Sermons from Moorpark Presbyterian Church

Letting Go is Hard to Do

2 Timothy 1:1-7; 3:15

Toward the end of the nineteenth century, Swedish chemist Alfred Nobel awoke one morning to read his own obituary in the local newspaper. It said, "Alfred Nobel, the inventor of dynamite, who died yesterday, devised a way for more people to be killed in a war than ever before, and he died a very rich man."

Actually, it was Alfred’s older brother who had died; a newspaper reporter had bungled the epitaph. But the account had produced a profound effect on Nobel. He decided he wanted to be known for something other than developing the means to kill people efficiently and for amassing a fortune in the process.

So he initiated the Nobel Prize, the award for scientists and writers who foster peace. Nobel said, "Every man ought to have the chance to correct his epitaph in midstream and write a new one."

Each of us, both young and old, is in the process of writing an epitaph; each of us will leave a legacy behind. Today, I want to ask you a question: should you die today, what would you be known for? What would you leave behind in the lives of others? Mother’s Day provides a good opportunity for us to reflect on the subject of legacy as we remember our own mothers or think about ourselves as mothers, fathers, grandparents as well as shapers of the next generation—which includes all of us. Some of us mothers live as if we want our tombstones to read, "She never kept a dusty house." In contrast to that, Erma Bombeck said what she would like on her tombstone is "Big deal! I’m used to dust!"

The greatest legacy anyone, both young and old, can leave behind is not a clean house, perfect grades, or anything material but the gift of faith in Jesus Christ. When Cassie Bernall strolled into the Columbine High library to work on a Macbeth assignment a little after 11 a.m. on April 20, 1999, she had no idea she would leave a legacy of faith a short time later. But when two rampaging classmates put a gun to her head and asked her if she believed in God, she answered yes. This young Christian martyr left a priceless gift, which God is multiplying and using to strengthen and encourage others throughout life’s ups and downs.

In today’s passage we find the apostle Paul wanting to encourage his spiritual son, Timothy, in the midst of a difficult time for both of them. The apostle could have chosen any number of theological expressions to encourage his young successor. Instead, he chose the one topic that had the most potential for encouragement—the memory of his mother Eunice’s faith. He said, "when things get rough," as they often were in Ephesus where Timothy ministered, "don’t give up. Think back on the truths you have learned from your mother and grandmother, Lois. When people hurt you, remember the faith learned as a child."

Today’s passage comes from second Timothy which is often called "Paul’s last will and testament." It was probably the last letter Paul wrote, and probably before Timothy received it, Paul had been beheaded along the Appian Way in Rome around 66 AD. Paul has, for the most part, transferred the mantle of his ministry to his young apprentice. Timothy’s task was tremendous. Paul had spent two years establishing and building a strong church in Ephesus, a city deluged by the worship of the goddess Diana. The apostle’s comfort and hope was founded on the faithfulness of Timothy and Onesiphorus at Ephesus.

Today I want to look at the basis of Timothy’s faithfulness: his mother. Eunice is a Greek name meaning "good victory." In many ways she lived up to her name. The few references we have to Eunice indicate that she did not have a happy life. Her marriage may have been difficult. Acts 16:1 says that she married a Greek non-believer who probably had a pagan view of marriage. The Greek saw the wife as a doer of chores and bearer of children. He had none of the Jewish background and outlook Eunice had. She had come from a devout home; her mother Lois was a godly woman. Her upbringing meant her approach to people, life and marriage was completely different than her husband’s.

A son was born to them. Timothy means "God-fearing." Being a Jew, Eunice wanted her son circumcised, but her husband did not permit it. His prejudice kept his son from the formal act of being received into the Jewish faith community. It wasn’t until Timothy was in his twenties that Paul had him circumcised probably to avoid any obstacle with the Jews whom they would meet and seek to convert in their travels.

Nevertheless, his mother saw to it that her boy would be given a godly heritage. Although Lystra, the town in which Timothy was raised, did not have a Jewish synagogue, Eunice brought him up as a godly man in spite of opposing ungodly influences. Tradition says that Eunice was widowed while Timothy was still young, and the father is not mentioned again. Later Timothy adopted Paul as his father and mentor.

