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Christ Church Uniting
Disciples and Presbyterians
1300 Kailua Rd.
Kailua, HI 96734
262-6911
Come Before Winter
2 Timothy
4:6-22
Do
your best to come before winter. (v. 21)
Today I follow the lectionary to the end of Paul’s second
letter to Timothy. Having spent
time with 2 Timothy this month, I can, without reservation, recommend lingering
over this letter. It has deepened
my faith experience. Sit with it.
Read it slowly. Let it speak to your imagination, heart and mind.
Before attending directly to the conclusion of 2 Timothy, I want to revisit some of the ways this brief epistle spoke to me, ways not necessarily addressed in the previous three sermons of this series.
I was moved by the Apostle’s tender regard for his young protégé. There was deep affection. Paul addresses his letter to “Timothy, my beloved child.” It is a holy relationship, this one between Paul, who is approaching the end of his ministry, and young Timothy who is just beginning.
I’ve seen this kind of affectionate caring and sharing before. I’ve seen it reflected in the way some of you welcome, embrace and mentor not only beloved children but one another and even strangers who appear in our midst. Who is your Timothy? Whose Timothy are you? I don’t know if everyone can expect to be in such a relationship, a mentoring one, but blessed are they who are.
I was touched by Paul’s manner of honoring older people, particularly the elder women of faith: Eunice and Lois, Timothy’s mother and grandmother. The Apostle invited Timothy to let the women’s humanity and integrity be a guide and a guarantee of the truth of the faith he had learned.
Remember not only what you have learned, Paul said, but from whom you have learned as well. I was reminded of family members and friends whose faith had sheltered and shaped me through the years. Most of us can remember such persons in our own lives: aunts, uncles, parents, Sunday School teachers, coaches. And they were ordinary human beings weren’t they? Feet of clay, hearts of gold. So that they did not run this race in vain, how can we honor their memory?
I was startled by Paul’s frank recognition of his predicament. It was like cold water in the face, a wake up call. He was imprisoned. There was no hope of getting out alive. He had walked out before when the ground shook. It wasn’t going to happen this time. He knew it. His faith, hope and love had nothing to do with personal escape. Do you hear what I am saying?
Would that I could be so clear about the circumstances in which I find myself. I can’t help but wonder: Am I missing something? Will I ever pass this way again? Isn’t there a story in each of us which ends, “if only I had known…?”
Paul had some insight, some practical wisdom, about following Jesus. He believed that the Gospel (good news to the poor, sight to the blind, release to the captives, the proclaiming of the Acceptable Year of the Lord) was ultimately good news for all persons. And yet, it was his experience that some are unable to welcome Jesus’ message.
And why is that? Because the status quo benefits someone. Some benefit from the poverty of others. The blindness of some gives others power. Some feel more secure as long as others are captive in some way. There will always be those who benefit from the way things are: whether it’s the status quo of international trade relations, tax laws or prejudice. There will always be people in the short term who are unable to welcome change, however universally beneficial it might be in the long term.
Paul was not surprised to encounter resistance. He taught that Jesus’ followers could expect it. Whether it was the declaration of debt forgiveness or the end of social, economic, and religious privilege, the Good News of Jubilee would threaten some. They would fight back. They would, as Paul had before his conversion, try to stop Jesus’ followers. They would try to quash the movement.
I understand Paul’s insight that following Jesus leads to suffering, but I’m not sure what to do with it. Here’s the problem: Just about all the time, if I want to, I can think of some way that I feel like I’m encountering resistance, some way in which I am suffering.
Sometimes I experience punishing resistance in my work. I do. And it’s because I have sought in some small way to represent Jesus’ justice and inclusiveness. Sometimes, however, the suffering I experience arises because I am hurting myself and others. It arises because I am actively resisting a movement of God’s love in my world.
Following Jesus, according to Paul, leads to suffering, but the fact of suffering alone is not a guarantee that someone is following Jesus. Does that make sense? I appreciate Paul’s insight that discipleship involves hardship and suffering. If, however, we intend actually to be followers of Jesus and not just sufferers, we must address the more inclusive questions: What’s really going on here? In what way are we seeking to be more inclusive in our love? How are we seeking to be more just in our community life?
