Grasping for Certainty

1 Timothy 6:17

November 1, 2026 • Mount Pleasant UMC

Everybody wants to live the good life. I mean, that makes sense, right? Nobody wants to live a “bad life.” No one wants or chooses to be miserable or to live a pointless life. Everybody wants to live the good life. That’s the American dream—living the life you always wanted to live and having the resources to do it. But do a quick online search and you’ll find that how people define what “the good life” is differs greatly. For some, it’s having a lot of social connections and relationships. For others, it’s having a lot of stuff, or at least having the financial freedom to buy whatever you want—the latest gadget, the nicest car and the most comfortable house. And for still others, “the good life” means having purpose and fulfillment in work or in whatever you’re doing. It seems, too, that our definitions of “the good life” shift throughout our lives; in other words, depending on what stage of life we are in, we want different things. But underneath all of it, without question, is the assumption that living “the good life” requires us to have financial stability—but, again, what people mean by “stability” differs from person to person.

And we’re willing to do just about anything to achieve that so-called stability. The irony, to me anyway, is that as a culture we are willing to literally mortgage our future in order to have perceived stability in the present. Today, in 2026, the average American household has a little over $11,000 in credit card debt; that doesn’t include car loans or mortgages. That’s just the debt we have racked up by swiping or tapping those little plastic icons of temptation in our pockets. That adds up to $1.37 trillion in total US credit card debt; my brain can’t even wrap itself around that number! $1.37 trillion. That amounts to $25.29 billion a month in interest. Just the interest. Let that sink in. Because these things interest me, let me throw in one more statistic: my generation is the most in debt, which makes sense because it was really while I was in college that credit cards became so pervasive. I think I got a credit card offer in the mail almost every day, telling me I was pre-approved, which is nuts because I didn’t have a job! I had no income! The second-most-in-debt generation is the one after me. We’ve taught our kids well. I’ll say it again: in pursuit of the good life, we are mortgaging our future. One author puts it this way: “Living ‘the good life’ (as our culture defines it) results in missing the best life” (Alcorn, Giving is the Good Life, pg. 3).

For today and the next two weeks, we’re going to be asking this question: what is “the good life,” according to the Bible? And we’re going to be hanging out in this passage that the Apostle Paul wrote to his young friend and protege, Timothy. We’re going to do a deep dive, looking at just one verse each week because Paul’s advice to Timothy, who was pastoring in Ephesus, is dense and important for us to hear in these days. And yes, I’ll tell you up front as I try to do every year: this is our stewardship series. Two weeks from today, I’m going to ask you to fill out a pledge card, making your commitment to this church for 2027. We’ll talk more about what that means in two weeks, and all I ask is that you prayerfully listen and consider what God is calling you to do. I don’t want you to make any decisions today; I want you to hear me out for these three weeks and allow the Holy Spirit to guide you. Fair enough? Okay, so let’s dive in to what Paul has to say to Timothy and his church in first-century Ephesus.

Those who were at Bible Breakdown a couple of weeks ago will tell you that I get excited to talk about Ephesus. It is, I think, my favorite archaeological site anywhere, mainly because it’s so rich in detail. I have been there twice and want to go back. Ephesus is in modern-day Turkey and in Paul’s day it was a seaport, though now the port is silted in and the actual site sits quite a ways from the sea. Paul loved this city and the church there; he spent a lot of time there and made a special stop to say goodbye to them when he was on his way to Jerusalem where he knew he would be arrested (cf. Acts 20:13-38). It was a hard place for believers in Christ because it was well-known as the center of worship for the goddess Artemis. Their temple dedicated to Artemis was considered one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World, and people came from all over the known world to worship Artemis in Ephesus. So, considering all of that, it’s significant that Paul sent Timothy here as their pastor. Timothy is a young man, maybe around thirty or so, but spiritually mature for his age. Paul calls him “my true son in the faith” (1:2), and he writes to him in order to help him lead this church (cf. Towner, 1-2 Timothy & Titus [IVPNTC], pgs. 20-21).

If you go with me to Ephesus the next time I go (and I hope you do), we will enter at the top of a hill, from where we walk down a gentle slope toward where the port used to be. And near the bottom of the street, on the lefthand side, you will find what are called the Terrace Houses. These multi-storied homes are where the rich and powerful lived, literally looking down on everyone else as they went to the nearby market, the theater or the port (cf. McKnight, 1 & 2 Timothy, Titus and Philemon, pg. 93). Still today you can see some of the beautiful color and decoration in these homes, and how comfortable they would have been in comparison to the way most of the people lived in Ephesus. And Paul most likely is thinking of the people in those homes when he writes to Timothy, “Command those who are rich in this present world…” (6:17).

