The Fight & Finish of Faith

For I am already being poured out as a drink offering, and the time of my departure is at hand. I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Finally, there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will give to me on that Day, and not to me only but also to all who have loved His appearing... For Demas has forsaken me, having loved this present world, and has departed for Thessalonica... Only Luke is with me. Get Mark and bring him with you, for he is useful to me for ministry... Alexander the coppersmith did me much harm. May the Lord repay him according to his works. (2 Timothy 4:6–14)

Facing execution, Paul did not look back in regret but forward in hope—and his final words become an exhortation for every believer to fight, finish, and keep the faith.

The Last Words of a Father to a Son

I have made the point many times over these weeks in 2 Timothy that these are the last words of a father to a son. They are the last words of a spiritual father to a spiritual son—there is no biological connection between Timothy and Paul, but that hardly lessens the weight of these words. As Paul looks at his circumstances and thinks back over the previous three decades of his life and ministry, he realizes, as he says in verse 6, that the time of his departure is at hand. He has been in pressing situations before that God delivered him from, but something about this moment makes him say: this is it.

I wonder where our minds would be if we were in similar circumstances—in a Roman prison, awaiting execution, having already had a trial before Caesar. Maybe we would be in a place of apologetic regret, looking back at what we did or said, or what we failed to do.

I think of the last scene of Steven Spielberg's Schindler's List. As the Second World War ends, Oscar Schindler prepares to flee, knowing that as a member of the Nazi Party he is now a hunted man, even though he had protected people. He and his wife come to a waiting car, surrounded by the 1,100 men, women, and children he had rescued, who give him a signed letter and a ring. But his thoughts are filled with overwhelming regret: "This car—I could have saved ten more people. This pen—I could have gotten two more people saved with this."

Maybe instead we would wax nostalgic: "Timothy, remember that time in Philippi?" Or maybe we would bury our heads in the sand with an empty, wishful optimism that everything will be just fine. But that is not Paul. He is not in regret, not nostalgic, not filled with hollow optimism. He looks at the situation and says, "I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith." Would to God that each of us could say that.

A Real Spiritual Battle

This was not only Paul's example—it was also his exhortation. At the open of his first letter he wrote, "This charge I commit to you, son Timothy... that by them you may wage the good warfare, having faith and a good conscience, which some having rejected, concerning the faith have suffered shipwreck" (1 Timothy 1:18–19). And it was his last word as well: "Fight the good fight of faith, lay hold on eternal life, to which you were also called" (1 Timothy 6:12).

Words like these can be challenging, because we could be tempted to frame them as an exhortation to physical violence. We must always be careful when we come across the metaphors of Scripture that speak of warfare. Paul is not encouraging physical violence. Jesus stood before Pontius Pilate and said, "If My kingdom were of this world, My servants would fight... but My kingdom is not of this world."

So how do we wage this warfare? Paul answers in 2 Corinthians 10: "Though we walk in the flesh, we do not war according to the flesh. For the weapons of our warfare are not carnal but mighty in God for pulling down strongholds, casting down arguments and every high thing that exalts itself against the knowledge of God, bringing every thought into captivity to the obedience of Christ." In Ephesians 6 he tells us we wrestle not against flesh and blood but against principalities and powers, and so we put on the armor of God—the helmet of salvation, the breastplate of righteousness, the belt of truth, feet shod with the gospel of peace, and we take up the sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God, praying always. We have defensive armor and offensive weapons: the Word of God and prayer.

It is important to remember this, because as I was studying and writing this, the news came in from Christchurch, New Zealand—forty-nine people killed at a mosque as they gathered for Friday prayers. This is in no way in line with the nature or teaching of God. The weapons of our warfare are not carnal; they are the Word of God and prayer, mighty in God for the tearing down of strongholds. In the wake of that horror, a member of the United States Congress tweeted, "What good are your thoughts and prayers when they don't even keep the pews safe?" I suggest to you that is the wrong response. Prayer is mighty for the tearing down of strongholds.

For some thirty years Paul had fought the good fight, bombarding the gates of hell with prayer and the preaching of the gospel. For his part, the battle was soon to be done. That did not mean the war would be over, but his part in it would soon end. So he exhorts Timothy: "You therefore must endure hardship as a good soldier of Jesus Christ. No one engaged in warfare entangles himself with the affairs of this life, that he may please him who enlisted him as a soldier" (2 Timothy 2:3–4).

Point one: we are engaged in a very real spiritual battle. This is something we must hold on to as Christians in a highly materialistic culture that does not believe in a spiritual realm and probably thinks us foolish for doing so. But every act of violence and conflict in this world is the manifestation of a spiritual battle. What happened in Christchurch is the activity of an enemy who comes to steal, kill, and destroy. Christ came to give life abundantly to all people, including Muslims. So we must ask: how are we faring in this warfare? Are we engaged for the One who enlisted us?

