To my Timothys

Sometimes I read a passage of Scripture that feels just as fresh as a brand-new book. Not only that, but I feel like it's some sort of secret that God kept for me, waiting for the perfect time to understand what it says and know what I should do with it.

Second Timothy is that book today.

I almost feel guilty reading it; I mean, it was from the old man Paul to young Timothy, who was a preacher, missionary, and friend. It is as personal as perhaps any other letter in the Bible. In it, Paul asked Timothy to bring him his coat before winter (4:13), warned Timothy to be cautious around a man who did him harm (4:14-15), identified some men by name who have turned away from truth (2:17), and praised the faith of Timothy's mother and grandmother (1:5), who Paul obviously knew and was able to see that same faith passed down to young Timothy.

So personal. So specific. An older to a younger, conveying not only wisdom but urgency: not only was Paul looking at his own death (4:18) but he was also keenly aware of what Timothy would face in the last days (3:1-9). 

Second Timothy is full of instruction, encouragement, warning, and honesty. 

It's exactly what I want to say to you. 

I appreciate every single person who reads this blog. I have subscribers of all ages and walks of life and I love getting emails from all of you. 

But when I sit at the computer with a word from the Holy Spirit so strong in me that it's about to set fire to my fingertips, I'm thinking of one group of girls. You know who you are. You are my Timothys. We had three intense years together. I knew when I agreed to lead you that you would break my heart; you did. That's okay. But I am just as thrilled to see many of you living for Jesus, committing your life and your will and your heart to Him. You're a few years out of high school and out of my class, but you never left my heart. I am still here. I still pray for you. I still have your precious names written on the scriptures in my box. And though our classroom with its couches and paintings and colorful pens and notebooks is long gone, our older-to-younger relationship is not. 

So because I cannot forget you, I'm going to assume that's God using me to speak to you. Through this blog. Through your visits. Through our texts. And over the next few posts I'm going to put into my own words the very things that old Paul said to young Timothy. 

I really identify with Paul these days; I'm looking not at my own death but at another birthday: 29. For the 9th time. (I'll let you do the math.) And you've heard me say that for the first eighteen years of my life, I blew my testimony. I would have told you I loved Jesus and I am certain that He was my Savior. But I didn't tell one person about Him. I didn't share my faith at all. It's one of my greatest regrets. 

But it won't happen again. I'm not going to sit and say nothing when your future is at stake. Your marriage is at stake. Your children are at stake. Your eternity is at stake. I'm going to speak honestly and openly, full of love and passion and wisdom that has come not only from life but also from a dozen years of very serious Scripture study and memory. 

I have what you need. Will you take it?

I'm going to close today with Paul's words in 2 Timothy 1:3-5, rewritten in my own voice:

I serve God openly and honestly; it is my heritage (Ps. 61:5). And because I am His, I pray for you all the time, day and night. I love hearing from you and seeing you. You fill me with joy. 

I love you! I miss you!
More soon. 

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