Our church was packed this morning as we celebrated our risen savior and remembered the mothers and grandmothers who pointed us to him. A biographical look at Timothy was the sermon, and it was shown that his father was an unbelieving Greek man.
His mother, Eunice, and grandmother, Lois, are both referenced as the ones who taught Timothy and led him to faith in a culture where women were marginalized. They couldn’t defy Timothy’s father, but they could demonstrate respectful and pure conduct while raising Timothy in the word. 1 Peter 3:1-2 comes to mind here.
I teared up as we sang “who the Son sets free is free indeed” as I recalled the bondage I was under before I was freed and talked about it on the way to lunch. My identity is no longer in my sins or my accomplishments. My identity is in Christ and Him alone, for I have nothing of value apart from Him.
My mother and my grandmothers prayed for me as I grew up and I am glad they all saw the fruit of their prayers. There are mothers who will never see the fullness of the fruit of their faithfulness. And if I’m being honest here, I hope the fruit is multiplied over generations so that no mother sees her true impact on this side of eternity.
This is not me being hateful, but loving, as any faithful mother would agree once the initial surprise wears off. May faithful generations bring the will of God to earth as it is in Heaven!