Eunice learned early that Christianity was costly through Jesus’ life and through Paul who was attacked, stoned, and left for dead by a mob in Lystra. She knew that believing in Christ makes demands and means sacrifice. Paul’s life was saved because brave Christians looked after him. Maybe Eunice was one—maybe she committed her life to Christ then. We do not know, but when Paul returned the next time, we know Eunice and Timothy were believers in Christ. Timothy was beginning to show leadership qualities, and so Paul wanted to take him along as his helper. The going would get tough, but Timothy would stay strong and not give up, because of the legacy his mother had left him.

Imagine how Eunice may have struggled to give up her son. As a widow and single mother in those days, she had carried a heavy burden for many years. Now Timothy was helpful to her; he would make life easier, but Paul proposed to take her boy away. She knew the risks of missionary journeys. She probably wondered who would support her. Timothy was all she had: her pride and joy. Yet she was willing to give him up. This is the difference between mother love and smother love. Christian love involves respecting children as individuals called by God into his service.

From Eunice we learn what it means to leave a legacy of faith. It involves both instilling a love for God and Christian values as well as letting go at the proper time. In the formative years Eunice was determined to teach, train and grow her child toward godliness, but at the proper time, she knew how to let go. Instilling faith involves, first of all, teaching the next generation the principles of God. If we do not teach about Christ at home, we must recognize that some form of religion is already taught at home: success, money, pleasure, or whatever holds your interest in life. Some parents today are more concerned about giving their children cars, athletic opportunities, a college education, a nice home, clothes, or electronic toys than a spiritual heritage. Sadly, many parents ignore the open window of opportunity in the early years.

Instilling Christian values involves establishing a pattern of life that reflects the life of Jesus Christ. Children learn eight times more by watching than in any other way. When they become teenagers their hypocrisy sensors become highly attuned to the difference between what their parents say and do. Instilling the Christian faith also involves being persistent and standing firm when your children try to persuade you to give up on your standards and commitments. Society will pressure you to do the same too. It also includes praying for your children. Pastor Charles Stanley said:

"I remember my mother kneeling beside my bed and praying for me. Even when I came home from college, she would still get down beside my bed and pray. There is something about getting on your knees with your children that changes their outlook on life. The memory of Mom or Dad interceding for them in prayer never escapes their mind."

The other side of leaving a legacy of faith is letting go at the proper time. We have all known people who could not retire from a job, people who held on to a ministry past their time of effectiveness, parents who refused to treat their grown children as adults, and those who had great difficulty letting go in the face of death. Letting go is an act of faith in God’s power to use and multiply our efforts. That’s why you can’t leave a legacy of faith without it. People who don’t let go miss the opportunity to see God’s power. Life is a series of losses, but after each loss comes a gain. At the point of letting go we may only see the loss, but shattered dreams can lead to fulfilled promises. The statement "if God closes a door, he opens a window" is a true statement.

The greatest challenge of letting go is relinquishing our expectations: we want things to be a certain way, and we hold on to our expectations, often turning them into demands like "should, shouldn’t, have to, must." We may feel that life is supposed to be different than this; we may need to have things our way; we may want to follow our own timetable for certain events in life; we may have the need to exert control over other people. Why not instead recognize our own expectations and demands and argue with them or rephrase them as wishes? Eunice might have said, "I wish Timothy would stay with me, but I’ll be OK when he goes. God will take care of me, and who knows, maybe something good will come of this." From hindsight we know that Eunice’s loss led to a great impact for the church of Jesus Christ. We can only let go when we put our trust in Christ to multiply our seeds into harvestable fields.

Jean Giono tells a story of Elzeard Bouffier, a shepherd he met in 1913 in the French Alps.

At that time, because of careless deforestation, the mountains around Provence, France were barren. Former villages were deserted because their springs and brooks had run dry. The wind blew furiously, unimpeded by foliage.

While mountain climbing, Giono came to a shepherd’s hut, where he was invited to spend the night.

After dinner Giono watched the shepherd meticulously sort through a pile of acorns, discarding those that were cracked or undersized. When the shepherd had counted out 100 perfect acorns, he stopped for the night and went to bed.

Giono learned that the 55-year-old shepherd had been planting trees on the wild hillsides for over three years. He had planted 100,000 trees, 20,000 of which had sprouted. Of those, he expected half to be eaten by rodents or die due to the elements, and the other half to live.

