Exemplary Living (06/07/25-06/08/25)

I find rather a strong note of correction as concerns how I chose to outline this epistle.  To my thinking, back at the start, this last portion of chapter two was something distinct, simply discussing Paul’s plans with regard to Philippi.  And to be sure, that is being discussed here.  But by the time Philippi received this letter at least some portion of those plans would necessarily have become historical fact.  So, we should look more carefully for the reason behind this inclusion of plans at this point in the letter.

But before I get to that, just a quick note as concerns those plans.  A quick read might tend to make us think Timothy was bringing this letter their way, or perhaps that he and Epaphroditus would travel together in doing so.  But if we attend more closely, it seems more likely that Epaphroditus bore the letter with him as he returned home, thus supplying the most immediate addressing of their concerns.  Timothy would follow shortly thereafter, but his departure would wait until the outcome of Paul’s trial was more certain.  That’s not to say that the trial would be over before Timothy could depart, although that might be the case.  But it would suffice that the outcome was clear and the timing as well.  The JFB was helpful in this regard, noting the reason this was needful.  Epaphroditus was going home with no plan of rejoining Paul, so his departure had no need of settled schedule in order to proceed.  But Timothy, when he went, was expected to return, bringing back news of their situation to Paul, at least assuming the trial’s outcome left Paul alive and free.  That would require some settled plan of travel on his part, in order that Timothy could know where to meet him.  So, it might be that Paul expected a more circuitous route upon release, having many churches he needed to visit, or perhaps others that needed planting.  But those plans could not begin to settle into something like clarity until such time as this trial was of certain outcome.

That being said, travel plans are not topmost on his mind here.  They are a necessary component of determining how best to orchestrate Timothy’s deployment, but they aren’t the point.  The point, as Ironside advised in the previous verses, is to lay before us examples of the very things Paul encourages in his readers.  This explains why the later messenger is mentioned earlier.  If we take this idea that he sets himself, Timothy, and then Epaphroditus before them as examples of his instruction, I hesitate to say that they are ranked by order of importance, but it seems to me that they are, at least as running down the ranks of the officers of this army of the church.  And given his time amidst the Praetorian, it is perhaps natural that his thinking should tend to take on some of the military organizational aspect.  So, he starts with the general, as it were, the Apostle.  He then presents the centurion in Timothy, his chief colaborer, whom we might well account a captain of thousands.  Then, finally, we have the local commander in Epaphroditus.  It’s not that one is better than the other, or that one’s example outshines the other.  It’s simply walking down the ranks, and showing the same character at each level.  And each is shown to be living exactly as Paul is encouraging the Philippians to live.  This, then, is the point in including these travel plans.  It’s not to relay travel expectations, it’s to demonstrate the consistency of his doctrine.  It applies to all, and here you can see it.  Here you have seen it.

So, let’s get back to what that instruction was.  At core, it’s captured in this.  “Do nothing solely for self-interest, but consider the needs of others” (Php 2:4).  If I wished to extend my military analogy just a step farther, I might note that the first example Paul gave was not himself, but the Commander in Chief, Jesus.  He is the ultimate exemplar.  But we being creatures of an earthy nature have need of more tactile, visible models to follow.  So, God gave some as apostles, some as prophets, some as evangelists, some as pastors, some as teachers, and all so as to equip the saints for service (Eph 4:11-12).  However high one might be in the ranks of church leadership, that need for a model remains, and that need is supplied.  However low one might be in those ranks, God has seen to it that there should be in your immediate vicinity those whom you may look to as examples.

This, however, must lead us to matters of assessing whose example is worthy to be followed.  In that regard, we are back to Christ, as head over all the Church, as our primary example.  And we could take to the old Puritan directive to follow no man farther than he follows Christ.  And here, we are given something of a yardstick by which to measure.  Look at the nature of their ministry, of their service.  And look beyond those few hours in the pulpit.  Look to the testimony of their life.  Now, that must necessarily advise that we share more than those few hours together, that we have experience of one another beyond church events.  This used to be the norm, or at least more so than it is today.  Church was local.  Church was village in large part.  In New England particularly, towns were established around the church.  In our local case, we have towns that came into being because what had been the local church was now, due to increased population, and the need for farmland, too far for travel.  What to do?  Establish a new church that’s more local, and form a new town.  It’s not that we’re severing ties.  It’s that church was seen as central to life.  We could add notice of those many places where the establishing of such a town incorporated a covenant entered into by the populace.  But the central point is that the church was central, far more a matter of daily life.  And daily life, we might say, was likewise far more central to the life of the church.  Pastors made it a point to visit their congregants at home, and congregants in general welcomed such visits.  People knew each other.  People could observe the examples of one another’s daily lives.

When Paul, Silas, and Timothy were ministering in Philippi, it wasn’t just a quick tent meeting and off to their private lives.  It was constant.  I have to say this differs just a bit from our experience with these Africa trips.  We minister by day, but return to our privacy in the evening.  I don’t suggest that we suddenly become different people once we’ve been dropped off for the night, not at all.  But we’re on our own for the most part.  Yes, to be sure, we are observed.  After all, the staff at the lodge consists of locals, and I’m sure they have more interactions with the bishop and his people than just these few days of our visit.  If we were inconsistent, living like heathens in our off hours, I have no doubt but that this would become known.  But here with Paul and his team, it’s stronger.

I can’t help but come back to that book I refer to so often, “You Have No Rights.”  I should reread that soon.  It was written by a missionary as something of a forewarning to missionaries to understand what they’re signing on for.  There are no off hours.  There is no private life versus work life.  You know, when I see that it is 5PM of a weekday, the laptop powers down, and work life is done away.  I’m not saying it gets no thought at all, but such thought as it may get is minimal, and not about to make the jump into action.  Not so the missionary.  The doors are always open.  The curious are always present.  And how appropriate such a mindset is to a pastor, for every pastor is, after a fashion, a missionary.  It’s just that some serve in more amenable settings than others.  The instruction remains the same.  “Do nothing from self-interest.”  Now consider that we who believe are declared to be a nation of priests, a royal priesthood to make known the glory of God (1Pe 2:9). Obviously, I paraphrase rather loosely here, but not so as to change the gist of it.  We are under this same guidance.  We have no rights.  We are never not representing God.  There is no off switch on the life of faith.

And so, we come to this warning note, a call to self-assessment, in verse 21.  What’s driving us?  Are we more concerned with the purpose of God or with our own pursuits?  It’s not that we must set aside all pleasure, devote ourselves to some life of asceticism.  That’s not the point, and it won’t work anyway.  Many have counseled just such a response, but Scripture itself rejects it.  What is called for is attentiveness, purposefulness, if you will.  Calvin observes that warm pursuit of our own interests leads to unreasonable coolness towards the purposes of God.  We may not think so.  And it’s not, as I say, a call for full stop on all personal interests.  How could it be?  Certainly, our employments are a matter of self-interest, as we seek to supply food, clothing, shelter, and so on for ourselves and our family. Nor is there anything inherently sinful in appreciating the arts, or nature, or sports.   I think the key factor here is, ‘warm pursuit.’  It’s when our passion for our hobbies, or for our bank accounts, or what have you rise to such levels as swamp out everything else.  Then we have indeed entered that condition Jesus warns of, seeking to serve two masters.  Can’t be done.  “No one can serve two masters; for either one he will hate and love the other, or he will hold to one and despise the other.  You cannot serve God and mammon” (Mt 6:24).  Now, let us observe that this is not a rejection of income.  Jesus is not discussing the relative merits of capitalism and communism.  What’s in view is, to follow Strong’s definitions, avarice, wealth personified and deified.

