lives. Peter, at the beginning of his second letter, lists several qualities that are necessary to discipleship, and then he says: "For anyone who lacks these things is nearsighted and blind, and is forgetful of the cleansing of past sins" (1:9). Then he says, a few verses later, "Therefore I intend to keep on reminding you of these things, though you know them already and are established in the truth that has come to you" (v. 12). Forgetfulness is a serious danger, so Peter is committed to reminding them of the things they already know. That's the primary purpose of preaching: to remind us of who we are and who God is.
But, having said all this, we need to see also that following Paul's counsel is not going to make Timothy's life easier. In all likelihood, it will lead him into more trouble. Paul isn't giving Timothy a formula for success; he's urging him to a life of faithful discipleship. This is important to remember, because I talk to many people who assume that if they follow the Lord He will protect them from trouble and suffering. They say, "well, I'm keeping my end of the bargain, so God should keep His." And then, when they encounter suffering in one form or another, they think God has let them down, that He hasn't been faithful.
At first glance, verse 7 may seem to give some support to this way of thinking: God has given us "a spirit of power...." It sounds great, doesn't it? We like the idea of having the Spirit's power in our lives. Surely that power will enable us to live successfully in this world; otherwise, what's the point of it? But it's always important to look at the context to see what the authors of Scripture are saying. Listen to what Paul says in the next verse: "Do not be ashamed, then, of the testimony about our Lord or of me his prisoner, but join with me in suffering for the gospel, relying on the power of God." There's the same word, power, in the very next verse. In telling Timothy that God has given us "a spirit of power," Paul is reminding him that the faithful exercise of his gifts will very likely lead to suffering, but the power of God will enable him to bear suffering patiently, following the example of Jesus, our suffering Savior. Paul is calling Timothy to follow Jesus in the way of the cross, but he's saying, "you won't have to do this in your own strength, for God is with you and will give you the power to bear with it graciously as a disciple of Jesus Christ."
The Puritans have been unfairly caricatured in our popular culture as stern, sour moralists whose greatest worry was that someone might be having a good time. The term "Puritanical" stands for everything our society hates. But the Puritans, in reality, were people who sought to order their lives in relation to God. They were the evangelicals of their day. They stood for godliness and a heartfelt commitment to the Lord in every area of life, and they did so during very difficult times. But they didn't experience overwhelming success: "The Puritans lost, more or less, every public battle that they fought. Those who stayed in England did not change the Church of England as they hoped to do, nor did they revive more than a minority of its adherents, and eventually they were driven out of Anglicanism by calculated pressure on their consciences. Those who crossed the Atlantic failed to establish new Jerusalem in New England; for the first fifty years their little colonies barely survived. They hung on by the skin of their teeth. But the moral and spiritual victories that the Puritans won by keeping sweet, peaceful, patient, obedient, and hopeful under sustained and seemingly intolerable pressures and frustrations give them a place of high honour in the believers' hall of fame, where Hebrews 11 is the first gallery." (J.I. Packer, A Quest for Godliness, p.23) They were faithful, godly people, but they were not successful in accomplishing their outward goals. We need to be careful about assuming that we can measure the work of God on our own terms. When we insist on measurable success, we settle for something less than a genuine work of God. The Puritans remind us, as Hebrews 11 does, that it is dangerous to assume that godliness will lead to success. But they also remind us of the great value of "keeping sweet, peaceful, patient, obedient, and hopeful under sustained and seemingly intolerable pressures and frustrations." God is honored when we bear witness to His power in this way, because this kind of obedience – obedience in suffering – bears costly witness to Jesus Christ.
But none of this comes naturally to us. Christian discipleship requires stirring ourselves to do things that go against our natural inclinations. And we cultivate that kind of obedience by the small choices we make every day. I encourage you to be intentional in practicing self denial in the coming week. Say no to yourself once a day in some significant way. Drag yourself out of bed a little earlier in the morning, so that you can spend some time in prayer (whether you feel like it or not). Quit working a little earlier, so you can spend some time with your family. Do someone else's work for them, as an act of service in the Lord's name, so that they can do something they want to do. Give up something you really want, as a way of freeing yourself from the bondage of things. Let go of the need to always get your own way. Drag yourself to church on Sunday morning, no matter how you feel. Turn off the TV and spend some time in prayerful meditation on Scripture. The possibilities are endless. It's in seemingly small acts of self denial that we begin to let go of our self-centeredness and cultivate the habit of stirring ourselves to do things, in Jesus' name, that go against our natural inclinations.
Or, on the other hand, it's in refusing to do these sorts of things that we demonstrate the truth of what is in our hearts. When we do that, our problem is not personality or temperament; our problem is disobedience. God knows the secrets of our hearts, and He won't be taken in by all our excuses. If you're feeling like you want to defend yourself, don't do it. God is calling you to repentance, and His call is a gift of grace and mercy. Humble yourself before Him, cry out for mercy, and ask Him for grace to begin ordering your life in sacrificial obedience. In the concrete acts of our daily lives, we are either being transformed into the image of Jesus Christ or we are being hardened in our disobedience. May He stir our hearts to follow Him in the path of discipleship: "for God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power, of love and of self-discipline."
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