Paul’s warning in II Timothy 4:3–4 is not subtle. It’s one of those passages where the apostle stops speaking like a gentle counselor and starts speaking like a fire bell in the night. And what makes it so disturbing is that he doesn’t predict the church will merely be attacked from the outside. He predicts the church will be hollowed out from within by a kind of spiritual consumerism—people treating “teaching” the way Rome treated entertainment: as something purchased to satisfy taste.
Here’s the Greek, with translation as we go:
“Ἔσται γὰρ καιρὸς ὅτε τῆς ὑγιαινούσης διδασκαλίας οὐκ ἀνέξονται, ἀλλὰ κατὰ τὰς ἰδίας ἐπιθυμίας ἑαυτοῖς ἐπισωρεύσουσιν διδασκάλους κνηθόμενοι τὴν ἀκοήν, καὶ ἀπὸ μὲν τῆς ἀληθείας τὴν ἀκοὴν ἀποστρέψουσιν, ἐπὶ δὲ τοὺς μύθους ἐκτραπήσονται.”
Start with the first phrase: “Ἔσται γὰρ καιρός” (estai gar kairos) means “For there will be a time/season.” The word καιρός (kairos) is not just clock-time. It’s a “season,” a fitting moment, a cultural climate. Paul is saying: a particular spiritual weather will come around—maybe repeatedly—and when it does, you’ll recognize it by what people start refusing.
What will they refuse? “τῆς ὑγιαινούσης διδασκαλίας οὐκ ἀνέξονται” (tēs hygiainousēs didaskalias ouk anexontai) means “they will not endure sound teaching.” That word “sound” is one of the most revealing words in the whole sentence. ὑγιαινούσης (hygiainousēs) literally means “healthy” (it’s related to the idea behind our word “hygiene”). Paul is not describing doctrine as a mere set of correct opinions. He’s describing it as health—nutritional, stabilizing, sanity-producing truth. And people “will not endure” it: οὐκ ἀνέξονται (ouk anexontai) means “they will not tolerate / they will not put up with / they won’t bear it.” The image is almost physical. Healthy teaching feels heavy, sharp, and demanding to a soul that wants comfort without surgery.
That should already make us nervous, because it implies something: the problem is not that the teaching is unclear. The problem is that the teaching is unwelcome. There is a kind of truth that doesn’t merely inform you—it commands you. It denies you the right to remain the center of reality. And the fallen heart hates that. People can “not endure” it the way a sick man “can’t stand” medicine.
So what do they do instead? “ἀλλὰ κατὰ τὰς ἰδίας ἐπιθυμίας” (alla kata tas idias epithymias) means “but according to their own desires.” ἐπιθυμίας (epithymias) is “desires,” often with the sense of cravings, impulses, lusts—strong wants that push and pull the will. Paul is saying the driver is not truth-seeking; it’s desire-serving. And notice the phrase ἰδίας (idias), “their own.” It’s personalized. Customized religion. Private appetite as an authority.
Then the line that should make every age feel accused: “ἑαυτοῖς ἐπισωρεύσουσιν διδασκάλους” (heautois episōreusousin didaskalous)—“they will heap up for themselves teachers.” The verb ἐπισωρεύσουσιν (episōreusousin) means “pile up,” “accumulate,” like making a heap. Not one teacher, but a mound. Why? Because when desire is the judge, you need a lot of voices to keep reassuring you that your desire is righteous. One honest teacher will eventually say “no.” So you collect teachers the way an addict collects dealers: whoever supplies the feeling you want becomes “my teacher.”
And then Paul gives one of the most psychologically accurate phrases in Scripture: “κνηθόμενοι τὴν ἀκοήν” (knēthomenoi tēn akoēn), literally “itching in the hearing,” often translated “having itching ears.” κνηθόμενοι (knēthomenoi) is from a verb meaning “to itch,” “to tickle,” “to scratch.” The point is not that they are curious. It’s that they want sensation, relief, stimulation—something that scratches the inner itch. They want teaching that feels good to listen to, teaching that strokes the ego, teaching that turns conviction into a compliment. They do not want the kind of word that breaks you down to rebuild you. They want a word that massages you while leaving the tumor untouched.
That phrase “itching ears” is devastating because it names a religious posture that is almost indistinguishable from sincerity. People can be very earnest while shopping for lies. They can be very emotional while avoiding repentance. They can weep under a sermon that never wounds their idols. “Itching” is not atheism; it’s appetite disguised as spirituality.
Then Paul says what happens next, and he uses the ear again: “καὶ ἀπὸ μὲν τῆς ἀληθείας τὴν ἀκοὴν ἀποστρέψουσιν” (kai apo men tēs alētheias tēn akoēn apostrepsousin), “and from the truth they will turn the hearing away.” The verb ἀποστρέψουσιν (apostrepsousin) means “turn away,” “shun,” “reject.” And ἀλήθεια (alētheia) is “truth,” not merely factual correctness, but reality as God defines it—truth that exposes and heals.