Okay.  It’s not just wealth.  We can get this way with any number of things, not least being our sense of self, and a desire for admiration.  I would say I have to be cautious in regards to music in this regard.  It means much to me, and has about as long as I can remember.  I love hearing it.  I love creating it.  And to be sure, my tastes may not be to everybody’s liking.  I will openly confess, and often do, that I don’t particularly care for much of what passes for modern Christian worship simply because it doesn’t rise to the same levels of skill as the things I do listen to.  For all that, my own playing doesn’t often rise to that level.  But care must be taken, that this does not become such a passion as leads to coolness towards God’s purposes.

I could say the same of these studies, of dining out, of walks in the woods, any number of things.  But I do think that for me the primary point of concern is going to be that of music.  It is worthwhile to assess where I am with that, particularly with this recent drive to learn guitar.  It is something of a consuming business, that.  It takes time.  It takes more time that I would have thought.  But maybe I just never noticed how much time I was taking with say, saxophone or keyboard as I became more familiar with those.  Or maybe I’m just grown older and the new skills come more slowly.  But I pray God keeps me aware, and guards me from such passion for this new thing as would lead to disregard of His plans and purposes.

I will observe a couple of warnings, or correctives, in regard to prayer.  They may seem somewhat tangential to the matter of this passage, but I am certain that such plans and expectations as Paul is discussing here have come as a result of prayerful consideration.  But what is prayerful consideration?  Is it sufficient that having thought through our intentions we seek God’s blessing on the conclusion?  Or, is it acceptable that we simply conclude whatever we decided must be God’s desire, and thank Him for the guidance?  Either of these approaches, it seems to me, run the distinct risk of proving to be attempts to direct God rather than seeking direction from Him.  We can dress it up in as much performative piety as we like, but the performance isn’t determinative, rather the underlying motivation.

Mind you, I am not unfamiliar with those flashes of spiritual intuition, as we might describe them, the plan or purpose forming seemingly out of the blue.  Or, I may experience it as an idea that is so apart from my usual thinking as to be foreign to me, and yet clearly directive.  I suppose I would argue those pre-conversion occasions that stick so much in mind are of just such a nature, where thought and action took such a turn from my own intentions onto another course of action.  I could also point to a couple of occasions, at least, where thought intruded upon me as I made my commute, warning of things ahead.  There was, for instance, the occasion when I was making my way up a relatively narrow back way to work, and the warning thought came that there was a car coming the other way over the rise ahead.  There were none of the usual telltales, such as headlights reflecting off the power lines, just this inward voice telling me it was so, on basis of which I steered closer to the curb.  And lo!  There was indeed a car, and had I not edged over, there would have been an accident.

Now, that’s a much different sort of experience, not a seeking direction at all, and not particularly prayerful, for all that, other than gratitude expressed after the fact.  I bring it up first, I suppose, because it has come to mind this morning, but then also to say that yes, it is possible, from my direct experience, that God will indeed speak within to guide.  Yet, I would also say that this memory stands out for its rarity.  Does that really mean such occasions are intentionally rare by His design, or does this point to a spiritual regressive gene of some sort on my part?  I don’t know as I could say.  I see some who seem to feel their every thought and decision is in fact thus inspired by God’s inward informing of their thoughts, and I must say, I find it entirely suspect.  It becomes too much of a commonplace for me to accept that this is God breaking through.  Honestly, I can’t imagine He feels the need to be consulted on such matters as going for a walk or whether to do the dishes.

Perhaps I am wrong, but I still incline to suppose that God expects us to grow up and mature.  There are enough calls in Scripture for maturity in the believer.  And certainly, I would expect the maturation of my own child to demonstrate in her capacity to choose rightly without needing to consult me on every little thing.  Yes, I expect she might turn to me or to her mother in times of big decision, or complex, difficult matters.  But character and maturity demonstrate in that they no longer need to ask.  They know the right thing to do.  And then, importantly, they do it.

This would be my second caution in regard to seeking direction in prayer.  Where prayer is not accompanied by action, there is a distinct risk that our prayers are pointless.  It would be rather like asking directions to such and such a place and then, when directions had been received, simply going home and going to bed.  What was the point?  Or, to take somewhat of the example James offers, let it be supposed we encounter a brother in need.  We see the need, and we inform our brother that we shall pray for him.  And perhaps we even do so, though I suspect that as often as not we forget and get on with life.  But for James even were we to stop right there and pray, “God, help my brother!” if we then simply continue on our way, what value had that prayer?  Was not God giving direction even by this encounter?  Was He not setting you up for one of those good works He put in place for you to do?  And did you do it?  Did you consider your part in this complete because you tossed off a few words of prayer?  Honestly, how sincere even was that prayer?  Was it heartfelt, or just something you felt obliged to do in that situation?

You see all this really does touch on the passage before us.  Paul began this letter with the observation that he is, “always offering prayer with joy in my every prayer for you all.”  And that prayer has led to these plans of action.  It’s not enough that I pray for you.  It’s not enough that I am sending these few words of guidance and encouragement.  I am sending Epaphroditus, whom you sent to help me, that he may again help you.  I am sending Timothy, my most trustworthy and steadfast companion, a man after my own heart with an equally genuine, sincere, natural concern for your welfare.  I am taking action on these prayers to the degree I am able.  I am doing everything in my power for you and trusting God to do all that is not in my power.  I am doing just as I have called you to do, and putting your need above my own comfort, my own need.

In point of fact, however it is that Paul has arrived at these plans, we should understand that he is not simply pursuing his own purposes, however rightly intended those purposes may be.  He is fully submitting himself to the providence of God.  His sending of Timothy is a distinct case of, “Thy will be done.”  And I dare say that same applies equally to Timothy’s acquiescing to the mission.  This isn’t just doing what the boss says.  It is acceding to God’s will.  How did they determine that this must be God’s will?  To be sure, prayer was involved.  But I think more, it was character formed after His character, informed by His self-revelation such that the right course of action did not require some great agony of soul to discern.  It may have taken some wrestling to accept, but not to perceive.  Hearing of their situation, the right thing to do was clear, though some prayerful thought likely went into perceiving the best way of addressing it.  Then, for Paul in particular, there may indeed have been some wrestling in prayer to be willing to the personal cost involved in following through.

But for Timothy, this mission was not going to be a pleasure trip, as Matthew Henry observes.  This was ministry.  It was ministry for their good, done at no small cost to Timothy himself.  As I noted, his clear devotion to Paul must make such a departure at least a bit painful to him.  It’s not some grand adventure such as we might count a trip across country, or a visit to Europe or Africa or some other foreign locale.  There won’t be tour boats and tour guides.  There won’t be a Europass, or gala dinners.  This is ministry.  This is sacrificial living.  This is truly setting the good of others above one’s own comfort and desire.

I have, based on recent thoughts, gone back to reread that book on the life of the missionary, discovering that I have recalled the title incorrectly, though not the point.  The correct title is, “Have We No Rights?”  But the conclusion is captured in my misremembered version, “You Have No Rights.”  You’re not there for you.  You’re not there to show your more comfortable ways to these poor foreigners.  You are there to minister, to serve.  You do realize these terms are synonymous, don’t you?  Ministry isn’t about gain.  It isn’t about plaudits.  It’s about pouring yourself out to address the deepest spiritual needs of those to whom you minister.

