When Boys become men 2

When Boys Become Men: Breaking the Cycle of Generational Immaturity

WHAT: What Does It Mean to Put Away Childish Things?

There is a tradition that has been practiced in Jewish families for centuries. When a boy turns thirteen years old, his family gathers the whole community together, and he stands before them, and he reads from the Torah in Hebrew, and at the end of that ceremony, someone declares over him: "Today, you are a man." It's called a Bar Mitzvah — literally, "son of the commandment." From that day forward, that boy is treated differently. He is now responsible for his own moral and religious choices. He can be counted in a minyan. He can lead prayers. Something shifted — not just in his age, but in his identity, and everyone around him agreed to shift with him. Now let me give you a second picture, from a completely different world. At the end of United States Marine Corps boot camp, after thirteen weeks of the hardest training most of these young men have ever endured, there is a final test called The Crucible — fifty-four sleepless hours, over forty miles marched, on almost no food. And when it's over, a drill instructor stands in front of each exhausted recruit, places an eagle, globe, and anchor emblem in his hand, and says just two words: "Congratulations, Marine." That's it. But from that moment forward, that young man is never called "recruit" again. He answers to a new name, because he earned a new identity. Two very different cultures — a synagogue in ancient Israel and a boot camp in modern America — but both of them understood something we have largely lost: manhood needs a moment. It needs a decision. It needs a declaration. Now contrast both of those with how manhood happens — or doesn't happen — in so many homes today. There's no ceremony. There's no declaration. There's no moment where the community gathers and says, "Today, you are a man." Instead, we just wait. We wait for a birthday to happen — sixteen, eighteen, twenty-one — and we assume manhood arrived because a candle got blown out on a cake. And so we end up with something strange and tragic: men who are forty-five years old, with a job, a mortgage, maybe even children of their own — who have never actually become men. They just got older. Nobody ever told them, and more importantly, they never decided for themselves, to put away childish things. I heard about a woman who said her biggest heartbreak wasn't raising her son — it was watching her husband compete with him for attention, for the remote control, for who got the last word in an argument. Two children in that house. One of them just happened to be paying the mortgage. No Bar Mitzvah. No Crucible. No moment. Just drift. Church, that is exactly the picture the Apostle Paul is confronting in our text this morning. Happy Father's Day! Today I want to preach on a familiar passage, but I want us to hear it in a fresh way — and I want to walk through it with you using four simple questions: What. Why. How. And What Then. If you catch nothing else this morning, catch this journey, because it will take you from understanding a truth to actually living it. Let's start with the WHAT. Turn with me to 1 Corinthians 13:11. The Apostle Paul, writing to the church at Corinth, says: "When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things." Most of the time we hear this verse read at weddings, sandwiched in between "love suffereth long" and "now abideth faith, hope, charity." But today, I want to pull this verse out of that context and let it stand on its own, because Paul is not just talking about love — he is describing a transformation. He is describing what happens when boys become men. Let's understand where Paul is writing from. Corinth was a city of pride, sophistication, and self-promotion — a wealthy trade city sitting between two seas, a melting pot of Greek philosophy, Roman politics, and pagan religion. The Corinthian church had brought the culture of Corinth right into the sanctuary. They were fighting over who had the better spiritual gift. They were dividing themselves — "I am of Paul," "I am of Apollos," "I am of Cephas." They were suing each other in courts. They were tolerating immorality and boasting about it. Paul looked at all of this and said, in essence, "You are behaving like children." So when Paul says, "When I was a child, I spake as a child," he's holding up a mirror to a church full of grown men acting like little boys — spiritually stunted, emotionally reactive, prideful, divisive, never taking responsibility, always demanding their own way. But then Paul says something powerful: "But when I became a man, I put away childish things." That word "became" is important. It didn't happen automatically. It wasn't just a matter of counting birthdays. Manhood, biblically, is not the by-product of age — it is the by-product of a decision. It is the by-product of a putting away. You don't drift into manhood. You choose it. You lay something down in order to pick something greater up. So here is the WHAT of our message this morning: Manhood is not measured by age, size, or status — it is proven when a boy puts away childish ways and rises into godly responsibility, sacrificial love, and spiritual maturity. Not when boys get bigger. Not when boys get louder, or get more money, or get a beard. But when they decide, like Paul, to put away childish speech, childish understanding, childish thinking. And this is not just for the men in the room today. This is for all ages, all generations, because immaturity has no age limit! I have seen boys of sixteen carry more wisdom and character than men of sixty. And I have seen men with gray hair and grandchildren still throwing tantrums like a toddler in a supermarket when they don't get their way. Manhood is not a birthday — it is a decision to grow up in God. That's the what. But knowing what manhood looks like isn't enough. We have to ask a harder question: why don't more people get there? Why does immaturity so often get handed down instead of put away? That's where we turn next — to the why.

