The Goal of the Commandment: Text: 1 Timothy 1:3-7
Introduction: The War for the Pulpit
We live in a squishy age. It is an age that prizes sincerity over truth, and good intentions over sound doctrine. The modern evangelical impulse is to treat the apostolic faith like a buffet, where we can take what we like, a little bit of grace here, a dash of forgiveness there, and leave the hard teachings about sin, judgment, and doctrinal precision sitting under the heat lamp. We are told that doctrine divides, but that love unites. This is a half-truth, and all half-truths are whole lies. It is like saying that bones provide structure, but skin provides unity, so let us do away with the skeleton to have a more unified body. What you would have is not unity, but a puddle.
The Apostle Paul, writing to his young son in the faith, Timothy, would have none of this. Timothy was stationed in Ephesus, a bustling, cosmopolitan city, a first-century San Francisco, full of every kind of pagan worship, philosophical fad, and spiritual pretension. And the infection was not just outside the church; it had crept inside. Certain men, with a lust for the spotlight and a love for the sound of their own voices, were beginning to teach a different gospel. It was a gospel of esoteric rabbit trails, of "myths and endless genealogies." It was Christianity as a hobby for the intellectually restless.
Paul's charge to Timothy is not to start a dialogue. It is not to find common ground. It is to command them to stop. This is a military order. The pulpit is not a platform for personal speculation; it is a watchtower. And the pastor is a steward, entrusted with a specific deposit, "the faith which was once for all delivered to the saints" (Jude 3). To alter that deposit is embezzlement of the highest order. But Paul does not just tell Timothy what to fight against; he tells him what to fight for. And this is crucial. The goal of sound doctrine is not to win arguments or to puff up the pride of the theologically astute. The goal of all our commanding, all our preaching, all our theology, is something very specific. It is love.
But it is a particular kind of love, a love that grows in a particular kind of soil. It is not the sentimental, syrupy, cheap love of our age. It is a robust, holy love, born from a pure heart, a good conscience, and a sincere faith. Anything else is just noise.
The Text
As I exhorted you when going to Macedonia, remain on at Ephesus so that you may command certain ones not to teach a different doctrine, nor to pay attention to myths and endless genealogies, which give rise to mere speculation rather than furthering the stewardship from God which is by faith. But the goal of our command is love from a pure heart and a good conscience and an unhypocritical faith. For some, straying from these things, have turned aside to fruitless discussion, wanting to be teachers of the Law, even though they do not understand either what they are saying or the matters about which they make confident assertions.
(1 Timothy 1:3-7 LSB)
The Apostolic Injunction (v. 3-4)
We begin with the charge Paul gives to Timothy.
"As I exhorted you when going to Macedonia, remain on at Ephesus so that you may command certain ones not to teach a different doctrine, nor to pay attention to myths and endless genealogies, which give rise to mere speculation rather than furthering the stewardship from God which is by faith." (1 Timothy 1:3-4 LSB)
Paul's instruction is direct and authoritative. Timothy is to "command" certain men to stop teaching a "different doctrine." The Greek word here is heterodidaskalein. It means to teach something other than the apostolic standard. This is not a matter of stylistic preference. This is about the very substance of the faith. There is a body of truth, a "pattern of sound words" (2 Tim. 1:13), and to deviate from it is to set the church on a course for shipwreck.
What was the nature of this different doctrine? It was a fascination with "myths and endless genealogies." In that context, this likely referred to Gnostic-like speculations about the Old Testament, creating elaborate and fanciful backstories for biblical characters, or Judaizing attempts to base one's standing with God on their pedigree. What are the modern equivalents? They are legion. They are the dispensational charts drawn out to the fourth decimal place, the conspiracy theories that distract from basic obedience, the critical race theories that import a false law and a false gospel, the therapeutic deism that turns God into a cosmic butler. Whatever form they take, they share a common fruit: they "give rise to mere speculation." They do not produce holiness; they produce arguments. They do not build the church; they create factions.
Paul contrasts this with "the stewardship from God which is by faith." The Greek is oikonomia, from which we get our word "economy." It refers to the management of a household. The gospel is God's household plan for His people. It is a practical, working reality. It is not a subject for detached, abstract debate. And it operates on one principle: faith. We are saved by faith, we walk by faith, we are sanctified by faith. These false teachers were trying to replace the simple, powerful administration of God's grace through faith with a complicated system of esoteric knowledge. They were replacing the solid food of the gospel with theological cotton candy.