When we go to Malawi, it’s not about living large, certainly.  It’s not about sight-seeing in some exotic land, though the sights are very much out of our ordinary.  It’s about coming alongside our brothers and sisters, being with them and sharing in their experiences as fully as we are able.  Yes, that means long days in a hot and dusty building.  Yes, that may involve endless drives in a crowded and rather uncomfortable van, being stopped repeatedly by a less than benign constabulary.  It will mean eating foods of questionable purity.  It will mean, in large degree, doing worship their way, accepting their customs even when they are a bit uncomfortable.  Yes, the music’s likely to be louder than you’d like.  Yes, there may be aspects of their approach that perhaps bother our sensibilities.  And we’re there to teach, and teach from sound doctrine.  But there’s a place for that, and a place for allowing for conscience.  We are not there to play overlord, or to insist that no!  Your worship and ministry must resemble our own!  By all means, there are aspects of what makes inroads in such places that must be addressed and countered.  But if we are more nearly Reformed in our understanding and they more Pentecostal, what of it?  These are not conflicts in need of resolution.  These are brothers in need of deeper engagement with the revealed word of God, even as ourselves.

The same would hold in Zambia, in Lesotho, or wherever else we may go.  These are brothers in the Lord.  However culturally distinct their practice, however different their ministerial priorities, we serve one God in one Spirit as members of one universal body of the Church.  Our hearts and minds must be fully engaged in the care of souls.  If we become too much about philosophies and, as Ironside terms them, ‘abstract ideas of truth,’ we shall serve no better purpose than those debaters on Mars Hill.  Debate is not the point.  Laying down some set of rules beyond Scripture, telling them they must do this, they must not do that, is to run headlong down the course of the Pharisees.  Far be it from us!  We come alongside, not as lording it over our brothers, but as seeking opportunity to learn from and be refreshed by one another.  We do so as following Christ as best we may.  And we recognize that our brothers are doing likewise.  To the degree we can help one another in that pursuit, we do well to help.  To the degree that pushing our perspective would prove a hindrance to the progress of the kingdom of God, let us be still.

I suppose there’s something of that same to be said as we gather locally.  Our church is not one given to tests of doctrinal purity.  To be sure, there are the fundamentals upon which no disagreement can be allowed.  There are doctrines apart from which one cannot rightly claim to be a Christian.  If, for example, you deny the deity of Christ, in what way are you a Christian?  If you reject the Truine Personhood of God, in what way are you proclaiming God as He reveals Himself to be?  If you are still convinced that you’re going to earn your own way into heaven on your own merits, or that everybody must do precisely thus and so or be damned eternally, how is this the Gospel?  Yet, on those matters that have always been subject to debate within the larger community of the church; the familiar disagreements between Arminius and Calvin, for example, or the endless questions regarding the interplay of God’s sovereignty and man’s free will such as it may be; here we can, and must, agree to disagree.  These are not, in and of themselves, cause to divide and reject.  They may, if feelings run too strong, be reason to decamp to another congregation more suited to our opinions, but not as rejecting our current church as heretical, no.  It becomes a departure in pursuit of preserving unity in that case, and we can still pray for one another, still work alongside one another in the ministry of the gospel.  It may be, I suppose, that we do so only on special occasions in such a case, but it can still transpire.

I’ll wrap up this part of my study with a couple of references to Ironside’s comments.  The first I’ve already touched on.  Let our hearts, like Paul, like Timothy, be more concerned with the souls of those to whom we minister than about abstract ideas of truth.  This may be primarily for the pastor and elders, but not exclusively so.  When we meet with a fellow believer, should not the same be true?  I know my brother, with whom I meet regularly, wants so very much to steer conversation into avenues of faith, and rightly so.  I know, too, how readily things can go off course into matters of church polity and direction which, while related certainly, can verge too near to gossip and gainsaying, which are valueless pursuits however one may clothe them.  But if we can discuss matters of faith, and more, of faith’s impact on the soul, this will be to the good.

Finally, which really brings me back to the ostensible point of this section, we have here the second example Paul puts forward for emulation.  As Ironside writes, “Timothy followed Paul as Paul followed Christ.”  In doing so, he serves well as Paul’s second example of one who manifests that which he is encouraging.  “Have this attitude in yourselves which was also in Christ Jesus” (Php 2:5).  Here in Timothy, you have the example of what that looks like.  You know it.  You have seen it in him.  So learn from him, as you have learned from me.  Learn from him as learning from me.  Follow him as he follows Christ.  And proceed from there to live such that those who follow you will likewise be following Christ.  This is our call, each and every one of us without exception.  It was for this that we were created.  It is to this that we have been called.

Assessment (06/09/25/06/10/25)

I am going to spend a bit of time considering the difference between judgment and assessment.  We are warned not to judge, but then immediately turned to consideration of the measure by which we judge.  “Do not judge lest you be judged.  For in the way you judge, you will be judged.  By the standard of measure, it will be measured to you…  You hypocrite!  First get the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother’s eye” (Mt 7:1-2, Mt 7:5).  It seems to be best summed up in John’s account of a different occasion.  “Do not judge according to appearance, but judge with righteous judgment” (Jn 7:24).  This is perhaps the best distinction to make between judgment and assessment.  We must assess, and we ought to assess by the wisdom of God’s Truth.  What is generally complained of in judgment is that we tend to impose our own standards, with little or no regard for God’s.

But if I might, I think I might zero in on that interjection in the course of Jesus’ teaching.  “You hypocrite!”  That is the log we need most to watch for in ourselves.  And yes, any assessment must begin with an honest assessment of ourselves.  Does that call for perfection before we can think to assess anybody else?  I don’t see how it could without thus forbidding any sort of opinion about others, or even about circumstances.  But we cannot assess rightly in regard to others if we cannot assess rightly in regard to ourselves.  And if we do so consider our own case, it will lend a certain humility and compassion to our regard for others.  Seek not to criticize but to understand.  Seek not to denounce but to edify.

It’s easy for us to sit in judgment over the pastor for his message, over the elder for his decision, over the worship leader for his choice of music, and so on.  It’s easy because, by our lights, there is no opportunity for repercussions, nor is there any real chance of a like assessment in regard to us, if we are just on the sidelines, just bench-sitters in the church.  Mind you, those who are active may have already made an assessment or a judgment on that very basis.  But we are unlikely to give it much thought there on the bench.  Far better, though, that we should begin with an honest viewing of our own estate.

It may be that this is a far greater danger for the one who maintains a strong sense of the perseverance of the saints.  We see how often this devolves to a, “once saved, always saved,” attitude which, while the premise stated is valid, leads to a life that gives no evidence of having been once saved.  This is not something new, and it’s not something reserved to the Roman Catholic view, where many suppose their baptism and first communion and such have rendered them safe against even the most persistently sinful lifestyle.  But Scripture gives place to such perspective.  “What shall we say then?  Are we to continue in sin that grace may increase?  No way!  How shall we who died to sin still live in it?” (Ro 6:1-2).  Now, that may sound a call to perfect holiness in this life, but we know too well, if our eyes are open, that such cannot be the case.  So does Paul, who continues to the observation that he is at war within himself, body at war with mind, leading him, who wishes to do good to do what is sinful (Ro 7:21, Ro 7:23).  Where, then, the answer?  “Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!” (Ro 7:25a).  But this is no get out of jail free card.  It is the answer for our too frequent lapses, but not for giving in.

