II Timothy 4; Farewell, But Not Yet

"As for me, I am already being poured out as a libation, and the time of my departure has come. 7 I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. 8 From now on there is reserved for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, will give me on that day, and not only to me but also to all who have longed for his appearing.

9 Do your best to come to me soon, 10 for Demas, in love with this present world, has deserted me and gone to Thessalonica; Crescens has gone to Galatia, Titus to Dalmatia. 11 Only Luke is with me. Get Mark and bring him with you, for he is useful in my ministry. 12 I have sent Tychicus to Ephesus. 13 When you come, bring the cloak that I left with Carpus at Troas, also the books, and above all the parchments. 14 Alexander the coppersmith did me great harm; the Lord will pay him back for his deeds. 15 You also must beware of him, for he strongly opposed our message. 16 At my first defense no one came to my support, but all deserted me. May it not be counted against them! 17 But the Lord stood by me and gave me strength, so that through me the message might be fully proclaimed and all the Gentiles might hear it. So I was rescued from the lion’s mouth. 18 The Lord will rescue me from every evil attack and save me for his heavenly kingdom. To him be the glory forever and ever. Amen."

Introduction

Good-byes are always difficult, especially when the good-bye is not simply because one is leaving for a time but is leaving one's hearers for all time. An interesting psychological drama usually attends these final departures, even though it may not be as arresting or as obvious as that of Jacob wrestling with the night visitor. Our passage explores what I call three dimensions of leave-taking: (1) The Sense of Satisfaction (vv. 6-8); (2) The Sense of Longing (vv. 9-15); and (3) The Sense of Memory (vv. 16-18).

I am especially interested in investigating the theme of leave-taking because it points to the way we "sum up" or try ultimately to make sense of the life we are given. It is a very human process not simply to put one's physical affairs in order, such as providing for loved-ones and paying debts, but to put one's psychological affairs in order. We need the sense that there is some kind of explanation for life, for our life.

A Personal Story**

[If you prefer to skip directly to my exposition of the passage, go on to the next essay.]

I also am interested in exploring this topic for a personal reason. My father died far before he was "ready to die" and so could not utter the words bolded above. He was a man who diligently and faithfully raised four boys and finally, in his late 40s, began to explore the flow of his life and unleash the magnificent creativity which was his. His creativity, friends, lay in areas we usually don't think of as productive of creativity--taxes. My father worked for two decades at Metropolitan Life Insurance Co. in New York City but he had nothing to do with insurance; he was involved in development and use of the early Univac and Honeywell computers. Here is a brief story about him.

But my father developed an idea in the mid-1960s that arose out of his wonder at the quick speed of computer calculations. He wanted to see how the computer might be used to help people pay their taxes in an easier way than was currently being done. Inspired by this vision, he worked day and night for a few years before his health broke, and he died at the comparatively young age of 56. I used to go to the office to visit him at times where he shared his vision with me of someday having a computer program that would make the filing of income tax returns so much easier. Indeed, I believe that he came up with the idea that eventually turned into the huge money-maker, TurboTax (don't worry, I am not going to sue anyone!). But he died before the idea could really "take shape." It takes years, sometimes decades for a good idea to "sink in." He simply didn't have time to develop it.

Thus, though I have some very fine memories of my father, one of the saddest ones I have is the day that the physicians told him and my mother that his smoldering myloid leukemia would claim his life in a matter of months. My father's only reaction was, "There isn't enough time!" And so he died, with some fulfillment I am sure, but with an overwhelming sense that he had not yet properly finished his course.

Conclusion

We never hear a Biblical story "fresh," but we always filter it through the experiences of our life. Thus, as we turn to the text for the morning, I hear it at two levels: the personal one, where my father died unfulfilled and I, his son, am approaching the age of his death; and the Biblical one, where the mingled joys and memories of the Apostle are front and center. The next essay examines the text which got me thinking about both topics.

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