For *I* am already being poured out, and the time of my release is come.
Paul writes with his death close, and he makes his own ending the reason Timothy must throw himself into the work. The verse gives two pictures: a drink offering poured out, and a departure. Both raise the same question. How does a servant of Christ face the end of his own life?
The older translation reads "I am now ready to be offered." That softens what the original says is already happening.
The Authorized Version does not give the form correctly. "Now ready to be offered" differs in several ways from "am already being poured out," which is the exact sense of the original. This is not the first time the apostle uses the picture of a drink offering. A little earlier he wrote to his dear friends at Philippi, "But if also I am poured out as a drink offering on the sacrifice and service of your faith …" (Phil. 2:17). Now he drops every condition, because his release is in view. He speaks as though the drink offering were already being poured out.
The picture comes from the law, where wine was poured over other sacrifices.
The word "offered" in Philippians 2:17 is "poured out," as the margin shows. Paul uses the same word in 2 Timothy 4:6, when his death as a martyr was close. He was pointing, of course, to the drink offerings the law required. A "fourth part of a hin of wine" had to be poured over certain sacrifices, before the Lord.
A drink offering was never the main sacrifice. It was poured over another offering.
It was as though he was a drink offering, poured out on the far greater offering of his Lord. This showed his joy in the One who was the true grain offering, whose perfection and beauty shine out even in suffering and death. For the drink offering was poured over the grain offering (Ex. 29:40, 41).
Some translations render "departure" as "release."
The end of his devoted life, and of the persecution from the world that came with it, was so near that he could say, "I am already being poured out." He speaks of his departure as the time of his "release." Leaving this scene released him from a body that kept him from Christ. Yet he uses it as a reason for Timothy to fill up the full measure of his ministry. How often since that day has the Lord used the removal of a devoted servant to stir up those who remain to active service.
Paul's certainty about his own death was unusual. Commentators warn against making it the normal Christian hope.
Only a special, personal word from the Lord could have enabled Paul, like Peter (2 Peter 1:14), to speak with such certainty about his own death. But the very fact that he was an exception here confirms that the general hope of believers was not to depart and be with Christ, but the Lord's coming to receive them to Himself.
The verse begins with "For." Paul's death is the reason for the charge he has just given Timothy. When Paul went, apostolic ministry went with him.
So the absence of apostolic ministry — a serious thing for the position of the church — makes the duty of the man of God more urgent. Paul's absence is a reason for working out our own salvation with fear and trembling. In the same way, it is a reason for anyone doing the work of the gospel to give himself to his ministry more than ever.
What remains for those who come after is not to repeat what Paul did, but to build on it.
We cannot be apostles, or lay the foundation of the church. That is already done. But we can build on that foundation: with the truth we have received from the apostle, with the Scriptures God has given us, and with a tireless love in the truth for souls. The foundation is not to be laid a second time.
The pouring out was not only the moment of death. It was the shape of the whole life that led to it.
Paul was about to be poured out as a drink offering — a precious ending to a devoted life, and a wonderful privilege. His life on earth had come to its close. Before he left the arena where his very life went up to God as a sacrifice, he could say that he had fought the good fight, finished his course, and kept the faith. It is a wonderful passage, and it should wake us up to ask whether each one of us is finishing his course as the Lord wants.
- Already — the verb is present, not future: the pouring out has begun. Paul is not bracing for sacrifice; he is in the middle of one.
- Poured — the drink offering was wine poured over another sacrifice. Paul's death is the addition, laid on the far greater offering of his Lord.
- Released — "departure" also means release. For Paul it meant leaving a body that kept him from Christ. He speaks of his own end with a certainty given him personally, not one every believer should expect.
- Passed on — apostolic ministry was leaving the scene, so Timothy's duty grew more urgent, not less. The Lord still uses a servant's removal to stir up those left behind.
- Built on — the foundation is laid once. Our work is to build on it, with Scripture and tireless love for souls. And to ask whether we are finishing our own course as the Lord wants.
I have combated the good combat, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.
Paul writes these words with his own death in view, and he sums up his whole life in three short claims. Commentators ask two things about it. What was he claiming, and could anyone else say the same?
The verse holds three images side by side, each drawn from a different arena.
Paul speaks of his past life in three ways. As a Christian soldier, he has "fought the good fight." As a runner, he has "finished his course." As a witness for God in this world, he has "kept the faith."
The wording matters. Paul does not say a good fight, as though he were rating his own performance.