Come to John’s assessment.  “If we say we have no sin, we are deceiving ourselves.  The truth is not in us.  But if we confess our sins, He is faithful and righteous to forgive us, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.  Still, if we say that we have not sinned, we make God a liar, and His word is not in us” (1Jn 1:8-10).  There is a vast difference between sin as one’s lifestyle, and sin that comes of a lapse in judgment, or a period of weakness.  Observe, though, that our standing, if indeed we stand in Christ, remains untouched.  If we have made honest assessment, and found ourselves wanting, confessed our failing and our inability to change, He is faithful to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.  Look!  That last bit was done at the cross.  “He who has bathed needs only to wash his feet, but is completely clean.  You are clean, but not all of you” (Jn 13:10).  This, of course, follows upon, “If I do not wash you, you have no part in Me” (Jn 13:8).  The clear implication being that if He does, you do.  He has cleansed you from all unrighteousness.  But beware!  “Our standing before God is one thing; our actual state is another.”  That comment from Ironside just jumps off the page at you, doesn’t it?  This is our situation.  This is what we’ve been talking about.  You are clean.  That’s your standing before God.  But your feet are dirty.  They need washing.  We’ve been walking in a world of sin, and the dust of sin is bound to get on us.  But we must assess.  We must judge ourselves, consider our actions, recognize our guilt, and repent of those deeds which have dirtied us.

Only when we have achieved some level of honest regard for our own condition can we be fit to consider others.  But in a world full of men and women who would call us to follow them, judgment, right assessment, becomes crucial.  If we don’t recognize the danger, we will fall prey to it.  You see, as regards these who call us to follow them, it’s not their claims so much that prove the point.  They can sound wonderful, and they may even proclaim much that is true.  But are they genuine?  Do they follow their own tenets?  You see, there are two aspects that must be considered, both the content and the consistency.  The same must be said of us.  An unbelieving world, having learned of your Christian faith, will be looking to your consistency of practice and character as evidence for or against your faith.  This, it seems to me, has become far more pronounced in our present day, perhaps to the point of foolishness.  But let the younger generations see the least inconsistency in your walk, and you will be dismissed out of hand, and your God with you.  If your lives are not consistent with your claims, the conclusion is made that your claims are just one more pile of rubbish.  Take heed!

Take heed to the example you set, and don’t suppose your activities in the safe environs of the physical church suffice.  Another point from Ironside, that is well worth consideration.  “It is quite possible to be an admired teacher on whose words thousands hang and yet be a vain self-seeker.”  Now, hearing this, most of us likely turn our thoughts immediately to the man in the pulpit.  Or, perhaps we tend, given the negative aspect, to think more about this televangelist or that one.  Perhaps our view in regard to televangelists renders us suspicious of any person with a national or international reach, and we begin to assume they are suspect, that their more private lives will one day be exposed as demonstrating a character that would appear to invalidate all that they taught.  But be careful here!  The content of the message, if in fact that content is true, must certainly stand in spite of the poor choice of messenger.  Having just recently read the account in Numbers, I must note that the prophecies of Balaam were no less true for his falsity.  Truth remains true no matter the one who speaks it.  And that, I think, is the thing this current generation has lost sight of.  Truth is true, however false the messenger, for Truth is, at base, the revealing of God who is Truth, and God does not change, is not altered by those in whom we find alteration.  We are not so much, then, discussing the message, the Truth that we most assuredly should follow, as we are the one who, by position, by office, or merely by prideful claim, insists we should follow their example.

Consider what became of the so-called apostolic office in the post-Apostolic age.  Or, consider what became of the office of bishop in far too many cases.  These became, particularly in the latter part of the first millennia, and well into the second, matters of profit and grandiosity.  You can still see it, I think, in the pageantry of papal succession, or in the ornate displays of the ascension of a new king or queen to the throne, when it comes to those bishops tasked with bringing the church’s blessing to that ascension.  It’s all pride and profit, rich clothing and rich meals.  But, as Clarke observes from a place far nearer the worst excesses of Catholic officialdom, the office of apostle and the office of bishop were never intended to be sinecures, a secure income for the indolent, or the pathway to a life of ease.  From the outset, these were offices given to hard labor on behalf of the Church.  Paul, and the other Apostles as well, were not given to sitting in palatial residences to have their pastors and teachers come pay homage and bow before them.  They were out in the fields for harvest.

So, do we judge?  Do we assess?  Yes, we assuredly do, and that assessment, I think, must be twofold.  There is, first and perhaps foremost, the assessment of that which is being taught.  Here, we must be as the Bereans; not looking with jaundiced eye, seeking any least reason to reject the whole, but with hopefulness seeking to discern whether indeed this Gospel is true.  But look how often we are warned that not all claims to Gospel truth are equal!  “I don’t care if it’s a man or an angel.  I don’t care if it’s me who comes preaching some new gospel contrary to what I’ve already taught you.  Let such a one be accursed.  I’ve said it before, and I say it again now:  If anyone is preaching a contrary gospel to you, let him be accursed” (Gal 1:8-9).  There is one Truth.  One.  Many a solid teacher has, in his closing years, begun to speak contrary to the truth he once held dear.  Beloved, that does not invalidate the whole body of what he taught.  It demonstrates the weakness of this flesh, and the sinfulness of sin.  So, as to the message, receive what accords with the revealed Truth, and dismiss that which does not. 

But we have yet the second aspect of example, both theirs and our own.  It’s down to this: “You know his proven worth.”  You know how he, like Paul, threw himself at the work of the kingdom, gave themselves to those to whom God sent them to minister.  You see it repeatedly in Paul’s letters.  You know how I lived when I was with you, not making demands but seeing to my own provision so as to be no burden to you.  You saw how I devoted myself to seeing you duly instructed in the doctrines of Christ.  You saw to what lengths I would gladly go to uphold the glory of the Lord and make Him known.  You know that I taught nothing but that which I myself have devoted my life to do.  And you know that when I call Timothy a man after my own soul, it’s not hyperbole.  He shares the same earnest, heart-felt care for you that I do, and you know it.

If there’s one thing that quickly set Paul and his ministry apart it was that he was in no way in it for the money.  Now, that might seem an odd point to emphasize in regard to perhaps the one church that had reliably given him financial support.  Yet it was as true of them as anywhere else.  He did not take pay from them to deliver to them the gospel, nor was this epistle, nor Timothy’s visit a response or reward for them having sent support to him.  You see, he knew them as well, and their proven joyful, loving support of all the saints.  Observe that this is the thing he most readily approves and endorses in the church.  Your love is known.  Your warm welcome is a byword.  God’s grace is evident in your own.

So, on either side of the observation, whether Apostle or convert, claims of faith and knowledge aren’t the point.  It’s the genuineness of the character behind the claim.  It’s the clearly observed correspondence of the inward character to the outward display.  For the minister, in whatever capacity, this is crucial.  To view that office as some ticket to a life of ease and honor is to abuse the office.  That is as true of deacon and elder as of pastor and evangelist.  Now, I should have to say that for the general congregation it would be well to recognize that no such life is truly on offer in the office.  Yes, there are so-called ministries which promote the minister and his creature comforts as their primary purpose.  God wants me to have a second personal jet, or this vast mansion and grounds, wants me blinged out to show how richly He rewards His favorites:  These are the ideas of the false apostle.  This is a different gospel than that which was delivered once for all to the saints.  And, as Paul so loudly proclaims, “let them be accursed!”  Or, at the very least, let them be roundly corrected and brought to the truth.

But when you see in your pastor one whose care for his flock is evident, one who comes alongside in the work of ministry, both in public, visible ways, and in private address of the needs of those in his care; then know that this is not one who has taken his office as a ticket to fame and fortune.  Indeed, if you find such a pastor, or such a fellow Christian, heed Paul’s advice and emulate such men and women.  Know this, the pastor who has taken to a life of ease is no pastor, has not the necessary gift.  But he who is devoted to service, even to the relinquishing of the normal proprieties of life?  His is a true pastoral gift.  His is a character worth considering, worth seeking for one’s own.

