I am grateful to God—whom I worship with a clear conscience, as my ancestors did—when I remember you constantly in my prayers night and day. Recalling your tears, I long to see you so that I may be filled with joy. I am reminded of your sincere faith, a faith that lived first in your grandmother Lois and your mother Eunice and now, I am sure, lives in you. For this reason I remind you to rekindle the gift of God that is within you through the laying on of my hands, for God did not give us a spirit of fear, but a spirit of power, love, and self-control.
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, in the power of God, who saved us and called us with a holy calling, not according to our works but according to his own purpose and grace, and this grace was given to us in Christ Jesus before the ages began, but it has now been revealed through the appearing of our Savior Jesus Christ, who abolished death and brought life and immortality to light through the gospel.
2 Timothy 1:1-10
As we eavesdrop on Paul’s historical mail again, I have to start with a personal note. Of all Paul’s intros, I have a special fondness for this one, where he talks about the faith of our mothers and grandmothers, especially naming Timothy’s mother Eunice. We in Craftsbury know our own dear Eunice, born and raised in our church, who still watches our services live as if she were still in the pews today. My grandmother also watches our streams days later, and I am grateful for the faith that she passed down and kept alive even when it had been dormant in me. I can’t help but name this, but I love this letter for more than that.
Here’s some of what we know of the background: Timothy was Paul’s disciple and student in ministry, and we can gather that, apparently, Timothy was nervous. Sure, Timothy had already done a lot of great work, but he felt like what was next was maybe too big for him. He knew the consequences of his faith were going to lead him into, as the Civil Rights activist John Lewis coined, “good trouble.”
The letter reads like Paul is stopping one step short of outright saying, “Come join me in prison,” but it’s also clear enough from Paul that he does not regret being in it one bit. Yes, Paul says, it was hard, yes I suffered, but I knew Christ was calling me to this suffering, and so I endure it with no shame; yes, with pain and sorrow, but joy. He offers this strong and beautiful bit of encouragement: “rekindle the gift of God that is within you…for God did not give us a spirit of fear, but a spirit of power and of love and of self-control.”1 For those of us who grew up with the King James Version, this verse may be written on your heart as “of power and of love and of a sound mind.”
This is not only encouragement, but a challenge, not only to its intended recipient, but to any prying eyes on Paul’s mail. Last week I talked about “the Lazarus Test,” and now we have the Timothy Challenge: will you respond to what God is calling you to do? Will you accept that God has indeed given you gifts and use them? And will you do so even knowing that it might be hard? And can you trust that every step of the way, God can give you power, love, and the sound mind of self-control?
Let’s break those three little-s spirits God gives us, beginning with a spirit of power, that is, courage.
I can’t know what your calling is. But I believe we all have at least one, right now, and we have many throughout our whole lives, no matter what age we are. Some of you may already know exactly what it is as I’m saying this, and all you need is encouragement. Some of us may be in between callings and aren’t sure what’s next. Some of us may have heard the nagging voice of the Spirit pointing us towards something, but so far all it has inspired is the most productive procrastination of your life to avoid that call, and boy, is the house clean now.
A holy calling is not one that will always feel great while you are doing it. It may be a project that takes more hard work than you care for. It may be to spread the good news of Jesus Christ, as Paul and Timothy themselves did, in much difficulty. It may be getting sober. It may be to bear witness to a particular concern of justice in the world. It may be simply the next task of being a mother or grandmother like Timothy’s and like all of ours. Only you and God can know. But it will involve your gifts, even if you think yourself not that gifted, and it may well involve a bit of fear, something God is calling you towards just outside of your comfort zone. As an old Methodist preacher once said, “Sometimes the Holy Spirit calls us to places where we don’t want to go; otherwise the work of the Holy Spirit would not be necessary.”
The fear itself is not what calls you, but it can be a kind of compass. Miles Davis mentions this at the start of his autobiography:
“The very first thing I remember in my early childhood is a flame, a blue flame jumping off a gas stove somebody lit... I remember being shocked by the whoosh of the blue flame jumping off the burner, the suddenness of it... I saw that flame and felt that hotness of it close to my face. I felt fear, real fear, for the first time in my life. But I remember it also like some kind of adventure, some kind of weird joy, too.... The fear I had was almost like an invitation, a challenge to go forward into something I knew nothing about.”
