-And so Paul says, yes, you can trust this. This word, this statement about godliness and the life to come, it is true and you can indeed take it to the bank. It will never change, will never fail, will never let you down. You can stake your entire life on it - and you should (just like the statement about Jesus coming to save sinners in 1Timothy 1.15). This statement, this truth - the truth about eternity, and the pursuit of godliness, of becoming more like our Savior, is deserving of a worthy response. Total acceptance. All in. No holding back. No reserve. No regrets. And no retreat.
-All acceptance, he says. ALL acceptance. Not partial acceptance. Paul is not asking for a half-hearted response here, friends. He is not thinking about piddling around making mud pies in the slum. None of this “I’ll have $3 worth of God please.” A little dab’ll-do-ya. No sir. He wants Timothy - and us - all in. The verb form of this word is what you do when a guest shows up at your home - you welcome them, embrace them, and bring them into your home (Acts 21.17, 28.30). All the way in. You don’t leave them sitting on the porch, or in the foyer. And in this case, we are embracing and welcoming this eternal truth, and bringing it all the way into our hearts. We wrap our minds and our hearts and our very lives around this idea of eternity and we go all in. All acceptance. We hold nothing back. We keep nothing at arm’s length. No giving God or the Great Commisison or the Great Command the heisman. None of this nauseating lukewarm lipservice (Revelation 3.16). This people honors me with their lips, but their hearts are far from Me, says the Lord (Isaiah 29.13, cf Matthew 15.8) - let not any of that be found in our midst. And yet so often, too often, we have our routine and our rote, our ritual and our tradition, we are going through the motions of devotion but our hearts are elsewhere. Divided. Or distracted, with so much manure, so many baubles and trinkets. Something - or someone - else holds sway: our job, our career, our education, our family, our significant other (or the one we have our eyes on), our house, our car, our stuff, our fitness, our leisure - if you’ll notice, the recurring theme (pronoun) is the first person possessive. Ours. Mine. My life. And that’s how we roll. This is the way we roll. It’s not His. And I am not His. Sure, we add a little dash of Jesus for favor, then we go about our merry way, practical atheists many, but few who are all in. Many of us, we’re holding something back. It’s like those interminable wind sprints at the end of soccer practice. You go through the motions, right? You swing your arms and bob your head and scrunch up your face in a convincing grimace, but you’re not running full out. Not running with all acceptance. Maybe you can fool your soccer coach. But there’s no fooling this coach. Coach Jesus. He’s the Playcaller, the One calling the shots. This is Who we follow, Who we trust, Who we reflect and hope to resemble.
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