As he faces death there is no hint of disappointment or regret, but fresh, living joy. He had "fought the good fight," not "a good fight." He was not drawing attention to his own fighting. He meant the fight that all Christianity fights, against evil and for the glory of God. His part in it was about to end. He had finished the course, he had kept the faith. He is not saying how well he had fought, or how well he had run, or how well he had kept the faith. God would judge those things. But there was no other good fight, no other proper course, no other true faith except Christianity. In this he had continued to the finish.
Another writer makes the same distinction from the side of the conflict itself: Paul knew the fight was a good one, and "only speaks of the character of the conflict, and not of the manner in which he had carried it on." That the words could be written at all is treated as a mercy — "precious grace of God to His devoted servant, to permit him to write such words with the unerring pen of inspiration."
Paul had longed for this end long before. Now the word "finished" is his to say.
No end is more triumphant than this. He had held that hope dear before, when he said, "I do not account my life of any value nor as precious to myself, if only I may finish my course and the ministry that I received from the Lord Jesus." Now he was getting that wish… so there was a charm, with the last contest over, in saying, "I have finished." He knew he had left nothing undone, or half-done, in all his wide service.
Paul kept the faith by losing everything else.
The effort of the enemy is to rob us of the precious faith. Whatever we may lose in the battle is not really loss if we keep the faith. Paul lost everything in defence of the faith. He lost his property, reputation, religion, liberty and life. But he kept the faith… It is a great thing to say, when the battle is over, "I have kept the faith."
Paul had already listed many who did not keep it. That list runs through both of his letters to Timothy.
In these two letters he has spoken of people who failed over the faith. Some have "made shipwreck of their faith" (1 Timothy 1:19). Some "depart from the faith" (1 Timothy 4:1). Some have "denied the faith" (1 Timothy 5:8). Some have "wandered away from the faith" (1 Timothy 6:10). Some have "swerved from the faith" (1 Timothy 6:21). Others are "upsetting the faith of some" (2 Timothy 2:18). Others are "disqualified regarding the faith" (2 Timothy 3:8). But he had kept the truth God gave him. So he could say, "I have kept the faith." The devil wants us, dear friends, to give up what God has given us.
Every claim here is in the past tense. Paul says it only at the end.
Paul was leaving the battlefield. He was putting off his armour. He had given a good account of himself, not in his own power, but in the power of God… He does not boast until the battle is over. The time to boast is not when the armour is being put on, but when it is being put off. Peter boasted too early, and so did all the disciples. Failure taught them how foolish that was.
Paul was speaking from the finish line. The reader is not.
The Apostle could say that he had fought a good fight, that he had finished his course and had kept the faith. He was at the finish, we are in the middle of the fight. Do we sleep on beds of ease? Are we taking our place in the fight of faith?
Another writer turns it into a question for every reader:
This should wake us up to ask if each one of us is finishing his course according to the Lord's mind.
- The fight — Paul names the fight all Christianity fights, not the quality of his own fighting. God alone judges how well he fought.
- The course — "Finished" means Paul left nothing undone or half-done. The end he had longed for was the end he got.
- The faith — He lost property, reputation, liberty and life. Nothing lost in the battle is real loss as long as you keep the faith.
- The timing — He boasts only as the armour comes off. Peter boasted too early, and failure taught him the folly of it.
- The turn — Paul stands at the finish; we stand in the middle. The question is whether we are finishing our course according to the Lord's mind.
Henceforth the crown of righteousness is laid up for me, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will render to me in that day; but not only to me, but also to all who love his appearing.
Paul writes with death close at hand, looking back on a finished race and forward to a day of reward. Three questions follow: what is this crown, why is it a crown of righteousness, and who else receives it?
The same Lord meets the believer at the start and at the finish, but in different characters:
These verses show the two ends of the Christian course here on earth. At the start the chief of sinners receives salvation and accepts that trustworthy saying. At the end the same man looks forward to a crown of righteousness, which he is sure is kept ready for him. And let us note it well. The One who gives salvation at the beginning as the Saviour gives the crown at the end as the righteous Judge, to all who have loved and do love His appearing.
Its name points to the One who gives it, and to the fairness of the gift:
There is a crown of righteousness promised to those who love the Lord's appearing. Why is it called a crown of righteousness? Because He will give it to those to whom it is righteous to give it: "which the Lord, the righteous judge, will award to me" (2 Tim. 4:8). And God "is not unjust so as to overlook your work and the love that you have shown for His name" (Heb. 6:10).
