2 Timothy 1:6 – Stirred, Not Shaken
Therefore I remind you to stir up the gift of God which is in you through the laying on of my hands. 2 Timothy 1:6, New King James Version
I've taken to scrolling through Facebook's addictive On This Day feature. There are worse priorities than getting to take the pulse of one's passions on the same day over a period of years.
Today, I was particularly struck by an insight from Michael Levine gleaned in a time when the quest for parenthood dominated my perspective. He confronted, "Having children makes you no more a parent than having a piano makes you a pianist.”
In all probability gifted by God to encourage, nurture, and cultivate in roles other than parenting myself, I share the quote with a couple of Facebook friends whom I think parent very well. Both of them exhibit both an ongoing enthusiasm for the role as well as a reflective, self-scrutinizing adaptability.
The results intrigued me. Both of them, I believe, could see Levine's point and, with me, extend it to other relationships and ministry areas. The title is not enough. The position on a chart or a legal document is not enough. Levine would urge that actually playing the instrument makes one a pianist, and doing so as an ongoing discipline. We grow into the full meaning of our roles in such a way.
One of my friends hesitated to give her full assent. Wisely, she sees in his words a quick out for those who lack her resolute love for those who depend on her. She sees, I suspect, an opportunity to shirk sacrificial involvement as the hands and feet of Christ in a given relationship because we don't feel it, or because we haven't been committed in this way heretofore. The starring of the gifts in 2 Timothy 1:6 is preemptive and proactive.
My other friend in this pop-up conversation spoke to the results of making in maintaining human connections by faith. She countered Levine with the assertion that in some ways having children does make one a parent, that it develops gifts, maybe even anointings, that we don't realize except in retrospect. We look back, parent or not, at how we handle the relational crisis by God's grace, and we see the imprint of our role on our heart. In more calm moments, we look at those we influence, see the traits God has been working in us and which, by grace, He has passed along in those we most want to help.
So, just as the question of which comes first, the chicken or the egg, may be useful but should not be paralyzing, we see an intertwined relationship between opportunities to minister and the empowering to do so. Today, we reflect on the challenges likely ahead, and we, by God's grace, stir up the courage, enthusiasm, and wisdom to carry them off to the glory of God. Tomorrow, we are in the middle of an unexpected interpersonal battle, and, when it dies down, we then note the stirring of God's gifts that has taken place.
I've taken to scrolling through Facebook's addictive On This Day feature. There are worse priorities than getting to take the pulse of one's passions on the same day over a period of years.
Today, I was particularly struck by an insight from Michael Levine gleaned in a time when the quest for parenthood dominated my perspective. He confronted, "Having children makes you no more a parent than having a piano makes you a pianist.”
In all probability gifted by God to encourage, nurture, and cultivate in roles other than parenting myself, I share the quote with a couple of Facebook friends whom I think parent very well. Both of them exhibit both an ongoing enthusiasm for the role as well as a reflective, self-scrutinizing adaptability.
The results intrigued me. Both of them, I believe, could see Levine's point and, with me, extend it to other relationships and ministry areas. The title is not enough. The position on a chart or a legal document is not enough. Levine would urge that actually playing the instrument makes one a pianist, and doing so as an ongoing discipline. We grow into the full meaning of our roles in such a way.
One of my friends hesitated to give her full assent. Wisely, she sees in his words a quick out for those who lack her resolute love for those who depend on her. She sees, I suspect, an opportunity to shirk sacrificial involvement as the hands and feet of Christ in a given relationship because we don't feel it, or because we haven't been committed in this way heretofore. The starring of the gifts in 2 Timothy 1:6 is preemptive and proactive.
My other friend in this pop-up conversation spoke to the results of making in maintaining human connections by faith. She countered Levine with the assertion that in some ways having children does make one a parent, that it develops gifts, maybe even anointings, that we don't realize except in retrospect. We look back, parent or not, at how we handle the relational crisis by God's grace, and we see the imprint of our role on our heart. In more calm moments, we look at those we influence, see the traits God has been working in us and which, by grace, He has passed along in those we most want to help.
So, just as the question of which comes first, the chicken or the egg, may be useful but should not be paralyzing, we see an intertwined relationship between opportunities to minister and the empowering to do so. Today, we reflect on the challenges likely ahead, and we, by God's grace, stir up the courage, enthusiasm, and wisdom to carry them off to the glory of God. Tomorrow, we are in the middle of an unexpected interpersonal battle, and, when it dies down, we then note the stirring of God's gifts that has taken place.
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