WHY: Why Immaturity Gets Passed Down Instead of Put Away

Here is a sobering truth, church: what is not dealt with will be repeated. What a father does not put away, he will hand down. That's the why behind so much brokenness we see in our homes today. Think about it. If a man never puts away childish anger, he will raise children who explode instead of communicate. If a man never puts away childish irresponsibility, he will raise sons who don't know how to keep a job, keep a promise, or keep a commitment. If a man never puts away childish selfishness, he will raise a household where nobody knows how to sacrifice for anybody else. Generational immaturity is real, and it is one of the greatest silent epidemics in our families today. I want to be careful here, because I am not trying to pile guilt on anybody. I am not up here to bash fathers — I am a father myself, and I know none of us do this perfectly. But we need to be honest in the house of God. There are homes represented in this room right now where the father figure never grew up. He was present in body but absent in maturity. He gave his name, but he never gave his wisdom. He gave his blood, but he never gave his blessing. The Bible is not silent about why this happens. Think about Eli the priest. Eli loved God, he served in the temple — but 1 Samuel tells us he "restrained not" his sons Hophni and Phinehas. He let their immaturity run wild, their greed, their disrespect for the things of God, and it destroyed the priesthood in that generation. Think about Isaac's household with Jacob and Esau — deception and favoritism, passed down from Abraham's own household struggles. Think about Rehoboam, Solomon's son, who instead of listening to the wisdom of his father's elders, listened to the young men he grew up with and said, "My father chastised you with whips, but I will chastise you with scorpions" — and the kingdom split in two because a son repeated his father's pride instead of putting it away. Why does this keep happening? Because hurting people hurt people, but more specifically — unfinished men raise unfinished sons. Immature fathers, whether they mean to or not, often produce immature children, unless something — or Someone — interrupts the pattern. That is the why: the cycle continues because nobody stepped in to break it. But I have good news for you this morning. Just because a cycle started before you doesn't mean it has to end with you. Just because your father never put away childish things doesn't mean you are sentenced to carry them the rest of your life. God specializes in interrupting generational patterns. And I want to show you a young man in Scripture whose family line was far from perfect — and yet he became one of the greatest ministers in the New Testament — because somebody stepped in and broke the cycle. His name was Timothy. And his story answers the next question we need to ask: not just what manhood is, or why the cycle repeats, but how — how does God actually break it?

HOW: How God Interrupts the Cycle — Timothy and Paul

So how does God break generational immaturity? Almost always, He does it through fathering — natural or spiritual. Let's look at how this happened for a young man named Timothy. Acts 16:1 tells us: "Then came he to Derbe and Lystra: and, behold, a certain disciple was there, named Timotheus, the son of a certain woman, which was a Jewess, and believed; but his father was a Greek." Let's sit with that for a moment. Timothy's mother, Eunice, was Jewish and a believer. His grandmother, Lois, was also a woman of faith — Paul mentions her by name in

2 Timothy 1:5 KJV 1900

When I call to remembrance the unfeigned faith that is in thee, which dwelt first in thy grandmother Lois, and thy mother Eunice; and I am persuaded that in thee also.

, calling her faith "unfeigned," meaning genuine, without pretense. But notice what Scripture says about the father — "his father was a Greek." That's it. No name given prominence in ministry. No mention of faith. In that first-century Jewish culture, when a Jewish woman married a Gentile man, it was already outside the boundaries of the Law, and it often meant the household was divided in its devotion to God. Greek culture worshipped many gods and prized philosophy and physical honor over spiritual devotion. So here is young Timothy, growing up in Lystra, a Roman colony in Asia Minor, in a home where his mother and grandmother are pouring the Scriptures into him from childhood — 2 Timothy 3:15 says Timothy had "known the holy scriptures" from a child — but his father is nowhere to be found spiritually. Timothy did not have a spiritual father in his home. Timothy was raised in a transitional household — one where godly women were doing their best to plant seed, but there was a missing piece: a father to model manhood, to model spiritual leadership, to show him what it looks like when a boy puts away childish things and rises into godly manhood. Isn't that the story of so many in this room today? Faithful mothers and grandmothers who prayed you through, but an empty chair, a missing voice, no father figure modeling maturity. Timothy could have used that as an excuse to stay a boy forever — spiritually stunted, indecisive. In fact, Timothy was known for being somewhat timid; Paul had to encourage him not to let anyone despise his youth (1 Timothy 4:12), and to "stir up the gift of God" that was in him, because fear seemed to grip him (2 Timothy 1:6-7). This was a young man wrestling with insecurity, likely rooted in that absence. But God was not finished with Timothy's story, because where a natural father was missing, God was preparing a spiritual father to step into the gap. Here is the how. When Paul came through Lystra, Timothy was "well reported of by the brethren." Something in this young man had already been cultivated by his mother and grandmother — a foundation was there. But Paul saw more than a foundation; he saw potential. And Paul did something that changed the entire trajectory of Timothy's life — Paul took him. Acts 16:3 says, "Him would Paul have to go forth with him." Paul didn't just preach to Timothy and move on. Paul invested in him. Paul mentored him. Paul poured into him. And by the time we get to Paul's letters, listen to how Paul refers to him: "Unto Timothy, my own son in the faith" (1 Timothy 1:2). "As a son with the father, he hath served with me in the gospel"

(Philippians 2:22

Philippians 2:22 KJV 1900

But ye know the proof of him, that, as a son with the father, he hath served with me in the gospel.

