"A Mentor's Confession"

Paul’s confession is not casual or calculated, coerced or false; instead, it is an unexpected, vulnerable, complete confession of his own sin.

“Apostle Paul” by Rembrandt Harmenszoon van Rijn, from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library, Nashville

1 Timothy 1:12-17

September 14, 2025

Dr. Todd R. Wright

Paul’s name stands alone in our thoughts as THE missionary to the Gentiles – but that is an illusion. In truth he was a team player, not a solo performer. He partnered with Barnabas on his first missionary trip and later took on partners such as Silas and Luke. Timothy and Titus helped him train new believers and carried letters back and forth between Paul and the churches his team had planted. Paul loved these men like sons/brothers and served as a mentor in faith and leadership.

So what do you suppose a mentor would write to a young man just taking up his calling to be pastor of a church?

---

Flash forward nearly 2,000 years. Paul Clayton makes an offer to Lee, a former seminary intern who has been on staff, as he begins his ministry at Central Church. He writes, “How would it be if, in this first year of your ministry, I corresponded with you about the issues you face? I would share my practical, day-to-day habits of ministry with you in the hope that my experience would help you establish a pattern of ministry that is uniquely yours.”[2]

Paul Clayton fills his letters to Lee with advice on leadership style, planning for Sunday, effective stewardship, how to handle a crisis, tips for weddings, funerals and baptisms, and a pattern for pastoral care. Paul the Apostle engaged in a similar process with Timothy, filling his letters with advice on worship procedures, leadership standards, how to control unruly women(!), and policies regarding widows, slaves, and rich people.

All this is what we would expect. After all, many of you have served as mentors – formally and informally. But Paul is full of surprises. He starts this letter with a confession.

---

Now confessions come in a variety of shapes and sizes:

a casual confession after bumping into someone – I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there;

or an anguished confession after years of silence – I will never forgive myself …;

a shame-faced confession before cameras and microphones, full of regret and remorse;  

or a calculated confession by some celebrity to thrust themselves into the tabloid spotlight;

a tainted confession beaten out of a suspect by a cop in the blind pursuit of so-called justice;

or a false confession willingly given to shelter a loved one;

a scripted confession that, despite the words, takes no responsibility and blames everyone else;

or a wordless confession – an extended hand, a bouquet of flowers, a return to the table.

Paul’s confession is not casual or calculated, coerced or false; instead, it is an unexpected, vulnerable, complete confession of his own sin. He uses powerful words, distasteful words, for what he did to Christ and the early Church:

He owns up to the fact that he was a blasphemer of God’s own Son, an insulter of the Church, flinging angry words like hand-grenades, accusing Christians of crimes against God, when, ironically, he was the one kicking God in the shins.

It is public knowledge that he has been a persecutor of the followers of the Way, but he does not try to sugar-coat it or explain it away. He freely admits that he used every means available under Jewish law to annihilate the Christian Church, dragging men and women from their homes, kicking and screaming, weeping and wailing, all the way to prison.

He describes himself as a man of brutal violence. The Greek word is hubristes. It indicates a kind of arrogant sadism; it describes a person who inflicts pain for the sheer joy of inflicting it. While it makes our stomachs turn, we know what this sin looks like. We have seen it all too often.

Think of Dachau or Abu Ghraib. Think of abusers of spouses or children or dogs. We flinch at it.

Why would any mentor engage in this kind of soul-shredding confession to the person they are trying to mold for ministry?

I think there are four reasons a mentor ought to be this honest, this vulnerable, this shocking:

First, a leader must be honest about their weaknesses as well as their strengths. Paul’s strengths were obvious. He was a first-rate theologian, a gifted writer, a visionary rightly credited with taking the gospel to the Gentiles and starting numerous churches. In comparison, people were quite clear about Timothy’s weaknesses – a weak stomach, timid, young. But neither Paul’s strengths nor Timothy’s weaknesses told the whole story.

Because Paul could acknowledge his flaws, past and present, he could admit that his work for the kingdom of God depended on the work of fellow followers of Christ and the will of God Almighty. For Timothy to be a good leader, he could not ignore his weaknesses, but neither could he forget his strengths – a faith nurtured by a mother and grandmother of faith, loyalty, sensitivity, and an appreciation for how it felt to be an outsider. Paul epitomizes the truth of the statement “confession is the beginning of self-knowledge.”

Second, confession is a strong check on pride. Paul was in real danger of becoming prideful over all he had done for the Gospel and all he had endured since his conversion.

We risk the same sort of pride over being asked to pray in public, our years of service to the church as officers or volunteers, our place in the choir or circle or Sunday school. We risk pride when we start to count our successes or list what we’ve overcome. Paul’s advice to Timothy, and to us, is remember your sin and the pride will drain out of you, like liquid out of a rusty bucket.

Third, a listing of one’s failures will keep gratitude aflame. As Paul shares his story he shakes his head in amazement that God chose someone like him. Paul could list dozens of men and women more worthy of God’s trust than he had been until that fateful day on the Damascus Road.

So he is grateful for God’s mercy. Especially when he considers every opportunity missed, every failure of nerve, every day when he was too tired or too wounded to carry on.

So he is grateful for every ounce of strength God had given him, every bit of courage, every second chance. Paul’s advice is remember how often you have hurt God and those around you and still been forgiven and you will leap with thanksgiving like a child with a new puppy.

And finally, an honest recounting of a person’s history can serve as a powerful encouragement to others. The worst thing we can do is give others the impression that the church is a place that only welcomes those who are happy, stable, certain, sinless.

We are not. We are a gathering of grateful, forgiven, sinners who, no matter how hard we try, stumble over and over again.

One of the things that makes AA so powerful is that everyone there freely confesses their own sins – no one need feel alone. They also claim what they have done in spite of that weakness. What an encouragement for the person who has managed to stay sober for a week to hear the story of the one who has been able to do it for a year.

So Paul advises don’t just remember your sin, speak of it, for your sake and the sake of others.

---

It seems like an odd start to a mentor relationship, but Paul will build on this honest foundation. Timothy will not suddenly discover that Paul is not who he claimed to be, or feel betrayed, or be led to believe that perfection is possible. If there is any surprise at all, it will be that God is able to use lives with bent and broken histories for such glorious ministry.

I find this mentor’s confession both frighteningly challenging and tremendously encouraging. I hope you do too. Amen.

[1] “Apostle Paul” by Rembrandt Harmenszoon van Rijn, from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library, Nashville

[2] From Letters to Lee: Mentoring the New Minister, by Paul C. Clayton, page vii