Human courts have taught us to expect unfairness. This title of Christ answers that:
It is a happy thing for us that we have a righteous Judge. He makes no mistakes when He gives out justice, whether to saints or to sinners. We have seen so much injustice that a truly just judge is hard to imagine. But the righteous Judge will give a crown of righteousness to Paul, and to all those who love His appearing. The setting up of that kingdom, when the glorified saints will reign with Jesus, is seen as the end of the warfare. All who are for Him, and who have fought loyally for Him while He has been away, will receive the honour and glory due to their faithfulness in that day.
The crown comes not when the Lord takes His own to Himself, but when He appears in public view:
His coming for us would not fit here. That would simply mean being caught up to be forever with Him. But His appearing is the day that brings faithfulness into the open and shows the work of each one. If the work stands the test of that day, each will receive reward according to his own labour.
The last clause is a searching test, because that day closes down everything the world enjoys:
"Love!" — do you love, can you love, that which will put a stop to everything that is pleasant in the world? It asks the heart. How this marks a spirit entirely in contrast with the spirit of the world!
Nor is this love merely about what we will gain when He comes:
It is fitting for the Christian to "love His appearing" (2 Tim. 4:8). We should love it not for the relief and reward it will bring us, but for what that Day will mean for Christ. We love that Day in advance; we delight to think of the vindication and glory it will yield to the Lord Jesus.
Commentators differ on how wide the promise runs. Some tie the crown to a faithful walk, not to being a Christian:
The crown the Apostle speaks of is not given for being a Christian, but for a faithful walk. Poor Lot will not have it, nor Demas... All are to be in glory on the ground of free grace. But Christ watches to see if we run well. He will give a reward where there has been faithfulness, and a crown of righteousness if we have loved His appearing.
Others say the final phrase covers every believer, though rewards will still differ:
"All who have loved His appearing" describes all believers, but not all will have the same crown. All alike, as subjects of grace, will be conformed to Christ in glory. But rewards will differ, and the righteous Judge will hand them out. So they will follow His judgment, which never fails... This too is of grace, for if Paul laboured more than the other apostles, it was by the grace of God.
- Saviour, then Judge. He saves the chief of sinners at the start. At the finish He meets the same man as the righteous Judge, with a crown.
- Righteous, not random. God calls it a crown of righteousness because giving it is right; He does not forget work done for His name.
- Reserved, not held back. The crown lies ready now. The Lord awards it at His appearing, the day that brings each one's work into the open.
- Loved, not merely awaited. The final phrase tests the heart: only a heart out of step with the world can love the day that ends it.
- Shared, not exclusive. Paul does not keep the promise to himself. Commentators differ: some tie the crown to faithful service, others give it to every believer who loves His appearing.
Use diligence to come to me quickly;
Paul is near death, and he knows it. In the middle of that, he asks Timothy to hurry to his side — and the reason he gives is that a fellow-worker has walked out on him.
Paul asks for diligence, not just a visit. He also gives a reason for the hurry, and it comes in the very next verse.
No doubt deep solemnity filled the apostle's spirit. He was thinking of how soon he would depart, and above all of the Lord's appearing... Early in the letter Paul had expressed his great desire to see Timothy, whom he regarded with special affection. Now he urges him to be zealous in coming quickly to him, and gives the reason. A fellow-worker had deserted him. This affected his heart deeply. He therefore felt the greater wish to have Timothy with him. It would be the last opportunity.
Paul had almost nobody left. What Paul wanted from Timothy was not service but company of a particular kind.
First, Paul desires to have Timothy with him: "Do your best to come to me soon." He longed for the presence of his child in the faith. Here was someone he could open his mind and thoughts to. By now few people would attach themselves to the Lord's prisoner. Indeed, he seems to have been alone, apart from Luke. So Timothy was not to delay. He was to come before the storms of winter made travel hard, if not impossible.
Another writer looks at the tone of the whole letter:
At the opening of the letter, the apostle is very personal and affectionate. That style was natural in a man surrounded by painful disappointments. At such a time, if one friend did not add to that disappointment, that person was bound to fill much of the thoughts of the poor tried and broken heart. And I believe Timothy was such a person to Paul at the time of this letter.
A servant once raised above natural feeling now asks for a visit, his cloak and his books. That is not a decline, but a change of season.