Now, this is not a consideration for leadership alone.  I believe I’ve already noted the point, but we are a nation of priests.  Certainly, in our church, as in many others, we would hold that all believers are called to minister, all should be capable of presenting the gospel, applying its truths in wisdom, and thus supplying both sound counsel and evangelistic outreach to those they know.  How society seeks to quell this in us, to keep us to the privacy of our own thoughts!  And I don’t think it’s exclusively the Christian that is thus silenced, though it may be that we tend to be the more inclined to such efforts.  I don’t know.  The Muslim or the Hindu are able to advertise their faith by their garb, or by certain habits.  They are visibly distinct.  So, too, the Jew, the Jehovah’s Witness to some degree, the LDS adherent.  But the Christian tends to blend in more, as to appearance.  Indeed, as I’ve been rereading that book, “Have We No Rights?” one of the strong points made is that the missionary must seek to blend in with the society he or she would reach to the degree possible within the tenets of faith.  Live like they live.  Eat what they eat.  Don’t show off your differences.  Show your unity.

It need be no different here at home.  After all, we are as much in the mission field here as abroad.  We are more in the mission field at work and in the shops, certainly, than in the church.  In the church we are among family, surrounded by those primarily of like faith.  Yes, there are unbelievers, or those only barely arrived at faith, and they need our example, too.  But when we are out at large in the community, we are missionaries, whether we choose to recognize that fact or not.  We are, after all, called into being by God in order that we may represent Him, bear His image before a watching world and yes, inform them that they, too, bear His image, and as such, bear moral responsibility for how they do so.  As do we.

So, come to this quote from the JFB.  “Most help only when Christ’s gain is compatible with their own.”  That, I think, speaks more to the laity than the clergy.  I hope it does.  If you’ve gone into professional ministry with a mind set on your own goals and programs, it’s probably best you find a new trade.  You’re not suited for this one.  But for most, the lifestyle of the pastor is enough to weed out the misguided in fairly short order.  The pay is low and the hours long and the emotional cost high.  If you’re in it without the requisite spiritual gifts, I can see only two outcomes.  Either you won’t be in it for long, or you’ll be in the very sort of ministry that I have held up in the negative, which is to say, you are no minister of truth, but proponent of a false gospel.

Okay.  But what about you, believer?  What about me?  Does that statement above describe us too well?  Am I such as will only pursue Christ’s purposes when it suits me, happens to align with my personal interests?  I have to confess that there are avenues of service that hold little or no appeal for me, others to which I naturally incline.  Serve on the worship team?  Absolutely!  Teach a class?  Sure, especially if you’re asking me to teach Scripture, and not the latest book of the month.  But then, too, those assignments, when the come, come at a cost.  To truly serve on the worship team means giving time above and beyond service, above and beyond even those organized practices, in order that for those few minutes in active service, what is offered may be as it should be.  And honestly, I don’t give it nearly so much as I probably should.  No doubt, it shows.

What of preaching?  I’ve only really done it the once, but the amount of time required to bring forth so brief a message is stunning.  And the weight of delivering that message, of seeking to live that message!  I say again, it’s nothing you can do apart from the gift of God, not for any length of time.  It would drain you utterly.   I could think back to that first journey over to Malawi.  I recall when Pastor first started to plant the idea, asking if I’d be interested.  I was polite, but honestly, my immediate gut reaction was that this was not something in my wheelhouse, not likely at all, no.  And yet, over time, God would seem to have impressed upon me that here was the place He had for me to be active, and having heeded that impression, I have to say it’s been an experience I value deeply, and one I hope to continue in.  Why?  Not least because in pursuing this ministry, I have learned so much more fully to lean into God, to draw from His rich supply in pursuit of His desire.  I have also learned just how draining and disheartening it is when I try to achieve the same end on my own steam.

But I also recognize how often I beg off from some ministry activity or other because it doesn’t happen to suit my inclinations, or it encroaches too much on time I want or need for myself.  Come to a Saturday workday?  Honestly, I barely do that much for my own property, let alone coming out to spread mulch over there.  Fellowship gatherings?  I know the value and the need.  I have spoken of the value and the need.  And yet, comes time to participate and it just feels too awkward.  I’ll pass.  Or, it’s too early; rushes me too much post-workday.  Or, it’s too late and keeps me past my bedtime.  Honestly, I can be quite selfish and self-involved in regard to such things.  But the call is there, isn’t it?  Live worthy of the reputation you would have.  I’ve often quoted that song from my youth, “If you’re a believer, what do you believe?”  But the answer to such quizzing can’t be mere words of explanation, though we ought to be ready to give answer to those whose questions are in earnest.  No.  The real answer comes of living as you say you believe.

Here's something painfully honest.  You and I do live as we believe.  Whatever our words may say, our lives tell the real story.  So, if you would have the true measure of yourself, have a look.  If you would have the measure of me, have a look.  Does belief in the word of God truly inform and shape my life?  Is faith evident in my character?  Look, we can assess ourselves on this, but only if we can be honest with ourselves.  That, I suppose, might be a first measure.  Are we busy excusing ourselves for those character flaws that we recognize but still hold more dear than true holiness?  Or, do we acknowledge the sinful proclivities, and seek real repentance, real reparation for those places where we’ve done real harm by our actions and our words?  Do we own up or cover up?

Living worthy of your reputation, or of your position as an image-bearer doesn’t require perfection.  I mean, it does.  God requires perfection.  “Be perfect as your Father is perfect” (Mt 5:48).  That’s not hyperbole.  That’s the true measure.  It’s also impossible in ourselves, and we are wise to recognize that, to own up to that, to confess that, and to convey that truth to those we would convince of truth.  We can’t maintain the perfection we desire, that our Father desires and requires.  But we can acknowledge our failures and exhibit a real appreciation for the forgiveness we know we have in Him.  We can also, by our emulation of Him, demonstrate the character of God by forgiving those who have wronged us, or whom we at least suppose to have wronged us, as freely and as thoroughly as we have been forgiven.  And we can own our failures, seek forgiveness in our own turn, and look to how we can make things right.

The world needs to know that perfect holiness is as beyond us as it is beyond them.  But it also needs to know that God has made a way.  The world really needs lessons in the reality of forgiveness just now.  It has become a thoroughly unforgiving place, governed by anger, resentment, and hostility towards the slightest grievance.  We no longer now how to disagree harmoniously.  We are no longer devoted to serving one another, only to having things our way.  And that attitude simply will not serve in the household of God.

I have set us a challenge.  I have set myself a challenge.  For I need not look much beyond yesterday to find countless examples of my own failure to bear God’s image, and failure to own my own shortcomings.  I can only set myself to do better today, and pray God would grant that it be so.  I know this, though:  God hasn’t given up on me, and he won’t give up on you.  God doesn’t leave my future to chance.  He hasn’t set up a maze and dropped me in it to see whether I will find the exit or die trying.  He is with me.  He is ever with me, ever calling, ever guiding, ever taking my hand to turn me back in the Way.  And thank God for it!  But I pray I might, with the passing days and years, learn to walk more steadily in that Way.  And by God’s grace, I shall.  But may the Spirit keep me mindful of my failings, that I might be actively at work to improve.  And may I learn the devotion to His service that ought to fill me.  May I find it in me, by His power, to be more selfless without becoming resentful.

