1 Timothy 1:12-17
(Greet the congregation with “Good morning, saints.” After they reply, greet them again with “Good morning, sinners.” They’ll probably miss a beat before replying, but the point will be made.)
We’re both saints and sinners, aren’t we? We’re saints seeking God, and sinners aware of our need of his mercy and grace.
In the opening of Paul’s first letter to his young protege Timothy, he uses the benediction, ‘Grace, mercy and peace from God the Father and Christ Jesus our Lord” (v. 2). It may be significant that only in these two letters to Timothy does Paul include the blessing of “mercy” along with “grace and peace.” If so, why do you think that is? One possibility is that Paul realizes that Timothy, as a young man facing life’s considerable challenges and temptations, needs to be reminded of God’s great mercy. Or, perhaps Paul himself, an older man by the time of writing these letters, has a richer appreciation of the blessing of God’s mercy in his own life. I tend to believe that both of these are probably true.
In fact, listen to Paul’s words to this effect just several verses later: “I thank Christ Jesus our Lord, who has given me strength, that he considered me trustworthy, appointing me to his service. Even though I was once a blasphemer and a persecutor and a violent man, I was shown mercy because I acted in ignorance and unbelief. The grace of our Lord was poured out on me abundantly, along with the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus.
“Here is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance: Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners—of whom I am the worst. But for that very reason I was shown mercy so that in me, the worst of sinners, Christ Jesus might display his immense patience as an example for those who would believe in him and receive eternal life. Now to the King eternal, immortal, invisible, the only God, be honor and glory for ever and ever. Amen.” (1:12-17)
It’s an ironic truth that those we consider “saints” are also acutely aware of their own sinfulness and desperate need of God’s mercy. That was certainly true of Paul. As Thomas Merton, the late Catholic monk and writer has said, “A man becomes a saint not by the conviction that he is better than sinners, but by the realization that he is one of them, and that all together need the mercy of God.” The humility of the great saints is sincere, and it frees them from the burdens of self-righteousness and its related sin of judgmentalism. In fact, their honest self-awareness teaches them greater compassion and mercy for other people, since we all share the same fallen human nature.
On one occasion, Merton was granted permission by his abbot to travel to Louisville for medical treatment, and it was while he was waiting to cross the street of a busy downtown intersection during lunch hour that he had a powerful epiphany: “I was suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that I loved all of those people, that they were mine and I theirs, that we could not be alien to one another even though we were total strangers. It was as if I suddenly saw the secret beauty of their hearts, the depths of their hearts where neither sin nor desire can reach, the core of their reality, the person that each one of us is in God’s eyes. If only we could see each other that way all the time.” He seems to have been given a rare glimpse of divine compassion. Interestingly, there’s an historical marker at that street corner today marking that revelation.
Here, in writing to his apprentice Timothy, the Apostle Paul tells of God showing mercy and pouring out his grace on him, despite his past sins against the believers. And when he calls himself a “violent man,” he uses a word for describing a sadist who cruelly inflicts pain on others for his own pleasure. Paul had become so blinded by self-righteousness in persecuting the church that he couldn’t see the monster he had become.
Paul had been a Pharisee, from a family of Pharisees; it was part of his heritage, and in his blood. And as any reader of the Gospels knows, the Pharisees featured prominently, and almost always negatively, in their resistance to Jesus’ ministry. The name Pharisee means “separated one,” and that’s how they saw themselves. They were extremely scrupulous in their observance of the law, but to such an extreme that they also became stubbornly self-righteous and judgmental of Jesus and all of the marginal people he associated with--“sinners” who would never have attended the synagogue or Temple, and probably wouldn’t have been welcomed there if they had tried. Today we call them the lost and unchurched, and many of them would still never darken the doors of a church--nor feel welcome if they did, in many cases.
Instead, Jesus went to them, meeting them on common ground, on the streets and in their own homes, something that was anathema to the religious establishment. His mission was expressly to seek and save the lost, rather than to judge anyone. Paradoxically, his greatest opposition came from the religious community, for whom he reserved his harshest anger. Their stubborn self-righteousness had hardened their hearts. The example of the Pharisees in the Gospels is important for us even today, because it’s a kind of vocational hazard for religious people, including Christians.
It took a uniquely dramatic conversion experience in Paul’s case--being struck by a blinding light, followed by three days of blindness and silence--for him to reflect on his sin and his need for God’s mercy. From there he spent still another three years in the desert wilderness of Sinai, where God blazed into him what later became the source of his profound understanding of God’s mercy and grace. The driving force of his life was the realization of the depth of God’s forgiveness and compassion--first for him, and then for everyone else. He writes, “Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am the worst. But I was shown mercy, so that in me, the worst of sinners, Christ Jesus might display his unlimited long-suffering as an example for those who would believe in him and receive eternal life.”
Let’s notice two things about this: One, Paul uses the present tense: “I AM the worst of sinners,” not “I WAS.” Likewise in Romans 7 when he describes his struggle with sin, it’s not in the past tense, but present. Paul knows that he still has that same sinful nature within him, just as we all do, an inner tension and conflict between flesh and spirit.
Secondly, was Paul really “the worst of sinners,” or did he just know his own sins so much better than anyone else’s? In his own eyes, at least, he saw himself as being the worst sinner of all, for that reason. I know it’s been true for me as I’ve grown older and reflected back on my life and all the sins I hadn’t remembered or even been aware of at the time, from years gone by. It’s been very humbling, but redemptive, too. As Jesus said, “those who have been forgiven much, love much.” Even with an acute awareness of our own sin, we can more fully appreciate God’s rich mercy for us, and to love others more compassionately.
I once heard a Jewish Christian share a testimony of how his conversion had hinged on this truth. He told of reading the Gospel of John while he was exploring Christianity, and when he came to the story of the woman caught in adultery (chapter 8), it so happened that the page break was right at the place where her accusers had asked Jesus whether she should be stoned, as the Law commanded. He described pausing before turning the page, as one who had grown up under the severity of the law, and realizing how important that answer would be for him in how he saw Jesus.
He turned the page and read Jesus’ reply: “If any of you is without sin, let him be the first to throw a stone at her.” When her accusers had all left (the older ones leaving first, an interesting detail), Jesus asked her, “Does no one condemn you? Then neither do I. Now go and leave your life of sin.” For that Jewish man it was a powerful revelation of God’s merciful heart in Jesus, and it won his devotion.
Paul concludes,, “I was shown mercy, so that in me, the worst of sinners, Christ Jesus might reveal his endless patience (his infinite long-suffering) as an example for those who would believe in him and receive eternal life.” Our mindset, too, should be, “if God can save me, with all of my sins and faults, he can save anyone.” God’s compassionate, infinitely merciful love is the only hope any of us have. And it’s offered to everyone: “God is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance” (2 Peter 3:9). We’re all saved under the great mercy of God, and in no other way.
After sharing this very personal confession to Timothy, Paul breaks into praise: “Now to the King eternal, immortal, invisible, the only God, be honor and glory forever and ever. Amen.” And we can all join him in that spirit of our highest worship for his infinite mercy for us, and for all who will receive it. That’s our humble witness, too.
Amen.
