The Bread of Life, John 6,1-71

9th Sunday after Pentecost

Shiloh Lutheran Church, State College PA

One of the people who helped me early in my Christian life was Francis Schaeffer, the founder of L'Abri Fellowship in Switzerland; he ministered to young people who were struggling with their faith, and people I've talked to who knew him said he had a gift for compassionate listening and was able to help people who'd become disillusioned and given up hope on the Church. I never met him, but I heard him speak at a conference and read all of his books; they were exactly what I needed at that point in my life. In one of his printed sermons, Schaeffer said "We all tend to live ‘ash heap lives;' we spend most of our time and money on things that will end up in the city dump." Our lives are consumed with the things of this world. Most of our time and attention is focused on things that are one day going to be destroyed. Schaeffer describes, in that sermon, the excitement he felt at buying a new car, the first new car he had ever owned. He says he couldn't keep his eyes off it, and he wanted to keep it looking shiny and new. He was obsessed with it, initially. Have you ever had that experience? There's a sense of exhilaration that goes with buying something new, but that exhilaration quickly fades. So we find ourselves wanting to buy something else. And the process goes on and on. He was thrilled with his new car, but after a couple of days someone bumped into it and made a fairly large scratch on the side. He said that scratch completely changed his attitude about the car. He suddenly realized how fragile and unstable it was; it wasn't going to last. Someday it was going to end up in the junk yard, as scrap metal. This fallen world has been "subjected to frustration, and decay" as Paul says in Romans 8. Treasures here on earth are uncertain and unstable: "moth and rust destroy, and... thieves break in and steal." Earthly treasures aren't reliable.

We're constantly tempted, in this fallen world, to become completely engrossed in the things of this life. I've heard people say, "I don't have time to sit in church; I've got work to do;" or "Sunday is the only day I have to sleep late." Jesus, in the Parable of the Sower, talks about the seed that fell among weeds. It sprouted and started to grow, but it was eventually choked out by the weeds. This represents those who hear God's Word and believe it, but then the Word becomes choked by the cares and pleasures of this life. "Ash heap lives," lives that are totally consumed with things that are going to end up in the city dump, are lives that are being choked by the cares and pleasures of this world.

John is concerned, in this gospel, to tell us how to have eternal life. He's not trying to satisfy our curiosity about Jesus; his purpose is to preach the gospel, to tell us about the saving work God accomplished in sending His Son. He says that explicitly in chapter twenty: "Jesus did many other miraculous signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not recorded in this book. But these are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name" (20:30-31). John's purpose is evangelistic. His intention in writing is to lead us to faith, so that by believing we might have eternal life.

Everything he records in his gospel has this purpose: to lead us to eternal life by believing the truth of the gospel. He gives us pictures of Jesus, descriptions from various angles and perspectives, all with the intention of leading us to eternal life. We see Jesus, earlier in this book, as the Word made flesh, and the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world. In the chapter we're studying today, Jesus is the Bread of Life, and there are other pictures later in the gospel. We experience eternal life by feeding on Jesus, the Bread that came down from heaven to give His flesh for the life of the world. Jesus describes eternal life in chapter 17: "and this is eternal life, that they may know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom you have sent." Eternal life is found in communion with God and with Jesus Christ the Son. This is how we escape the cycle of ash heap living. We experience eternal life by feeding on Jesus, the Bread that came down from heaven. This morning we're going to look at three things that keep us from experiencing eternal life in all its fulness.

The first thing that keeps us from experiencing this eternal life is a limited perspective, an outlook on life that is confined to the things of this visible world. Jesus tells the people, in chapter 6, that their perspective is all wrong, that their expectations are bound by the limitations of this world. The two miracles at the beginning of this chapter set the tone for what He's going to say about the Bread of Life. It's helpful to know that John is presenting Jesus here as the New Moses: the feeding of the five thousand corresponds to the provision of manna in the wilderness; and Jesus' walking on water corresponds to the crossing of the Red Sea. John wants us to see Jesus as the prophet promised by Moses: "The Lord your God will raise up for you a prophet like me from among your own brothers. You must listen to him" (Deut. 18:15). The people realized the significance of the first miracle: "After the people saw the miraculous sign that Jesus did, they began to say, ‘Surely this is the Prophet who is to come into the world" (v. 14). So Jesus withdrew into the mountain, because they were ready to make Him king by force. They understood the point of Jesus' miracle, but there was still something wrong.

The next day they sought Him out, but when they found Him Jesus said: "I tell you the truth, you are looking for me, not because you saw miraculous signs but because you ate the loaves and had your fill. Do not work for food that spoils, but for food that endures to eternal life." They had experienced His miraculous provision, so they came to Him thinking He'd provide for them again. They believed in Him in a sense, but their faith was confined to the things He could do for them in this life. Several years ago, I heard a man speak about all the wonderful things that had happened to him since he became a Christian. He'd become a successful writer; he had a nice home in California, was involved in film making and had several celebrities who were personal friends. All because he had given his life to Jesus Christ. He was speaking to kids, and his was that if you follow Jesus He'll give you a successful and glamorous life. Apart from the fact that it usually doesn't work this way (it certainly didn't work that way for Jesus or any of the apostles), it's the wrong perspective. He wasn't asking for too much. He was asking for too many things that will come to nothing in the end. "Don't waste your energy striving for perishable food like that. Work for the food that sticks with you, food that nourishes your lasting life, food the Son of Man provides. He and what he does are guaranteed by God the Father to last" (The Message). Having our perspective limited in this way keeps us from experiencing the eternal life Jesus offers, because it leads us to be satisfied with something less. We become so preoccupied with the things of this life that we just don't look for anything else.

The second thing that prevents us from experiencing eternal life is wrong expectations. After Jesus confronted the people with their limited perspective, they immediately cried out: "What must we do to do the works God requires?" What great thing can we do to please God? They expect Him to give them something important to do. There's a story in 2 Kings about a man named Naaman. Naaman was an important man, a commander in the army of the king of Aram. The king valued him as an officer in his army, and he was highly respected in the nation. But he had leprosy, so he was sent to Elisha, a prophet in Israel, to be healed. He arrived at the prophet's door with great expectations. But Elisha didn't even come out to greet him. Elisha didn't recognize his importance, didn't make a fuss over him. He sent a messenger, instructing Naaman to wash himself seven times in the Jordan river. But that wasn't what he was looking for: "But Naaman went away angry and said, ‘I thought that he would surely come out to me and stand and call on the name of the Lord his God, wave his hand over the spot and cure me of my leprosy.... So he turned and went off in a rage" (2 Kings 5:11-12). Elisha's instructions weren't dramatic enough. They were too simple.

The people who are talking to Jesus are like this. They want something that they can do "to do the work that God requires." But Jesus directs them to the simplicity of faith: "The work of God is this: to believe in the one he has sent." When Jesus tells them to eat the Bread of Life, He's calling them to faith. Verse 29: "The work of God is this: to believe in the one he has sent." Verse 35: "I am the bread of life. He who comes to me will never go hungry, and he who believes in me will never be thirsty." Verse 40: "For my Father's will is that everyone who looks to the Son and believes in him shall have eternal life, and I will raise him up at the last day." Verse 47: "I tell you the truth, he who believes has everlasting life." The people were asking Him for manna in the wilderness, like God provided through Moses, so Jesus takes their request and says "this isn't what you need. You need Me. If you come to Me in faith, you will have eternal life." So, throughout most of this chapter, eating the flesh of the Son of Man is equivalent to believing in Him, trusting in Him.

But in verses 53-59 He expands the image: "I tell you the truth, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up at the last day." He's still talking about the union we have with Him through faith, but He's expanded the image in a way that points to Communion, or what has traditionally been called the Eucharist (which is from the Greek word for thanksgiving). The original hearers wouldn't have understood it in this way, but in John we often see Jesus saying things that will only be understood later. The Lord's Supper is a tangible way to unite ourselves with Christ in faith. We see the same thing with baptism in chapter 3: saving faith is not only something that happens within us; it takes concrete form in the things we do. Baptism is a tangible identification with Christ in His death and resurrection and a tangible break from our old way of life in this world. Baptism, and the calling to live a life that's consistent with our baptism, keeps us from a merely internalized faith. Communion is another one of those things that keeps us from a merely internalized faith; at the table of the Lord we are nourished by Jesus' body and blood.

When we find that our perspective is limited to external things, as we saw in the first point, the answer is not simply to retreat into our inner world. Jesus provides ways for us to find connections between physical and spiritual realities. As we, in the context of worship, take the bread and the cup, we are being nourished spiritually by the body and blood of Jesus Christ. Robert Webber, who was a college professor for many years, and just died a few years ago, has a good description of what this means: "When the elements of bread and wine are taken in faith, the transforming and nourishing power of Christ for the salvation and the healing of the person is made available.... Sometimes students or other persons struggling with a painful experience in their lives will come to me for counsel. I always say to them, ‘I'm not a counselor and I don't have the tools necessary to help you with this problem. But I can suggest one thing–flee to the Eucharist. Get to the Table of the Lord just as fast as you can, because it is there that God can and does touch his people in a healing way.' In all the years that I have been giving this advice, not a single person has come back and told me it is not true. On the contrary, many have affirmed that God through the Eucharist reached into their pain and touched them with his healing presence" (Robert Webber, Ancient-Future Faith, p. 111). That's why the early church celebrated communion so often. At the table of the Lord, when we come to Him in faith, we are nourished by Jesus' body and blood.

But there's one more thing that keeps us from experiencing eternal life: lack of ability and power. We're not able to believe on our own. These people had wanted something they could do to make themselves pleasing to God, and then Jesus had pointed them to faith. But then, as they began grumbling, He said: "No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draws him, and I will raise them up at the last day." We don't have the power, in ourselves, to come to Jesus, to enter into communion with Him. We're dead in sin and alienated from the life of God. Saving faith is more than intellectual agreement with what the Bible says about Jesus. It's not enough to simply agree that Jesus is sent from God. That's James' point when he says, "You believe that there is one God. Good! Even the demons believe that–and shudder" (James 2:19). Saving faith, eating the flesh of the Son of Man, coming to Jesus, leads to a radical transformation. That's why Paul says "If anyone is in Christ he is a new creation. The old has gone, the new has come!" We don't have the power to accomplish this ourselves. All we can do is bow before God and cry out to Him for help and for mercy. We're completely dependent upon God, even for the simple act of putting our faith in Jesus, the Bread of Life.

We experience eternal life, a life of fellowship with God that begins now and extends throughout eternity, by feeding on Jesus, the Bread of Life. We allow Him to broaden our perspective, so that we're living in the light of the reality of eternity, so that we're not any longer living as if this world were the only thing that matters. We humble ourselves before Him, believing that He is the "living bread that came down from heaven," and we cry out to Him for mercy and grace. And we come faithfully to the Lord's Table, to be nourished by his body and blood. As we do these things, we're beginning the life of eternity here on earth.

