Bring My Cloak and the Scrolls

An old man sits in a chilly cell. His cloak is far away. Most of his friends have gone. And he is writing, slowly, the last letter he will ever send.

Paul is in prison in Rome again. This time, he does not expect to be set free. He has already stood once before a Roman court, and he knows how this will end. So he writes to Timothy, the young man he loves like a son, far away in Ephesus. It is a letter full of encouragement, and in its final lines, it becomes very personal. We hear Paul's voice as a tired, brave, human being. A man who has run a long way, and is almost home.

I am now ready to be offered, Paul writes, and the time of my departure is at hand. He speaks of his death the way a traveller speaks of setting sail. Then come some of the most famous words he ever wrote. I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith. A boxer who never gave up. A runner who crossed the line. A guard who kept what was entrusted to him. And now, Paul says, there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, will give me on that day. And not only to me, he adds, but to all who have loved his appearing.

Then the letter turns. Do your best to come to me quickly, Paul says. And we learn why. Demas has deserted me, because he loved this present world, and has gone to Thessalonica. Others have gone off on missions, Crescens to Galatia, Titus to Dalmatia. Only Luke is with me. Get Mark and bring him with you, because he is useful to me for the ministry. That is the same Mark who once left Paul in the middle of a journey. Now Paul asks for him by name. When you come, Paul adds, bring the cloak I left at Troas with Carpus, and the books, but especially the parchments. Winter is coming, and the cell is cold. And even at the end, Paul wants something to read.

Paul is honest about the hard parts. At my first defence, no one came to stand with me. Everyone deserted me. And then, quietly, he says, may it not be held against them. But the Lord stood with me, and gave me strength, so that through me the message might be fully proclaimed, and all the nations might hear it. And I was delivered out of the mouth of the lion. Then Paul sends greetings, to Prisca and Aquila, to the household of Onesiphorus, who had searched Rome to find him. And he writes again, with an urgency you can almost feel. Do your best to come before winter.

Why before winter? In the ancient Mediterranean, sailing in winter was dangerous, and most ships stayed in harbour. The Roman writer Vegetius records that the seas were treated as closed from mid-November to early March. The book of Acts tells how Paul's own ship to Rome was wrecked after sailing too late in the season. If Timothy did not set out in time, he might not reach Rome until spring.

Bring my cloak and the scrolls. You'll find Paul's last words in Second Timothy chapter four, verses six to twenty-two. Lonely, cold, and full of hope, he could say, I have kept the faith. So here is a question to carry with you. What would it look like for you to finish your own race well, and who could you stand beside when they feel alone?