Planting Seeds for the Next Generation

Photo by Jonathan Kemper on Unsplash

You may have heard of a fellow in the New Testament named Timothy. There are two letters addressed to him (1 and 2 Timothy). He was one of Paul's partners in ministry in his missionary work in the book of Acts, popping up in chapters 16-20. He was with Paul when he wrote Romans (16:21), Philippians (1:1), the Thessalonian letters (1:1 in both), and more, and the apostle sent him to preach to the Corinthians (1 Cor 4:17; 2 Cor 1:19). Paul described Timothy as like a son to him (Phil 2:22)

You may have heard of Timothy before—but have you ever heard about Lois? What about Eunice? Because, without them, you never would have heard of Timothy.

Right after the “Dear Timothy” (1:2), the letter of 2 Timothy begins like this:

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. (2 Tim 1:3-5)

Eunice was Timothy’s mother, and Lois was his grandmother. These two women were remembered for their sincere faith, which they managed to hand down, through the generations, until it lived in Timothy, too. They are the reason why, in Acts chapter 16, when Paul firsts meets Timothy, he’s already known as a “disciple” (16:1). Timothy wasn’t a product of Paul’s mission, but he became one of the driving forces behind it—because of a couple of faithful women who raised him up in the faith.

Lately, at our Wednesday night Bible studies at Eastlawn UMC, we’ve been learning about “Forgotten Women of the Bible.” I shared about one of those forgotten women, who anointed Jesus in Nain in Luke 7, a few weeks back. Today I wanted to highlight these two women as well, because I think they remind us of something so important. To all of you moms and grandmothers out there: don’t underestimate the difference you’re making in a child’s life.

I know so many grandmothers who have faithfully carted their grandkids back and forth to church for years and so many mothers who have been doing everything they know how to try and instill an abiding faith in their kids—but they worry. They worry about the influences of friends, peers, other family members, teachers, and social media overpowering the examples and lessons they’ve given those children.

If that’s you, I get it. I’ve heard too many stories about PKs not to be concerned about what my girls will believe when they get older. At the same time: never doubt that you are having an impact. Never doubt that those conversations and Sunday mornings and gift Bibles and prayers are planting seeds that can sprout and grow throughout their lifetime.

You can’t control what that looks like or when it might happen, but you can still do your part. Paul, looking back on his ministry in Corinth, wrote, “I planted, Apollos [another Christian teacher] watered, but God gave the growth.” (1 Cor 3:6) You plant. Or maybe you water. You do your part. Then you entrust your child, your grandchild, to the Lord who gives the growth.

And who knows? One day that kid might be a Timothy.

And you—you would be her Eunice. You would be his Lois.

Listen to this right here:

The Knowledge of the Lord

There are some descriptions of eternity in scripture that we know pretty well. Streets of gold and pearly gates (Rev 21:21). “In my Father’s house there are many rooms…” (John 14:2-3) “Well done, good and faithful servant. Enter into the joy of your master.” (Matt 25:23)

There are some other descriptions that don’t get as much attention. They’re less vivid. They don’t capture the imagination in the same way that some others do.

Jeremiah tells of a day when

“No longer will they teach their neighbor, or say to one another, ‘Know the Lord,’ because they will all know me, from the least of them to the greatest,” declares the Lord. (31:34)

Similarly, Isaiah speaks of a time when “the earth will be filled with the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea.” (11:9)

Those two prophetic promises remind me of another line, in Paul’s letters, when the apostle's looking ahead to the future: “For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.” (1 Cor 13:12) The Lord knows us fully, searches our hearts and minds (Ps 7:9). And, one day, we will know the Lord fully, know the heart and mind of God.

All of these verses envision a day when we will finally, truly understand and know the Lord. That is one of the unfathomable blessings of eternal life: intimate knowledge of God.

But if all of that is in store for God’s people one day, that should tell us something about our knowledge of God here and now: it’s imperfect, incomplete—for now, we don't fully know.

