II Timothy 1:1-14
Many
years ago, a friend of mine called me, and this was long before the days of
cell phones; we just had the now lowly landline. My mother and I both answered
the phone at the same time, and when my mom realized it was for me she excused
herself and hung up. The first thing my friend said when my mom got off the
phone was,
“That was haunting.”
You
see my mom and I sound a lot alike. We have the same intonation, the same
timbre and expression, etc. So when we answered the phone at the same time, my
friend heard my voice – only in stereo, and it kind of freaked him out.
Not only do I sound like my
mother, I look like her too. She can never deny that I’m her daughter. Well she
can, and there were a few times when I was a kid when she tried; but she can’t
get away with it. I’m too much like her. I have inherited many of my mom’s
traits, and I’ve inherited many of my dad’s as well. I’m basically fine with
this – I love my parents. But it isn’t just that I have the same physical
traits or characteristics; I have also turned into them. I have become
them. I’m more used to it now, but the first time I saw a kid – not my own,
mind you – just some kid out on a chilly afternoon without a coat, and I heard
myself say, “That child is going to freeze to death,” I was shocked. I turned
around and looked for my mom, because I opened my mouth and it was her voice
that came out.
It
happens to all of us, doesn’t it? It’s not just DNA that gets passed on from
one generation to the next; behaviors, attitudes, ways of doing things all get
passed down too. I’m silly like my mother. I laugh like my sister. I have a
strange, dry sense of humor like my brother, and when something happens that
really gets me upset, I hold my head in my hands just like my dad.
In
seminary I learned to use a tool called a genogram. A genogram is similar to a
family tree, but instead of focusing solely on when folks are born and when
they die, who married who and how many children were born to one family, the
genogram shows the kinds of relationships that are passed down from family
member to family member, from grandparent to grandchild, father to son, mother
to daughter. A genogram makes you ask questions, such as how was money dealt
with? How were arguments handled? Which child seemed to be the star of the
family, and which child seemed to cause a lot of trouble?
When
I was working on my own genogram, I learned much more about my family than I
ever had before. I realized that I have inherited a lot more than just physical
traits and characteristics. You could say that I have inherited ministry.
Neither of my parents were ministers, but both grandfathers were. And I have
great-grandfathers who were ministers, and great great-grandfathers who were
ministers. I think I even have great, great great-grandfathers who were
ministers. A predominant profession in my family seems to be ministry.
I’d always known, in some form
or another, that we have quite a few ministers on both branches of the family tree.
But it was still impressive and intimidating to see the names of these many men
lined out on paper. All of these men, my ancestors, have traveled the path of
ministry before me. And here I am – the first person in two generations and the
first woman to follow that same path. Maybe you can imagine then why I related
so quickly to this passage from II Timothy. The idea of a faith that is passed
down from generation to generation, a faith that lived first in my
grandparents, then my parents and then me, powerfully resonated with my own
experience.
Reading
these words of encouragement from Paul to Timothy has made me think a lot about
these ancestors of mine, and the faith that has passed down to me through them.
Faith
was a central part of my life as a child. I always wanted to know more about
this God, this Creator of the world, the Being that Jesus called “Abba,
Father.” I wanted to comprehend the God that we prayed to and read and sang
about.
I
remember asking my mother questions about God when I was younger. Questions
such as, “”If God made everyone and everything, then where did God come from? Who
made God? My mother would patiently try
to explain to me that God was not made or created; God has always been here. I
was never fully satisfied with answer, and I wanted to know the how and the where and the why of
God.
Mom
didn’t have an answer for that one, but I kept asking those questions. No
surprise to some of you that by the time I was a teenager, probably close to
the same age as Timothy, I argued with all the answers about God and church and
faith that I had ever been given.
At
that age I was no longer convinced that the faith that had been handed down to
me was relevant, so I left faith behind for a long time. Yet God always seems
to have different plans. And eventually I made my way back. The faith that I’d
inherited never went away, it just had to find a way to grow up, to become
mine.