Sovereign God (06/11/25-06/12/25)

I’m going to come back to the first part of this passage, but also look to the last.  Discussion of plans for Timothy begins with “I hope in the Lord Jesus,” and concludes with, “I trust in the Lord.”  We need to consider how we hear these phrases, and how we should.  It’s not just a bit of Christianese jargon.  I may reflect a goodly amount of preceding prayer that has led to these plans he has.  But as we have discussed previously, on many occasions, this hope is not the wishful maybe of common parlance.  It’s not in the same category as, “Boy, I wish so and so would get their act together,” or, “I wish I could fly,” or, “I wish I were doing better in battling this besetting sin.”  It’s not even on the same plane as, “I plan to go on vacation next month,” or, “I hope to see you again this November.”  All of these wishes, these hopes and plans are necessarily of a contingent nature, regardless the seeming likelihood of events from our perspective.

I may fully expect to be at work next week.  But I have no knowledge of what events might transpire between now and then that might preclude such expectations.  I expect to pick up my guitar later this morning and practice, but I cannot be assured that this will come to pass.  Who knows what might arise in the next few hours?  I don’t.  I like to think I do.  I like to think my days are well ordered and inclined to run their habitual course.  But disturbances arise.  Events unforeseen cause us to shift to meet the occasion.

Well, these hopes, this trust Paul expresses are of a different nature in that they rest upon a different source.  We have expectations, but they are fundamentally matters of our personal efforts and wants.  Paul’s expectations are hinged upon his best understanding of God’s intentions.  We can wonder after just how he has arrived at this certainty.  Has he read something in Scripture that leads him to conclude on this course of action?  Has he heard an audible in the course of praying, such that he has certain, call it revelatory knowledge of God’s plans in regard to himself?  I think, if that were the case, he would likely have made more prominent mention of it.  But however he has come to be of this mind, his is a confident, expectant hope, and why?  Because it is focused on the Lord Jesus.

What do I mean by that?  Well, I think there is a two-fold point to it.  At its foundation there is this:  He has come to know his God truly, more fully than ever.  He knows God’s love of him, and God’s love of His church.  He knows his mission, as God has made it known to him.  And he knows that the churches, as they stand, remain a mission as yet incomplete.  There is more to be done in seeing those foundations well laid.  He sees the need of those who have come to Christ through his ministry, and he knows of no one whom God has equipped in like fashion to himself to address those needs.  For one, they need authoritative answers to their concerns.  And they need those answers from one who truly cares for them, cares for God’s kingdom, and not just about their own reputation, their own office.  His confident expectations, then, come of a strong sense of God’s character and purpose.  However that has been derived, that’s what drives.

At the same time, Paul remains firmly aware that he is not God.  He doesn’t have some concrete promise of God to which he can point and say, “Here!  Here is my absolute assurance of outcome in this present circumstance.”  I do think that it comes to pass with many a senior believer that they have a sense of when their mission here is complete.  I expect we’ve all had occasion to witness one who knows it’s time, and is fully content in that.  We’ve likely known others who came to their last moment unexpectedly, and whose degree of preparation could not be known.  And there are plenty who are doing everything in their power to stay that day, whether from a sense of uncompleted purpose, or simply from dread of their end.

So, as I say, we have this first cause for confidence in that his plans and expectations are formulated upon his best understanding of God’s character and God’s purposes.  To be sure, everything he discusses here is predicated on concern to see the gospel preached and taking root.  It’s all to the purpose of edifying the church.  As such, he can at least be confident that his plans are not mere matters of personal delight.  What delight can there be in expecting to walk into a situation one must take pains to correct?  What delight is there in having to confront some false teacher?  There is necessity, to be sure.  And there is joy in the hoped-for outcome of a church led clear of such disastrous influences, equipped to better stand in the truth and grow.  But the event itself?  I know for me it would be a hard pass, thanks.  I’d be there with Moses suggesting that surely God could find a better man for the job.  But Paul has, for some twenty odd years now, been a man devoted to the purposes of God, a man ready and willing to be directed by Him, even when those directions run counter to expectations; even when those directions run headlong into personal danger.

Think of how it came about that he had gone to Philippi in the first place.  He was set to turn east into Asia and plant churches in the regions of his upbringing.  But God said no.  We are not told the details of how this was said.  We do know there came a vision in the night, beckoning Paul westward instead.  Say what you will of dreams and visions, in this case, the source would seem very clearly to have been God.  And so, he went west, for that was the direction God indicated.  And behold how fruitful the result!  But then, he was just as ready to pursue the direction of God’s choosing when warned of what awaited in Jerusalem.  Oh, but Paul!  You will be bound in chains.  This could be your end.  Ah!  But Paul knew one thing, and that was firmly based on revealed knowledge of God’s plans.  He was to proclaim the gospel before kings and rulers, and that had not as yet come to pass.  Meanwhile, he had firm direction in bringing this contribution of the Gentiles to the support of the Jerusalem church.  As to what might befall him there?  God has him, and God knows.

This gets us to the other half of these hopes and trusts that Paul expresses.  Here, as I have said, it does not appear that he had such clearly revealed knowledge of his purpose.  The trial ahead seemed likely to fulfill that promise that buoyed him in going to Jerusalem, for his trial would be before Caesar.  And we have seen his prayerful concern that he represent the gospel and the gospel’s Lord well on that occasion.  We have seen, also, his confidence that God would so empower him that he would indeed stand firm for the gospel, whatever the outcome.  But as to what comes after?  He has reasonable expectations, but not certainties.  What he is certain of is this:  The outcome is in the hands of God, not Nero.  The outcome is not his to determine, either.  What shall result remains, as Calvin says, in the secret purpose of God.

Now, here I come to a point upon which it seems all the varied branches of Christian thought concur.  Calvin, as I said, observes that results, real certainties, remain in the ‘secret purpose of God.’  Clarke, to my surprise, is stronger still on the point.  He indicates his belief that God governs all events, and as such, all events are subject to His will.  I was, as I say, surprised to read such a thing from one whose system of belief is so generally orthogonal to that of Calvin.  But it does seem that at some level, if you scratch an Arminian, you find a Calvinist lurking within.  At some point, if you have God in view, you must, I think, conclude as Clarke has, that all events are subject to His will.  And yet, somehow, we keep wanting to argue that His will remains in some regard subject to our cooperation.

I suppose it could be argued, at least in the hypothetical, that God having determined that Paul should in fact be released and make his way round the churches he had planted to strengthen and encourage them, that Paul would determine to blow his case so as to be a martyr.  Or, perhaps, he might be so dead set on planting more churches in Spain and beyond that he would dismiss his obligation to those churches already established.  He might, like Jonah, set sail determinedly away from his appointed course.  But then, that didn’t really work for Jonah, did it?  Whose will prevailed?  Who had to change?

This is something we find consistently with Paul.  The same mindset that is reflected in the bookends of this passage, “I hope, I trust,” define his ministry in full.  We see it, for example, in his departure from Ephesus to return to Antioch.  “I will return to you again if God wills” (Ac 18:21).  As has been taught on many an occasion, that qualifier ought, really, to be applied to all our plans and expectations.  James makes it clear.  Jesus, I think, made it just as clear.  To the degree that our plans are taking God’s purposes into account, we may have greater cause for certainty, but still, we are not God, and we are not possessed of perfect knowledge of His purposes.  All things remain, “Nevertheless, Thy will be done.”

