Good Words, Solid Words II; I Tim. 6:6-19

What Paul does with the concept of autarkeia, then, is to say that his sense of sufficiency derives from Christ. Yet, at the same time, he connects it with community. This "Christianization" of the concept of autarkeia, then, is picked up in I Tim. 6 and urged on us. Sinking ourselves deeply into Christ and into community makes us autarkes (i.e., "sufficient"). Maybe I can coin a new word for it--it is "interindependence." We are connected to others, and to Christ, but also have a sense of inner independence.

Perhaps I need one more word on this difficult concept of dependence, yet independence or, to put it in different words, of sufficiency yet longing. We human beings are not self-sufficient creatures. We deceive ourselves into thinking that the goal of life is to assume some kind of model of independence where we don't "need" other people. Our biological nature from birth teaches us that we are "other-dependent" for almost everything we have. There is even an personality disorder, recognized in the "Bible" of the discipline, the DSM-IV, called "Dependent Personality Disorder." Yet, in our quest for personal freedom and independence, we often confuse ourselves into thinking that people or connections are not that important to us. Maybe we have been "burned" in relationships and so will try to cultivate our own personal independence. There is a difference, which this passage illustrates, between contentment and separation. Christian contentment (autarkeia) is rooted in the strengthening power of Christ and the supportive community. Secular autarkeia is rooted in the Greek notion of the "individual" and the Enlightenment philosophy of the "free" individual.

III. Riches (vv. 9-10, 17-19)

I can't improve much on v. 9:

"But those who want to be rich fall into temptation and are trapped by many senseless and harmful desires that plunge people into ruin and destruction."

I wonder if we think this verse is true. Let me share briefly how it is "true" for me. My point will be that the times when I have pursued wealth most vigorously, principally by having a high-paying job, were the times I was the "poorest." I decided to enter law school in 1996, after nearly two decades of professorial and ministerial service. One of my reasons was to use law as an instrument to help people; another of my reasons was to make some money in middle age. So, I completed law school very successfully and landed a job as a litigation attorney at one of the more prestigious firms in the Northwest. The very month that I began my high-paid life, the stock market crashed. Of course, it didn't do so especially for me, but I have never forgotten that. Second, within a year after I began my glitzy job, my personal life was in shambles. Though it had taken many years for my marriage to erode, things all came to a head within a few months to a year after I began my legal practice. By the end of three years pursuing my financial "dream," I felt myself becoming a "shell" of my earlier self. I wasn't happy and, in fact, I wasn't rich. I lost more than 50% of my "net worth" in the years I had the highest salary.

I am not sharing this for any kind of sympathy. As I look back on my life, however, I see my experience in 2000-2003 as a sort of divine nudge to keep my priorities straight. The message I think I received through all of this was "Pursue the things you love; love the things you love; and that love will be contagious enough or recognized enough by others so that the things that you need will come through the love." Now, I realize that this philosophy can be abused and can be a "cover" for being a sort of slug. But I don't really worry about that anymore. I have learned, however, the hard truth of I Tim. 6:9, that even my wanting to be rich plunged me into all sorts of things that I had no power over and served to make my life incredibly more difficult.

So, why not urge people, if you are in the position to do so, to realize the perils of headlong pursuit of wealth? Like many things in life, however, I think that we must learn basic lessons for ourselves, even if we hear good words from trusted sources.

IV. Endurance (vv. 11-16)

The author devotes most of his attention in these verses, however, to the endurance needed to make it in life. The list in verse 11 is priceless: "pursue righteosness, godliness, faith, love, endurance, gentleness." I recall telling a class of students once, after reading a passage like this, that it was sufficient if you just picked out one of these traits at a time and focused on it. That is, if we were to try to understand five or six characteristics of God at the same time, we would quickly become confused, overwhelmed and even discouraged. Why not just go "one at a time" and learn what mercy is about, or grace, or judgment? That is how I think this passage in I Tim. is best read. Pursue them all, but perhaps study or focus on one at a time.

Maybe this week should be your "gentleness-week" for example. Realize the virtue of not asserting yourself, of not thinking that every issue is your issue, of selecting words that lower the emotional temperature in a room rather than enhance it. Gentleness is not simply a virtue Don Imus should cultivate; it is good for us all, especially as rhetoric and animus increase.

But the message which comes to me strongest from vv. 11-16 is the one of endurance. Unlike Hebrews 12, where the Christian life was likened to a race, here it is likened to fighting the good fight. I have nothing against those who pursue the way of peace; indeed, Jesus called the peacemakers the children of God. But even in peacemaking, one must "wage peace"; one must "fight" for what one is committed to. That, indeed, is our "calling." Though we may practice the virtues of love or even gentleness, we must do so with the underlying understanding that this life is a fight of sorts. It is a fight with ourselves and sometimes with others. But I like to think of endurance as the commitment to living in the faith that our ideas, our approach to things, which we know is good or right or true, will sooner or later be recognized by others.

Conclusion

Just as I Timothy begins with a sort of hymn to Christ (1:17), so it ends with one. Here the words are stirring:

"he who is the blessed and only Sovereign, the King of kings and Lord of lords. It is he alone who has immortality and dwells in unapproachable light..." (6:15-16).

Let that be your benediction.

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