2 Timothy 1:3 – An Intimate Immediacy
1 Paul, an apostle of Jesus Christ by the will of God, according to the promise of life which is in Christ Jesus,
2 To Timothy, a beloved son:
Grace, mercy, and peace from God the Father and Christ Jesus our Lord.
3 I thank God, whom I serve…
"In the heroic period of the Christian religion all believers were men who knew the love of Christ and rested upon it," Spurgeon phrases with beautiful simplicity and alliterative rhythm in Morning and Evening, "as a man leaneth upon a staff whose trust trustiness he has tried.
"It," Spurgeon radiates with the fission of faith which transformed those he describes, "was a passion with them of such vehement and all-consuming energy that it was visible in their actions, spoke in their common talk, and looked out of their eyes even in their communist glances." Working outward, he declares, "Because of their dependence upon Christ's love they dared much, and because of their love to Christ they did much."
The staff that is Christ, that ever-budding rod, was already bearing ripe almonds nearly overnight in Paul's day. In the old apostle's mind and heart as laid bare before Timothy and us, his submission toward, his gratitude to the Lord, and his service to the Lord are interconnected.
Paul has an organizational mission as an apostle. His letters to Timothy palpitate with individual tenderness for the young minister on which he will shortly elaborate. But it is neither organizational mission statement nor individual human comfort or transformation which Paul service. It is the Person of Christ, mentioned for the fourth time in the written equivalent of Paul's opening breath.
There is an intimacy to Paul's obedience. He, alike with Francesca Battistelli in "Motion of Mercy" is declaring, "Now I'm filled with the love that draws me to action." They, and we, from Morning and Evening again, "Do not go about the service of God as slaves to their taskmaster's toil, but run in the way of His commands because it is your Father's way."
Serving as an outworking and confirmation of the family's likeness, celebration at each stage no matter how rudimentary, or halting, the fluidity of our efforts seems by our own judgment. Even the fact that we WANT to please Him with familial love, Augustine celebrates in Confessions, pleases Him.
Even if we should fixate on Christ as Paul does in his words and as the focal point of his efforts, this is a work of His grace rather than the select servant's striving. The magnificence is not in our discipline, but in the splendor He makes visible, ongoing, within our limited spectrum. As Chesterton writes in Heretics, "Any man would be a valet to his hero."
So it is, then, that our appreciation of the different aspects of Christ's Heroism, from His sky-spreading artistry to His interest in the wonkish details which concern us, each of these remind us that Christ, the WHOM we serve is our immediate Purpose and Payoff. He gives meaning more compelling than the catchiest slogans, deeper and more applicable to the sphere in which we labor.
As much as the lost sheep restored means to Him and to us, by grace, our service unto Him yields results even greater than countable metrics and photo ops with transformed Timothys. Those we influence in a Christward direction may thrive for a season, and then wither because their roots are not deep in Him. Even so, we celebrate Whom we serve because He knew beforehand, because He was honest with us about the differing fate of the good seed, and because He DELIGHTS to hear our intercessory pleas for those particular to our hearts.
Setbacks, then, either personally, organizationally, or in our relationships, our checks on our true motivation. Unlike the plants, we can pull up our roots and see wherein they rested, and by what motivation they were sustained. "True Christians," distinguishes William Wilberforce in Real Christianity, "consider themselves not as satisfying some rigorous creditor," a metaphor which is apt given how often we want countable results. "But," Wilberforce visualizes true faith, "as discharging a debt of gratitude." Even after all the centuries that have discharged since he penned 2 Timothy, gratitude for His ongoing intimacy still gushes through His people's service.
2 To Timothy, a beloved son:
Grace, mercy, and peace from God the Father and Christ Jesus our Lord.
3 I thank God, whom I serve…
"In the heroic period of the Christian religion all believers were men who knew the love of Christ and rested upon it," Spurgeon phrases with beautiful simplicity and alliterative rhythm in Morning and Evening, "as a man leaneth upon a staff whose trust trustiness he has tried.
"It," Spurgeon radiates with the fission of faith which transformed those he describes, "was a passion with them of such vehement and all-consuming energy that it was visible in their actions, spoke in their common talk, and looked out of their eyes even in their communist glances." Working outward, he declares, "Because of their dependence upon Christ's love they dared much, and because of their love to Christ they did much."
The staff that is Christ, that ever-budding rod, was already bearing ripe almonds nearly overnight in Paul's day. In the old apostle's mind and heart as laid bare before Timothy and us, his submission toward, his gratitude to the Lord, and his service to the Lord are interconnected.
Paul has an organizational mission as an apostle. His letters to Timothy palpitate with individual tenderness for the young minister on which he will shortly elaborate. But it is neither organizational mission statement nor individual human comfort or transformation which Paul service. It is the Person of Christ, mentioned for the fourth time in the written equivalent of Paul's opening breath.
There is an intimacy to Paul's obedience. He, alike with Francesca Battistelli in "Motion of Mercy" is declaring, "Now I'm filled with the love that draws me to action." They, and we, from Morning and Evening again, "Do not go about the service of God as slaves to their taskmaster's toil, but run in the way of His commands because it is your Father's way."
Serving as an outworking and confirmation of the family's likeness, celebration at each stage no matter how rudimentary, or halting, the fluidity of our efforts seems by our own judgment. Even the fact that we WANT to please Him with familial love, Augustine celebrates in Confessions, pleases Him.
Even if we should fixate on Christ as Paul does in his words and as the focal point of his efforts, this is a work of His grace rather than the select servant's striving. The magnificence is not in our discipline, but in the splendor He makes visible, ongoing, within our limited spectrum. As Chesterton writes in Heretics, "Any man would be a valet to his hero."
So it is, then, that our appreciation of the different aspects of Christ's Heroism, from His sky-spreading artistry to His interest in the wonkish details which concern us, each of these remind us that Christ, the WHOM we serve is our immediate Purpose and Payoff. He gives meaning more compelling than the catchiest slogans, deeper and more applicable to the sphere in which we labor.
As much as the lost sheep restored means to Him and to us, by grace, our service unto Him yields results even greater than countable metrics and photo ops with transformed Timothys. Those we influence in a Christward direction may thrive for a season, and then wither because their roots are not deep in Him. Even so, we celebrate Whom we serve because He knew beforehand, because He was honest with us about the differing fate of the good seed, and because He DELIGHTS to hear our intercessory pleas for those particular to our hearts.
Setbacks, then, either personally, organizationally, or in our relationships, our checks on our true motivation. Unlike the plants, we can pull up our roots and see wherein they rested, and by what motivation they were sustained. "True Christians," distinguishes William Wilberforce in Real Christianity, "consider themselves not as satisfying some rigorous creditor," a metaphor which is apt given how often we want countable results. "But," Wilberforce visualizes true faith, "as discharging a debt of gratitude." Even after all the centuries that have discharged since he penned 2 Timothy, gratitude for His ongoing intimacy still gushes through His people's service.
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