1 Tm 1:12-17
16 September 2001
“The Biggest and the Baddest”
Sometimes when we're considering a scripture text—studying, praying, and wondering about it—sometimes events from the outside world force themselves into the picture. That's what happened this week as I was contemplating the apostle Paul's affirmation of faith, along with his unexpected addition: "The saying is sure and worthy of full acceptance, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners—of whom I am the foremost" (v. 15).
Just as I was wondering why Paul would call himself the foremost of sinners, I heard the news on (our secretary) Rosemary's radio about planes crashing into the World Trade Center and into the Pentagon. Little did I know, as I'm sure was the case with all of you, the full extent of the horror that last Tuesday would ultimately reveal. In a world in which such acts of indiscriminate murder and wanton destruction occur, the subject of sin is given a vivid backdrop.
Unfortunately, this isn't the first time I've had to rethink a sermon because of a terrorist attack. Six years ago, in April 1995, as a student intern at a church near Philadelphia, I was preparing for my one sermon of the semester when the Federal Building in Oklahoma City was bombed. For some reason—to me, anyway—even that act of barbarism and cowardice seems to pale in comparison with what went on last Tuesday.
Well, as I said, I was wondering why Paul would call himself "the foremost" of sinners. Other translations phrase it differently. The NIV has Paul call himself "the worst" of sinners; the New Jerusalem Bible says he's "the greatest of them." And in the classic King James language, Paul says of sinners, "I am chief."
I keep having the image in my mind of some gangster rapper who boasts about all the crimes he's committed. It's like Paul is trying to say, "I'm the biggest and the baddest!" (And I'm sorry, but the grammatically correct, "the biggest and the worst," doesn't quite work in this context!)
The word in Greek is prwto" (prōtos). Paul presents himself as literally "the first" of sinners. He claims to be the prototype of what a sinner is all about. And contrary to those who would explain all this away as referring to his past life, before his conversion to Christ, we need to remember that he's using the present tense. It's true that in verse 13 he says, "I was formerly a blasphemer, a persecutor, and a man of violence." But verse 15 is about the Paul who now speaks. It's not: I was the first, the foremost of sinners. But rather, it is: I am the first, the foremost of sinners.
Obviously, everything we know about Paul from the scriptures tells us that he isn't bragging. He doesn't believe that sin is a good thing! Besides, Paul's focus is not on himself and his sin, but on Jesus Christ and his grace and mercy. Still, how can he say this? How can Paul the apostle claim to be this big, bad sinner? In light of the genuine atrocity of this past week, how can we conclude anything other than that this is a lot of pious nonsense?
One easy answer is that these aren't the actual words of Paul. The First Letter to Timothy, along with 2 Timothy and Titus, constitute the so-called Pastoral Epistles. They're called that because of their primary subject matter: pastoral advice to young ministers. Anyway, the Pastoral Epistles, for a variety of reasons that I don't have time to go into, are considered by many scholars to have been written after Paul's death. Well, I'll mention one reason why these letters are thought to have such a late date: they seem to reflect a fairly well-developed form of church government. Still, whether from the hand of Paul or in the spirit of Paul, we have these strange words that are attributed to him—and that the church holds to be scriptural.
For some people, it's enough to explain Paul being the foremost of sinners as "representative of those who have received the mercy which the sinner can experience." So, the image here of Paul's conversion isn't as much biography as it is encouragement. It's meant to be a source of hope for "even the worst of sinners."[1]
I'm sure that the idea of our scripture text as a source of inspiration has a great deal of truth to it. But I still think there's more to it than just that! I think at times like this, we need something more substantial from the word of God. (Actually, I think we always need it.)
A better explanation of Paul's words can be found, I believe, in remembering his focus. As I've already indicated, Paul's claim to be "the biggest and the baddest" isn't so much about himself as it is an expression of praise to Jesus Christ. Notice how he introduces the whole thing in verse 12: "I am grateful to Christ Jesus our Lord, who has strengthened me, because he judged me faithful and appointed me to his service."