After World War I, Giono returned to the mountainside and discovered incredible rehabilitation: there was a veritable forest, accompanied by a chain reaction in nature. Water flowed in the once-empty brooks. The ecology, sheltered by a leafy roof and bonded to the earth by a mat of spreading roots, became hospitable. Willows, rushes, meadows, gardens and flowers were birthed.

Giono returned again after World War II. Twenty miles from the lines, the shepherd had continued his work, ignoring the war of 1939 just as he had ignored that of 1914. The reformation on the land continued. Whole regions glowed with health and prosperity.

Giono writes, "On the site of the ruins I had seen in 1913 now stand neat farms . . . The old streams, fed by the rains and snows that the forest conserves, are flowing again . . . Little by little, the villages have been rebuilt. People from the plains, where land is costly, have settled here, bringing youth, motion, the spirit of adventure."

Today’s decisions and commitments, no matter how small and unnoticed have a future impact. Remember that the love you give will live on. Eunice’s love impacted Timothy and Paul and had a lasting effect on the early church and on us today.

As I stand on the brink of letting go of my role as Associate Pastor today, I am encouraged by the example of Eunice. I have put my heart into this ministry for over ten years and now it is time to let go in my role as pastor. I have a mixture of feelings: a sense of loss, but also comfort and future excitement. And it is my faith in God that will be the greatest help. God has built up this church from a handful of members to a large constituency. I remember Dave’s statistic that 96% of churches have a membership of 300 and below. MPC is a strong and healthy ministry. I can let go without much anxiety and a confidence that, as long as we keep the cross of Christ at the center of the church, God will continue to bless it.

This leaves me with a parting desire to simply say "thank you" in some specific ways. First of all, you have helped me grow toward greater maturity. Whenever someone came to me to ask for support, help, counsel or direction I felt honored. You see, I am the youngest child in my immediate and extended family. You have helped me overcome my permanent baby, youngest child, spoiled brat syndrome by entrusting me with a pastoral role.

I also want to thank you for accepting me as a human being. The pastoral role carries with it expectations, which can be difficult at times. What do you do when there are problems or difficulties in your life? Where do you go? Whom do you tell? There is the expectation, partly imposed from within and outside, to always be on the spiritual cutting edge. What do you do when you are on a spiritual plateau or decline? Do you go through the motions? It’s easy to do and yet I have a deep-seated fear of entering the "ecclesiastical mode," or what Dave calls "the stained-glass voice." I have sometimes imagined this was happening to me and so I would be hard on myself, pushing myself to grow and learn. But this church has never been as accusing as my, at times, overdeveloped conscience. And Dave has been a very grace-filled pastor to work with in that respect. You have given me a profound sense of acceptance and resulting freedom.

Another gift has been to my family. I have always felt the freedom to spend time with Rick and the kids. The demands were not excessive. And I could not have stayed so long if I had felt the pull to put the church before my family. It is so easy to be swallowed up by the time and emotional demands of the ministry that there is little time to maintain one’s own identity.

By far the greatest gift to me here has been Rick, and so I’m glad to go on this journey with him. He not only served the deacons for nine years and helped me teach a multitude of classes, but he was available behind the scenes in various ways. He has been my greatest supporter, making room in his life for my weekend schedule, listening to me for untold hours talk about the church, and arranging his life around the church. My children have also been a part of this arrangement, and I am deeply grateful to them for their support. Being a pastor is a very different occupation from others. It’s more like a marriage than anything else, and the whole family is joined in this marriage. You have helped make it a happy one, and I am grateful for that.

As I stand here with a mixture of emotions, I hold on to the example of Eunice and I hope you will hold on to it as well. We all experience the pain of letting go; we all have a fear of being insignificant and wondering what our impact on this world will be. We all have routines that can seem so small, petty and boring at times. We all make mistakes. But we also have a powerful God who assures us that He will take our mistakes and efforts and redeem and multiply them. He calls us to leave godly legacies behind. As Paul concludes the powerful fifteenth chapter of Corinthians on the subject of the resurrection, so I want to conclude my time with you with his words:

"Therefore, my beloved brothers and sisters, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that your toil is not in vain in the Lord."