1 Timothy 6:10 – The Bitterness of the Legalist's Bargain
10 For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil, for which some have strayed from the faith in their greediness… 1 Timothy 6:10, New King James Version
In the confession, "Forgive Me," Tenth Anenue North sounds the alarm both to the Lord and to themselves. "I have let intruders into the garden of my soul."
I find here an alerting, nine-word klaxon in treading carefully through 1 Timothy 6:10. Both are willing to assign responsibility for what is worse than depravity's original ignorance. As the band and Scripture both portray, God has lovingly constructed the garden of our souls. He has protected it for ourselves and Him. He has pruned lovingly, that He might be further glorified by fruit. We, have let intruders in.
We, as Paul phrases in serious warning to his young protégé, have strayed from the faith. Paul is in writing to the wandering outliers to lure them to the goodness of God. There is beauty in this, for instance, as Jonathan's audacious faith and building momentum against the Philistines attract those who are on the margins into the battle.
The 1 Timothy 6 fight Paul is passionate to preempt is to protect the Jonathan's of Timothy's generation, and ours. Woefully vulnerable are those who have stepped out in faith, they think, and are dissatisfied. These are the ones who have walked in the garden with God, found Him wanting in some way, and have made possible the intrusion of lesser things.
As Paul's recollection of these apostates comes to mind when he considers Timothy, we should keep in mind that those who have stepped out in ministry and spiritual warfare are still in danger. The Word assures that it does not warn needlessly. The apostle Paul in particular says he would rather spend his time in encouragement than scolding. Yet, here, obediently, he tells Timothy, and the Timothy's of every generation, watch out.
Because we are so ready to tell ourselves we are excused from the 1 Timothy 6 lure of materialism if we can picture people richer than ourselves, Matthew Sink amplifies the call to caution beyond our self-justifying preconceptions. He writes, "Anyone or anything that leads people away from (Jesus as) the door – whether willingly or unwillingly – is a thief! The deep intimacy you crave can only be found in Christ. Look around you – you have probably empowered thieves to rob you of the best parts of life."
Have we, however we consider ourselves faithful, looked for that intimacy in a particular kind of payoff the Lord has not seen fit to grant us? Our real god, then, warns Tim Keller, lurks in the "if" of, "If I do this, then I will get that." The payoff need not be in increased dollars and cents in order to draw us away from Christ as the only source of intimacy and sufficiency by which we may be really satisfied.
Money is an especially subtle and attractive bait to draw us away from relying on Christ, even so. It is an adaptable idol, one that need not be converted into actual purchases in order to steal our affections. Just the, that word again, "if" of the contingent satisfactions we could draw from "our" funds if Jesus doesn't satisfy is enough to distract us from any present sweetness in Him.
Where our "if" is, Paul has already hinted at, changes who our self is. John Muir gets outside of the process's workings on himself enough to cry, "I am losing precious days. I am degenerating into a machine for making money. I am learning nothing in this trivial world of men." That part of him built for hungering after the ever-increasing attractiveness of Jesus, Muir notices, is settling on the sameness, manipulation, and monetization of men.
Then, blessedly, Muir pivots where we can, by grace. He resolves that where things and people are not teaching him in a way that feeds his soul, "I must break away and get out into the mountains to learn the news." What quickly becomes old news to our insensitive souls, what the grandeur of the mountains, or just a different setting, can restore, is our present gratitude and humility.
Spurgeon meets us there in Morning and Evening, giving insistent phrase to our renewed resolve that Jesus is enough. Spurgeon drives to the depth of our soul's needs when he declares, "Jesus has never given the slightest ground for suspicion, and it is hard to be doubted by those to whom our conduct is uniformly affectionate and true."
This is His character, which we too quickly dismiss in the abstract. Monetize this and take it to the bank, confronts Spurgeon, with the Scriptural valuation, "Jesus is the Son of the Highest, and has unbounded wealth; it is shameful to doubt Omnipotence and distrust all-sufficiency."
We would be renewed by the Spirit's inspection of our souls in this portion of 1 Timothy 6:10 should we commence an honest search for the if's which are cracks in our faith's foundation readying collapse. Intones Spurgeon again in Morning and Evening, "No one ought to be content whilst there is any such thing as an "if" about his having tasted that the Lord is gracious." Every if can be addressed if we but ask.
Leaving our if's dangling in unstated suspicion, Paul reminds us, has led many away. We have willingly, like the older brother in Jesus' story of the prodigal son, been side-by-side with the Father and have begrudged Him that He would not give us the means to experienced a little merriment in this world. By such self-denial more sanctimonious than sanctified, we prepare the way for the first attraction promising quicker satisfaction of our desires.
