Sermon Text: 1 Timothy 1:12–17
Date: June 7, 2026
Event: Proper 5, Year A

1 Timothy 1:12–17 (EHV)

I give thanks to the one who empowered me, namely, Christ Jesus our Lord, that he treated me as trustworthy, appointing me into his ministry. 13He did this even though formerly I was a blasphemer, a persecutor, and a violent man. But I was shown mercy, because I acted ignorantly in unbelief. 14The grace of our Lord overflowed on me along with the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus. 15This saying is trustworthy and worthy of full acceptance: “Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners,” of whom I am the worst. 16But I was shown mercy for this reason: that in me, the worst sinner, Christ Jesus might demonstrate his unlimited patience as an example for those who are going to believe in him, resulting in eternal life. 17Now to the King eternal, to the immortal, invisible, only God, be honor and glory forever and ever. Amen.

Are You the Worst Sinner?

“Ugh, that is the worst!” Perhaps you’ve heard that said or you’ve said it yourself. I’m most familiar with using it or hearing it used in the context of some relatively minor inconvenience. Like, a paper cut or forgetting you’re out of milk and having to run to the store when you’re already in your pajamas. It’s a phrase that we often use to describe how annoying something is, but how often is what we are talking about the actual worst? I’d guess probably never. No matter how bad something is, we can probably come up with some way to one-up it, to make it worse than it already is.

No, the superlative "worst" is extreme, and we usually don’t use it in its full sense unless we’re comparing a few things. For instance: forgetting to charge your phone, slipping on a wet floor, and starving to death. Like, all of those are bad to some degree, but one is clearly the worst. But to contemplate the worst of all life experiences, the worst of all situations, the worst of all hardships? That seems a bit impossible.

But Paul makes an observation about himself in our reading from his letter to young Pastor Timothy that probably makes our eyebrows rise in surprise or concern: “Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners,” of whom I am the worst. Is Paul the worst sinner? Is the champion of spreading the good news about Jesus to the Gentiles the worst person to ever live? And if so, by what metric? Number of sins? Severity of sins? And even if he is, Paul is writing about 2,000 years ago; has someone surpassed him since then? Have you? Have I?

Paul establishes some bona fides for this claim: formerly I was a blasphemer, a persecutor, and a violent man. We know from the history of the book of Acts what Paul is talking about here. The first part of Paul’s life was lived as a devout and zealous Jewish believer. He was a member of the group called the Pharisees, who we are pretty familiar with from Jesus’ ministry. The Phraisees were a highly spiritual group, but they also had very misguided notions about where their spiritual security should come from. They most often looked to their own works rather than to God’s mercy for their eternal confidence, a path that Jesus made clear, over and over again, would lead to their spiritual downfall.

But Paul’s zealousness as a Pharisee went beyond centering himself on works righteousness. We are first introduced to Paul in the biblical narrative as he guards the belongings of those murdering Stephen, making Stephen the first Christian martyr. And lest we think that was just a passive mistake, after that, he took a very active role in trying to squash out the fledgling Christian church. In Acts chapters 8 and 9, Luke describes Paul’s actions this way: [he] was trying to destroy the church by going into one house after another, dragging off both men and women, and putting them in prison. … [He] was still breathing out murderous threats against the disciples of the Lord. He went to the high priest and asked him for letters to the synagogues of Damascus, so that if he found any men or women belonging to the Way [that is, Christianity], he might bring them to Jerusalem as prisoners (Acts 8:3, 9:1-2). It’s in the act of this region-trotting hunt that Jesus appeared to Paul, made clear to him how misguided he was, and eventually called him to be an apostle, a messenger of the gospel, especially for the Gentiles, for people who were not Jewish.

But Paul did not—probably could not—forget his past. He knew what he had done, the offense he had committed against his God and Savior, and the grace and mercy that had been shown to him to spare him and then even to be privileged enough to serve in the gospel ministry.

Paul’s situation is not radically different from Matthew’s in our Gospel. Matthew was a tax collector, a traitor to his people who served Rome and then likely lined his own pockets by overcharging his countrymen (as was common for tax collectors of that day). He deserved to be punished, and yet what did he hear? “Follow me” (Matthew 9:9). I doubt that Matthew ever forgot his old way of life before he became Jesus’ disciple, but he probably would have echoed Paul’s sentiment: I give thanks to the one who empowered me, namely, Christ Jesus our Lord, that he treated me as trustworthy, appointing me into his ministry.

Now, what about you? What about me? I’m not aware of any of us ever having been a traitorious tax collector (although, have we always been honest in every bit of business we’ve ever had—even with the IRS?) nor do I think that anyone here is actively persecuting other Christians or any other group for that matter (although, have we always treated all people with the respect and love that we should?), but truly none of us have been perfect, which is what God demands. So how should we view ourselves?