Run the Race with Endurance

Paul loved these metaphors—fighting the good fight, competing in athletics. Some scholars make much of the fact that Jesus never used such metaphors. The reason is simple and practical: Jesus ministered among Jews in Judea and Galilee who were farmers, so He used farming illustrations. Paul ministered in a Greco-Roman world that highly valued military might and athletics. For a thousand years the Roman military was the most dominant force on earth, and the Roman world of the first century is nearly identical in worldview and philosophy to America in the twenty-first century. They valued athletics, too—every four years the ancient Olympic Games came around, and in between, the Isthmian games in Corinth.

So Paul wrote to the Corinthians, "Though I am free from all men, I have made myself a servant to all, that I might win the more... I have become all things to all men, that I might by all means save some" (1 Corinthians 9:19–22). Five times he says, "I want to win"—sounding like a good American. But for Paul, winning meant the salvation of the lost. "Do you not know that those who run in a race all run, but one receives the prize? Run in such a way that you may obtain it... They do it to obtain a perishable crown, but we for an imperishable crown. Therefore I run thus: not with uncertainty. Thus I fight: not as one who beats the air. But I discipline my body and bring it into subjection, lest, when I have preached to others, I myself should become disqualified."

Paul lived his life with the total commitment of an elite athlete. This may be hard for us to comprehend if sports were just something we did as kids. But I watched a documentary with my oldest son this past week called Free Solo—about Alex Honnold, who climbed El Capitan in Yosemite, 3,200 feet of sheer rock, with no ropes. My son and I were on the edge of our seats; my wife came in with sweaty palms wondering what was going on. This man was wholly committed—and for what? A perishable crown. People all around us are running, but ninety-nine point nine percent of what we dedicate our time and energy to is perishable and temporary. Paul ran for something imperishable: when people come to Jesus, they step into eternity, and that does not perish.

Even in the face of extreme trial, Paul ran. Heading to Jerusalem, knowing trouble awaited, he said, "I go bound in the spirit to Jerusalem, not knowing the things that will happen to me there, except that the Holy Spirit testifies in every city, saying that chains and tribulations await me. But none of these things move me; nor do I count my life dear to myself, so that I may finish my race with joy, and the ministry which I received from the Lord Jesus, to testify to the gospel of the grace of God" (Acts 20:22–24).

This is such a key principle that the author of Hebrews—whom I am convinced was Timothy—would write: "Therefore we also, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which so easily ensnares us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us" (Hebrews 12:1).

Point two: run your leg of the race with endurance and zero restraint. What is holding us back from engaging in the race to preach the gospel and win others? For some it is the fear of what people might think, the anxiety of embarrassment, or the thought, "You don't know what I did in the past—I can't possibly be a minister of the gospel." No—lay aside every weight and the sin that so easily ensnares, and run. Paul said, "This one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind and reaching forward to those things which are ahead, I press toward the goal" (Philippians 3).

Guard and Keep the Faith

"I have kept the faith." Paul's very last word in his first letter was, "O Timothy! Guard what was committed to your trust" (1 Timothy 6:20). What has been committed to us? Jesus said, "All authority has been given to Me in heaven and on earth. Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations... teaching them to observe all things that I have commanded you; and lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age." We have been given a delegated authority from God and His Word, which is living and powerful and useful for doctrine, reproof, correction, and instruction in righteousness. Guard what has been committed to you.

Paul kept guard of the faith throughout this fight and race. Others had strayed concerning the faith; others had suffered shipwreck. But Paul calls us to follow his example.

Point three: guard and keep the faith with all faithfulness. This is the calling to which all of us have been called—not just Paul or Timothy or the pastors, but a calling given corporately to all of us. It is not easy. It requires effort, endurance, determination, and commitment. But we are promised the enabling power of the Holy Spirit, and we are promised a reward.

A Crown for All Who Love His Appearing

"Finally, there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will give to me on that Day." Which day? Either the day Paul steps out of this life into the next, or when we are all gathered to the Lord and stand before His judgment seat. There is a reward.

You might say, "Of course the Lord will give it to Paul—I've read his books." But look what he says: "and not to me only but also to all who have loved His appearing." That is challenging, because some Christians are not entirely loving the appearing of the Lord—"You mean I'll have to stand before Him one day? I'm not looking forward to that." Others, like Paul, say, "To live is Christ, and to die is gain."

Over the last few weeks I have been talking about the reality that we will give an account to God for our stewardship of time, resources, abilities, and gifts. Some have texted me saying, "This is challenging—I am not looking forward to standing before the Lord." I cannot tell you every detail of it, but I can tell you the Scriptures say one day we will stand before Him. We are saved by grace through faith, not of works lest anyone should boast—but we are saved for good works. God sets you upon the solid rock that is Jesus Christ and His finished work. Then, as Paul tells the Corinthians, watch how you build—with gold, silver, and precious stones, not wood, hay, and stubble—because a day is coming when the fire of God's purging judgment will consume what cannot stand. That is sobering.

It is true that all who desire to live godly in Christ Jesus will suffer persecution (2 Timothy 3:12). Paul's life proves it is not always easy. But it is equally true—point four: all who endure in the race will be rewarded. That is good, joyful news.