Notice the tragedy: the “ear” is active. They don’t merely drift. They “turn away” from their listening. The organ of reception becomes an organ of refusal. This is what happens when desire becomes sovereign: listening becomes selective. “I will hear what confirms me, and I will call it ‘God speaking.’ I will refuse what challenges me, and I will call it ‘toxic’ or ‘legalistic’ or ‘unloving’.” A heart can learn to flinch at truth the way skin flinches from fire.
And then the final movement: “ἐπὶ δὲ τοὺς μύθους ἐκτραπήσονται” (epi de tous mythous ektrapēsontai), “but they will be turned aside to myths.” The verb ἐκτραπήσονται (ektrapēsontai) means “to turn aside,” like leaving the road. It’s used for deviation, wandering off course. And the word μύθους (mythous) means “myths,” stories that are not anchored to truth—narratives that charm, entertain, or soothe. Not necessarily fairy tales with dragons; “myths” can be respectable, sophisticated, and religious. A myth can be a whole interpretive story that makes you feel heroic without making you holy.
So Paul’s picture is stark: when people refuse healthy doctrine, they don’t become neutral. They become myth-driven. When truth is rejected, something else rushes in to fill the space, because the human mind cannot live without meaning. We will worship something, even if it’s a comforting lie.
Now put this into Paul’s immediate context. He is about to charge Timothy to preach the word “in season and out of season.” That phrase only makes sense because there will be seasons—καιροί (kairoi)—when preaching truth is celebrated, and seasons when it is endured like bitter medicine. Timothy is not being trained to be a celebrity. He’s being trained to be faithful when the crowd’s appetite changes.
And here’s the uncomfortable question the passage forces on us: what do we mean when we say we “want good teaching”? Do we mean teaching that is true, or teaching that feels true to us? Do we want ὑγιαινούσης διδασκαλίας (hygiainousēs didaskalias), “healthy doctrine,” or do we want a teacher who can scratch our preferred itch?
Because “sound doctrine,” in Paul’s sense, is not merely accurate data. It’s a doctrine that produces spiritual health. It tells you what God is like, what you are like, what sin is, what grace is, what Christ has done, what repentance means, and what holiness looks like. It teaches you to hate what destroys you and love what restores you. It is “healthy” because it is reality-aligned. And people often reject it for the same reason sick people reject medicine: it interferes with the habit that is killing them.
What does “heaping up teachers” look like in practice? It’s the spiritual equivalent of eating only dessert and calling it nutrition. It’s collecting voices, podcasts, sermons, books, influencers—until you have enough noise to drown out the one voice that tells you the truth. It’s also the refusal of accountability: if a local shepherd knows you, he can’t be used as easily. But a distant teacher is safe; he can be consumed without being obeyed. The modern age has supercharged “heaping up” because we can gather an army of teachers without ever being known by any of them. Desire loves anonymity.
And “itching ears” is not merely intellectual. It’s moral. The “itch” is the craving to be affirmed without being transformed. It wants to be told you’re basically fine. Or wanting a spirituality that baptizes your anger, your greed, your lust, your tribal hatreds, your vanity, your laziness—whatever the idol of the season is. The teachers are chosen not because they are true, but because they are useful.
Paul’s final phrase about “myths” is where the skeptic in us should wake up. Humans don’t usually leave truth for nothing; we leave truth for a story that feels better. Myths are comforting because they can be shaped around the self. Truth is severe because it shapes the self. Myths let you keep control. Truth dethrones you.
So what’s the antidote? Paul’s antidote is not cynicism. It’s not a perpetual suspicion of every teacher. It’s a love for truth that is stronger than the itch. It’s the willingness to “endure” healthy teaching—ἀνέξονται in the negative becomes a challenge: will you bear it? Will you bear the doctrine that corrects you, not just the doctrine that interests you?
If you want a very practical way to test yourself, pay attention to what you consistently avoid in Scripture. Pay attention to which doctrines make you tense. Pay attention to which passages you constantly explain away. Those are often the places where “itching ears” tries to take the steering wheel. The soul that wants to be healed learns to sit still under the physician’s word. The soul that wants to be flattered goes shopping.
II Timothy 4:3–4 is not a prophecy meant to make us feel superior. It’s a warning meant to keep us alive. It’s Paul saying: the church can become a marketplace where truth is a product, teachers are entertainers, and listeners are customers. And once the customer is king, truth is doomed—because truth is not a servant. Truth is a master.
The passage ends with a fork in the road: truth or myth. There is no third path where you reject “sound doctrine” and somehow remain safe. If you turn your ear away from the truth, your ear will attach itself to something else. That is the spiritual physics Paul is describing. And the only way to resist that physics is to love God more than comfort, to love Christ more than approval, and to accept that real doctrine is “healthy” precisely because it sometimes hurts on the way to healing.
Excellent !❤️
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