Three decades ago, the late pastor, scholar, and author

Eugene Peterson undertook the monumental project

of presenting the entire Bible in contemporary English.

The result, published nine years later as The Message,

is for me an arresting paraphrase of the timeless words

of scripture. In his introduction, Peterson writes of the

gradual realization that this project perfectly aligned

with his vocation as a pastor. He wrote, “I was always

looking for a way to make the Biblical text relevant to the

conditions of the people I served.” This morning, I’d like to

share Peterson’s take on these verses from Paul’s letter to

Timothy. Listen for God’s word.

Get the word out. Teach all these things. And do not let

anyone put you down because you are young. Teach

believers with your life: by word, by demeanor, by love,

by faith, by integrity. Stay at your post reading Scripture,

giving counsel, teaching. And that special gift of ministry

you were given when the leaders of the church laid

hands on you and prayed—keep that dusted off and in

good use. Cultivate it. Immerse yourself in it. The people

will see you mature right before their eyes! Keep a firm

grasp on both your character and your teaching. Don’t be

diverted. Keep at it. Both you and those who hear you will

experience salvation.

This is the word of the Lord.

Fifteen years ago, Princeton Seminary professor and

Methodist pastor Kenda Creasy Dean published a

book on the faith of America’s teenagers. Her title is

telling. Almost Christian. Dean, following sociologist

Christian Smith, describes the dominant faith system of

our youth as Moralistic Therapeutic Deism.

Simply put, this belief system:

1. Teaches us to be good and nice to others (Moralism).

2. Assumes that faith exists to keep us happy and solve

our problems (Therapeutic).

3. Imagines God as distant, largely uninvolved in our daily

lives, and only present when we need help (Deism).

It is a faith that asks little of us and expects little from

God—one that might be comforting but is ultimately not

very compelling. In fact, Dean argues that such a shallow

faith will fail us whenever life becomes complex, doubts

and questions arise, or crisis comes. And crisis will come.

I think her most significant finding is this one: we get what

we are. In other words, the faith we model is the faith

our children inherit. Dean writes: “It is common for us to

understand Christianity as a set of religious ideals and not

a life-giving identity. We Christian parents would say we

trust Jesus, but our lives tell a different story. Look at our

overscheduled calendars, our insatiable consumerism,

our relentless anxiety…we’re as vulnerable to these idols

as anybody else. Our kids know us for who we really are.

One glance at our lives tells the truth.”

Regardless of what we say we believe, the way we live is

the best measure of what truly matters to us. We get what

we are.

So, how do we cultivate a faith that stands the test

of time? How do we cultivate a faith that matures as

the years pass? How do we cultivate a faith that gives

meaning and purpose in the messiness and pain of life?

Perhaps we listen to the voices of the young people

among us.

In seven days, next Sunday, we will hear poignant words

from Paul’s second letter to his young protégé Timothy

in which the Apostle Paul, in the latter years of his life,

reflects on the wisdom he has gained through decades

of ministry. This week, the author and the audience are

the same, but the focus is different. In this morning’s text,

we find Paul celebrating young Timothy’s faith and urging

him to make full use of the gifts God has given him.

I would suggest that Timothy has much in common

with many of the youth in our congregation. You see,

even though the Christian movement was still in its early

stages, Timothy is a third-generation disciple of Jesus.

He received this faith from his grandmother, Lois, and his

mother, Eunice. In other words, Timothy is a child of the

church. He was raised in the Christian community. Faith is

a part of his identity, his self-understanding.

And, according to his mentor, Timothy is now ready

to lead. Paul’s words offer encouragement and high

expectations. I love Peterson’s translation because it

captures the richness of the language. He reminds

Timothy of that powerful moment (think Confirmation)

when he was received into the church, and Paul implores

Timothy to “cultivate these gifts”…to immerse himself in

them. In another translation, the instruction is “do not

neglect the gift that is in you.”

There is urgency in Paul’s command to Timothy. These

are not suggestions. The Greek better translates: You

must not ignore, you must not abandon, the blessing

that has been given to you. You must cultivate that gift.

And the Church must offer a place and an invitation for

children and youth to immerse themselves in the deep

waters of faith.

We do that best by listening. We do that best by living

authentically. We do that best by sharing our faith and

our doubt. We do that best by engaging the world that

God longs to redeem, by intentionally moving faithfully

from worship to work. This is the role of the Christian

community—to live intentionally together in ways that

form deeper faith in each of us.

I speak to you now about a topic that means a great deal

to me, that matters deeply in my own life and ministry.