In the service of ministry there was a power that raised a man above sin. Christ, of course, was completely free from sin. That same power raised a man above nature too, where nature was not sin, yet where giving in to it would have been a hindrance and a failure, and out of keeping with undivided service to the Lord... But when the Lord had finished His service He said, "Woman, behold, your son!"... So the apostle here returns to the thoughts and feelings of nature — I do not mean as evil, but as human — kindly ties. He opens his heart to Timothy, remembers his tears, longs to see him so that he may be filled with joy... feels his isolation too, and can speak of his cloak and books and parchments.
Paul repeats the appeal at the end of the chapter. The second time, he adds a date.
"Do your best to come before winter" (v. 21). In verse 9 he had said, "Do your best to come to me soon." The repeat, with the added words "before winter," is not pointless... He would also want to warn Timothy to start before winter. Bad weather could expose him to a voyage like the one Paul himself had been through. And it would give Timothy the opportunity of helping Paul, now an old man and a prisoner too. The Spirit of God stoops to think about the most ordinary things of this life... He takes no pleasure in seeing His servant shivering with cold.
Paul could send for Timothy and expect him to come. That tells us something about the kind of position Timothy held.
Neither Timothy nor Titus held a permanent fixed local office. 2 Timothy 4:9, 21 and Titus 3:12 show this. They had a direct and limited commission, set out during the apostle's lifetime, with no word providing for the time after his death.
- Come — because one left. Paul ties the call to hurry to the next sentence. A fellow-worker had abandoned him, and that loss made Timothy's presence more precious.
- Come — to a friend. Paul wanted someone he could freely open his mind to, when few would attach themselves to a prisoner.
- Come — as a man to a man. The servant once lifted above natural ties now speaks of tears, isolation, a cloak and his books. None of that is evil; it is human.
- Come — before winter. The second call carries a date, for a practical reason: safe travel and warmth for an old prisoner. The Spirit of God stoops to the most ordinary things of life.
- Come — because you are free to. Paul could call Timothy to his side at short notice. His commission was direct and limited, not a fixed local post.
for Demas has forsaken me, having loved the present age, and is gone to Thessalonica; Crescens to Galatia, Titus to Dalmatia.
Paul writes as a prisoner, listing the men who are no longer at his side. Only one name carries a reason: Demas left because of what he loved.
Demas appears earlier in Paul's letters, and the three mentions together tell their own story.
The apostle mentions Demas three times. In Colossians he writes, "Luke, the beloved physician, and Demas, greet you." In Philemon he calls him, along with Mark, Aristarchus and Luke, a "fellow worker." In 2 Timothy he has to say, "Demas has forsaken me, having loved this present world" (age). Nothing can be sadder than this closing notice of one who had been linked with such a vessel of testimony as the apostle Paul. The final break with Paul may have been sudden, but we can be sure he had been in a backslidden state of soul long before.
The same writer looks at what lay behind the break.
This is how the Lord deals with His people. If they have grown cold, and have turned away in heart from His ways, He allows them to be tested sooner or later, so that their real state shows. This was the case with Demas. His heart had long been on the present age, and Paul's imprisonment, with the resulting "afflictions of the gospel," was simply the occasion when it showed. A time of persecution is always a time of searching.
The verse says "this present world," but the word behind it is "age." One writer explains what that word covers.
The "age," as distinguished from the world, generally has a moral meaning. It expresses the sum of the influences at work around us in the world at any given moment. These influences are exactly what endangers God's people. So many, like Demas, give way to them and "make shipwreck" of their testimony. It is for this very reason that the apostle writes, "Do not be conformed to this age."
Another writer points to a word Paul left out, and to how ordinary the drift looked.
Note this: Paul did not say, "this present evil world," as in Galatians 1:4, but this present world. We do not accuse him of anything outrageous. We do not even suppose he stopped breaking bread, but sadly he was out of true fellowship with the Spirit of God. He settled down quietly into the course of things down here. He largely gave up the good fight of faith, and after this we hear no more of him. Demas went to Thessalonica, and then silence falls. We do not doubt that he went to heaven, but what about earth? Now is our only chance of witnessing for Christ.
The verse says Demas deserted Paul. One writer weighs what that does and does not mean.
It does not say that Demas had forsaken Christ. But he could not go on with such a devoted representative of Christ and keep in with the present world at the same time. He had to give up one or the other. Sadly, he forsook Paul and chose the world.
Paul names three men who have gone. Only one of them gets a motive.
