1 Timothy

Paul cites Creation theology in three more passages, two of them on the same subject.

1 Corinthians 11.9; 1 Timothy 2.13

In two passages Paul cites Creation as the basis for worship protocols.

⁸For the man is not of the woman; but the woman of the man. ⁹Neither was the man created for the woman; but the woman for the man (1Co 11.8-9).

¹³For Adam was first formed, then Eve (1Ti 2.13).

Both of these passages have long and complex interpretational histories, and it’s not my purpose to develop that in a brief blog post. Both passages are addressing proper protocol in a worship service—the first specifically headwear, and the second leadership in the church. In a feminist age, both of these passages are highly controversial.

But the point I’m focusing on here is not at all controversial—or it shouldn’t be. I note, first, that Paul views the creation account as history, as non-fiction; he accepts its historicity outright. And second, Paul determines the appropriate protocols for corporate worship, a contemporary morality, if you will, from that ancient historical account.

It matters.

2 Corinthians 4.6

⁶For God, who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, hath shined in our hearts, to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.

Paul’s citation of Creation in this context feels almost off-handed. In this chapter Paul is contrasting the permanent, eternal value of spiritual life with the transitory treasures of life in the world. He will eventually write,

our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory; ¹⁸While we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen: for the things which are seen are temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal (2Co 4.17-18).

In making this contrast between the seen and the unseen, Paul uses the most logical metaphor, that of light; in his ministry practice he rejects “the hidden things of dishonesty” but manifests the truth (2Co 4.2). A hidden gospel reflects the “blinded” minds of the lost, who cannot see “the light of the glorious gospel of Christ” (2Co 4.4).

The greatest need of a blind world, then, is the ability to see the light that is all around them. The fact that God originally spoke light into existence gives us assurance that he can speak a deeper light, a more powerful light, into existence in our inner beings so that we can recognize the light that shines inherently from Jesus Christ, the true light.

Christians argue over how this works. Arminians emphasize the centrality of human responsibility in believing, while Calvinists focus on the moving of God in sovereign grace. The Bible is clear that both factors are important. We will not believe unless God does a work of grace in us, and we must believe; our choice matters.

This passage emphasizes the divine work of turning on the switch. The light is there to be seen; but blind eyes must be given the capacity to see.

How do we know that God can do this?

He’s spoken the original light into existence, and he’s created eyes in Adam and Eve to see it. As we’ve already noted, Jesus replicated that act during his earthly ministry by creating, from clay, functioning eyes for a man who had never had them. He can certainly do it again, creating spiritual eyes to see spiritual light.

Creation matters.

Photo by Greg Rakozy on Unsplash

In the Bible James notes that taking care of widows and orphans is at the very heart of true religion (Jam 1.27). Later Paul, in a letter to his protégé Timothy, gives details on how the church should see to that duty (1Ti 5.3-16). His words are perhaps unexpectedly lengthy and detailed; he wants this done right.

Widows with family, he says, should be cared for by their family (1Ti 5.4, 16). That’s sensible. Further, the widow needs to be at least 60 (1Ti 5.9)—presumably because a younger woman would have a reasonable chance of getting married again (1Ti 5.11)—and have lived in a way that demonstrates the genuineness of her faith (1Ti 5.9-10), something that would obligate the church to see to her care.

How does this work in our culture? I’d like to share a story from my experience.

In a church where I was on the elder board, one of the elders got a burden for the widows, something he just couldn’t get out of his mind. We put him in charge of putting something together that would bring some discipline to our approach, particularly so that no one would fall through the cracks of our care.

Soon we had a list of all the widows in the church. There were 35. I was surprised at how many there were. Then an elder and a deacon interviewed each one: how are you doing? What do you need? How can we help?

We were all surprised at what we learned.

We expected to find financial need; that was certainly a primary concern in Paul’s day. There may have been a concern or two in our congregation, but for the most part that was not a problem. They told us that their husbands had had life insurance, and they had enough to live on. Some, in fact, were in better shape financially than they had been when their husbands were alive.

But that is not to say there were no needs. You know what they told us?

“We need purpose. We need to be needed. We need something to do, a reason to get up in the morning. We need to belong.”

Wow.

Two thoughts struck me immediately.

First, we were completely uninformed, misinformed, on the situation in our own church. It was nothing like we thought.

And second, how could we have missed such a serious need?

We took immediate action. We asked the widows to come up with ideas on how they could organize and serve. That would address both the need to belong and the need to be needed.

And their first idea surprised us. They suggested that they clean the houses of new mothers.

I’ll confess that I wasn’t too keen on that idea. Widows are often, um, older than the population median, and were they up to it? Physical labor?

Well, it turns out that living that long helps give a person good sense, and they were wise enough not to take on tasks that would be too much for them. And their time with the new moms gave them opportunity to share mothering wisdom with the first-timers, and they delighted in the chance to hold the newborns and marvel over their little fingers and toes.

It was a win all around. Listening to people, and trusting their good sense and creativity, is a good thing.

I suspect that widows’ ministry will look a little different in every church, but we can be sure that we will give account to whether we have attended to that need.

Do you know what happened next?

That elder? The one with the burden? He died, and his wife became a widow. And she stepped right into a ministry that was ready to help her with grief support, and a need to be needed. Eventually she became the de facto leader of that widows’ ministry, until she remarried some years later.

Isn’t providence good?

Photo by Free Walking Tour Salzburg on Unsplash

Dan Olinger

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Why Creation Matters, Part 12: Pauline Epistles 2

On Widows in the Church