Now, Jesus is a clear picture of a God who’s otherwise invisible to us. (Col 1:15) But Jesus is also a human picture, and one that we only have secondhand. There are things about God that you can’t see by looking at Christ's life in the gospels, because no book can contain everything about God and one human lifetime isn’t enough to show it all, either. I believe Jesus reveals everything that a person needs to know about God, but, still, our knowledge of God today is imperfect, incomplete. We don’t fully know. Not yet.

What am I getting at with all this?

Stay humble. Know what you don’t know.

Christians can talk about the Lord of Heaven and Earth as if we’ve got it all figured out, as if we’re authorities on the topic who’ve been dispatched to correct and deride all of the ignorant, confused thinking out there. Have a little intellectual humility. Study the scriptures. Pray. Strive to know the Lord. But don’t presume to know it all. Don’t rest on your laurels, confident in your education and enlightenment.

You and I will always be students and novices in this life, always able to learn more, to know God more deeply.

Centuries ago, a brilliant saint named Thomas experienced a revelation of God’s presence while leading a service of Holy Communion. Up to that point, Thomas had been working on his magnum opus, an enormous book of theology that students still pore over more than 700 years later. But after his experience that day, he put his pen down and closed the book. Later on, when a friend encouraged him to start writing again, Thomas said, “I can write no more. I have seen things that make my writings like straw.”

One day, we’ll know God fully, like we’re fully known. For now, stay humble. Know what you don’t know.

You can listen to this devotional here:

Everything Will Return

Last Friday was November 1^st. For many people, that’s the day you take down the Halloween decorations and turn on the Christmas music. Some others know November 1^st as All Saints Day: a day on the Church calendar when we remember and celebrate the saints who have lived and died before us. (And when I say “saints,” I don’t just mean those with an St. before their names, but anyone who’s lived with Jesus as their Lord.)

All Saints is a chance to learn from the wisdom and examples of those believers of the past, but it’s also a chance to celebrate God’s promises for the future. One of the scripture readings for All Saints Day this year was from Revelation 21, one of my favorite passages in the Bible, when, after the dead are raised back to life in chapter 20, John glimpses a “a new heaven and a new earth” (21:1). And he hears a voice that says

See, the home of God is among mortals. He will dwell with them as their God; they will be his peoples, and God himself will be with them and be their God; he will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away. (21:3-4)

That’s the promise we hold on to whenever we lose a “saint” we love: one day, the dead will live again, and God will come to live with us, forever. No more death. No more tears. No more hurt.

And that future, according to Paul in 1 Corinthians 15, includes new, eternal bodies (15:35-56). Just like the resurrected Jesus walked out of his tomb, ate broiled fish, and held out his hands to disbelieving disciples, we can expect resurrected bodies for that eternity with God and each other. After all, when with the saints in glory we at last see Jesus’s face, how could we sing with “joy through the ages” of his love for us, without lips, tongues, vocal chords, or lungs?

I recently came across a passage from the Russian-American writer Vladimir Nabokov that, I think, beautifully captures that All Saints hope. It’s from a letter to his mother, as she grieved the loss of Nabokov’s father:

Three years have gone–and every trifle relating to father is still as alive as ever inside me. I am so certain, my love, that we will see him again, in an unexpected but completely natural heaven, in a realm where all is radiance and delight. He will come towards us… slightly raising his shoulders as he used to do, and we will kiss the birthmark on his hand without surprise. You must live in expectation of that tender hour, my love, and never give in to the temptation of despair. Everything will return.

Everything will return—birthmarks, the way he raised his shoulders, everything.

When Christ comes again and God’s saints climb out of their graves, they’ll know each other. They’ll recognize that face, those hands, that gait. They'll know those bodies. 

For every saint, for everyone who lives with Jesus as their Lord, everything will return.

That’s the promise I’m celebrating and resting in this week.

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