This is both to acknowledge the reality of the case and to encourage a proper humility in us.  If God governs all events, best we should consult with Him as to His good pleasure.  If we are devoted to pursuing His good pleasure, best we should be prepared to alter course as He directs.  Best, certainly, that we should remain keenly aware of the contingent nature of our most certain plans.  And best by far that we should seek, as best we are able, to make our plans on the basis of our position as children of God, as ambassadors of Christ, as image bearers of God.  The Wycliffe Translators’ Commentary writes, “All Paul’s plans were conditioned by his relationship to Christ.”  There is a two-fold aspect to that.  First, it reflects Paul’s mindset, his own character.  This was his desire, that his plans might be Christ-directed.  But it was also, simultaneously, an acknowledgement of the reality of things.  God would decide, not Paul.  God would decide, not Nero.

Now, any such observations as these must remain incomplete if we leave them as considerations of Paul’s case.  Timothy’s expected task has been set before us for a much more significant purpose than to satisfy historical curiosity.  These things are written for our edification.  These writings have been preserved, against significant odds, by the power of God to ensure that we had their guidance for our own day.  So, what do we learn?  How do we apply the example before us?

Well, if we are placing our trust in our own cleverness, or our wealth, or any other earthly thing, then our trust is baseless.  For all that, if we are trying to arrive at certainty by reliance on spirits and the like, we are seriously adrift, unmoored and without foundation.  No, there is no certainty apart from God.  Things may seem solid enough for a season, but in time all else fails.  Mountains seem solid enough until you discover some lifelong feature has suddenly crashed to the valley below and is no more.  Rivers seem constant enough until they are observed over time, and we discover just how much the course of the river changes, or until it dries up or floods.  Jobs feel certain enough until they don’t.  Relationships, be they with spouse, with parent, with child.  For long years these feel like constants to be relied upon, but then one day, the parent is no more.  Perhaps the spouse of many long years suddenly decides they don’t want to be with you anymore.  Perhaps the child you cherished has grown up to be somebody you must reject utterly.  We don’t like to think along such lines, but we know well enough that such things happen.  Or perhaps accident or disease removes them from us of a sudden.  Whatever it may be, apart from God it has not the permanence, the unchanging nature to be a firm foundation.

But God!  You know, we hit those points in Scripture where those two words mark the turnaround.  All has been sliding towards oblivion, but God.  You were dead in your sins, but God.  You were without hope in the world, but God.  Wonderful words, those.  Of course, there occasions where it doesn’t feel so wonderful.  I wanted to go this way, but God.  I thought this would be the course of my life, but God.

So, yes, put your trust in God.  By all means!  And do what you must to increase your trust in Him.  He is to be counted on.  His promises are yea and amen.  He is not a man that He should repent or change His mind.  His truth is not one thing today and something quite different tomorrow.  But understand that trusting God does not require us to reject all thought of taking the initiative.  Trusting God does not relieve us of all need of planning, of trying.  And, as I commented in earlier notes on this passage, it does not consist in blithely accepting things as are, of becoming complacent.  Oh well, I am who I am because God made me this way.  Nope.  That’s not the mindset of the believer.  The believer acknowledges that I am a new creation, that I am being renewed daily.  The believer is striving, however fitfully, towards the goal of the upward call of Christ.  He is not content to just, “let go and let God.”  But he is keenly aware of God’s advisory.  “Apart from Me you can do nothing” (Jn 15:5b).

Let me repeat something I wrote in those earlier comments.  “Trusting in God is not complacency, and complacency is not trusting in God.”  Consider again Paul’s situation as he writes this letter.  He is in prison and facing trial.  He is not complacent in this.  He is actively seeking God’s purpose, actively pursuing his mission in whatever way he can, even though stuck here under house arrest.  Even with Roman guards present, he is doing the work of ministry, and because he is doing so, the gospel is making progress even into the very household of the emperor.  And he’s making plans.  He’s not just laying around waiting for God to do something.  He’s doing.

He’s planning, and we might say, planning for all eventualities.  But we see these notes of confidence.  Upon what is his confidence founded?  Has he had some dream informing him that God plans to see to his release?  No.  Has he news from those guards suggestive as to the likely outcome of his trial?  It seems unlikely.  He may have some sense of how the tribunes are seeing things.  Certainly, the witness of his guards, of the centurion who brought him to Rome, and the lack of any real charge against him bode well for the outcome.  But the emperor is mercurial, an unpredictable element.  He cannot know with certainty what the outcome will be until the outcome is.

Still, he makes his plans as best he may, and does so with the humility of recognizing that whether those plans come to fruition or not is up to God.  His plans have ever been thus.  Some saw this as unreliability on his part.  He said he would be doing this, but now he’s off doing that.  But it wasn’t unreliability.  It was submission to the will of God.  God decided.  So it must be.  If He is directing, then indeed we have reason for certainty.  But most often, His direction is a tad gentler than what we find, for example, with Moses being sent back to Egypt to round up his Jewish kin.  It’s not the forceful leading Paul experienced at his conversion, nor even the supernatural experience that had led him to go to Macedonia instead of Asia.  We make our plans and we pursue them.  But if we are wise, we pray seriously as we plan, and we pray seriously as we pursue.  I have become lax in this, and must seek God that I might return to past wisdom.  There is great wisdom in praying, as we act, that God would open doors where our course is right and close them if we are wrong.  The reality remains that God decides.  He speaks and it is.  We, His joyful servants, can either serve in glad recognition of this truth and find the richness of pursuing His chosen course, or we can kick against the goads and stew over not getting our way.  Either way, He decides.

Some would tell me I’m running to close to the Fates here, simply relinquishing all thought of personal responsibility.  But that’s not the case.  I am simply acceding to what Scripture declares.  The Lord speaks and it is.  There is the clear declaration of Proverbs 16:9.  “The mind of man plans his way, but the LORD directs his steps.”  That’s not some assurance of blessing, mind you.  The same held true of Pharoah as of David.  But there is wisdom in recognizing that this is how it is, and then setting oneself to know God, to know His ways and adopt them as your own, in order that in your planning you may more nearly reflect His will, and in your doing, you may be doing His will.

If this is where we are, then we have cause for confident trust as to the outcome.  And if, as we pursue our plans, we find cause to change course, praise God!  But as we plan, as we execute, let it be that considerations of His character, His desired outcome, His chosen means and methods, are at the forefront of our own thoughts.

Submitted Servant (06/12/25)

We are talking about being submitted servants.  I have observed a few times now that point made by Ironside, that these travel plans are not some random insertion in the letter, but the presenting of three solid examples of the doctrine Paul has urged.  I note once again that what Paul preached is what he lived.  The same holds for Timothy, and we might say, in twofold fashion.  What he preached is what Paul preached.  They are likeminded, isopsuchon, of similar spirit.  Is this not reflective of Paul’s call to be of the same mind, united in spirit, one-souled, if you will? (Php 2:2).  But, too, like Paul, Timothy’s practice is one with his preaching.  He is fully submitted to pursuing God’s purposes.  This is not to raise either man up on a pedestal, for to do so would be to fashion an idol from what was meant for godliness.  But it ought to be that we, like they, can say, “Do as you see I do.  Follow me as I follow Christ.”