Jesus' words in chapter 6 lead to two responses on the part of those who claim to be His followers. At this point in Jesus' ministry, the opposition of the religious leaders is beginning to intensify, and some of those who've followed Him till now are beginning to have doubts. After this discussion, John says that many of Jesus' disciples become disillusioned: "Many among his disciples heard this and said, ‘This is tough teaching, too tough to swallow.' Jesus sensed that his disciples were having a hard time with this and said, ‘Does this throw you completely? What would happen if you saw the Son of Man ascending to where he came from? The Spirit can make life. Sheer muscle and willpower don't make anything happen.... After this a lot of his disciples left. They no longer wanted to be associated with him" (The Message). They had been enthusiastic at the beginning. They were impressed with all the miracles He was doing. But this is just too much for them, so they turn away. They don't want to be associated with Him any more. Their perspective is too restricted; they can't begin to accept what He's saying. Their expectations are wrong, and they're not willing to readjust. And they're not willing to humble themselves and confess their helplessness. So they turn away.

Then Jesus turns to the Twelve: "You do not want to leave too, do you?" The Twelve often seem clueless. They miss the point of what Jesus is doing half the time, they fight with each other about who is the greatest, and they have no idea what Jesus is talking about when He begins trying to prepare them for His death and resurrection. As we see them in the gospels they're not terribly impressive or inspiring. But they're open and attentive, they're willing to have their priorities rearranged, and they recognize their need of God's help. Their attitude is just the opposite of those who are turning away. So Peter answers for all of them: "Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. We believe and know that you are the Holy One of God." He alone has the words of eternal life. In Him, we can begin the life of heaven here on earth, a life of fellowship with God that begins now and extends into eternity. Where else would we go, but to Him. John Calvin said: "For how comes it that we are carried about with so many strange doctrines [or any of the other distractions that lead us away from Him], (Heb. 13:9), but because the excellence of Christ is not perceived by us? For Christ alone makes all other things suddenly vanish" (Commentary on Colossians). This is similar to the chorus: "Turn your eyes upon Jesus, look full in His wonderful face, and the things of earth will grow strangely dim in the light of His glory and grace." Christ frees us from all that is false, and causes all the good things in our lives to find their proper perspective in relation to Him. May God grant us grace to find our nourishment in Him, the Bread of Life.

Coming to Christ for Strength, 2 Timothy 2:1-7

I was meeting with a client recently, and when I started scratching the palm of my hand she said, "you're going to win a lot of money in the lottery," to which I responded, "no, I don't think that's going to happen." Winning lots of money in the lottery is unlikely in the best of circumstances, but since I don't ever buy lottery tickets my chances of winning anything are pretty-much non-existent (unless I were to find a winning ticket on the sidewalk). I don't meet the one necessary condition for winning, because you have to play to win, and I don't play. I don't put myself "in the way" of winning. If you want a suntan, you don't sit inside with the shades drawn; you go outside and put yourself in the way of the sun. If you're looking for a job, it won't do you much good to sit at home and wait for someone to offer you one. The sensible thing is to start filling out applications; this doesn't guarantee that you'll find a job, but it does put you in the way of finding one.

Paul, who is nearing the end of his life, is reminding Timothy of things he's said in the past, knowing that he won't be around much longer to act as Timothy's mentor. Near the end of chapter one he says that everyone in Asia has deserted him. Then he prays for the family of Onesiphorus (who appears to have died), since he was not ashamed [of Paul's] imprisonment. It seems likely, as I pointed out in the last sermon, that those in Asia deserted him because they were ashamed. Onesiphorus is someone who did the opposite, who stood with him during a difficult and dangerous time.

So there are two different ways that people respond to the hardships Paul is enduring as a prisoner of the Lord: those in Asia have turned away from him, and Onesiphorus sought to minister to him (and maybe ended up paying for it with his life). Then Paul turns to Timothy and says, "You, therefore..." Timothy himself seems to have been a timid, easily intimidated person, and Paul doesn't want him to be frightened away or scandalized by the things that are happening. He doesn't want Timothy to follow the example of those who've been ashamed and have abandoned him. Maybe Timothy's been bullied and pushed around in the past; in any case, Paul wants him to stand firm with confidence in his calling to preach God's Word.

The fundamental thing, the foundation for everything else that he's going to say in this passage, is in verse one: "be strengthened in the grace that is in Christ Jesus." The verb is passive, so "be strengthened," as it reads in the ESV, is clearer than the NIV's "be strong." Paul is not telling Timothy to do something but to receive something. We can't, by an act of the will or by sheer determination, be strengthened in grace. This is not something that depends on our own efforts and ability. But it's also not something we just wait for passively. We are involved in the process (otherwise, why would Paul bother to give this exhortation at all?). It won't do any good to sit at home in front of the TV and say, "I'm waiting to receive strength from the Lord before I attempt anything." Timothy can't strengthen himself in grace, but he can put himself in a place to receive strength. He can put himself in the way of receiving strength from the Lord.

This strength has two characteristics: it comes to us by grace, and that grace is found in Jesus Christ. It comes as a gift, something for which we are unworthy; and this gracious gift is found in Christ. It's source is outside of ourselves and we are unworthy of it, in fact are powerless to take hold of it for ourselves. We can be strengthened in grace only by coming to God with empty hands, poor in spirit, confessing our poverty and neediness.

That's the main idea in this passage: "be strengthened in grace." We don't have strength in ourselves. Paul isn't offering a self-help program: "you're stronger than you realize; you just need to learn how to draw upon your inner resources." Paul's not telling Timothy to toughen up and be strong. He's telling Timothy to come to Jesus to receive strength. We become strong by acknowledging our weakness and then coming to Jesus, crying to Him for help. That's the lesson Paul himself learned, as he describes in 2 Corinthians 12. He had prayed repeatedly to have a problem removed, something he saw as a hindrance to his ministry, something that got in the way of his full functioning. It seemed clear that he could do so much more as an apostle if he was functioning at 100 percent. But the answer he received was "My grace is sufficient for you for my power is made perfect in weakness" (v. 9).

As he receives strength, Paul wants Timothy to use his gifts to build up the Church: "And the things you have heard me say in the presence of many witnesses entrust to reliable men who will also be qualified to teach others" (v. 2). Timothy is to equip others for the work of ministry by passing on to them the teaching he received from Paul. One of the great temptations we face is the temptation to use our gifts selfishly, to use them for our own sense of fulfillment or to boost our pride. But the gifts we've been given are not ours to use as we like. We've been entrusted with them for the benefit of others and the good of the Church. Whatever gifts we have are not really ours at all. They don't belong to us. God has entrusted them to us for building up the Church, for equipping others to live obedient and fruitful lives as followers of Jesus Christ.

Of course, it may be tempting at this point to say, "well, Timothy was a leader, so he needed to be strengthened in grace to carry out his ministry; what I do in the church is not such a big deal." But think, for a moment, about what we're called to do as disciples of Jesus Christ. We're called to love God with all our heart, soul, mind and strength, and to love our neighbor as we love ourselves. We're called to bear one another's burdens, to pray for each other, to help those in need. We're called to help others, often in ways that are costly and inconvenient (think of Onesiphorus and those in Asia who ended up throwing in the towel), and to do so without resentment in a genuine spirit of self-emptying. Do you feel up to this? Do you really think you can do this without being strengthened in grace?

Paul goes on to tell Timothy to "endure suffering and hardship." Peter says, in his first letter, "do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal which comes upon you to prove you, as though some strange thing were happening to you" (4:12). Paul and Barnabas strengthened new disciples by "exhorting them to continue in the faith, and saying that through many tribulations we must enter the kingdom of God" (Acts 14:22). For Paul, exercising his gifts did not lead to success and prosperity. It led to suffering, and the same will be true for Timothy. If we want to survive a life of discipleship over the long term we need to accept the likelihood that obedience will bring us into situations that we wouldn't choose for ourselves. If we're not armed with this expectation, suffering will take us by surprise and we'll be scandalized; many people end up turning away from the Lord when they encounter difficulties and opposition. "I didn't know it would be like this; God isn't taking care of me; He's not holding up His end of the bargain."

So the first temptation, in connection with our gifts, is to use them selfishly for our own benefit. But then, when we use them and suffer, the next temptation is not to use them at all. "This just isn't worth it. No one really cares anyway." But the point of using our gifts to serve one another is not to be successful, or even to see the fruit of our work. Sometimes we're enabled to see fruit and sometimes we're not; think of Jeremiah preaching year after year, with no measurable success. But the point is to please our "commanding officer" (v. 4). The benefits, the real benefits, lie in the future, a "victor's crown" (v. 5) and a "share in the crops" (v. 6). Paul is pointing forward to the time when we will see Jesus face to face. He's saying that in the light of all this it is worth it to endure suffering. We are following in Jesus' footsteps and He is with us.

Even if we aren't suffering right now, other members of the body of Christ are. We are connected with Jesus' sufferings and with the suffering of others in the body, both past and present. Paul tells the Colossians, "Now I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I complete what is lacking in Christ's afflictions for the sake of his body, that is, the Church" (1:24). He's not saying that Christ's sufferings are insufficient to redeem His people. He's saying that when Christians suffer they do so in communion with Christ as members of His body. Paul's sufferings are part of the suffering of Christ's body. When we are suffering we feel alienated and alone, and we combat this feeling by speaking to ourselves and reminding ourselves of the truth that we are not alone. We're connected, in Christ, with all those throughout the history of the Church who have suffered because they belonged to Jesus..

This leads to the third thing Paul says here: exercise discipline, or self control. "No one serving as a soldier gets involved in civilian affairs – he wants to please his commanding officer. Similarly, if anyone competes as an athlete, he does not receive the victor's crown unless he competes according to the rules" (vv. 4-5). The Christian life is not a life of following our impulses, doing what we feel like doing. Some teachings on sanctification seem to suggest that God will take over our lives in such a way that discipleship becomes effortless, that we just hand ourselves over to Him and He does the rest. If you read things written by Hudson Taylor, the founder of the China Inland Mission, you might get that impression at times. He went through a period when he was overwhelmed by the burdens of the work and by all the demands he was facing. He was burning out and uncertain that he could keep going. But then his whole outlook changed. He wrote to his sister, describing his intense efforts to grow stronger in faith: "But how to get faith strengthened? Not by striving after faith, but by resting on the Faithful One. As I read I saw it all! ‘If we believe not, he abideth faithful.' I looked to Jesus and saw (and when I saw, oh, how joy flowed!) that He had said, ‘I will never leave you'. ‘Ah, there is rest!' I thought, ‘I have striven in vain to rest in Him. I'll strive no more. For has He not promised to abide with me -- never to leave me, never to fail me?'" (Dr. and Mrs. Howard Taylor, J. Hudson Taylor, pp. 213-214).

