1 Timothy 1:15-17
The Rev. Dr. Robert S. Langworthy, preaching
September 14, 2025
In many a Hollywood superhero movie, the villains are bad guys who, without knowing it, express a biblical view of sin but embrace an un-Christlike response to sin. They see human beings as the ruination of everything but jump to the conclusion that the only thing to do is to wipe out the human race, without any mercy or attempt to redeem a soul. In the original Matrix movie, Agent Smith calls the human race “a virus” that must be eliminated. In one Justice League movie, Owlman plans to destroy the entire earth in order to entirely destroy “the cancer called humanity”. In a Batman movie Ra’s al Ghul describes Gotham as “a breeding ground for suffering and injustice” that is, in its decadence, “beyond saving” and deserving of destruction.
We can see a similar outlook in many real-life business practices. Often, when a company has gone bankrupt due to mismanagement or incompetence, and another engages in a hostile takeover, the new company “cleans house” by mercilessly firing nearly everyone without any thought of retraining or re-assignment. Heads roll, and the CEO’s toast themselves for doing the “smart” thing.
God has entrusted the world to our management, and we’ve made a mess of it. But God is merciful; and seeks, not just to save the world, but also us who made the world in need of saving. God means to deliver the world from our evil, but also to deliver us from our own evil – and restore us to righteousness.
In a motherlode of mercy, God holds back from giving us what we deserve because, out of His love, He yearns to give us better than we’ve any right to expect – except that He’s promised to bless those who fear Him.
At the time Paul composed today’s scripture, he is imprisoned yet again and feeling sure this time he won’t get out alive. He senses that his 30-year assignment of bringing the good news of Jesus to the ends of the earth is coming to a close and that the day is drawing near for him to pass on the mission to others. In this letter he’s writing to Timothy, a young man he’s mentored for years, in order to prepare him to carry things on after Paul’s gone. Already Paul has entrusted the new church in Ephesus to Timothy’s pastoral care. He now gives him final instructions about how to consolidate the church’s progress and raise up the right elders and deacons.
Before addressing church affairs, however, Paul bursts out in praise of Jesus who “came into the world to save sinners”, any and all sinners, including Paul who views himself as the “foremost” sinner. Paul can’t imagine a worst sinner than himself because, at the moment of his conversion, Jesus revealed not only how good He is but also how bad Paul had become. There on the road to Damascus Jesus confronted Paul with the reality that he had brought great suffering upon One who deserves only great honor and deference. To Paul Jesus posed this provocative question: “Saul, Saul,” – “Saul” being Paul’s birth name – “why do you persecute me?” In the blinding light of their encounter, the question opened Paul’s eyes to the fact that, in his ruthless attempt to rid the world of Jesus’ friends, those with whom Jesus identified so closely as to call them His “body”, Paul had been wounding the world’s most wonderful Person and the One to whom Paul would devote the rest of his life to glorify and serve. Because the victim of Paul’s evil was ultimately the best Person of all, Paul saw himself as the worst sinner of all.
Yet, Paul also saw that Jesus was pleased to give him, the utmost sinner, mercy, so that – by Paul – Jesus might “display the utmost patience” making Paul “an example” to those who would later come to believe. Christ’s giving Paul grace would assure many that Christ can redeem and enlist anyone in His team. Since it highlighted the beauty and inclusivity of Christ’s mercy, Paul was happy to own up to his prejudicial ugliness in showing no mercy to the innocent.
Experiencing in Jesus God’s the motherload of mercy moved Paul to make his life all about manifesting the mercy to others. Because he, the lowest of the low, had been lifted high in God’s grace, Paul urged himself and everyone he discipled to embody Christ’s mercy even for those who had degraded themselves and become denigrated by many.
Years ago, Harvie Conn served as a missionary in Korea. There God called Conn to bring the good news of Jesus to prostitutes and liberate them from sex work. Now, at that time, in that particular culture, prostitutes had a far lower status than those in other cultures. As the women labeled themselves as scum and couldn’t imagine someone as high and holy as Jesus wanting to have anything to do with them, it was hard to convince them of His love for them. Yet, Conn kept reaching out to them, kept treating them with respect and kindness, and kept sharing with them the stories of the merciful Savior.
Once, when Conn had been talking about how, for no reason anyone had given him, Jesus gave those who deserved nothing but judgment nothing but grace and mercy, one prostitute exclaimed, “He just loves people like that?” “Yes,” Conn replied. “Well,” she asked, “how do I know He loves me, the worst kind of person?” Conn answered her question with another: “When you hear about how Jesus suffered and how He did that thinking of you, does that touch you?” “Yes!” “Do you want Him?” “Yes!” “Well, you aren’t capable of wanting Him if He wasn’t wanting you, or of loving Him even a little if He hadn’t already been loving you with everything He’s got.”
When the woman realized Jesus had chosen her before she could choose Him, she felt assured and confident. She trusted in His claiming her as His own, and became His friend. That new identity supplanted her old one as a worthless and despised hooker. Her bad decisions no longer defined her, but Jesus’ unilateral decision to save her for a life of joy and purpose did.
The motherload of Christ’s mercy moves those who experience it to be merciful. They exclude no one, but instead embrace everyone – whether they be a Korean prostitute, a persecutor of the church, a politician they despise, or a really annoying neighbor.
If Jesus chooses to love us all, for no reason we give Him, in fact against all reason given how bad we’ve been, everyone belongs, in the motherload of His mercy.
And, if no one has a right to such grace, then everyone has as much right to it as anyone else – and there’s always more than enough of it for everyone to have more
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