Demas, Mark, and the Grace of God

In contrast to Paul's faithfulness, we read: "Be diligent to come to me quickly, for Demas has forsaken me, having loved this present world, and has departed for Thessalonica... Only Luke is with me. Get Mark and bring him with you, for he is useful to me for ministry." Those words about Demas are sobering. They reveal that not all who begin the race run it faithfully to the end.

That is one of the more challenging realities of the Christian walk. I say this having been utterly shocked this past November to learn that someone who twenty years ago had great influence in my life as a Christian leader was arrested and indicted for murder and sexual assault. I am reminded that not all who begin the race faithfully finish it.

A few years before 2 Timothy, Paul mentioned this same Demas as a co-laborer. In Colossians 4:14 he writes, "Luke the beloved physician and Demas greet you." In Philemon he lists Demas among "my fellow laborers." Demas was with Paul, a co-worker—but now, "Demas has forsaken me, having loved this present world." The word is strong: Demas deserted. The others—Titus, Tychicus—are described as having departed, sent by Paul to do the work. But Demas deserted.

Paul also has harsh words for another: "Alexander the coppersmith did me much harm. May the Lord repay him according to his works. You also must beware of him, for he has greatly resisted our words." These are similar to the imprecatory psalms, where the psalmist prays judgment upon people. It is better to pray for God to judge than to take judgment into your own hands. Paul essentially says, "Alexander the coppersmith—I'd like to deal with you myself, but God, I'm going to let You deal with him."

I do not want to end on the depressing note of Demas. I am grateful for verse 11: "Only Luke is with me." From everything we can tell, after Paul planted the church in Philippi, Luke became its pastor, one of the most committed groups of Christians in the New Testament. Luke was with Paul in his first imprisonment, and here he is again.

And then: "Get Mark and bring him with you, for he is useful to me for ministry." You may recognize the name—the Gospel according to Mark. But that is not the whole story. At the very beginning of Paul's ministry, when he was still called Saul, he and Barnabas went out on their first missionary journey and took John Mark, Barnabas's nephew, with them. But Mark bailed out early, at Pamphylia, only about a quarter of the way into the work. We do not know why—maybe he got sick or homesick.

When Paul and Barnabas prepared for a second journey, "Barnabas was determined to take John called Mark. But Paul insisted that they should not take with them the one who had departed from them in Pamphylia, and had not gone with them in the work. Then the contention became so sharp that they parted from one another" (Acts 15:37–39). This great partnership was broken over Mark. Barnabas took Mark and sailed to Cyprus; Paul took Silas.

But praise God, that is not the last word on Mark—not because of Paul, but because of the grace of Barnabas. I suggest to you Paul was sometimes wrong. He was a sinner like us. Honestly, I often identify more with the sternness of Paul than the grace of Barnabas. But I am so grateful for the grace of Barnabas—because of it, we have the Gospel of Mark, and because of it, here at the end of Paul's life, while Demas has forsaken him, Paul says of a former deserter, "Get Mark and bring him with you, for he is useful to me for ministry."

Point five: a stumble at the start is not always a fatal fall. That is gospel, and it is good news for some of you today who feel you have been a deserter, who think, "I've done too many things in the past to be used by the Lord." Some of my favorite words in the gospel come after the resurrection, when Jesus tells the women, "Go tell the disciples—and Peter—that I go before them into Galilee." Why is Peter named? Because Peter had said, "Even if all betray You, I never will; I will die with You." And Jesus said, "Before the rooster crows tomorrow, you will deny Me three times." The next morning Peter swore three times, "I do not know the man," and fled weeping. Yet Jesus says, "Tell the disciples—and Peter."

Some of you really need to know today that a stumble at the start is not always a fatal fall, because the Lord is gracious. It is not how you start the race, but how you finish. The finish is more important than the start. Demas sounds powerful—a co-laborer, present in prison—yet he forsook Paul, having loved this world with the strongest word for love, a dying devotion to the world. But Mark—bring him; he is useful for ministry. I would suggest that so are you.

Closing Prayer

Father God, we thank You for Your Word. It is living and powerful; it cuts deep and shines a light into the areas of our hearts where we see we can so often be like a Demas, or like Mark, who fail and fall. But Lord, we thank You that You are gracious, patient, and long-suffering, and that You desire us to turn to You in repentance. When we come to You in confession, You are faithful to forgive and to cleanse us of all unrighteousness, and to pour out Your grace on us so that we can pour out Your grace to others.

So God, we thank You for Your grace today. Maybe as we stand here you feel like Mark version 1.0, and you would say, "I need God's grace today"—maybe for the first time, maybe for the nine-hundredth time. Pray with me: Dear Jesus, we need Your grace. Would You pour it out upon us? Lord, we fail in so many ways, and You know our frame and our weakness, and You still love us. Would You pour out Your grace, fill us to overflowing, so we would spill it out to others. In Jesus' name, amen.