Now, before we look more at what Paul thinks the rich should do, let’s think about the way we normally approach passages like this. We dismiss them, because we’re “not rich.” The rich are those who have the multi-million dollar homes, or the ones who are in the news, own companies, jets, the most expensive cars. We’re not rich, especially not in this economy, right? We certainly don’t feel rich when we pull up the gas pumps or when we go to the grocery store. But here is the reality: the Gallup organization reports that the average global household income is just under $10,000 a year. $10,000, which is less than $1,000 per month or about 1/3 of what is considered poverty level in our country. Here’s the reality: in global terms, we are the rich. We are in the top 1% of income in the world. Though we don’t often feel like it, our country has been blessed and we can afford things most people in the world cannot. So when Paul begins to “command the rich,” we have reason to listen (cf. Alcorn 75 and personal research).

So, to those who are rich, Paul tells Timothy to guide them in three ways. First, he says for them “not to be arrogant” (6:17). The word Paul uses means being “lofty” or “high-minded;” in other words, it refers to people who look down on others, who think they are better than others. And Paul knows, from his experience in Ephesus and elsewhere, that wealth can lead to such an attitude. Jesus once told a story about a rich man (Luke 12:16-21) who had an abundant harvest one year. It was more than he needed and more than he could currently store. And he thinks to himself—by the way, anytime someone “thinks to themselves” in Scripture, it’s a bad sign because they are deciding things for themselves and not consulting God—so he thinks to himself, “I’ll just tear down the barns I have and build bigger ones.” Then, he says (again to himself), I can take life easy from now on. I have enough for me to live on. But God has other ideas. God says to him, “You fool! This very night your life will be demanded from you. Then who will get what you have prepared for yourself?” There’s that theme of “yourself” again, and the word “fool” that describes the man means “unthinking one” (cf. Alcorn 19). “In the world’s eyes, the rich fool was a great success. Today he would be admired, and he might even be placed on a church or ministry board” (Alcorn 20). But he was arrogant. He failed to see anything beyond himself and he didn’t allow God into his plans. All that mattered was what he wanted. And so Paul says, “Don’t be arrogant.” Don’t be foolish. Don’t be unthinking.

God’s question to the rich fool asks him who will get what he has. And while there is a definite reference to money there, I don’t think that’s all the story has in mind. When we are arrogant, we don’t consider others worth our time, and so sharing whatever we might have in terms of resources isn’t on the radar. The opposite, then, of that is to use our resources for the sake of others. We might use this image as a way to think about it. Let’s say you have someone you know, maybe someone younger in the faith or just younger in age who needs guidance. You could picture their life as this empty bowl. And let’s suppose you have these resources. You have money, and experience, and a certain skillset, and knowledge, and time, and encouragement, among other things. What if you were to pour your life into someone else? What if you shared what you have with that person who is empty—your money, your experience, your skills, your knowledge, your time, your encouragement? Do you see what happens? As you pour into someone else’s life, as you care about someone else, their life fills up. Now, the metaphor breaks down a little bit here because pouring into someone else’s life does not empty you out. You still have the same resources but sharing them with someone else means now you both have a chance. It’s what Paul did with Timothy. On Paul’s first visit to his hometown of Lystra, Timothy heard the Gospel and, we think, responded to it by becoming a believer along with his mother and grandmother. When Paul returned to Lystra, he was impressed with how this young man was growing in his faith and invited him to come with him on a missionary journey. They traveled together, and Timothy is listed as co-sender or co-author on six of Paul’s letters. Then, at some point, Paul leaves Timothy in Ephesus to lead the church there. Paul poured into Timothy so that Timothy could continue what Paul had started. This is the opposite of arrogance, and I am willing to bet that Timothy was picturing that spiritual friendship as he read Paul’s words, “Don’t be arrogant.”

