Two Lives Poured Out

The devotion you give to your family can travel the world for thousands of years.

Timothy, the disciple of Paul, was raised by his grandmother Lois and his mother Eunice.  Of all the capable, enthusiastic young followers of the Way, Timothy must have been a stand out.  Paul chooses him.  Paul calls him “my true son in the faith” (1 Corinthians 4). 

When Paul sits down to write a letter to young Timothy, he begins by reaching back into history, Timothy’s history.  Paul opens by honoring Timothy’s faith origin, his grandmother Lois and his mother Eunice. 

This is significant. 

In a time when women were rarely even considered or mentioned, Paul records these two names in the annals of Biblical ancestry.  The names Lois and Eunice would be remembered and carried in Scripture around the world as melodies in the symphony of living faith. Paul wrote, “I am reminded of your sincere faith, which first lived in your grandmother Lois and in your mother Eunice and, I am persuaded, now lives in you also” (2 Timothy 1:5).

I like thinking about them. I envision Lois and Eunice making meals together, praying together and teaching young Timothy the parables of Jesus as they sit in the lamplight of their first century home. 

Paul takes time to remember and honor the deep well of living water that undoubtedly refreshed Timothy each day.  That well was the sincere faith of his mother and grandmother.  In fact, Paul writes in the book of Acts that Timothy’s mother is Jewish and a believer. Timothy’s father was a Greek, possibly a Hellenist, and was not a believer.  Maybe his father wasn’t around?  Maybe he was like my father - a man who loved his family but couldn’t say it. 

Lois and Eunice were like my mother and grandmothers.  They were present.

They brought Timothy up according to the precepts that had endured for millennia:

The steadfast ideals of the Proverbs and Psalms. 

The writings of Solomon, of David the King, of Abraham, and of Moses no doubt influenced their ability to love Timothy and be devoted to his care and education. 

The stories of Ruth and Naomi and Esther that had been told and re-told to sleepy children in the quiet of the moonlight kept the faith of their ancestors alive.

We don’t get to know how Lois and Eunice met the Messiah.  Is it possible that they heard about Yeshua through Paul’s teachings?  Maybe they were in one of “the multitudes” spoken of in the book of Luke?  Did the two of them sit on the hillside at the Sea of Galilee? 

I can imagine them taking Timothy with them the day that a little boy shared his five loaves and two fish with a man who fed more than 5,000.

Who is the Timothy in your life?

Who is that little boy that needs affection and story time and your presence every single day to know he is loved?

Is there a sweet little girl who adores you and waits at the door for you to come home for dinner?

Do you have a teenager full of longing and insecurity who really needs to be encouraged that his life was spoken into existence by the One Who Painted the Skies?

Do you know a college graduate who is looking for hope as she steps into a job that feels more mundane than meaningful? 

Is it possible that 1,000 years from now a young person could be reading your name in a letter written to encourage generations? Can’t imagine it? 

I doubt that Lois and Eunice imagined it either.  

Lois and Eunice were probably not seeking fame.  They were probably like my Grandma Kathryn, who cooked and cleaned and wiped noses for five children praying that they’d find good lives out there in the world.  They were probably something like my mother, Janis, who worked three jobs and raised my brother and I by showing us what to do when life got tough: Get down on your knees and talk to the One Who Can Do Something About It.

Lois and Eunice knelt down and lived a “sincere faith” for the sake of one little boy. 

The devotion they gave to their family has traveled the world for thousands of years. 

Two lives poured out, one day at a time, from the well of Living Waters and the ripple effects are eternal.