In the confession, "Forgive Me," Tenth Anenue North sounds the alarm both to the Lord and to themselves. "I have let intruders into the garden of my soul."
I find here an alerting, nine-word klaxon in treading carefully through 1 Timothy 6:10. Both are willing to assign responsibility for what is worse than depravity's original ignorance. As the band and Scripture both portray, God has lovingly constructed the garden of our souls. He has protected it for ourselves and Him. He has pruned lovingly, that He might be further glorified by fruit. We, have let intruders in.
We, as Paul phrases in serious warning to his young protégé, have strayed from the faith. Paul is in writing to the wandering outliers to lure them to the goodness of God. There is beauty in this, for instance, as Jonathan's audacious faith and building momentum against the Philistines attract those who are on the margins into the battle.
The 1 Timothy 6 fight Paul is passionate to preempt is to protect the Jonathan's of Timothy's generation, and ours. Woefully vulnerable are those who have stepped out in faith, they think, and are dissatisfied. These are the ones who have walked in the garden with God, found Him wanting in some way, and have made possible the intrusion of lesser things.
As Paul's recollection of these apostates comes to mind when he considers Timothy, we should keep in mind that those who have stepped out in ministry and spiritual warfare are still in danger. The Word assures that it does not warn needlessly. The apostle Paul in particular says he would rather spend his time in encouragement than scolding. Yet, here, obediently, he tells Timothy, and the Timothy's of every generation, watch out.
Because we are so ready to tell ourselves we are excused from the 1 Timothy 6 lure of materialism if we can picture people richer than ourselves, Matthew Sink amplifies the call to caution beyond our self-justifying preconceptions. He writes, "Anyone or anything that leads people away from (Jesus as) the door – whether willingly or unwillingly – is a thief! The deep intimacy you crave can only be found in Christ. Look around you – you have probably empowered thieves to rob you of the best parts of life."
Have we, however we consider ourselves faithful, looked for that intimacy in a particular kind of payoff the Lord has not seen fit to grant us? Our real god, then, warns Tim Keller, lurks in the "if" of, "If I do this, then I will get that." The payoff need not be in increased dollars and cents in order to draw us away from Christ as the only source of intimacy and sufficiency by which we may be really satisfied.
Money is an especially subtle and attractive bait to draw us away from relying on Christ, even so. It is an adaptable idol, one that need not be converted into actual purchases in order to steal our affections. Just the, that word again, "if" of the contingent satisfactions we could draw from "our" funds if Jesus doesn't satisfy is enough to distract us from any present sweetness in Him.
Where our "if" is, Paul has already hinted at, changes who our self is. John Muir gets outside of the process's workings on himself enough to cry, "I am losing precious days. I am degenerating into a machine for making money. I am learning nothing in this trivial world of men." That part of him built for hungering after the ever-increasing attractiveness of Jesus, Muir notices, is settling on the sameness, manipulation, and monetization of men.
Then, blessedly, Muir pivots where we can, by grace. He resolves that where things and people are not teaching him in a way that feeds his soul, "I must break away and get out into the mountains to learn the news." What quickly becomes old news to our insensitive souls, what the grandeur of the mountains, or just a different setting, can restore, is our present gratitude and humility.
Spurgeon meets us there in Morning and Evening, giving insistent phrase to our renewed resolve that Jesus is enough. Spurgeon drives to the depth of our soul's needs when he declares, "Jesus has never given the slightest ground for suspicion, and it is hard to be doubted by those to whom our conduct is uniformly affectionate and true."
This is His character, which we too quickly dismiss in the abstract. Monetize this and take it to the bank, confronts Spurgeon, with the Scriptural valuation, "Jesus is the Son of the Highest, and has unbounded wealth; it is shameful to doubt Omnipotence and distrust all-sufficiency."
We would be renewed by the Spirit's inspection of our souls in this portion of 1 Timothy 6:10 should we commence an honest search for the if's which are cracks in our faith's foundation readying collapse. Intones Spurgeon again in Morning and Evening, "No one ought to be content whilst there is any such thing as an "if" about his having tasted that the Lord is gracious." Every if can be addressed if we but ask.
Leaving our if's dangling in unstated suspicion, Paul reminds us, has led many away. We have willingly, like the older brother in Jesus' story of the prodigal son, been side-by-side with the Father and have begrudged Him that He would not give us the means to experienced a little merriment in this world. By such self-denial more sanctimonious than sanctified, we prepare the way for the first attraction promising quicker satisfaction of our desires.
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