). "To Timothy, my dearly beloved son" (2 Timothy 1:2). Paul, who had no natural children of his own, became a spiritual father to a young man who had no spiritual father in his own house. This is how cycles get interrupted. Paul didn't let Timothy's incomplete household become Timothy's permanent identity. Paul stepped into the gap and modeled Christ-centered, sacrificial manhood — manhood that endured beatings and shipwrecks and imprisonment for the gospel, and still wrote letters full of tenderness: "I long to see thee, being mindful of thy tears" (2 Timothy 1:4). Notice what Paul modeled that Timothy's own household could not: putting away childish things. In the very letter that gives us our text, Paul is correcting the immaturity tearing the Corinthian church apart — the same immaturity Timothy might have absorbed without correction. Paul demonstrated what it looks like to be corrected, to grow, to move from milk to meat. Here's the how, laid out plainly: Lois and Eunice gave Timothy the seed of the Word. Paul gave Timothy the structure of spiritual fatherhood. And by the end of the story, Paul is handing Timothy the keys to pastor the church at Ephesus, trusting him to "commit thou to faithful men" the very things Paul had taught him (2 Timothy 2:2) — meaning Timothy himself became a spiritual father to the next generation! The cycle of an absent father did not end with a wounded, insecure, timid young man. It ended with a pastor, a son in the faith who became a spiritual father to others. That is how God interrupts a generational pattern — not by erasing the wound, but by sending someone to stand in the gap. Mentorship gets the final word. Fathering — natural or spiritual — gets the final word. So we've covered the what — manhood is a decision to put away childish things. We've covered the why — immaturity repeats when nobody interrupts it. We've covered the how — God sends a Paul to father what was left unfinished. Now we have to answer the last and most important question: what then? What do we do with this?

WHAT THEN: Rising Into Manhood Today

So what then? Now that we've seen what manhood is, why the cycle continues, and how God breaks it through fathering — what then should we do about it, today, in this room? Because this is for every single person here, no matter your age or your gender — we are all either becoming, or helping someone else become, what God intends. What then, fathers? Some of you are like Timothy's natural father — present, but not spiritually engaged. I am not condemning you, I am calling you. This Father's Day, God is asking you to do what Paul did for Timothy — to put away childish things yourself, so you can model manhood for the ones watching you. Your children don't need a perfect father. They need a growing father. They need to see you correct your temper, keep your word, humble yourself, apologize when you're wrong, and chase after God harder than you chase after anything else this world offers. That is manhood. That is what breaks the cycle. What then, mothers and grandmothers? Some of you, like Lois and Eunice, are holding a household together and pouring the Word into your children even without a present spiritual father. Your labor is not in vain! Timothy's unfeigned faith started with you women. God sees every prayer prayed alone at that kitchen table, every Scripture whispered over that child's bed. Keep planting — because God will send a Paul when it's time to build on what you started. What then, sons — young and old — who grew up without a father, or with a father who never modeled maturity, and you've carried insecurity, timidity, even anger because of that gap? Your history does not have to be your inheritance! You don't have to keep passing down what was handed to you. Somewhere along the way, God will send you a Paul — a mentor, a pastor, an elder, a spiritual father — and when He does, don't reject them because they're not your blood. Let them speak into you. Let them correct you. Let them call things out of you that your own household never could. And what then, church — all of us together? We are called to be a house full of spiritual fathers and mothers! There are Timothys sitting in these pews right now, watching us, needing us to be the Paul in their story. Somebody's cycle of immaturity is waiting to be broken through your mentorship, your patience, your willingness to invest in someone who isn't your blood but who needs your wisdom. So, church, the theme is When Boys Become Men, but really it's about all of us becoming what God intends — putting away childish speaking, childish understanding, childish thinking, and rising into the fullness of what Christ has called us to. Not by age. Not by size. Not by title. But by decision — a decision to lay down the old and pick up the new, to let God raise up sons and daughters who no longer repeat the past, but redeem it. So here's my question for you this morning: What childish thing is God asking you to put away? Pride? Irresponsibility? Fear? Unforgiveness toward a father who failed you? Whatever it is, today is the day to lay it down. I want to invite every man in this house — young and old, father and son — to come to this altar today. If you have never let God be your Father, if you've never let a mentor speak into your life, if you know you've been carrying the spirit of a boy instead of the character of a man — come. And if you are one who God is calling to be a spiritual father or mother to someone else — someone's Paul — come and consecrate yourself for that assignment too. Let's rise together. Let's put away childish things. Let's let the cycle end here — and let a new legacy of maturity, integrity, and godly manhood begin today, in this house, in your house, and in the generations still to come.