After this, he talked often about the rest of faith, and his favorite hymn was "Jesus I am Resting, Resting." People observed him, in the middle of immensely difficult situations, singing to himself, "Jesus I am resting, resting, in the joy of what Thou art; I am finding out the greatness of Thy loving heart." It changed his whole outlook, and sometimes when he talked he could give the impression that he was passive, just resting in the Lord, that he was no longer expending any effort and that everything was now being done for him. In reality he continued to work hard and spent much time in God's Word and in prayer. But he did it with a strong conviction of Jesus' constant presence and a confidence that he was fully accepted in Christ and was standing in grace. To get an accurate picture, we need to look at his words in the context of his life. He was doing the very thing Paul tells Timothy to do, coming to Christ to be strengthened.

Hudson Taylor, for the remainder of his life, exercised intense effort in following Christ and preaching the gospel, but he did it with an awareness of his full acceptance in Christ, which gave him strength to do the things that had previously exhausted him. The strength is not in us, but as we come to Christ and receive strength, we go on to take ourselves in hand, refusing to do some things and choosing to do others. I had a co-worker who was often overwhelmed. He had young children, worked full time and also taught piano in the evenings in addition to leading the choir in his church. Once when we were talking he complained that he didn't have time to read his Bible each day, that he was just too busy. I knew, from previous conversations, that he was in the habit of watching a fair bit of TV every night, so I suggested that it would be worthwhile to cut out some of that to make time for Bible reading, and that this would feed his spirit in a way that TV would not do. I don't know whether he ever did it, but it was clear that this had never occurred to him. To be strengthened in the Lord, as Paul calls us to do here, involves making choices in our daily lives that will put us in a place to receive strength, as Hudson Taylor continued to do after he had his great realization of the importance of resting in faith.

Then, having said all this, Paul ties it together by saying "Reflect on what I am saying, for the Lord will give you insight into all this" (v. 7). Reflect, think on all this, not because you'll eventually figure it all out. It's not that by our intense mental effort we're able to sort through everything necessary for a life of discipleship. We listen attentively to God's Word and He gives us insight. We come to Him waiting to hear from Him, and He speaks the Words we need to hear at that point. That's what happened to Hudson Taylor. He had been living and growing as a Christian for years, but he came to a point where he needed a greater sense of rest and of peace. He was near the breaking point, but as he was listening attentively and expectantly to God's Word his eyes were opened and he was able to see things in a way that he had never seen before. And it changed his life. "Reflect on what I am saying, for the Lord will give you insight into all this."

It's the same thing that we saw earlier about receiving strength. We can put ourselves in the way of being strengthened, but we can't make ourselves strong. We can reflect on God's Word, but we don't have the capacity within us to understand apart from the insight He gives. "It is God who gives understanding. The most intelligent man needs more and more of this gift. If he who gave the revelation in the word does not give the understanding in the heart, we are nothing" (Matthew Henry, Commentary).

I recently read a biography of the Scottish preacher Robert Murray M'Cheyne. He died before his thirtieth birthday and was in frail health for much of his life, but he knew how to come to Christ for strength, and he taught his congregation to do the same thing. He put together a Bible reading calendar, because he knew the importance of coming to Christ in His Word daily, not just sporadically when we feel the need. I've been using this calendar for many years, and it's the best one I've seen. Here's something M'Cheyne wrote to a younger minister who was just starting out in ministry: "You read your Bible regularly, of course; but do try and understand it, and still more, to feel it. Read more parts than one at a time. For example, if you are reading Genesis, read a psalm also; or, if you are reading Matthew, read a small bit of an epistle also. Turn the Bible into prayer. Thus, if you were reading the 1st Psalm, spread the Bible on the chair before you, and kneel, and pray, ‘O Lord, give me the blessedness of the man,' etc. ‘Let me not stand in the counsel of the ungodly,' etc. This is the best way of knowing the meaning of the Bible, and of learning to pray" (The Biography of Robert Murray M'Cheyne, Kindle Location 792). If we do this kind of attentive, prayerful reading of Scripture, and seek to order our lives in obedience to what we read, we'll be putting ourselves in the way of receiving strength and understanding from the Lord.

Guard the Good Treasure, 2 Timothy 1:13-18

After I got out of the Navy at the end of 1976, I worked at a gas station for several months. I didn't have any training as a mechanic, so my duty was to pump gas, check oil and wash windows (there weren't many self-serve stations yet, so those things were expected as part of the deal). One day I was filling a man's tank and I saw on his bumper a sticker that said, "Read Your Bible." I was hoping for a few minutes of fellowship while the pump was running, so I asked him, "are you a Christian?" And he jumped, turned, and said (very aggressively), "yes... why?" I was so startled by the harshness of his response that I just muttered something and walked away. I think he was startled too; he thought I was ready to pounce on him for identifying himself as a Christian and he wanted to be ready to fight back, if necessary.

I thought about that man after he drove away. Why did he react the way he did? And if he was so easily threatened, why did he put that bumper sticker on his car? I suspect he struggled with the very thing Paul has been warning Timothy about since verse 8: "Do not be ashamed of the gospel." He didn't want to be ashamed, so he hoped that sticker would provide him with opportunities to speak openly to the world. But his basic outlook was still one of huddled defensiveness. It's easy, in a world that rejects the gospel, to slip into a defensive mentality.

We saw, earlier in chapter one, that Timothy is in danger of becoming ashamed of the gospel. That's why Paul is putting so much emphasis on this in these verses. Timothy, by nature, tended to be reserved; he seems to have been easily intimidated. And, as a minister of the gospel in the Roman empire, there's good reason why he might be nervous and defensive. In a world that worships power and success, Timothy's mentor is wasting away in prison and His Lord had died in apparent powerlessness and defeat.

So Paul tells Timothy, "don't be intimidated." The value of the gospel can't be measured by the priorities of this world. Those who rejected Jesus will also reject us when we speak in His name. Those who value power and wealth and status will see the gospel as foolishness (or they'll try to twist it into something more consistent with what they want). Paul is saying, "don't be ashamed of this seemingly foolish message, and don't be ashamed of your association with me, a prisoner for the Lord – an apparent failure; be faithful in exercising your spiritual gifts in Jesus' name, and join with me in suffering for the gospel." That's the main thing Paul is saying in this chapter.

The danger is not only that Timothy will feel personally intimidated or that he will react defensively when someone asks him a question. The danger is that, if he gives in to the temptation of shame, Timothy will begin tampering with the message. He'll try to adapt it into something more respectable, something less at-odds with the mentality of the surrounding culture. This is what Paul is thinking of when he writes to the Galatians: "It is those who want to make a good showing in the flesh that try to compel you to be circumcised – only that they may not be persecuted for the cross of Christ" (6:12). He's saying that the false teachers are motivated by their shame of the gospel, so they've distorted the message. They've turned it into something more respectable, less at-odds with their society.

So Paul urges Timothy, in verse 13: "Hold to the standard of sound teaching," and in verse 14: "Guard the good treasure entrusted to you." Timothy is a steward. He's been entrusted with something that doesn't belong to him. This deposit, or treasure, that Timothy's been entrusted with includes two things: the content of truth, and the gospel lifestyle rooted in the truth. Paul has both of these things in mind when he urges Timothy, "guard the good treasure." We need to keep these things together, because there's a strong temptation to separate them. On the one hand, there's the anti-theology approach: "I'm not interested in all that stuff; just tell me what I need to do to get to heaven. I don't care about creeds, or the teachings of the Church; I've accepted Jesus Christ as my personal savior and that's all that matters." But the other extreme is no better. It sees Christianity as an interesting collection of ideas to think and talk about. Several years ago, I read a very good book on the theology of Paul, and on the dust jacket there was a comment from a prominent New Testament scholar saying "these things need to be thoroughly discussed." Well, yes, there's a place for sitting down and discussing ideas, but if those ideas are true we need to do a great deal more than talk about them. One day we're going to stand in God's presence, and He's not going to ask whether we thoroughly discussed all the ideas He gave us. He's going to ask, "how is it that you knew all these things and didn't put them into practice?"

The good deposit that Timothy is to guard is not only a collection of ideas. It's not only a body of doctrine. It is that, but this body of doctrine is not given just to inform us intellectually. Paul makes this clear by two phrases he adds in verses 13 and 14: "Hold to the standard of sound teaching... in the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus" (v. 13); and "Guard the good treasure... with the help of the Holy Spirit living in us" (v. 14). Paul is talking about the body of truth that he taught in the Church and the way of life he both modeled and taught. I used to work in the home office of a mission organization. The business manager was a man who'd been trained at Wharton; he'd spent most of his adult life in the business world, then he had joined this mission. He was very conservative theologically; he was concerned to always fellowship in "Bible-believing churches" that were rooted in God's Word. But in the office, he was critical, unkind to co-workers, autocratic and overbearing. One man who'd known him in church before he came to work for him was shocked at the difference. This man was concerned about holding to "the standard of sound teaching," but he hadn't allowed that teaching to affect the way he treated other people in the workplace. Paul is saying that these things need to be kept together. Timothy has heard Paul's teaching and he's seen Paul embody a lifestyle consistent with that teaching. Now that Paul's near the end of his life, he reminds Timothy to do the same, not by the power of his own determination but "with the help of the Holy Spirit living in us."

In verse 15, Paul shows that this danger isn't just something he dreamed up. When we're in difficulty, as Paul is at this point, our perception can become clouded. We can imagine that everyone is against us and that things are worse than they really are. We can overstate the danger and become paranoid. After Elijah had his great moment at Mt. Carmel, he fled from Jezebel because she threatened to kill him. And when he was praying about his situation, he told the Lord, "I'm the only one left, and now they are seeking to kill me." But God corrected him: "I have kept 7,000 for myself who have now bowed the knee to Baal; you're not the only one." Elijah's perception had become clouded. He'd lost his sense of perspective.

But that's not the problem with Paul. He says, in verse 15: "You are aware that all who are in Asia have turned away from me, including Phygelus and Hermogenes." Many of his co-workers are deserting him at this point. The question is, why have they deserted him? Barnabas, years before, had separated from Paul over a disagreement. But Barnabas had continued to faithfully preach the gospel. Paul was difficult to work with, I suspect. But something different is going on here. Remember what Paul is emphasizing throughout this section: he begins with "Do not be ashamed... 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" (v. 8). And we can see that he still has this in mind by what he says a little later, about Onesiphorus: "he was not ashamed of my chains." He's contrasting Onesiphorus with these others from Asia, because they did the very thing he's been warning Timothy about: they turned away from Paul because they were ashamed of his suffering. But they weren't only ashamed of Paul; they were also showing that they were ashamed of the Lord Himself: "Do not be ashamed... of the testimony about our Lord or of me his prisoner." They were ashamed of Paul, not as a person, but as a "prisoner of the Lord." They had stayed with him until he was thrown in prison, then they left.