The second thing he commands the rich is not “to put their hope in wealth, which is so uncertain” (6:17). We don’t like uncertainty. We want “sure things,” not uncertain things. We want the thing we’ve created to sell, the relationship to work, the business to make money and our politician to win. We want the sure thing, so we’ve convinced ourselves that wealth and stuff and things are certain. If we have lots of money, a huge 401K and a nice savings account, we will be set. We are constantly grasping for certainty, for a “firm place to stand.” But when we’re honest, we will admit “wealth” is uncertain. It does not last. The economy goes sour and suddenly the funds we thought we had are worth less than the paper the reports were printed on. I had a friend who had what he thought was a secure retirement stored up, and when the economy crashed, he sank into a deep depression that took years to overcome. Everything he thought he had saved up for himself and his family was gone, because as Paul reminds Timothy, wealth is so uncertain.

I know I have too much stuff. And I’ll get in this mood where I purge things, send them to the missions yard sale, give them away, whatever, just get all this stuff out of my house. And then, oh look, it’s Amazon prime days and things are on deep discount. I can’t pass up that bargain! And slowly more things accumulate in my house. We love our stuff. We love our things. I have a huge library because, you know, books are kind of an occupational hazard and a really strong temptation for me. I have books on my shelf I haven’t ever read. Why do I keep them? True confessions here this morning! And lately—I think it’s because I have a grandson now and you start to think about these things—I’ve been wondering what will happen to it all when I’m gone. It’s just stuff. It will probably be donated or thrown away. We accumulate so much stuff because, somehow, we find comfort in it. We find security by having things. But none of it is as long-lasting, as stable as we seem to think it is. Paul tells young Timothy to not put hope in wealth, because it is uncertain. You can’t count on it. Grasp onto it for certainty and it will fail you.

So two things Paul tells Timothy to warn the rich against: don’t be arrogant and don’t trust in wealth. Then the third thing is something they are supposed to do: “put their hope in God, who richly provides us with everything for our enjoyment” (6:17). The only way the rich—us—can avoid the other temptations is to be “properly oriented to God” (Towner 147). We need a reorientation, a change of perspective. We need to know that God, not Amazon, is the one from whom all true blessings come. And those blessings will not be uncertain, nor will they fade away. Now, let’s notice what Paul does not say. He does not say we will be given everything we want, regardless of what the TV preachers say. He does not guarantee health, wealth or a long life. What God promises all throughout the Scriptures is himself, his presence. That is the final promise we’re given in the last book of the Bible: “God himself will be with them and be their God” (Revelation 21:3). In the end, that is all we need. I’m not saying he won’t give us material blessings here and now. I’m just saying he does not promise us everything we think we want. We got one of those Amazon gift catalogs in the mail and I made the comment that it was a waste because you can find all that stuff online. Why do you need a catalog? And someone pointed out it wasn’t for me; it’s a marketing ploy for kids because they can go through that catalog, just like we used to as kids, and circle everything they want. Easton’s already doing that! I want this and this and this…I want it all! I remember doing that as a kid, and I realized it’s genius on Amazon’s part. We see pictures of things we didn’t even know we needed! And sometimes we do that with God: I want this and this and this and this. But God never promises everything we want. He promises what we need. As one of my favorite Biblical scholars put is, “If you have trained yourself only to get enjoyment from things that cost money, you need to go into a different training” (Wright 78).

What Paul is talking about is contentment, something that our culture is designed to keep us away from. Advertisers and marketers work overtime to make us discontent with what we have and then when we’re discontent, they just happen to have something that they promise will make us content if we buy it. But Paul—and the Bible—tell us we will only be content when we put our “hope in God.” St. Augustine put it this way: “You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it rests in you.” I’ll say it again: in pursuit of the good life, we are mortgaging our future. And meanwhile, the church and our faith suffer. We want certainty. We grasp for it every day but we’re grabbing at the wrong things. To the rich in Ephesus, to the rich in Vigo County, Paul says, “Put your hope in God, who richly provides us with everything for our enjoyment.”

Jesus and the disciples had gathered around a dinner table, the last time they would be together like that. Around that table were twelve men who had vastly different ideas about what should happen next, about what was important, about what would lead to certainty. Some of them thought they needed armed revolution. Some believed they needed to establish a royal throne in Jerusalem. At least one of them though that they could force Jesus into doing what he thought should happen, and he was willing to take money to help make it happen. Maybe he thought the money would help their cause, but whatever the motive, none of them were of the same mind as their rabbi, Jesus. And so Jesus took the common elements that were on the table—bread and wine—and gave them new meaning so that every time after this when they saw those things they would be reminded to put their hope in God. And he told us to continue to do this in remembrance of him. Put your hope in God, these elements say, because only he can give us certainty. Only he can save. “Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God” (Psalm 42:11). Let’s pray and prepare our hearts as we come to the table.