These questions require a whole community to answer. The community answer to these questions, rather than my or anyone else’s feelings, will help us discern whether or not we are following the Way of Jesus.
Paul knew that young Timothy might be afraid, ashamed and tempted to give up the work on account of Paul’s incarceration. Paul wanted Timothy to understand he was not languishing in prison but rather that he was rejoicing in prison. He was doing the work. It was all to the good. He encouraged Timothy: be not afraid, be not ashamed, rekindle the gift, press on. This is the track, we are on track!
And then comes the time, as it did for Paul, when you feel you have run the race and come to the end. I have finished the race, he said. I have kept the faith. I have fought the good fight! The time of my departure has come.
You would think (I would think) the letter would end here: a kind of “It is finished.” Bang! But, it doesn’t! In the most eloquent manner possible, from prison Paul has continued to teach Timothy, to counsel him, to speak to his heart as well as his head. And then he writes these beautiful words: I have fought the good fight.
Is there anyone who would not like to be able to say
that? You’ve gathered your family
and friends. It is your last hour.
Wouldn’t it be good to be able to say, “I’ve finished the race,
I have kept the faith.” Wouldn’t
it be good as you close your eyes to hear others say of you, “This one here
fought the good fight.”
So, Paul says it. It’s over. But it’s not over. And here’s the last lesson---
Demas, in love with this present world, has deserted me and gone to Thessalonica. Crescens has gone to Galatia. Titus has gone to Dalmatia. I have sent Tychicus to Ephesus. Luke is with me. Get Mark and bring him with you. Bring the cloak I left at Troas. Also bring the books, especially the parchment ones. So many people deserted me at my first hearing. Don’t hold it against them. Watch out for Alexander the coppersmith. He’s a snake. The Lord will take care of him. Greetings from our friends here. Blessings to all our friends there.
And Timothy…Do you best to come to me soon.
And Timothy…Do your best to come before winter.
So what kind of last lesson is this? Hospital nurses have a name for this. It’s called REPORT. The next shift has arrived. You sit down with someone and you say, “Mr. Smith is a no code. He’s had a quiet night. Mrs. Jones has a procedure first thing. Check her stats first thing. Call Mr. Lamb’s son as soon as Dr. Ing orders the scan. And so on.
And if there is a crisis while you’re giving Report, everyone pitches in. Sure, Paul’s shift is over: he’s run the good race, but it’s not over. You still have work to do as long as you are in the unit (or in our case, as long as we are alive, no matter what we think, we still have work to do.)
This reminds me of Elijah who fled across the desert to Mount Horeb. This story is in Genesis 19-20. He was ready to retire. It wasn’t a bad idea. His prophetic ministry had earned him a contract on his head. You remember that he slew all of Jezebel’s priests of Baal on Mount Carmel in the Great “come on Yahweh light my fire” Barbecue. But no one was laughing.
On Mount Horeb, the Lord appeared to him and said, “Elijah. Forget retirement fellow. I’ve got more work for you to do: go back through the wilderness to Israel and crown a new king (tough assignment since there was an incumbent king sitting on the throne at the time.) Then, find your successor and pass on to him the mantel of your ministry.
In other words, after you mix religion and politics Elijah, go on to your next task: spiritual direction. Find your successor and give Report. This is what Paul is doing in the final verses of 2 Timothy. He gives Timothy a rundown on the state of the movement and its leaders. He names names. And by the way, he says, there are a few other things I need: bring my cloak and the books.
If you identify with the Apostle and feel that you have come to the finish line, that you have run the race, and if you have a Timothy relationship with someone, you may want to be thinking about how to encourage and speak tenderly to the one who will carry on after you. You may want to be thinking about giving Report remembering that while you may have run the good race, it’s not over. As long as you live, there is work for you to do.
If you identify with Timothy, if you feel young and inexperienced in the Christian movement, then I’d say, check you mail. Your Apostle still has much to say to you.
And remember Paul’s words to his Timothy---
Timothy, I do want to see you one more time,
Do your best to come to me soon.
Do your best to come before winter.
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The Rev. Fabian M. “Buddy” Summers, Pastor
10/28/2001 at Christ Church Uniting
Disciples and Presbyterians, Kailua, HI
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