The Faith That Formed Us

2 Kings 22:14-20, 2 Timothy 1:3-7

Over the past several weeks, we have been doing some work in the church library. After the roof leak, which thankfully has now been repaired, we realized some renovations and cleanup were needed. So Martin and Randy have spent many long hours sorting through shelves, boxing up books, and preparing the room for the work ahead. Now, I should tell you, they did not discover any lost books of the Bible hidden in the back corner of the library. But the whole thing did make me think about our story from 2 Kings this morning.
King Josiah has ordered repairs to the temple in Jerusalem. Workers are clearing debris, repairing walls, restoring what had been neglected for generations. And somewhere in the middle of all that work, they find something unexpected. A scroll. The Book of the Law. Torah. The sacred story and covenant that once shaped the people of God.

But here is the tragedy of the story: the scroll had been lost for so long that the people no longer seemed to recognize it. The words that once shaped the nation had faded from memory. The covenant had been neglected. Worship had drifted. The people had forgotten who they were and whose they were.

So the king’s officials go searching for someone who remembers. And surprisingly, they do not go to Jeremiah, who was preaching in the markets of Jerusalem. They do not go to Zephaniah, who was warning of coming judgment. Instead, they go to the prophet Huldah.

And you might be asking the same questions that rabbis have pondered for millennia. Why Huldah?

Rabbinic tradition says Huldah taught near the gates of the city, welcoming the weary and teaching women who gathered there. Huldah was not simply someone who knew the law. She embodied it. She lived it. While the nation’s leaders had forgotten the covenant, Huldah had continued shaping her life around it.

The nation lost the scroll. But the faith survived in the life of a prophet. Before the words of scripture were rediscovered in the temple, they were already alive in Huldah.

And I think that is important for us to hear. Because faith is not merely something we learn from a book, even when that book is scripture. Faith is something shared, modeled, and practiced. It is lived out in relationship and community. The faith that forms us is embodied before it is fully understood.

That is what Paul is talking about in our second reading from 2 Timothy. Paul writes to the young pastor Timothy and says, “I am reminded of your sincere faith, a faith that lived first in your grandmother Lois and your mother Eunice and now, I am sure, lives in you.”

Lois and Eunice were not famous prophets or rulers. They were women who faithfully formed the faith of a young man who would become a leader in the early church. Timothy inherited faith not simply from a text, but from people who lived it in front of him.
And honestly, I think many of us know exactly what Paul means.

I remember seeing faith lived out. I saw my mother serve faithfully as a deacon and elder. I saw her help start a preschool at the church because she believed faith formation mattered. Later in life, I saw her go to seminary, become ordained as a Teaching Elder, and serve a small congregation in Cottonwood Falls for nearly twenty years.

And this faith did not begin with her. Her faith was shaped by my grandmother, whose faith carried her through profound grief after losing her husband far too soon, and later through her own battle with cancer. Through all of it, she would repeat the words of Paul’s letter to the Romans like a prayer, almost a mantra: “We know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose.”

Not as denial. Not as easy optimism. But as a deep trust that somehow, even in sorrow and uncertainty, God would not abandon her.
Because, as Billy Graham preached, “our God is the God of love.”

And that faith shaped my mother. And through her, that faith shaped me.

She gently nudged me toward my own call. Opportunities to preach. Invitations to serve a little congregation in Americus, Kansas.

Encouragement to take the big and honestly terrifying step of going to seminary myself.

Now, I say all of that not simply to talk about my family this morning. I say it because this is how faith is formed.

Someone lives it in front of us. Someone teaches us how to pray. Someone makes space for our questions. Someone shows us what courage and compassion look like. Someone keeps the faith alive for the next generation.
And this congregation is filled with people who have done exactly that.

This church has been shaped by disciples who quietly and faithfully formed the faith of others for decades. Sunday school teachers. Choir members. Preschool teachers. Nursery volunteers. Elders and deacons. Parents and grandparents. People who showed up week after week to teach, to serve, to pray, to sing, to encourage, and to love.

Long before many of us could articulate faith for ourselves, someone here was already embodying it for us. That is holy work.
And much of that work often happens quietly. Around dinner tables. In classrooms. In fellowship halls. In hospital rooms. In ordinary acts of compassion and service that rarely receive recognition.

This is how faith is formed and passed on. This is how faith survives and thrives. This is how the church endures. Not simply because words are written down, but because someone continues to live them, teach them, remember them, and pass them on.
Huldah reminds us that when a community forgets who it is, God raises up people who remember. And Paul reminds us that faith lives on when it is shared from one life to another.

The faith that formed us did not begin with us. And it is not meant to end with us.

Which means this sermon is not only about gratitude. It is also about responsibility.

Because now we are the ones shaping faith for others. Now we are the ones teaching children how to pray. Now we are the ones deciding whether faith will merely sit on a shelf or come alive in the way we live, serve, speak, forgive, and love. Now we are the ones called to embody the gospel for the next generation.

I want to take a moment now to invite you to think about someone who formed your faith. Someone who lived the gospel in front of you. Someone who welcomed your questions. Someone who taught you how to pray. Someone who showed you what faithful love looked like.

Perhaps they are still with you today. Perhaps they now belong to that great cloud of witnesses surrounding us still.
Offer a silent prayer of gratitude for them.

And if you are able, take the opportunity to thank them. Tell them what their witness has meant to you. Because the faith that formed us is a gift, and gifts like that should never go unspoken.

Thanks be to God for the faith that formed us.

Amen.