It's all about being thankful. Paul thanks Jesus for how his life has been changed. Where once he persecuted Christ's church—as he adds, "ignorantly in unbelief"—now his whole life is devoted to building the church. And because he's turned his back on his former life, he's keenly alert to whatever hinders him in following this new life in Christ. He's painfully aware of the sin that remains in him. Remember, this is the guy who writes to the Romans, "I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate" (7:15).
It's when we really struggle against something that we become more aware of it within ourselves. One example would be prejudice and racism. Once we begin to pay attention to racism, and to the many different ways it manifests itself, we notice more of those tendencies within ourselves—at least, if we're willing to see them. And again, thinking about last Tuesday, we need to be careful about judging an entire religion based on a few people who dishonor it with their evil actions, actions that violate the very spirit of that faith. That’s not only true for Islam, but also for Christianity and every other faith.
As for Paul, he so desires to be faithful to his Lord that his every failure feels magnified a hundredfold. I think that goes a long way toward explaining how he might call himself the prw'tov", the "first," of sinners. Christine Pohl, who teaches at Asbury Seminary in Kentucky, considers how Paul's startling self-description applies to us.
"Because facing and addressing sin is never easy," she says, "we do our best to avoid coming to grips with it. Many of us rub off the roughest edges of sin and convince ourselves that in comparison to the larger culture or our favorite Bible characters, our sins look pretty small."[2] After last week, we might want to add: in comparison to terrorists, our sins look pretty small.
Ms. Pohl continues on a personal note, "Just last week a friend of mine asked if there was anyone who consistently spoke truth into my life." She doesn't say if her answer was yes or no. But the question did remind her how important it is that "[e]ach of us [have] someone, or a small community, who will name what is going on and speak a word of truth to us when it is needed."[3]
Such a person can be as difficult to find as the koinwnia (koinōnia) I spoke of last week. It can be especially difficult for ministers, since we have to make an added effort to find that person or community who can speak truth to us: to, in a sense, be a pastoral figure to us. For Banu and myself, a partial solution is provided by the spiritual directors we visit.
I say "partial" because, as with most things—most relationships, we can only get out of such a relationship what we're willing to put into it. I also say it's a partial solution because there's someone else who speaks truth to me, even when it's uncomfortable—my dear wife, Banu. But that's okay, as long as she speaks the truth in love!
Paul, in calling himself "the foremost" of sinners, expresses in powerful terms his solidarity with his sinful brothers and sisters. Today as a community of faith we are gathered as sinners saved by the grace of God. Hear Paul’s statement again: “The saying is sure and worthy of full acceptance, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners—of whom…we are the foremost." Dare we say this?
Jesus Christ lived and died for all, even for those who committed these criminal acts of despicable violence. As the church of Jesus Christ, then, we have a mission. And it’s both a responsibility and a privilege: to live as the disciples of the resurrected Lord in the midst of pain and suffering. To be agents of God’s truth by inviting others to be saved by the grace of God. To let them know that our Lord’s koinwnia can be found here at Westminster. To show a world beaten down by the tired old methods of hate and revenge that there is a better way.
Still, you might say: “What can we do to bring about change in the world? We’re powerless in the midst of such evil!” If we believe this, then evil has won. But it is Christ himself who said, “I have given you authority to tread on snakes and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy“ (Lk 10:19). In our own strength, living by our own wits, behaving as the world tells us to behave, it’s a safe bet that we won’t make much headway against sin and evil.
But if we have the courage to actually practice what we preach, then we’ll begin to see God’s will done on earth, as it is in heaven. We’ll join with the apostle, “an example,” as he says, “to those who would come to believe in [Jesus] for eternal life” (v. 16). So let us continue with our lives, our ministry, and our vision. In so doing, we don’t pretend that nothing has happened; we don’t pretend that things are as before. Rather, we allow our koinwnia, our communion, to be strengthened by the power of God, who will keep the promise to bring the kingdom of justice and peace.
I can do no better than to close with the apostle’s words: “To the King of the ages, immortal, invisible, the only God, be honor and glory forever and ever. Amen” (v. 17).
[1] Martin Dibelius and Hans Conzelmann, The Pastoral Epistles (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1972), 30, 28.
[2] Christine Pohl, "Sin insulation," Christian Century 118:24 (29 Aug-5 Sep 2001): 12.
[3] Pohl, 12.