While a holy calling is not a burning stove, it is a flame within us that will not quite die. It is a calling that will not go away, even as you try to rationalize all the reasons why you don’t really have to do it. It is realistic about consequences but says “yes” anyway, bringing the “weird joy” Miles knew. It is a call to adventure, sometimes into something you know you are not fully prepared for, trusting that, as we love to say in the Church, “God doesn’t call the prepared but prepares the called.” The means by which he prepares us is with his spirit of courageous power.
We don’t know exactly how Timothy responded to the Timothy Challenge, but we can guess. By the end of the Letter to the Hebrews, we know Timothy had found himself in jail for the sake of the gospel.2
Next, Paul says God gives us a spirit of love. I can’t possibly exhaust all the meanings of love we all know. But in terms of a holy calling, we should not use fear alone as a compass, but should pay attention to where the spirit of love is calling us to use our gifts for others. Plenty of people push through fear to better themselves. We can all do that. But God’s call directs us toward the benefit of someone else. As many have observed, nothing about Christianity is about private, individual salvation for the sake of only ourselves, or (as Paul would elsewhere call out) mystical, transcendent enlightenment for our personal betterment. The spirit of love which God calls us to is how Aquinas defined love, “Willing the good of the other.”
So when we combine this spirit of love with the idea of fear as a compass, consider: what is something that you have some fear of doing, but that you know is for the good of the other? Forget all the stuff you’re afraid of for yourself, “I’m afraid I won’t visit every continent before I die,” or “I’m afraid I’ll never see my favorite band again before they die.” But rather, what are the holy fears that point to something that you know is for the benefit of someone else, whether they know it or not and whether they even know you or not? What are you afraid of doing that you know will give life to someone else? What is the thing you know is needed to help someone, but may face social consequences?
And—this part is tricky—while you are doing that thing, can you remember and refresh yourself with that spirit of love that truly is doing it for others and not yourself? For as much as Satan loves to discourage us from pursuing a holy calling with fear, he also loves taking a holy calling and making it all about ourselves. He loves taking your good intentions and twisting them for self-glory, self-aggrandizement, and self-love (which is false love). He loves turning us bitter, angry, and lashing out at others in the name of our holy calling, perhaps to diminish it. So, as you accept your holy calling that leans into fear for the good of the other, keep listening for that spirit of love that remembers that your calling is not your own, for as our Presbyterian ancestors affirmed, our lives are not our own, but belong to God.
What helps us here is that last little-s spirit, the spirit of self-control, or a sound mind, or self-discipline (however you translate it). This is what protects us from ourselves, our hubris, and our worst instincts. In a holy calling, it is the self-controlling spirit of God that might make you willing to go to jail for a cause, but not willing to murder someone for the same cause. The sound mind and self-control God gives us is not to dampen our enthusiasm, but protect it by purifying it. Our holy calling will always be mixed up with our sin, and there is no getting around it. This is not a reason not to pursue our calling, but it is a reason we need to be discerning as we go. And it is the reason why prayer—constant, daily, sincere, and heart-giving prayer—is a vital ingredient to our holy calling. Yes, I am a pastor and am biased to the importance of prayer, but I do believe it is vitally important.
Some of us have a stronger prayer life than others. If you struggle, remember that prayer is not for God’s benefit, or to cast a magic spell, but God’s gift to us for our benefit. It is a place where we commune with God’s spirit of courageous power, loving will of the other, and, in repentance, purifying ourselves by asking for God’s help for control where we cannot. Just like our unique gifts, we all have unique struggles, and some things we will have a hard time ever having self-control over. But we can know we are never alone.
To put all this together, pay attention to where God is calling you to sacrifice something of yourself for someone else, something of your freedom for someone else’s freedom, something of your time to save another’s time, something even of your happiness to bring others true joy, something of your life to help bring life to someone else. For this is exactly what Jesus Christ did for us. As Paul told Timothy elsewhere, Christ gave us the life which really is the true life.3 He, not fear, is our true compass. We don’t follow him to repeat the work he did, but to fully embrace his love by imitating his example, whether joyfully like our brother Paul or perhaps with great timidity like our brother Timothy.
Friends, fellow sinners, beloved children of God, my prayer for you is also that “rekindle the gift of God that is within you.” My prayer for you is that you embrace where God is leading you in this moment of your life, using the compass of Jesus Christ to lean into your fear for the love that wills the good for the other, walking in sound mind in the path of prayer. Know you are never alone, for it is not only the spirits of courage, love, and mind that are with you, but Christ in you, the hope of glory.4 Amen.
2 Tim 1:6-7
Hebrews 13:23
1 Tim 6:19
Col 1:27