The Bullseye of All Doctrine (v. 5)
Here, in verse 5, Paul gives us the entire point. If we miss this, we miss everything.
"But the goal of our command is love from a pure heart and a good conscience and an unhypocritical faith." (1 Timothy 1:5 LSB)
The goal, the telos, the whole point of the exercise, is love. Sound doctrine is not an end in itself. It is the necessary means to a glorious end. That end is a community of people who love God with all their heart, soul, mind, and strength, and who love their neighbors as themselves. Any doctrine that does not ultimately produce this kind of love is, by definition, unsound doctrine. It is a clanging cymbal.
But notice the qualifiers. This is not the squishy, sentimental love that the world talks about. This is a love that stands on three sturdy legs. First, it comes from a "pure heart." This is a heart that has been cleansed by the blood of Christ. It is a heart that is not motivated by pride, or greed, or the desire for acclaim, but by a sincere devotion to God. Second, it comes from a "good conscience." A good conscience is one that has been cleared of guilt by the finished work of Jesus. It is a conscience that is not screaming at you, allowing you to serve God without shame and fear. You cannot love your neighbor freely if you are constantly navel-gazing at your own guilt. The gospel silences the accuser and gives us a good conscience before God. Third, it comes from an "unhypocritical faith." This is a faith that is not a mask. It is a genuine, rugged trust in the promises of God. It is a faith that works.
These three things, a pure heart, a good conscience, and a sincere faith, are the soil in which true, biblical love grows. The false teachers had none of this. Their hearts were impure, driven by pride. Their consciences were likely seared. And their faith was a sham, a mere intellectual game. And the result was not love, but division and speculation.
The Swerve into Vanity (v. 6-7)
Paul then describes the tragic trajectory of these false teachers.
"For some, straying from these things, have turned aside to fruitless discussion, wanting to be teachers of the Law, even though they do not understand either what they are saying or the matters about which they make confident assertions." (1 Timothy 1:6-7 LSB)
They strayed. They swerved off the main road. And where did they end up? They "turned aside to fruitless discussion." The Greek word is mataiologia, which means vain, empty talk. It is the kind of talk that fills up airtime but accomplishes nothing of eternal value. It is the endless churn of online theological debates where no one is trying to learn, but everyone is trying to win. It is hot air.
And what was their motivation? Pride. They were "wanting to be teachers of the Law." They craved the title, the prestige, the authority of being a teacher. But they had skipped the first and most essential step: being a student. They were ambitious to teach what they had not yet learned.
Paul's diagnosis is devastatingly precise: "they do not understand either what they are saying or the matters about which they make confident assertions." This is a perfect first-century description of the Dunning-Kruger effect. Their confidence was inversely proportional to their competence. They spoke with absolute certainty about things they fundamentally misunderstood. They were using biblical words, talking about the Law, but they had missed the entire point of the Law, which is to drive us to Christ. They were confident, loud, and wrong. And because of their misplaced confidence, they were leading others astray.
Conclusion: Aiming at the Right Target
The charge to Timothy is our charge today. The church is constantly beset by those who would distract us from the main thing. The temptations are endless: to turn the faith into a political action committee, a social club, a self-help program, or a forum for endless theological hair-splitting. We are to command them to stop.
But we must do more than just play defense. We must be on offense for the truth. And we must always remember the goal of that truth. We preach Christ crucified. We insist on sound doctrine. We defend the faith once delivered to the saints. Why? So that we can win arguments? So that we can feel superior to the theological simpletons around us? God forbid. We do it because sound doctrine is the only thing that can produce genuine love. It is the gospel that purifies the heart. It is the gospel that cleanses the conscience. It is the gospel that creates sincere faith.
So, when you are evaluating a teacher, a book, or a movement, do not just ask if it is interesting. Do not just ask if it is popular. Ask this: what is the fruit? Is it producing love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control? Is it producing love that flows from a pure heart, a good conscience, and a sincere faith? Or is it producing pride, division, speculation, and fruitless discussion?
The goal of our command is love. Let us take up the apostolic charge, guard the good deposit, and aim all our efforts at the right target. Let us be a people whose doctrinal precision is matched only by the vastness of our love for God and for one another.