It's not that they were embarrassed to be associated with him because of some defect in his personality. William Barclay has a good description of what was going on: "When Paul was imprisoned his friends abandoned him – most likely out of fear. The Romans would never have proceeded against him on a purely religious charge; the Jews must have persuaded them that he was a dangerous troublemaker and disturber of the public peace. There can be no doubt that in the end Paul would be held on a political charge. To be a friend of a man like that was dangerous; and in his hour of need his friends from Asia abandoned him because they were afraid for their own safety" (The Letters to Timothy, Titus, and Philemon, p. 155). They were afraid for their safety and were unwilling to "join with [Paul] in suffering for the gospel, relying on the power of God."

Then, in verses 16-18, Paul encourages Timothy with a positive example. He's saying, "yes, there are these who've turned away in fear, but look at Onesiphorus; he exemplified the very things I've been talking about." It seems likely, from the language Paul is using, that Onesiphorus has died: "May the Lord grant mercy to the household of Onesiphorus," followed by references to him in the past tense." In v. 18, Paul says, "may the Lord grant that he will find mercy from the Lord on that day." He seems to be speaking here about someone who's no longer living.

Onesiphorus had taken a considerable risk in seeking out Paul. All these others from Asia had departed in fear, but Onesiphorus "searched hard for me until he found me." This would have put him in danger, asking questions about a convicted criminal (especially one who, very likely, was held on a political charge). He "wasn't ashamed of [Paul's] chains." Then, when he found Paul, he "often refreshed" him. But that seems to have been a consistent pattern in his life, because Paul goes on to say, "You know very well in how many ways he helped me in Ephesus." Onesiphorus modeled the things Paul is concerned about in these verses, so Paul encourages Timothy by pointing to his example. The author of Hebrews, writing to people who were suffering and who were tempted to turn away, said: "Remember your leaders, those who spoke the word of God to you; consider the outcome of their way of life [these also seem to be people who've already died], and imitate their faith" (13:7). When we're in difficulties, it's helpful to think about others who've faced similar things and who have persevered in faith.

There are some who question whether Onesiphorus was dead, and it is true that Paul doesn't come right out and say that he is. His language sounds that way, and most of the commentators I consulted believe he was dead at the time of Paul's writing. The main problem is in verse 18: "May the Lord grant that he will find mercy from the Lord on that day!" If Onesiphorus is dead, it sounds like Paul is offering up prayers for the dead. We don't have time to go into this in detail, but it doesn't seem to be a terribly serious problem. Surely it's appropriate to express such wishes in God's presence, whether a person is living or dead: "May the Lord grant that he will find mercy from the Lord on that day" (he's looking forward here to the future day of Judgment). William Barclay's comments are helpful: "This is a subject on which there has been long and bitter dispute; but this one thing we can and must say – if we love a person with all our hearts, and if the remembrance of that person is never absent from our minds and memories, then, whatever the intellect of the theologian may say about it, the instinct of the heart is to remember such a one in prayer, whether he is in this or in any other world" (p. 157). Paul is grateful for the memory of Onesiphorus, so he lifts him up in God's presence. We don't need to sort out all the theological questions connected with this; we're free to bring those we love – living or dead – into God's presence in prayer. We don't need to feel theologically bound to exclude from our prayers those who've passed out of this life. "May the Lord grant that [they] will find mercy from the Lord on that day."

So Paul's message to Timothy, in this first chapter, is "do not be ashamed... 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." Part of that involves holding firmly to the body of truth he received from Paul the apostle and living in the light of that truth. Satan's goal is not just to embarrass him or make him feel stupid and foolish; Satan's goal is to destroy him, and in destroying him to also destroy the faith of those under his spiritual care. Satan wants to make him ashamed of the gospel, so that he'll tamper with it and make it into something more palatable, something less offensive to sinful, rebellious people (and also, something different from the true gospel). Timothy needs to be aware of the danger, and he needs to exercise diligent care, relying on the power of the Holy Spirit.

We don't live in the Roman empire, as Timothy did, but we still live in a world that, by its very nature, is hostile to the message of the gospel of Jesus Christ. We still live with the temptation to be intimidated and to begin twisting the gospel into something more consistent with what we (and others) want. How do we resist that temptation? 1) By reminding ourselves often that the gospel doesn't belong to us. It's something we received. We've been entrusted with a precious treasure. Our business, in the Church, is to be faithful stewards of this message we've received. 2) By seeking to order our lives in obedience to the gospel. Disobedience to the truth is just as serious as refusal to believe the truth. It's not insignificant that in the book of Acts, Christianity is referred to as the Way: "Meanwhile Saul... asked... for letters to the synagogues at Damascus, so that if he found any who belonged to the Way... he might bring them bound to Jerusalem" (9:1-2). Christianity is not just a content of belief; it's a way of life. Faithfulness to the gospel includes holding firmly to the doctrines we've received and ordering our lives in the pattern revealed in the New Testament. 3) Look for negative examples and learn from them. Take note of those who've fallen away and ask, "how can I avoid falling into the same trap? Are there things in my life that, over time, will lead me in the same direction?" 4) Look for positive examples to follow. We need more than biblical principles to learn how to live a Christian life. We need to see the gospel embodied, or incarnated, in the lives of real people. Spend time with people like that; read biographies of godly people; spend time meditating on some of the great examples in Scripture. If your immediate response is, "I don't want to do that sort of thing," recognize that as the sin of sloth, repent of it, and stir yourself to obedience.

J.I. Packer, near the beginning of his book, Knowing God, says this: "I walked in the sunshine with a scholar who had effectively forfeited his prospects of academic advancement by clashing with church dignitaries over the gospel of grace. ‘But it doesn't matter,' he said at length, ‘for I've known God and they haven't.'" Obedience to the truth had cost him something. Those who commit their lives to the gospel, who seek to be faithful stewards of this treasure, do not look back with regrets, even when faithfulness to God results in great personal cost. Paul is writing this letter very near the end of his life, and he's saying to Timothy, "it's worth it to keep going; do everything within your power to hold firmly to the gospel of grace, but do it all looking to the Holy Spirit for strength; don't be ashamed or intimidated by the sufferings I'm enduring." Those who make it their aim to be faithful to God in both thought and action, and who persist in this till the end of their lives, don't get to the end with regrets. They're able to say, as Paul says near the end of this letter, "I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. From now on there is reserved for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, will give me on that day, and not only to me but also to all who have longed for his appearing" (4:6-7). May God grant us grace to hold firmly to the unspeakable treasure He's given us.

Not Disappointed in God, 2 Timothy 1:11-12

As we've seen already in our studies in 2 Timothy, Paul is suffering. He's in prison because of God's call on his life – to be a preacher, apostle and teacher of the gospel. He's suffering in a way that he wouldn't have, if God had left him alone and let him follow his own inclinations. Remember that Paul had been a successful Pharisee; he was trained by Gamaliel, a very prominent Rabbi; he had a good career. He had gone beyond many of his contemporaries and was an up-and-coming leader. He was held in high esteem. But now he's in prison.

I suspect, at times, that he's felt the temptation to be disappointed in God. Is this the way God cares for His servants?  Once, when St. Theresa of Avila was on a journey, she was sick and one thing after another had gone wrong. Finally, she reached the end of her rope and cried out: "‘Lord, amid so many ills this comes on top of all the rest!' The voice answered her: ‘That is how I treat my friends.'" And then she replied: "Ah my God! That is why you have so few of them!" (quoted by Martin Thornton, in Christian Proficiency, p. 95). I suspect Paul has felt the same temptation. Why isn't God taking better care of him? Why is he wasting away in prison when he could be doing so much good on the outside?

These two things are often difficult to reconcile: God cares for us and has promised to provide for our needs; and God very often doesn't do what we want Him to do, or even what we think we need. I often think about Mary, having to travel to Bethlehem at the end of her pregnancy (without the comfort of modern transportation). I suspect she was tempted to ask: "why now? Couldn't this trip have been made earlier, when I wasn't ready to deliver my baby?" And then, arriving in Bethlehem and being turned down by one place after another. How did she feel when they finally had to settle for a stable? She had experienced, in her body, the most extraordinary miracle in the history of the world. Surely God was with her; she was carrying the Second Person of the Trinity in her womb. So why didn't He provide a better place for her to give birth?

Paul is suffering as he writes 2 Timothy, and it will become apparent later in the letter that he is near the end of his life. He's soon going to be executed by the Roman government, this man who not too many years before had been a gifted, promising young Pharisee. But he doesn't say, "oh no, I must have taken a wrong turn somewhere; there must be some mistake." He says: "For this gospel I was appointed a herald and an apostle and a teacher, and for this reason I suffer as I do." His suffering is a direct result of his faithfulness to God's call. And he goes on: "But I am not ashamed, for I know the one in whom I have put my trust...." His suffering is not a cause for shame, because he knows God and is confident that He will be faithful, that God will care for him until he arrives safely in the Kingdom of Heaven. Whatever may be going on in our lives right now, God will not disappoint us in the end. He is faithful and powerful, and we can trust Him to care for us.

Notice, first, that Paul's life has been completely rearranged by God's call. He didn't choose his career as an apostle by weighing his options and deciding on the most promising profession. He had already chosen his profession in becoming a Pharisee, but then God had interrupted his plans. Jesus had appeared to him on the road to Damascus, where he was going to arrest Christians, and he had been temporarily blinded. Then Ananias, a believer in Damascus, had been sent to pray for him to receive his sight back. This is what the Lord said to Ananias: "Go, for he is an instrument whom I have chosen to bring my name before Gentiles and kings and before the people of Israel; I myself will show him how much he must suffer for the sake of my name" (Acts 9:15-16). Jesus didn't sit down and make a deal with Paul. He called him: "he is an instrument whom I have chosen." Because of who He is, He has the right to interrupt our plans and rearrange our lives.

Think about this in the light of how we often promote our churches: "We've got what you are looking for, come get it" (quoted by William H. Willimon, "It's Hard to be Seeker-Sensitive When You Work for Jesus"). I want to say, when I hear this sort of thing, "are you sure?" Is this what Paul was looking for: "I will show him how much he must suffer for the sake of my name"? The gospel is unspeakably precious, but not because it gives us what we're looking for. We're often looking for the wrong things anyway. The gospel isn't just an offer, like other offers we receive in the marketplace. The gospel is God's call, and His provision, for us to be reconciled to Him. And in responding to the gospel's offer of grace and mercy, we also accept God's call on our lives, the God who has the right to interrupt all our carefully laid plans, the God who often redirects our lives in ways we never would have planned for ourselves.

Mary was chosen to give birth to the Son of God, and she responded to God's call with faith and submission: "Behold, the handmaid of the Lord; let it be done to me according to your word." The immediate result was that she was suspected of adultery, and her husband-to-be was ready to divorce her. He was restrained by a direct revelation, when God spoke to him in a dream, but in the meantime don't you think this was a painful experience for Mary? Who would have believed her story? And then, even after Joseph was convinced, what about the others who knew? They still thought she had been guilty of unfaithfulness.