This
passage from II Timothy is about a faith that is handed down. When Paul
addresses Timothy’s concerns, he writes that he is reminded of his faith that
lived first in Timothy’s grandmother, Lois, then in his mother, Eunice, then
also in Timothy. And Paul goes on to exhort Timothy to rekindle the gift of God
that is within him.
The
word “rekindle” here is a faithful translation, but to me it loses some of the
urgency, the passion that the Greek offers. Paul is urging Timothy to
“agitate,” to “stir into a flame” this gift of God. Paul is persuading him,
exhorting him to coax the embers of his faith into a brightly burning flame. Paul
is telling Timothy to get stirred up!
I
wonder if Paul’s advice to Timothy is actually more warning than words of
wisdom: a warning against complacency, against a faith that is settled and
predictable and placid. Don’t take the faith you have for granted! Stir it up,
ignite it, take the faith of the generations before you and fashion it into a
faith of your own!
Stir
up the faith of your family, agitate the faith of your childhood, mold it,
shape it into a faith that is yours. I believe that this kind of agitation,
this questioning, this stirring up of faith is a good thing. Because in its
most positive, constructive sense, agitation of our faith makes us clarify our
faith. It calls us to consider and reconsider what God is calling us to do, who
God is calling us to be.
But
there’s one more part of this verse to consider. Paul tells Timothy to rekindle
the gift of God that is within him...through the laying on of his hands.
In
this context Paul is referring to Timothy’s ordination as a minister. Through
the laying on of Paul’s hands, the gift of the Holy Spirit was passed from Paul
to Timothy so Timothy would be empowered to minister to the people of his
church.
Laying
on of hands brings to mind ordinations and installations of elders, deacons and
ministers of the Word and Sacrament. There will be laying on of hands at my
installation. Hands are laid upon us at our baptism; whether as an infant or as
an adult, the laying on of hands ushers us into a new life in Christ. And we
are not baptized into a vacuum, but into a community of believers, who welcome
us with hands outstretched. Hands are laid upon us in prayer. Holding hands
when we pray can remind us that we are connected, that we are not disciples
only as individuals, but as part of the larger body of the church.
Our
hands become instruments of the Holy Spirit through our service to one another.
The hands that prepare meals for others, the hands that serve with hammer and
nail, the hand that places all it can into the offering plate. That is also the
laying on of hands.
In
the laying on of hands the gift of God that is within each of us is stirred up
and passed on to person after person, from generation to generation. I find
this especially meaningful on today, World Communion Sunday, when we remember
that all around the world, people from every nation, every ethnicity, every
walk of life, are gathering around tables in churches, cathedrals, outdoors, in
camps, conference centers, campuses, retreats, homes, and hospitals; and they
are taking the bread and they are sharing the cup and they are hearing the
familiar words about Jesus taking bread and wine and saying, “This is my body,
this is my blood, shed for you.” And as they pass around the bread and the cup,
they are all passing on faith. They are also laying on hands. The gift of faith
that is in them and us is being rekindled, agitated, stirred up. Think about
all those hands, those beautiful hands: hands of every color, hands of every
age. Think about the faith that is being stirred up in all of those wonderful
hands.
It
seems to me that not only have we inherited faith from generations of believers
who have gone before us, we also have our faith rekindled and stirred by the
people we share pews with and the people we share the world with. Although our
particular faith stories are distinctive and unique, we all share the same
stories of faith that are witnessed to in Scripture: stories of people, real
people, with real flaws and passions, challenges and setbacks, disappointments
and joys, people very much like us, struggling to be faithful, struggling to
rekindle the gift of God that is within us.
It
is God who fashioned and shaped us. We are created in God’s image and bear the
imprint of God’s hands. The faith that we have inherited and that lies within
us is a gift from God. The words that Paul spoke to Timothy ring as true for us
today, as they did when Timothy first read them. Don’t let this gift of God
stand idle or grow stagnant. Agitate it, rekindle its flame, stir it into a
blazing fire. Pass it on from one person to the next with the laying on of
hands. Stir up your faith. Stir it up.
Let
all of God’s children say, “Alleluia!” Amen.
No comments:
Post a Comment