The two latter, Crescens and Titus, had gone; but they had not, like Demas, forsaken Paul. They had no doubt gone on the Lord's service. But Demas had grown cold, giving way to the influences of the age. He no longer cared to be a "partaker of the afflictions of the gospel," or to stand with God's vessel of testimony, now a poor despised prisoner. Under some excuse or other, he abandoned the apostle and went to Thessalonica. He loved this present age. What an epitaph!
One writer says nothing is easier than this drift, and names when it presses hardest.
Nothing is easier than to be like Demas, who forsook Paul, "having loved the present age." As a Christian, Demas would not love evil, but he loved the age and wanted to get more fully in touch with it. But whether for Demas or for us, this means going back to what the gospel called us out of. If we have any leaning that way, we may be sure the devil will make sure we get plenty of chances to return... These occasions often come with special force in middle life.
Another writer sets the crown Paul waited for against the choice Demas made.
The "crown of righteousness" was laid up for the apostle. But he could say it was for "all who have loved His appearing." Do we love Christ's appearing, or this present world?
- Loved. Demas loved the present age, and that love decided everything that followed.
- Cooled. The break looked sudden, but the state behind it was long-standing. Paul's imprisonment brought it into the light.
- Chose. Demas could not keep both Paul and the world, so he gave up the man — though the verse stops short of saying he gave up Christ.
- Contrasted. Crescens and Titus also left, but on service; only one departure gets a motive attached to it.
- Warned. The same love reaches us in ordinary form: settling down quietly into life here. The test is whether we love His appearing instead.
Luke alone is with me. Take Mark, and bring [him] with thyself, for he is serviceable to me for ministry.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
But Tychicus I have sent to Ephesus.
Paul writes near the end of his life. He pauses to name the men around him: who has left, who is coming, who has been sent out. This one short line names Tychicus, and it raises a question. With so few helpers left, why send one of the best away — and why to Ephesus?
One commentator finds the difference in a single small word. Some translations open the verse with "but":
"But Tychicus I sent to Ephesus." The newer Revised Version is right here and the older Authorized Version wrong. The apostle draws a slight distinction, and "but" carries it, not "and." The others had gone on their own responsibility. The apostle sent Tychicus to Ephesus. Here again it is useless for us to guess the special purpose of his mission. We can be sure that faith in the Lord and love for the saints were the motives. But it is worth noticing the authority that sent him — an authority no one can claim now.
So the errand is hidden from us, but the willingness is not. Another writer links this trip to an earlier one:
The Apostle had apparently sent Tychicus to Crete earlier (Titus 3:12), and now he sent him to Ephesus. Tychicus was willing to serve under the direction of Christ's servant.
Tychicus appears again and again — in Paul's travels and in his letters:
A Christian from Asia who travelled with Paul on his last visit to Jerusalem. The apostle sent him from Rome to the Ephesians and to the Colossians. After Paul's release, Paul sent Tychicus to Ephesus again. Paul describes him as a beloved brother, a faithful minister and fellow-servant in the Lord. So he was just the sort of man Paul could send with confidence on these missions to 'encourage' the saints. Acts 20:4; Eph. 6:21; Col. 4:7; 2 Tim. 4:12; Titus 3:12.
Each title points to a different relationship — to the saints, to God, and to fellow workers:
The spiritual character of Tychicus clearly drew the love of the saints, and his ministry showed faithfulness to God. On top of that, his clear unity with other servants of the Lord earned him the name "fellow servant in the Lord." Let every servant of the Lord, whatever his ability or standing, aim at such a well-balanced character.
The choice of destination was deliberate. Ephesus lay in Asia, and everyone in Asia had turned away from Paul:
But Paul had sent Tychicus to Ephesus, and no doubt for a spiritual reason more important than keeping him at his side. If everyone in Asia, Ephesus included, had turned away from Paul (ch. 1:15), then Paul must have trusted this beloved servant to go on teaching Paul's doctrine even where everything was against him. How precious to see, too, that although these people had turned away from Paul, he would not give them up at all.
One writer notes when this errand happened — just before Paul's death:
Ephesus was still written on Paul's heart, for he said to Timothy, "Tychicus I have sent to Ephesus" (2 Tim. 4:12), and he wrote this very shortly before he died for his testimony.
The same writer notes who was left in Ephesus to welcome him:
Ephesus certainly had its faithful few... and they would be sure to give Tychicus a warm welcome as the representative of God's devoted servant and apostle. If Paul did not have the same place in their hearts, they still had the same place in his. Sending Tychicus proves how deeply he cared about them right to the end.