Mary's life, like Paul's, was completely rearranged by God's call. No doubt, at first, she thought she was giving birth to the One who was going to deliver the nation from Roman rule. But it hadn't turned out that way. In addition to being widowed at a fairly early age (Joseph is not around any more during Jesus' public ministry), she had to watch her Son, who had been born miraculously to her as a virgin, be rejected by the nation and then suffer a horrible death. It's easy to read these stories year after year and lose sight of the fact that these people had to live through these experiences by faith, without knowing how it was all going to turn out. In responding to the gospel's offer of grace and mercy, we also accept God's call on our lives, the God who has the right to interrupt all our carefully laid plans, the God who often redirects our lives in ways we never would have planned for ourselves.

Notice, second, that there's a direct connection between Paul's obedience and his suffering. We don't want to lose sight of this, because suffering too easily takes us by surprise and throws us into confusion. We naturally wonder what we've done wrong to end up in this condition. Is God displeased with us? Is He punishing us? Have we taken a wrong turn somewhere? Peter knew of this danger, so he wrote these words to Christians who were suffering: "Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal that is taking place among you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice insofar as you are sharing Christ's sufferings, so that you may also be glad and shout for joy when his glory is revealed" (1 Peter 4:12-13).

Suffering is not just something that we bear with because it's inevitable. Because Jesus suffered, suffering can be redemptive. Because we are united with Jesus as part of His body, He invites us to enter into communion with Him in His suffering on behalf of the Church. Paul says: "I am now rejoicing in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I am completing what is lacking in Christ's afflictions for the sake of his body, that is, the church" (Colossians 1:24).

In this society, that sees suffering as an unmitigated evil, something that should be avoided at all costs (even to the extent of forcing doctors to give a lethal injection to those who are in great pain), we need to remind ourselves of this. Pope John Paul II, in the last years of his life, saw suffering as part of his vocation, part of his calling as the universal pastor of the Catholic Church. He had been a physically strong person. He loved the outdoors and worked at a pace that exhausted those around him. But then his health had begun to decline. He was in constant pain, and Parkinson's disease made his body uncooperative. I suspect most of us would have concluded that it was time to retire and let someone else take over. But he believed that he was called to follow Jesus in the way of the cross, and he has provided us with a great example of patience and grace in direct contrast to this society that wants to flee suffering at all costs. There was a direct connection between obedience and suffering for the apostle Paul, and also for Pope John Paul II; we need to know that this can also be the case for us.

The third thing is that Paul isn't disappointed in God because he understands that God's focus is larger than the present moment; God is at work preparing him for the life of eternity: "But I am not ashamed, for I know the one in whom I have put my trust, and I am sure that he is able to guard until that day what I have entrusted to him." Paul isn't disappointed in God's care for him, first of all because he knows God. It's not just that he knows certain things about God. That would be helpful, but it wouldn't be enough. Paul is saying I know Him: "I know the one in whom I have put my trust." The KJV and NIV read, "I know whom I have believed," but the NRSV is probably clearer in this context: "I know the one in whom I have put my trust." Paul has not only believed in the truth, he has placed his trust in God. Because he both knows the truth about God and also knows Him, Paul is confident: "I am sure [or, I am convinced] that he is able, that He has all the power necessary to care for me until that day when I arrive safely in His presence."

In looking beyond the present moment, Paul is following Jesus. The author of Hebrews is writing to Christians who are suffering for the gospel, but they've grown weary. They've lost their sense of perspective and are being severely tempted to turn back. So he reminds them, in chapter 11, of all the great saints in the past who've suffered in the path of obedience, and then, at the beginning of chapter 12, he says: "Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, who for the sake of the joy that was set before him endured the cross, disregarding its shame, and has taken his seat at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such hostility against himself from sinners, so that you may not grow weary or lose heart" (12:1-3). Jesus disregarded the shame of the cross, because He was looking ahead to what lay on the other side of the crucifixion.

These things are true, not only for people like the apostle Paul; they're also true for us. Suffering is part of this life, for Christians as well as non-Christians. But there's also suffering that comes to us because we belong to Jesus Christ and because we're committed to following Him. Much that's in the New Testament is written to encourage believers who were suffering for the gospel. These verses can help prepare us to endure suffering as disciples of Jesus Christ, rather than becoming bitter and disillusioned. We'd do well to meditate on these three things: 1) Our lives are not our own. We've been bought with a price, and God has the right to rearrange our lives according to His purposes. When we see what God has done for us, the natural response is to offer ourselves to Him in gratitude. 2) There is often a direct connection between obedience and suffering. When we draw back from the path of obedience because we see that it might lead to suffering, we're endangering our souls and the souls of those around us. We're refusing to follow Jesus in the way of the cross; we're saying, in effect, "I'm glad you suffered for us, but you're asking too much if you expect me to suffer for you." 3) God is looking beyond this present moment, preparing us for the life of eternity. If we know Him and are continuing to cultivate His presence, we'll be better able to trust Him when things are going wrong in our lives. He has indescribably good things planned for us and is going to wipe away all the tears from our eyes, and the sorrows of this life will be a thing of the past.

About 50-60 years after Paul wrote this letter, Ignatius, Bishop of Antioch, was on his way to Rome to be executed. He wrote seven letters on his journey, some of the earliest Christian writings outside the New Testament. Here's something he wrote to the church in Rome, anticipating his arrival there: "From Syria all the way to Rome I am fighting with wild beasts, on land and sea, by night and day, chained amidst ten leopards (that is, a company of soldiers) who only get worse when they are well treated. Yet because of their mistreatment I am becoming more of a disciple.... Fire and cross and battles with wild beasts, mutilation, mangling, wrenching of bones, the hacking of limbs, the crushing of my whole body, cruel tortures of the devil – let these come upon me, only let me reach Jesus Christ! Neither the ends of the earth nor the kingdoms of this age are of any use to me. It is better for me to die for Jesus Christ than to rule over the ends of the earth. Him I seek, who died on our behalf; him I long for, who rose again for our sake" ("The Letters of Ignatius," Romans 5-6). May God give us grace, whatever happens in our lives, to say: "It is better for me to die for Jesus Christ than to rule over the ends of the earth. Him I seek, who died on our behalf; him I long for, who rose again for our sake." If we know God and are seeking to live under His lordship, He'll enable us to say with Paul: "But I am not ashamed, for I know the one in whom I have put my trust, and I am sure that he is able to guard until that day what I have entrusted to him."

The Power of the Gospel, 2 Timothy 1:8-10

Several years ago, I heard a Christian author giving his testimony to a group of kids. Following Jesus, he claimed, had given him a glamorous life. He had not only published popular children's books, he had also made a number of videos. He spent a lot of time in Hollywood, associating with famous people. He was happy and prosperous, all because of his faith in God. The clear implication of his message was, "if you follow Jesus, He'll give you a glamorous, exciting, prosperous life."

A.W. Tozer, writing more than 50 years ago, commented on a similar mind set in the Evangelical churches of his day: "The flaw in current evangelism lies in its humanistic approach. It struggles to be supernaturalistic but never quite makes it. It is frankly fascinated by the great, noisy, aggressive world with its big names, its hero worship, its wealth and its garish pageantry. To the millions of disappointed persons who have always yearned for worldly glory but never attained to it, the modern evangel offers a quick and easy short cut to their heart's desire. Peace of mind, happiness, prosperity, social acceptance, publicity, success in sports, business, the entertainment field, and perchance to sit occasionally at the same banquet table with a celebrity – all this on earth and heaven at last. Certainly no insurance company can offer half as much. In this quasi-Christian scheme of things God becomes the Aladdin lamp who does the bidding of everyone that will accept His Son and sign a card. The total obligation of the sinner is discharged when he accepts Christ. After that he has but to come with his basket and receive the religious equivalent of everything the world offers and enjoy it to the limit. Those who have not accepted Christ must be content with this world, but the Christian gets this one with the one to come thrown in as a bonus" ("The Key to Human Life," in Born After Midnight, p. 22).

This appeal, "come to Jesus; He has just what you're looking for," exists in many forms. The expectations aren't usually as extravagant as those of the author I mentioned. But the claim is that Jesus will give us what we want in this life: success at work, a good marriage, financial security, happiness, emotional stability, ecstatic experiences in worship. The gospel is relevant, from this perspective, because it connects with our felt needs and provides us with a happier life.

But it doesn't seem to be working that way for the apostle Paul. He's writing this letter from prison, and he's following One who, just a few years earlier, was executed by the Roman government. His message to Timothy, in these early verses, is "do not be ashamed." Why? Because, on the surface of things, Timothy is likely to be tempted by shame. In a world that worships power and success, Timothy's mentor is wasting away in prison and His Lord had died in apparent powerlessness and defeat. So, because he knows how easily we become discouraged when things aren't going the way we want them to, Paul reminds Timothy: "do not be ashamed... but join with me in suffering for the gospel."

But Paul isn't just speaking to Timothy. Earlier in his own ministry he had said to the Romans: "I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes, to the Jew first and also to the Greek" (1:16). The gospel is relevant, not because it gives us what we want. The gospel is relevant in every age because it gives us something we desperately need (although we're unaware of that need much of the time). It's a message that's worth suffering for. It may appear foolish and ineffective from the world's perspective, but it is the power of God for salvation.

So Paul tells Timothy, "don't be intimidated." The value of the gospel can't be measured by the priorities of this world. Those who rejected Jesus will also reject us when we speak in His name. Those who value power and wealth and status will see the gospel as foolishness (or they'll try to twist it into something more consistent with what they want). Paul is saying, "don't be ashamed of this seemingly foolish message, and don't be ashamed of your association with me, a prisoner for the Lord – an apparent failure; be faithful in exercising your spiritual gifts in Jesus' name, and join with me in suffering for the gospel." Then, having given this exhortation, he launches into a brief statement of the gospel, in verses 9& 10.

First, Paul reminds us that the gospel is a message of grace. God doesn't come to us "because of anything we have done but because of his own purpose and grace." As we saw at the beginning of this letter, the word translated "grace" is often translated as "gift." The promise of God comes to us in the form of a gift, which both gives us access into God's presence and begins the process of healing the effects of our lostness. Grace brings us into God's favor and begins transforming us into the image of Jesus Christ. Paul says, in Romans 5, that we are standing in grace. Our whole relationship with God is permeated by a sense of givenness; the promise of life comes to us in the form of a gift which sets us free to become the kind of people God created us to be.

The gospel is not rooted in anything we've done. It's not even rooted, primarily, in our need. God is responding to our neediness and guilt, but it doesn't begin with us at all. It begins with Him, with His own purpose and grace. We need to remind ourselves of this, because as soon as we start talking about God's concern for our needs, we're tempted to take over. We live in a consumer-oriented culture, so we know instinctively how things are supposed to work. Service organizations are there to meet our needs. In fact, they compete with one another to provide us with their services (for a fee, of course). If we're dissatisfied with the service we receive from one company, we shift to another. And there's nothing wrong with this. In dealing with service-oriented businesses, there's a sense in which we are in charge. We're paying for what we receive, and if we aren't happy with the results we can pay someone else.