There are a lot of people out there doing clearly sinful things. Some people are vicious, some are greed-fueled, some seek their own pleasure above all else and at all costs. And these things lead to horrible outcomes, making headlines in news articles and serving as subject matter for “true crime” shows. At least I’m not like them. At least I’m not one of the bad ones.

Except, by whose standard am I finding comfort in that? My own? I have judged that I’m better than someone else; therefore, everything is ok? Why kind of biased, subjective judgment is that? How could that bring any real comfort? This pull toward comparative righteousness, trying to see myself as better than others, is a dangerous game.

If I look at other people and see those who are worse than I am, that probably points to a really serious spiritual problem inside of me; I probably lack almost any self-reflection. True, someone may have done something sinful (even reprehensible) that you would never do, but what sins have you committed that they would never dream of doing? What depravity oozes up from the depths of your heart that that other person would never consider? And just how many of their sins are you aware of compared to how many of your own?

Why did Paul call himself the worst sinner? I don’t think it was the types of sins he committed (although that surely didn’t help). It seems far more likely that Paul is looking at an honest numbers game. He might have known one, or ten, or a hundred, or even a thousand of the sins that another person had committed. But no matter how big that number was, no matter how many sins he knew someone else had committed, it was minuscule compared to the number he knew he had committed.

No matter who we might compare ourselves to, no matter how well we know them or how close we are to them, be they a spouse, or parent, or child, or sibling, or friend, we know an infinitesimally smaller amount of their failures—their sin—than we know of our own. And it’s good and healthy for us to sit with that, examine that, just let it breathe and exist within us and around us. It’s uncomfortable dwelling on how great a failure you are in God’s sight. God demands zero sins in your entire life; how many have you committed this year so far? In these early days of this month? Today? Since you got to church? Since this sermon began?

Sit with it for a moment. Marinate in the reality that you are the worst sinner that you know. And if you would dispute that reality, that’s just further evidence that this is true. See yourself as you are by nature. It makes me sick to my stomach to think of my mountain of failures, and yet I need to see that sin in all its horrid mass, lest I start to think too well of myself.

So, again, sit with that for a moment, but my goodness, don’t stay there. Dwelling on sin and only seeing the sin, only seeing the failure, is the surest way to hopelessness and despair. It’s healthy to dwell on it to a point—to see how great your need is and to put to death the impulse to compare yourself favorably against other people—but beyond that, it is spiritually toxic. Beyond that, it leaves you looking to yourself for comfort or direction that you won’t find in you and I know I will not find inside me.

No, like Paul, like Matthew, like Moses, there is one place for us to look for comfort, despite being the worst sinner we know. The grace of our Lord overflowed on me along with the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus. This saying is trustworthy and worthy of full acceptance: “Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners,” of whom I am the worst. Paul’s words are just as true for you as they were for him. The “worst sinner” part, yes, but also the Lord’s grace and Jesus’ salvation mission.

Jesus came to save sinners, even the worst sinner, even you. Even me. Remember what he said to his critics in our Gospel: “The healthy do not need a physician, but the sick do. Go and learn what this means: ‘I desire mercy, and not sacrifice.’ In fact, I did not come to call the righteous, but sinners” (Matthew 9:12-13). Jesus didn’t come for the really good people; he came for the broken, the wayward, the disobedient, the proud, the unforgiving. That is, he came for you, and he came for me.

Paul didn’t earn his status as an apostle; that was God’s undeserved love for him. Matthew didn’t earn his status as a disciple, apostle, and evangelist; that was God’s undeserved love for him. Moses didn’t earn his status as a prophet and nation-rescuer; that was God’s undeserved love for him. You and I have not earned anything good from God, least of all forgiveness or eternal life. No, we have not earned it, but like Paul, Matthew, and Moses, that is God’s undeserved love for you and for me.

Jesus came into the world to save sinners, and he accomplished that work. His death was the payment we owed that we could not pay. His resurrection is the proof that it is all truly finished. The world’s sins—every single one of them, be they big or small in our eyes—are paid for. That means, dear Christian, that your many sins are included in that number. Yes, you, the worst sinner, have been completely and fully forgiven. Whether they are sins of ignorance or choice, sins you can recount, or sins you aren’t even aware of, all of them are gone.

Being the worst sinner is not a contest to be won. I already know that I meet that criteria, as you already know that you do as well. But forgiveness was a mission to be accomplished, one that cost the blood and life of the perfect Son of God. But he did it. He did it willingly, lovingly, and gladly, because that’s how much he values you and me.

Are you the worst sinner? Yeah, unfortunately, you are. But, are you the most dearly loved child of God? Well, he’s removed every single sin you’ve ever committed against him. So, yes. Worst sinner to dearest child; it doesn’t get any better than that. I was shown mercy for this reason: that in me, the worst sinner, Christ Jesus might demonstrate his unlimited patience as an example for those who are going to believe in him, resulting in eternal life. Now to the King eternal, to the immortal, invisible, only God, be honor and glory forever and ever. Amen.

Soli Deo Gloria