For Paul, this one line was cause for thanks, not loss:
The next mention is of a worker who gave Paul nothing but cause for gratitude: "Tychicus I have sent to Ephesus." Writing to the saints at Ephesus, he describes Tychicus as "a beloved brother and faithful minister in the Lord" (see also Col. 4:7) — no small verdict, above all when we remember that the Holy Spirit inspired it. And it was a rare mercy for the aged Apostle to have such a servant at that moment, to send to Ephesus on his behalf.
- Sent. Others left on their own. Tychicus went because Paul sent him, under an authority no one can claim today.
- Trusted. Paul calls him beloved brother, faithful minister and fellow-servant — loved by the saints, faithful to God, at one with other workers.
- Chosen. Paul could count on him to encourage the saints and to carry the same teaching into a place that had dropped it.
- Aimed. The errand went to Ephesus, the very region that had turned away from Paul — he would not give them up.
- Timed. This last errand came just before Paul's death — proof that his care for them held to the end.
The cloak which I left behind [me] in Troas at Carpus's, bring when thou comest, and the books, especially the parchments.
Paul is in prison near the end of his life, and in his last letter he asks Timothy for a coat, some books, and above all the parchments. Why does such an ordinary errand belong in Scripture, and what do the three items say about the man who asked?
Some readers are offended that a farewell letter this solemn stops to talk about a coat:
This again has stumbled the minds of men. They cannot understand an inspired apostle talking about a cloak in the middle of a divinely given pastoral charge. The reason is plain: they themselves have a taste for the things of men, and not of God. Nothing shows God more than His ability to combine what is eternal with care for the smallest things of this life.
Another writer draws out the practical danger:
The cloak we wear and the books we read are not matters of indifference to Him. In our folly we may think such things beneath His notice. Because we think that way, these very things — the clothes we wear, the books we read — often become our greatest snares.
The cloak also tells us what Paul's life had come to:
The winter winds whistled through the window-bars of his prison cell. The damp and cold made his aged body shiver and ache as he lay bound with a chain. Yet not one Christian among the many living in Rome came to him in his need, or brought him a garment to protect his aching limbs. He had a cloak, just one, but it was nearly a thousand miles away.
Another writer finds nothing strange in it:
A cloak is not to be thrown away, and I have no doubt it was as cold in a Roman prison then as it is cold in Rome now in winter. The man of God can ask for the useful covering.
The way he asks shows how he held ordinary things — clothes and reading — with death close at hand:
Here we learn the Christian liberty the apostle used about these outward things of body and mind. He preferred to have a cloak brought rather than buy another. He asked for his books there, which had their interest or use for him, even though he was expecting death and did not know how soon. He would not speak of the Scriptures that way.
The same writer separates these books from the Scriptures:
"The books" too do not appear, from the general expression, to have been the Scriptures... He would not, we may be well assured, leave behind on his journeys a single roll he had of the Scriptures; but he neither burned nor despised other books.
Commentators differ on what these sheets were. One reading takes them as still blank, and links them to Paul's sense that his ministry was closing:
These naturally imply material of the most valuable and lasting kind, not yet written on. The apostle wanted them, knowing that his outward ministry was closing... What could have been more on his mind than the wish to have his letters copied with care, under his own eye, and for lasting use?
Others think the parchments already carried inspired writing, and draw a lesson from Paul's care for them:
Many have thought that the "parchments" may include some of the inspired letters. This is very likely, and the care taken should be a lesson to us in any work that involves writing.
One man who had turned away from the Christian faith argued that parts of the New Testament have only a local and temporary meaning. He picked this verse as his example of something we could have done without:
He reports that the "Irish Clergyman" replied at once that he himself would have lost much, for it was only that verse which kept him from destroying his little library. Those who knew the Irish Clergyman's "little library" in later years — how many languages and subjects it covered — found the incident interesting.
- Small — objected to. Some stumble at a coat inside a solemn farewell letter. The problem is their own taste for the things of men, not of God.
- Small — claimed by God. Nothing shows God more than His power to join what is eternal with care for the smallest things of this life.
- Small — and dangerous. Think a thing beneath God's notice and it can become your greatest snare — the clothes you wear, the books you read.
- Small — and free. Paul asks for his old cloak instead of a new one, and still wants his ordinary books with death close. That is Christian liberty.
- Small — and lasting. The parchments he wanted "above all" point to writing kept with care. Even this small verse proved its worth: it once saved a man's whole library.