The danger is that we begin to look at God in this way. We begin to see the Church as a service organization that's there primarily to meet our needs (and it doesn't help that so many churches market themselves in precisely those terms). God has graciously responded to our needs, but we're not in charge. He has saved us – rescued us from our guilt and lostness and alienation. But that's not all He's done. He has also "called us to a holy life." God has called us to become the kind of people He created us to be; He's called us to be transformed into the image of Jesus Christ. The problem is that this process of transformation is difficult and slow, and it's frequently painful. It goes against our natural inclinations. It often means doing without things we want and putting the needs of others first. It means following Jesus in His self-emptying love and bearing with others patiently.

If we're approaching the Church as consumers, as soon as things become difficult or painful, as soon as someone does something that displeases us, we'll want to leave and go somewhere else. "This church isn't meeting my needs; I'll just find one that will." God has graciously responded to our needs, but one of our most desperate needs is to be delivered from our own selfishness. The Church is not a place where we go to have our felt needs met. The Church isn't a place where we go to get something. God has already given us an unspeakably precious gift. The Church is a place where we go to worship God, no matter what is going on in our lives, and where we hear His Word (whether or not it says things we want to hear). And as we worship God and offer ourselves to Him in obedience, over and over for a lifetime, we are transformed into the image of Jesus Christ. God, in His grace, has saved us and called us to live a holy life (whether or not we find that idea appealing). The gospel is a message of grace, and that grace both gives us new life and sets us free to become the people God created us to be.

Second, Paul tells us that the gospel is rooted in a Person. This grace that we receive was "given us in Christ Jesus." We don't receive grace by following a formula, but by coming to Him. A friend told me that several years ago a well-known children's ministry called him and wanted to speak in the church that he pastors. The representative said: "children are more likely to respond to the invitation to receive Jesus as their Savior, then, whatever else happens in their lives, we at least know they are going to heaven because they've been saved." This is the gospel of Jesus Christ reduced to a formula: accept Jesus Christ as your Personal Savior at some point in your life, then you're at least assured of going to heaven.

It's interesting that those who use this formula talk so much about a "personal relationship with Jesus." The truth is that we all, as creatures made in God's image, have a personal relationship with God. Our relationship with Him may be negative: we may be resisting His lordship, or denying that He even exists. But our relationship with Him is personal, because it's impossible to escape the fact that we live in His world as people created in His image. The gospel doesn't offer us a ticket to heaven that we put into our wallets and forget about until we need it. The gospel reconciles us to God. It heals our broken relationship with our Creator. We receive grace "in Christ Jesus," not apart from Him. It's only in coming to Him, and remaining in Him, that we have life. He is the source of our life.

Paul calls Him "Christ": the anointed, chosen One of God, who fulfills all the promises of the Old Testament. All the promises point toward Him, and everything now either looks back on what He did in the past or forward to what He is going to do in the future. But He's not only Christ; He's "Christ Jesus." The promise of life is fulfilled in this particular man, the Son of the Virgin Mary, who grew up in Nazareth, worked for most of his adult life as a carpenter, ministered publicly for three years in first-century Palestine, was crucified under Pontius Pilate and then rose from the dead on the third day. "This grace was given us in Christ Jesus before the beginning of time, but it has now been revealed through the appearing of our Savior, Christ Jesus."

The third thing Paul tells us is that the gospel is a message of life: "Christ Jesus... has destroyed death and has brought life and immortality to light through the gospel." Death is the one thing we can't escape, no matter what we do. The best efforts of medical science may lengthen our lives in this world, but we still spend all our days living in the shadow of death. The author of Hebrews reminds his readers: "Since the children have flesh and blood, he too shared in their humanity so that by his death he might destroy him who holds the power of death – that is, the devil – and free those who all their lives were held in slavery by their fear of death" (2:14-15). Jesus destroyed death by tasting death for us.

The gospel is a message of life to people living under the shadow of death. "Since the appearing of our Savior, nothing could be plainer: death defeated, life vindicated in a steady blaze of light, all through the work of Jesus" (The Message). So many of our efforts to demonstrate that God's Word is relevant for the modern world seem pathetic: "look at all the wonderful gadgets we have; we're really with it; come listen to our great music." Do we really think that the relevance of this message is so difficult for people to grasp? The question isn't whether we are using enough technology in our presentation of the gospel. The question is whether we've tasted the power of this message in our own lives. If we have, then we're able to "testify about our Lord," no matter what our musical preferences are, and whether or not we look like the kind of people who are esteemed in the business and entertainment worlds. And if we haven't tasted the power of this message in our lives, then no amount of technology, no amount of tinkering with our style of presentation, will make up for that lack.

I often think the frantic efforts of contemporary evangelicals to show our relevance to the modern world contradict, in a fundamental way, our identity as the Church of Jesus Christ. We're trying to compete with the business and entertainment worlds on their terms, because we've forgotten who we are. The quest for relevance, in a success-intoxicated society, very quickly leads us away from the truth of the gospel, which is rooted in self-emptying sacrificial love. Listen to these words by Henri Nouwen: "The leader of the future will be the one who dares to claim his irrelevance in the contemporary world as a divine vocation that allows him or her to enter into a deep solidarity with the anguish underlying all the glitter of success and to bring the light of Jesus there" (In the Name of Jesus, p. 22).

The gospel is a message of grace that transforms us into the kind of people we were created to be, that restores us to peace with God and leads us into a growing relationship with Jesus Christ, and that promises unending, abundant life. To people who believe in this message, Paul says: "do not be ashamed to testify about our Lord, or ashamed of me his prisoner. But join with me in suffering for the gospel, relying on the power of God." This is a message that's worth suffering for. The problem isn't that this message is irrelevant; the problem is that people don't believe it's true (maybe because we don't act like we believe it's true); or, they reject it because it doesn't give them what they want; or, they reject it because they're not willing to be humbled before God as needy sinners who come to Him with empty hands. We're not in charge, and neither are those who come into our churches demanding to have their needs met. The gospel is rooted in God's own purpose and grace. He knows our real needs better than we do, so the place to begin is listening to Him and submitting to His wisdom. In His mercy and grace, He has "destroyed death and has brought life and immortality to light through the gospel." Because this is true, we can say with Paul: "I am not ashamed of the gospel; it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who has faith."

God is With Us

Psalm 23
Fourth Sunday of Easter
Shiloh Lutheran Church

 Bonaventure Broderick wanted to serve the Church. He was born in 1868, grew up in Connecticut, attended seminary in Maryland and then was sent to Rome, where he earned a Ph.D. and then a Doctorate in Theology. After being ordained to the priesthood, he was appointed to pastoral and teaching positions. He was well on his way to a successful career. After all, the Catholic Church doesn't send everyone for doctoral studies in Rome. They recognized his gifts and wanted him to develop and use them in the Church. He became an auxiliary bishop in Havana, Cuba, but after a short time the Cubans decided they didn't want an American bishop, so he was sent back to New York. But New York didn't need an auxiliary bishop either, so waited for a new assignment. He wrote to the Vatican and suggested that it might be scandalous for a bishop to be out of work, but the only response he got was "wait." So he waited and heard nothing more; after awhile, to support himself he moved to upstate New York and opened a gas station, which he ran for the next 30 years or so. He also wrote a weekly column in the local newspaper, but otherwise was not involved in public ministry. The Church, essentially, forgot that he existed. Eventually, Pope Pius XII asked Archbishop Francis Spellman to find out what happened to him. When Spellman finally tracked him down, he rang the doorbell and was answered by an older man in overalls "He said, ‘I'm Archbishop Spellman, and I've come to see if I can do anything for you.' The reply was, "Come in. I've been waiting for you for thirty years'" (Benedict Groeschel, Arise From Darkness, p. 69). He'd tried to be faithful and work within the system, but the Church had forgotten him. The Church had let him down. Those in leadership had dropped the ball and it had taken 30 years for someone to pick it up. Broderick was given a new assignment in the Church, but he died four years later. The message of today's Psalm is that God is with us and is committed to taking care of us all through our lives, through all different kinds of experiences. But the truth is that it often doesn't feel that way as we're living through it. What was Bishop Broderick thinking and feeling all those years as he ran a gas station, not using the gifts and training he had spent so much time developing? How could his life have seemed so promising and then have turned out like this? How was it possible that no one in the Church knew or cared where he was? I'm sure there were times when he felt that God had forgotten all about him.

This psalm describes God with two pictures. In the early part of the psalm, verses 1-4, God is described as a Shepherd. And, in verses 5-6, He is pictured as a gracious host. But the main idea, all through the psalm, is that He is present with His people. The words, "for you are with me," are at the precise center of the psalm. Excluding the superscription, "A Psalm of David," which was written hundreds of years after the psalmist wrote this prayer, there are 26 words in Hebrew both before and after these words. Hebrew poets liked to play with words in that way, so it seems likely that the author of this psalm puts these words intentionally at the center as a way of giving them special emphasis (see James Limburg, Psalms, p. 74).

God often comforts and reassures His people by reminding them of His presence. Isaac, the son of Abraham, may have struggled with fearfulness. I've often thought so, reading the brief account of his life in Genesis. At one point, after an especially difficult time, God appears to him and says: "‘I am the God of your father, Abraham...'. ‘Do not be afraid, for I am with you and will bless you" (Genesis 26:23-24a, NLT). When everything was going wrong in Joseph's life, the author of Genesis assures us: "The Lord was with Joseph and blessed him greatly as he served in the home of his Egyptian master" (Genesis 39:2, NLT). Later, after he'd been unjustly thrown into prison, the author says again: "But the Lord was with Joseph there, too, and he granted Joseph favor with the chief jailer" (v. 21). When Jeremiah was called to become a prophet, preaching a message which he knew would be unpopular, God reassured him with these words: "And don't be afraid of the people, for I will be with you and take care of you" (Jeremiah 1:8). As he carried on his ministry, Jeremiah often didn't feel like the Lord was with him. Preaching brought him nothing but trouble, and no one listened as he preached year after year. But he had this assurance from the beginning, and God was with him to the end, even during the dark times when he was ready to give up hope. Paul faced many difficulties during his ministry as an apostle; he was beaten with rods, flogged, shipwrecked; his ministry in Ephesus and Jerusalem led to riots. Most people would have given up in the face of such things. But while he was in Corinth, God reassured him: "One night the Lord spoke to Paul in a vision and told him, ‘Don't be afraid! Speak out! Don't be silent! For I am with you, and no one will harm you because many people in this city belong to me" (Acts 18:9-10, NLT). "I am with you." That's the thing this psalmist understands, and he puts it at the very center of the psalm, to give it prominence and emphasize it. God is with us and is committed to taking care of us all through our lives, even when the Church has forgotten us, as it forgot Bishop Broderick.

