After almost a full year of forgetting my mobile banking username (should I be putting that on the Internet?), I finally was able to get back into my banking app recently. It's so much easier to make deposits now that I can just pull out my phone and take pictures of my checks, as opposed to actually driving to the bank that's a whole half mile away from my house (what is this, 2005?).
One of the best things about mobile banking, in my opinion, is being able to just sit back and look at all the deposits I've made. Am I the only one who gets a sick sense of satisfaction from this? I'm not proud of it, but it brings me odd validation to concretely see that we've earned money and were able to deposit said money into our account (major first-world privilege is showing here, yes).
I'm not suggesting that money is any measure of my life, but the fact that so much of life is measured in not-so-measurable-terms might be some sort of explanation for why I feel this way. For example, we make deposits of different kinds every day - we deposit life or death into our marriages, we deposit words of kindness or disdain into coworkers or cashiers, and we deposit our faith (or perhaps lack thereof) into our kids.
It's the latter deposit listed there that I've been thinking a lot about lately. I hope that I deposit faith and love and life into others, and this will consume most of my thoughts and work for most of my days. But lately, I've been reflecting on the rich deposit of faith that I've been entrusted with. From my parents, my pastors, my grandparents, their grandparents - I've been handed down a faith that is now thousands of years old. How am I stewarding the deposit of this rich faith with which I've been trusted?
In 1 Timothy 6, the apostle Paul is writing a letter to his beloved disciple, Timothy. As he's wrapping up his final thoughts (which actually have much to do with the danger of wealth and money), he writes, "O Timothy, guard and keep the deposit entrusted [to you]! Turn away from the irreverent babble and godless chatter, with the vain and empty and worldly phrases, and the subtleties and the contradictions in what is falsely called knowledge and spiritual illumination. [For] by making such profession some have erred (missed the mark) as regards the faith" (1 Tim. 6:20-21 AMP). Paul urges Timothy to hold on to this faith that he's been handed. What's more, Timothy's mentor tells him to guard his deposit and keep it pure, so that it can continue to be handed down to the next generation. "In this way they will lay up treasure for themselves as a firm foundation for the coming age, so that they may take hold of the life that is truly life" (1 Tim. 6:19 NIV).
The question for those of us who follow the way of Jesus and Paul today is what kind of faith are we handing to those who follow us? We've been entrusted with the key to the "life that is truly life." Is that kind of abundant life on display in my days for the next generation to see? If not, what else is going to convince them to keep their deposit?
This requires introspection and real examination of our faith. What is my faith really about? What was the faith of my father really about? What was the faith of the apostles and first century church leaders really about? Is my faith the same gold that was passed on to Timothy, or is it some cheap, worldly [even Americanized?] imitation? It would be in our best interest to thoughtfully consider the faith that we've been handed and the faith we're passing on to the next generation in light of what the Scriptures actually say, of course. If you've been passed down a faith that seems misogynistic, racist, and unconcerned about the poor and the non-human creation, that's not the faith of Jesus or the Bible. If you've been passed down a faith which is only concerned with "going to heaven when you die," that's not the faith of Jesus or the Bible either. It falls squarely on each one of us not to 'miss the mark' in regards to the faith in order to pass a firm foundation and "the life that is truly life" to the next generation. Though the way in which we go about sharing the good news might change through the ages (and it must), the bones and firm foundation of our faith (start here and here) must be guarded and stewarded well. It's up to us. Vincent of Lérins, a monk in the 400s A.D. who wrote about this in his work on the orthodox faith, The Commonitorium, puts it this way: "That which has been entrusted to thee, let it continue in thy possession, let it be handed on by thee. Thou hast received gold; give gold in turn. Do not substitute one thing for another. Do not for gold impudently substitute lead or brass. Give real gold, not counterfeit" (Commonitorium, chapter XXII). At the end of my life, I hope that I can look back with joy on all of my deposits to my kids, grandkids, congregations, and spiritual kids, and know that they didn't get something fake. God, help me. Help us. Here's to passing the real thing to the next generation of faith.
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