One of Professor Dean’s concerns about the faith being

passed from one generation to the next is the lack of

thick Christian communities of practice. And I would

suggest that in the years since her book was published,

the concern has been compounded by accelerating

societal shifts. In his 2024 book The Anxious Generation,

social psychologist Jonathan Haidt examines the rising

anxiety and mental health challenges among Gen Z.

Haidt attributes significant influence to the pervasive

use of smartphones and social media. Haidt contends

that the transition from a “play-based” childhood to a

“phone-based” childhood has led to increased concerns

of every kind. Among them is this reality: that play, by its

very nature, is communal. Play involves others. Friends,

neighbors, classmates, colleagues. By contrast, our

relationships with our devices are, by their very nature,

individual. They drive isolation and disconnection in the

real world. Haidt goes on to emphasize the essential

value of genuine community that fosters real-world

interaction and provides a moral framework for values

rooted in those communities. Values and virtues that are

practiced together.

When I read his words, I think of Timothy and of

his grandmother. I think of the grandmother in our

congregation who has promised her grandchildren that

she is willing to be their chauffeur, to drive them anywhere

they want to go, with one rule. Their phones cannot be

used so long as grandma is driving. This guarantees

interaction across the generations. You have to talk to

grandma in the car.

When I read Haidt’s description of genuine community, I

think of Timothy and his grandmother, and I think of you.

Among the many strengths of religious congregations

is our steadfast commitment to intergenerational

community. I am proud of this emphasis on uniting

folks across the life cycle, and of the lives that have

been nourished, the faith that has been formed, and the

vocational paths that have been discovered through these

ministries. Think of this. When we gather in this space

on Sunday mornings, every generation currently living is

represented. This is a profound gift and an increasingly

rare experience in a time when so much of our lives is

stratified by generational identity.

But it must be about more than that. You see, our gathering

in the same building at the same time might provide the

opportunity for engagement, but it does not guarantee it.

Each time I meet with the parents of a baby who will be

baptized at our font, I describe the questions that we ask

as part of the baptismal liturgy. The first, “Do you desire

that your child be baptized?” is a formality. I always tell

the parents they really need to say yes to that one or else

there’s an awkward moment here on the chancel.

The second question, “By God’s grace, will you live the

Christian faith and teach that faith to your child?” is a

profound promise. There’s a reason we ask about living

the faith first. As parents, living the values of our faith is the

single greatest factor in the formation of the faith of our

children. But parents are not the only ones who answer a

question in the liturgy for baptism. You, the congregation,

make a promise to guide and nurture the newly baptized.

And when I meet with parents, I always tell them what I

know from pastoral and parental experience. That you,

the congregation of Second Church, take that promise

seriously. You will show up in their lives. You will embrace

their presence. You will listen to their wisdom. You will

welcome their gifts, encouraging and nurturing them at

every turn. And then, parents, here’s the hard part: and

then we send them.

It happens every year. These babies grow, and one day

the time comes for them to make their own commitment

to faith, to speak the words that have shaped their faith,

to profess their belief. And then, we send them off into the

world to pursue the paths where God calls them. As they

do, we trust that the efforts of our congregation have not

been in vain. We trust that their faith will be strong, and

that they will not abandon the gifts that God has given

them. That when pain and difficulty come—and they will

come—the faith formed in this place will be enough to

sustain them. That’s why we cultivate these gifts. That’s

why we immerse ourselves in them.

So church, please hear this. It’s a truth Paul knew deep

in his heart. Our children are watching how we as

individuals, as a church, and as a society, live the faith

we profess. It will not do to speak the words and pray the

prayers and then abandon all Christian virtue when you

leave this sacred space. It will not do. You and I must not

pay lip service to the value of community only to separate

into echo chambers of isolation when we depart each

other’s company. If we fail to act as followers of Jesus in

the world beyond these walls, if our lives are marked by

hypocrisy and not humility, if our worship ends at the

doors of the sanctuary, if our congregations are captive

to the idolatry of power at any cost, the future of our faith

is bleak indeed. And I must report that there are worrying

signs of this around us.

But these signs do not tell the whole story. From where

I stand, quite literally, I see something else happening. I

see children, youth, and young adults eager to learn and

ready to lead. I see a faith sturdy enough to stick. I hear it.

The compassion of Christ calling to the next generations

seeking ways to serve others. I hear it. The Spirit of Christ

speaking to their longing for deeper meaning. And I

know this. The church that channels that compassion,

the church that gives voice to that Spirit, the church that

listens to that longing, can build a future that is deeply

faithful and morally coherent, where character is formed,

and the truth is valued.

And so, the message is clear. We get what we are. So,

know this. Our children are watching—how we live, how

we speak, how we show up. How will we respond? Time

will tell. Time will tell.

Let us pray.

Oh, Lord, we believe.

Help our unbelief.

In Jesus’ name. Amen.