He reinforces this idea, in verses 1-4, by picturing God as a shepherd. Shepherds are responsible for the physical survival and welfare of the flocks under their care. One Bible dictionary points out that, "In comparison with goats, which tended to fend for themselves, sheep depended on the shepherd to find pasture for them..., Shepherds also had to provide shelter, medication, aid in lambing time, and provision for lameness and weariness. Without the shepherd the sheep were helpless" (ISBE Revised, vol. 4, pp. 463-64). Sheep are dependent upon the shepherd. So the point, in verses 1-4, is that God is dependable. He is with us. He won't desert us, because He is a good Shepherd, who cares for His sheep, knowing that we depend upon Him.

The psalmist lists some of the things that God, our Shepherd, does for us: 1) He leads us to refreshment and rest. Life in this world can be wearying. Sometimes we feel like we have been drained of all our resources, that we have nothing left to give. Our tendency, when we reach this point, is to draw back spiritually, to turn back to our own devices in search of replenishment. But when we do that, we usually find ourselves even more drained. When we're in need of restoration and rest, we need to turn to our great Shepherd, who will lead us beside quiet waters and restore our souls. We don't take a vacation from Him, we find rest in Him. He is the One who restores us.

2) Our Shepherd also leads us in the right way, He "guides me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake." Left to ourselves, we end up going the wrong way. Isaiah says, "all we, like sheep, have gone astray." We are in the habit of going astray, and we live in a world that tells us, over and over again, that the way we want to go is right, that we're not going astray at all. So we need to turn continually to our great Shepherd for direction. We do that, primarily, by immersing our lives in His Word and in prayer.

3) Our Shepherd keeps us safe during times of darkness. If you have an NIV Bible, you'll notice that the translators have a footnote with an alternative translation of the words, "valley of the shadow of death." The alternate translation is "the darkest valley." The editors of the New Oxford Annotated Bible offer the translation: "valley of deep darkness." The New American Bible reads, "Even though I walk in the dark valley I fear no evil." This is a more common translation of the words in verse 4. For example, Psalm 44:19: "But you crushed us and made us a haunt for jackals and covered us over with deep darkness." Or Isaiah 9:2: "The people walking in darkness have seen a great light...." Why is this important? The psalmist isn't only talking here about times when we're facing death. This world is full of darkness, because it's under the shadow of death. Our times of darkness are connected with the reality of sin and death in this world. He's saying that God is with Him during all the dark times of life, those times when we think we've lost our way, when we feel like God has deserted us. At all those darkest times of life, God our Shepherd is with us, even though we don't feel His presence.

Abraham Kuyper was the prime minister of Holland, the founder of the Free University of Amsterdam, and he was also a theologian and a preacher. The first serious theological book I ever read was his book, The Work of the Holy Spirit. I was a fairly young Christian, and I felt guilty reading it. Everything I'd heard about theologians was bad; I'd heard that they weren't interested in living as true Christians but were only concerned with arguing and studying about insignificant details. I'd heard that Theology was irrelevant and divisive. But I forced myself to keep going, and I learned that the things I'd been told were false. Here's something I read in that book, on the work of the Holy Spirit as Comforter: "Comfort is a deposited treasure from which I can borrow; it is like the sacrifice of Christ in whom is all my comfort, because on Calvary He opened to all the house of Israel a fountain for sin and uncleanness. But a comforter is a person, who, when I can not go to the fountain nor even see it, goes for me and fills his pitcher and puts the refreshing drops to my burning lips" (vol. 3, ch. 22). When we're walking through the valley of deep darkness we can't see where we're going, and we lose sight of God's precious promises. We don't know where to turn for comfort. But we're not on our own. The Comforter goes to the fountain for us, fills His pitcher, and brings us the refreshment we so desperately need.

There is a great example of this from the life of Jeremiah. In the book of Lamentations, he is grieving over the fall of Jerusalem. The temple has been destroyed, and the people have been deported to Babylon. God's people have been subjected to terrible suffering and cruelty at the hands of the Babylonians. In chapter three we find him at the end of himself. "I have been deprived of peace; I have forgotten what prosperity is. So I say, `My splendor is gone, and all I had hoped from the Lord'" (vv.17-18). He is overwhelmed with grief, and has given up hope even in God. Then, three verses later, he says this: "Yet this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope; Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness" (vv.21-23). What brought about this change? Why did he call these things to mind? Was Jeremiah capable of reviving himself at this point? No, he was experiencing the work of the Comforter. The Holy Spirit has reminded him of the truth and has renewed his hope. The psalmist, in verse 4, is saying the same thing. God, our great Shepherd, is with us when we go through times of darkness. We're not on our own, and even when we lose sight of the truth, even when we lose hope, He comforts us with his rod and staff as our Shepherd. We are helpless without Him, like sheep without a shepherd. But He has promised to be with us always, even to the end of the age.

In verses 5-6, the psalmist gives us another image: he pictures God as a gracious Host, who shows hospitality to His people. Despite the peacefulness and confidence of this psalm, it's clear that the author is not having an easy time. He's weary and in need of rest and refreshment; he's going through a dark valley; and even in verse 5, when he's experiencing God's gracious hospitality, there are enemies present. God is with him and is committed to caring for him all through his life, but that doesn't keep him from facing difficulties.

The psalmist says three things in verse 5, all of which revolve around the comfort he finds in public worship: 1) "You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies." God is giving him good things in the midst of his difficulties. His enemies have only evil in mind, but God is there, doing good things for him. That enables him to keep going. His enemies are speaking evil of him, telling lies about him, but God is blessing him in their presence, showing that He rejects their assessment of him. God isn't taken in by their lies. 2) "you anoint my head with oil." In Scripture, oil is a symbol of God's Spirit, and the anointing oil was used to set a person apart as a priest. The psalmist is anointed with the oil of the Holy Spirit, and he is part of a community of other people who have this same anointing. He's assuming a context of corporate worship. The table God prepares is not for him alone; it's for him as part of the body. It's in the context of corporate worship that he experiences this refreshment, in company with others who have also experienced the anointing of God's Spirit. 3) "my cup overflows." Jesus said: "‘If anyone is thirsty, let him come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, streams of living water will flow from within him.' By this he meant the Spirit, whom those who believed in him were later to receive" (John 7:37-39). When we come to Jesus, as part of His body, He pours out His Spirit upon us, and we're able to say, with the psalmist, "my cup overflows." He prepares a rich feast for us, in the presence of our enemies.

Comfort is a great thing, but it's not enough to experience comfort in the present. We need assurance of God's gracious care in the future, and we need to know that life will not always be what it is now. We won't always be going through times of deep darkness which threaten to overwhelm us. We won't always be living in the midst of enemies. The psalmist takes comfort in the gracious care he's experienced from God, and it enables him to say this about his future: "Surely goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever." Listen to how this verse reads in The Message: "Your beauty and love chase after me every day of my life. I'm back home in the house of God for the rest of my life." Often the Psalmists complain of enemies pursuing them. But here the image is reversed. Goodness and mercy, beauty and love, are chasing after him, and they'll continue to pusue him all through his life.

Matthew's gospel begins and ends reminding readers of God's presence. At the birth of Jesus, he says: "All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had said through the prophet: ‘The virgin will be with child and will give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel'–which means, ‘God with us'" (Matthew 1:22-23). That's the meaning of Jesus' Incarnation: "God is with us." At the end of the same gospel, after giving the Great Commission, commanding the apostles to make disciples of all nations, Jesus gives this promise: "And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age" (Matthew 28:20). Jesus is with us, even during those dark times when everything is going wrong and we can't feel His presence. He is with us even when those we've depended on have forgotten us.

God, our Shepherd, won't keep us out of the valley of deep darkness, but He will walk through it with us and His rod and staff will comfort us, often without our awareness of what is going on. We'll feel like we're on our own, like He's deserted us and is no longer blessing us as He has in the past. But somehow we'll get to the other side of the valley and we'll find that He was there all the time, and that we've gotten through only by His help. He is with us, watching out for us, carrying us when our faith is weak, seeking us when we lose our way, refreshing us with His presence at the times we least expect it.

In the light of all this, let's make it our aim to walk with Him, whatever else is going on in our lives. Pray this Psalm regularly. Pray this psalm, along with the rest of the psalter, and immerse yourself in God's Word, reminding yourself often of God's promises to be with His people. And be regular in corporate worship; when we gather together as God's people to worship, we're anticipating the worship we'll experience around God's throne in heaven. Even more, we're taking part in the worship that is happening right now before God's throne. The refreshment that God gives us when we gather in His presence anticipates the Marriage Feast of the Lamb: "Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and there was no longer any sea. I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, ‘Now the dwelling of God is with men, and he will live with them. They will be his people and God himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.' He who was seated on the throne said, ‘I am making everything new!' Then he said, ‘Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true'" (Revelation 21:1-5). This is what we have to look forward to, and our great Shepherd is caring for us, watching over us, until we arrive safely in His presence. Let's make it the main business of our lives to walk with Him.

Responding to the Spirit, 2 Timothy 1:6-7

Count Zinzendorf was a contemporary of John and Charles Wesley. He was a German nobleman, who committed his life to the Lord and then looked for ways to use his wealth and position for the glory of God. In 1722, he took in a group of Protestant refugees who came to his estate seeking shelter. More followed, and soon his estate had turned into a thriving community. But when people from a variety of backgrounds are thrown together like this it usually leads to trouble. They started squabbling, as people often do when they try to live together, and eventually the disunity became so serious that the community itself was threatened.

And then God intervened: "... in 1727, five years after the first refugees arrived, the whole atmosphere changed. A period of spiritual renewal was climaxed at a communion service on August 13 with a great revival, which, according to participants, marked the coming of the Holy Spirit to Herrnhut. Whatever may have occurred in the spiritual realm, there is no doubt that this great night of revival brought a new passion for missions, which became the chief characteristic of the Moravian movement. No longer were minor doctrinal differences a source of contention. Instead, there was a strong spirit of unity and a heightened dependence on God. A prayer vigil was begun that continued around the clock, seven days a week, without interruption for more than one hundred years" (Ruth Tucker, From Jerusalem to Irian Jaya, pp. 70-71). As a result of this outpouring of the Spirit, the Moravians sent out more missionaries in twenty years than all Protestants and Anglicans had in the previous two centuries.

When we hear stories like this, if we have any concern at all about following Jesus Christ, we instinctively respond, "I wish something like that could happen here, among us." If God poured out His Spirit among us, surely we wouldn't have the kinds of struggles we have. It wouldn't be so hard to get up in the morning for prayer; or we wouldn't have to drag ourselves to church on Sunday morning; surely it would be easier to get along with one another if we had an outpouring of the Holy Spirit in our midst. It's a good thing to long for more of God's presence in His Church, but there's also a problem with this way of thinking. God doesn't always choose to work in such a dramatic way. In fact, experiences like the one at Herrnhut are exceptional in the history of the Church. The truth is that God has given the Spirit to His Church; the Spirit is present among us already. God has already done something. He poured out His Spirit on the Church at Pentecost. He is already at work. So our most urgent need is not for God to do something new, although it would be wonderful if He did; the greatest need is for us to respond to what He's already done. God has given His Spirit, and He now calls us to walk in obedience, to cultivate His presence, to avoid grieving or quenching Him, to make it our aim to walk in step with Him.