Most of us would shy away from giving any such advice.  Follow me?  Boy, that doesn’t seem wise.  I see the ways in which my daughter makes choices that are not dissimilar from my own at her age, but I really wish, in those cases, that she would not have followed me, however it may have come about.  If you are going to follow me, then kindly follow those things I managed to get right, not the myriad errors along the way.  But to the degree that I prove attentive to God’s work, to the degree I set myself to work where He is working, to be about doing those things He created for me to be doing?  Follow my example, by all means!  Don’t feel the need to puff me up with praises, and don’t set me forth as some sort of ideal.  Neither assume that following my example means doing exactly as I do.  Following Paul’s example did not include everybody becoming tent-makers, or even everybody becoming preachers.  It simply meant committing oneself to becoming whom God is making one to be.  It meant recognizing that trying to work ourselves into compliance would fail, but simply sitting back and waiting for the change to come would also fail.  It meant relying on God and seeking simultaneously to be actively pursuing those things God wants pursued.

It means, not to belabor the point, setting aside any sense of our own rights and allowing Him His.  Calvin is blunt in regard to this perspective.  He writes, “For you must give up your own right if you would discharge your duty:  a regard for your own interests must not be put in preference to Christ’s glory, or even placed upon a level with it.”  We’re talking about being a submitted servant.  You can’t be a servant if you’re busily occupied with your rights.  And you certainly aren’t submitted.  It may be that you can still be coerced to your duty, but it will not be a case of willing commitment to that duty.

Now.  Let it be supposed that we are gladly pursuing those duties God has given us to pursue.  Be careful!  Don’t make that pursuit your new idol.  And don’t suppose you’re immune to doing so.  We are forever making idols, and one of the cleverest ploys to get us off course has been to convince us that making an idol of this or that means of grace is acceptable.  It may be that we are particularly gifted for prayer, and we make our prayer life an idol, rather than rejoicing in our access to our Father.  It may be that we have developed a penchant for studying this body of Scripture, become adept at parsing the language, finding the meaning, and expounding upon it, but we have made it about showing off our great learning, rather than actually gaining wisdom.  It may be that we go out to serve the homeless and downtrodden, but then make that our measure of others.  They aren’t doing as much.  They must be lesser, and I greater.  There are countless examples to choose from.  Learn from them.  Check yourself.  Check yourself as closely for these idols as you would for ticks.  And if you find them, consider them just as foul and dangerous.  Eradication is the only sound choice.

Consider again the examples we are being shown.  Here is Timothy, as Clarke paraphrases Paul’s assessment of the man, a man after his own heart.   And he himself is a man after God’s own heart, rather like David.  Neither Timothy nor Paul is perfect.  They are not to be idolized.  I thank God that He gives us heroes with their defects evident, lest we try and hold them up as the perfection of mankind.  But they are men after God’s own heart, and so ought we to be.  That’s the whole of it.  Desire God’s glory, not your own.  Seek God’s ends, not your own.  Take an interest in His interests, and do so to the point of excluding all other considerations.

Let me temper that just a bit.  We are not called to divest ourselves of every interest, reject anything resembling a hobby, eschewing any form of enjoyment in our pursuit of serving Christ.  That’s not the point.  That’s the false teaching of asceticism which Paul himself counters in other epistles.  No.  Israel, entering the Promised Land, was not called to destroy all structure, uproot every vineyard, reject the rich bounty of the land.  They were called to enjoy all those things, but to do so in the keen awareness that these things were God’s provision for them, not the reward of their own might and prowess.  There’s a balance to be had here.

Matthew Henry writes, “Seeking our own interest to the neglect of Jesus Christ is a very great sin, and very common among Christians and ministers.  Many prefer their own credit, ease, and safety, before truth, holiness, and duty, the things of their own pleasure and reputation before the things of Christ’s kingdom and his honor and interest in the world.”  I have to note that the key factor here is, “to the neglect of.”  It’s okay to have your own interests.  Indeed, we will likely find God using those interests as a means for ministry.  I would put my lifelong interest in music in that category.  Can it become a distraction from the work of ministry?  Certainly.  It could become a distraction from the employments God has chosen for my provision as well.  Or, it could be building certain skills and perspectives in me that will serve in the pursuit of ministry.  There is no inherent reason these two facets of life cannot coexist and contribute one to the other.  It’s not a guarantee, but it’s certainly a possibility.  It just needs attentiveness to that idolatrous tendency that is in us.

So, what is it to be after God’s own heart?  I think, given the examples being set before us here, the key factors are humility and giving priority to God’s glory.  If what we are doing does not glorify God, what does it do?  I suspect this is one of those areas where there can be no neutral ground.  We either act so as to glorify God or we act so as to detract from His glory.  How do we detract from it?  By failing to share in His character.  By seeking the limelight for ourselves.  By acting contrary to His command.  By refusing correction, becoming stiff-necked and proud.  By such things we lead those around us to blaspheme God and disregard His majesty.  I mean, if this is what His guidance and power achieve, why bother, right?

Desire God’s glory!  That is going to lead naturally to having less desire for our own.  Yet, in paradoxical fashion, it is likely to lead to our own, for as we desire His glory, we will demonstrate His glory by our own pursuit of godliness, and our own pursuit of godliness will be to our glory.  As we set ourselves to attend to His work in and through us, He does work in and through us, and in doing so, renders us reflective of His glory.  This being the case, such glory as we may receive is indeed His to have.  It is not robbery, but contribution, as we acknowledge, not just in pious words, but in true humility, that any good in us is of His doing.

As we set ourselves to this pursuit, it will naturally come to be the case that we, too, become sincerely devout people, not putting on a pious act like the hypocritical compliance of the Pharisees, but sincere, real.  Godliness should, with time and practice, come naturally to us, become our innate response.  I’ve heard it advised that we fake it ‘til we make it, which is to say that we go ahead and put on the appearance of godly concern and compassion until we can get to the point of actually feeling it.  I don’t know as that’s particularly good advice.  I don’t know as anything is more obvious than feigned compassion, than caring that is more to do with compulsion than concern.

This did not, don’t suppose, come naturally to Timothy or Paul.  It wasn’t theirs at the outset.  It needed God’s power to change them, and the evidence is that God’s power did change them.  They didn’t have to work themselves into a spiritual fervor.  They didn’t have to work up the right response as events unfolded.  The right response was becoming natural to them because God had, by His power, created in them a new nature.  We can and should be likewise changed.  Yes, the old nature is still there, but if we have been paying attention, then it ought to be that we are subduing that old nature, and becoming ever more inclined to the new.

So, here we are:  Children of God by His choosing, servants of God by our own.  But, if servants, how prepared to serve?  Barnes poses the question.  He’s not the first or the last, certainly, but it’s there.  How ready are we to abandon our affairs for such an embassy as was being entrusted to Timothy?  How ready would we be to go to the lengths Paul willingly went in pursuit of his mission?  Barnes proceeds to observe how few are prepared to live such a life of self-denial as serious ministry may call for.  And it is well to be forewarned of the cost.  Jesus calls us to count that cost before we heed the call.  And don’t suppose this is a one-time decision, or a one-time concern.  It’s going to hit repeatedly.  The fact of the matter is that we are called to it.  We are called to have His kingdom foremost in our lives, foremost in our thoughts, foremost in our actions.  That is a call to sacrifice everything that we must in order to pursue the advance of the kingdom of God.

We cannot afford to be followers of convenience.  We cannot thrive if our commitment to God stops at the edge of our own interests.  We cannot set the example by setting aside God whenever He’s inconvenient.  If we are His, we are His servants.  If we are His servants, it is His to decide our course.  Honestly, it’s His to decide our course even if we refuse to be in His service.  But we have set ourselves to be gladly subjected to His will.  We are not devoid of will, but willingly submitted.  Let this be true of us in fact and not just in word.  Let it not be some ideal that we acknowledge but dismiss as unattainable.  Let it be our constant pursuit.  And in that pursuit, let us never lose sight of our dependency on God to make headway.