When I was a young Christian, I spent lots of time praying, crying out to God asking Him to take over my life and then waiting for Him to do it, fully expecting that He would completely overcome me and begin acting through me. But nothing like that ever happened, and as I continued reading the New Testament I saw that I was looking for the wrong thing. The Holy Spirit doesn't bypass our will. My expectations were really more in line with the New Testament picture of demon possession; demons take over their victims, but God calls His people to respond to Him in loving obedience. He empowers us to keep in step with Him, but He values our personality and individuality; He doesn't want to take over our lives, He wants to empower us to become the people He created us to be.

But this doesn't happen automatically. We can grieve the Spirit by our disobedience; we can quench the Spirit by our desire to remain in control of things. And we can also neglect the Spirit by being so caught up in our lives that we don't cultivate His presence, or don't have time to exercise the gifts He's given us for the good of the whole body. Paul is aware of this danger, so he reminds Timothy: "rekindle the gift of God that is within you through the laying on of my hands." John Chrysostom was a 4th century preacher (the name Chrysostom means "golden tongued," a name he was given because of his great ability as a speaker). Here's something he said in a sermon from this passage: "For it requires much zeal to stir up the gift of God. As fire requires fuel, so grace requires our alacrity, that it may be ever fervent.... For it is in our power to kindle or extinguish this grace.... For by sloth and carelessness it is quenched, and by watchfulness and diligence it is kept alive. For it is in you indeed, but you must render it more vehement, that is, fill it with confidence, with joy and delight" (Ancient Christian Commentary on Scripture: New Testament IX, p. 232). If we're negligent, if we're just drifting along, or if we're completely caught up in the details of life in this world, the Spirit's presence will tend to become less and less apparent; eventually we'll look no different than those in the world who know nothing of the Spirit's presence.

The first quality Paul lists, in verse 7, is power. The NIV, along with most English translations, translates spirit with a small s, which suggests that Paul is referring not to the Holy Spirit, but to general qualities: "God hasn't give us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of...." They translate this way because there's no general article in the Greek, so the original reads "spirit," not "the spirit." But even so, there are good reasons for understanding this as a reference to the Holy Spirit. Elsewhere in the New Testament, power, love and self-discipline are qualities that we receive from the Holy Spirit. Verse 7 is closely tied to verse 6 (notice that verse 7 begins, "for God did not give us...."); and verse 6 is talking about the gift of God that Timothy had received through the laying on of Paul's hands, a clear reference to the Holy Spirit. A few verses later, in verse 14, Paul instructs Timothy to "guard the good treasure entrusted to you, with the help of the Holy Spirit living in us." Throughout this passage, Paul isn't thinking about a general spirit or attitude, but the Holy Spirit living within those who belong to Jesus Christ. Gordon Fee paraphrases Paul's idea in this way: "For when God gave us his Spirit, it was not timidity that we received, but power, love, and self-discipline" (1 and 2 Timothy, Titus, p. 227).

Jesus' promise to the apostles, which was fulfilled on the Day of Pentecost, was that they would receive power through the Holy Spirit. For example, in Luke 24: "And see, I am sending upon you what my Father promised; so stay here in the city until you have been clothed with power from on high" (v. 49). Or Acts 1:8: "But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth." The power of the Holy Spirit would enable them to be witnesses. Before the day of Pentecost, the disciples were huddled in fear, hiding behind locked doors because of their fear of the religious leaders. They were gripped by a "spirit of timidity." But after they received the Holy Spirit they became bold witnesses who were willing to suffer for the sake of the gospel.

That's what Paul is reminding Timothy about. He's saying, "don't be like those who profess to believe but are too timid to speak the truth." In John 12 we're told that even during Jesus' public ministry many of the Jewish authorities believed in Him, but they weren't willing to talk about it: "Nevertheless many, even of the authorities, believed in him. But because of the Pharisees they did not confess it, for fear that they would be put out of the synagogue; for they loved human glory more than the glory that comes from God" (vv. 42-43). The Spirit empowers us, enables us to overcome our natural timidity, our natural reluctance to be in the minority. Paul assumes that if Timothy is faithful he will suffer; in verse 8, he says "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." He's reminding Timothy that the Spirit has been given, and that He enables us to speak faithfully and to endure suffering graciously and with patience.

But Paul isn't only talking about power. The people we associate with power in this world are often people who are willing to crush others to get what they want. They're ruthless and self-centered; they've learned to manipulate and overwhelm others in the pursuit of their goals. Paul wants Timothy to remember that the power given by the Holy Spirit is full of love. It's a power driven by the love of Jesus, who laid down His life to rescue us from our sins.

The people who wrote the New Testament had access to four different words for love, but only two are of importance to us right now. The first is philia. In English, Philadelphia (the city of brotherly love), and philosophy (the love of wisdom) are derived from this word. This is love for those who are closest to us. The natural affection that we feel for our loved ones is philia. It is also the love we feel for those who have similar interests, those we enjoy being with, our friends. This is the spontaneous love that comes from our hearts. The second word, the one Paul uses here in 2 Timothy, is agape. This is the word used of the greatest commandment, or of Jesus' new commandment when He says "love one another." This word, in Classical Greek, meant "to prefer," especially in reference to the gods preferring one person over another. It's a "love that makes distinctions, choosing its objects freely.... It is active, not self-seeking love" (TDNT, p. 7). In Classical Greek, this word was very rare. But the translators of the Septuagint, an early Greek translation of the Old Testament, thought it was the best word available to express God's faithful love for His people.

To illustrate what His love is like, God tells the prophet Hosea: "Go, take to yourself an adulterous wife and children of unfaithfulness, because the land is guilty of unfaithfulness, because the land is guilty of the vilest adultery in departing from the Lord" (Hosea 1:2). So Hosea obeys and marries Gomer, but awhile later we find that she has continued to be unfaithful and is no longer even living with her husband. The Lord speaks to Hosea again: "Go, show your love to your wife again, though she is loved by another and is an adulteress. Love her as the Lord loves the Israelites, though they turn to other gods..." (Hosea 3:1). The Lord loves the Israelites, though they have been unfaithful to Him, though they have turned away to worship other gods. Through the prophet Isaiah, a contemporary of Hosea, God says to His unfaithful people: "‘Though the mountains be shaken and the hills be removed, yet my unfailing love for you will not be shaken nor my covenant of peace be removed,' says the Lord, who has compassion on you" (Isaiah 54:10).

Jesus is the supreme example of this love. Just before He went to the cross, He said to His disciples: "As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Now remain in my love.... Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends" (John 15:9, 13). But He goes even further than this. Paul says in Romans 5: "You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly. Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous man, though for a good man someone might possibly dare to die. But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us" (Romans 5:6-8). We were powerless, helpless, ungodly, sinners; Paul goes on to say that we were God's enemies. And while we were in that condition, in the greatest act of love in history, Jesus laid down His life for us. Paul is reminding Timothy that the Spirit who empowers us enables us increasingly to model Jesus' self-giving love, even in the face of suffering.

The third quality is self-discipline. The word Paul uses here is difficult to translate. The NASB renders it as "discipline" but suggests, in the margin, "sound judgment" as an alternative. When translators offer alternatives like this, they're saying that they can't find just the right word in English. J.B. Phillips translates it as "a sound mind," and in The Message it simply reads, "sensible." Both ideas, of sound thinking and self-discipline, are suggested by the word. William Barclay gives these two descriptions: "the sanity of saintliness"; and "control of oneself in the face of panic or of passion" (The Letters to Timothy, Titus, and Philemon, Revised Edition, pp. 144-45). The general idea seems to be sound judgment, or sound thinking, that affects the way we order our lives in this world.

During my early Christian life I was involved with the charismatic movement. We were intensely aware of the Holy Spirit, but most of the people I worshiped with were hostile to doctrine and theology. They associated these things with the "dead letter;" what really mattered was having an experience of the Holy Spirit. This attitude was so prevalent that when I first started reading theology I struggled with feelings of guilt; I had a nagging sense, in the back of my mind, that I was doing something wrong, that I was getting off track. I'm thankful that Paul includes this word in his list of qualities that are given by the Holy Spirit. A large part of Timothy's ministry was resisting the influence of false teachers who were undermining the gospel. Paul begins his first letter to Timothy with this exhortation: "I urge you, as I did when I was on my way to Macedonia, to remain in Ephesus so that you may instruct certain people not to teach any different doctrine" (1 Timothy 1:3). Near the end of this chapter in 2 Timothy, Paul says, "Hold to the standard of sound teaching that you have heard from me, in the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus. Guard the good treasure entrusted to you, with the help of the Holy Spirit living in us" (vv. 13-14).

The Holy Spirit is the Spirit of Truth. He enables us to hold firmly to the gospel, without getting sidetracked by false teaching. He brings into our lives, not only love and power, but also sound thinking. And that sound thinking affects the way we live; it isn't just in our heads. It leads us to order our lives in response to the gospel of Jesus Christ. The Holy Spirit brings into our lives "the sanity of saintliness," an understanding that leads us to become "imitators of God," as Paul says in Ephesians 5:2.

Timothy was a naturally timid person. This is clear in both of the letters Paul wrote to him. He was young, and likely to be intimidated by those who were older and more forceful. Being put into a situation where he had to resist false teachers would have been difficult for him. So Paul wants him to remember that "God did not give us a spirit of cowardice, but rather a Spirit of power and of love and of self-discipline." He'd been given all the resources he needed to fulfil his ministry.

But it wouldn't happen automatically. So Paul reminds him to be diligent, to "fan into flame the gift of God," this God who had given him "a Spirit of power, of love and of self-discipline." How do we do that? How do we cultivate the Spirit's presence in a world that constantly undermines His influence? We deny ourselves–we say "no" to natural tendencies (not our personality, but the sloth that prevents us from stirring ourselves to obedience) – then we go on to walk under the Spirit's direction. Paul says in Galatians 5: "Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit." We walk in the Spirit by looking to Him, inviting Him into every area of our lives and seeking to live under His Lordship.

John Stott has a good description of how this works: "This will be seen in our whole way of life–in the leisure occupations we pursue, the books we read and the friendships we make. Above all in what older authors called ‘a diligent use of the means of grace', that is, in a disciplined practice of prayer and Scripture meditation, in fellowship with believers who provoke us to love and good works, in keeping the Lord's day as the Lord's day, and in attending public worship and the Lord's Supper. In all these ways we occupy ourselves in spiritual things. It is not enough to yield passively to the Spirit's control; we must also walk actively in the Spirit's way. Only so will the fruit of the Spirit appear" (Only One Way, p. 154). We cultivate these qualities Paul lists – power, love and self-discipline – by saying "no" to our own lethargy and timidity and by seeking to walk daily in active obedience to God's Word, trusting in His power to enable us to bear witness, in both our words and actions, to the suffering of His Son on behalf of this lost world.