Bible reading: 2 Timothy 4:6-18.

Message.

I’ve been a Minister for more than 38 years; that’s a long time. Before that I was a missionary in West Africa, for 2 years as a single man then 3 years with Moira. I can look back on many memories, both good and bad. For instance, there was the time in Africa when part of the roof blew off in a storm and water started dripping through the ceiling; there was the time when our baby son had a raging fever with malaria and we couldn’t get the medicine down him; there was the communion service in a country church where about 60 people had to be served from a single tiny cup, passed and repassed along the row; there was the baptismal service where the 30 or so candidates, all dressed on white, danced and sang their way to the river and back; there were hairy journeys on overcrowded bush taxis and boats.

Back in Britain I remember clearing out the drains of one church and needing two baths, one after another, to get clean; there was also the chaos of our annual Scout Supper with sausages and mash all round. In another church we put on a successful service to show our local Muslim friends how Christians worship; there was also the lady on her deathbed who told me to leave open the door of her hospital cubicle “so she could keep an eye on the staff”! However I can’t forget the Church Meeting which was so awful that I nearly resigned as soon as I got home. My experiences here in Cardiff have been much happier.

As I look back, I naturally ask myself, “So what have I achieved?” – which isn’t an easy question to answer. Did I succeed in learning the Manjaco language and help translate the Bible? No. Did our churches in London ever grow beyond a certain size? No – but they stayed open in areas where people were constantly moving in and out. Did people flock to faith because of any evangelistic outreach we organised? Not that I’m aware of – but God knows what seeds of faith may have been planted in peoples’ minds. Did the services I devised and the sermons I preached make people think and stimulate their faith? I sincerely hope so. So: has my ministry been a success, however I might want to define that word? I’m honestly not sure – but I’ve done my best. And I’m not quite finished yet!

In today’s reading, the great apostle Paul is nearing the end of his life – at least, that’s what he thinks. As I said a fortnight ago, he is again in prison for preaching the Gospel of Jesus, regarded by the Roman authorities as a dangerously subversive challenge to the Emperor Nero. What the conditions were like, we cannot tell. The final chapter of Acts pictures him under house arrest in Rome itself, deprived of his freedom but possibly living in some comfort. However here he describes himself as being in chains, which makes us think of a dark and dank dungeon. We possess no record of Paul’s final days, so can only guess at the conditions under which he was writing. But he seems fairly certain that he will soon die a martyr’s death in the arena.

It’s hardly surprising that Paul sounds depressed. This isn’t the fiery evangelist who dared to confront pagan crowds and left groups of believers in almost every town he visited, the intellectual who debated with philosophers in Athens, the courageous traveller who was willing to risk life and limb if it meant that the Christian message could reach new areas, the man of faith who sang hymns while imprisoned, the theologian who’d tried to work out the details of day-to-day Christian living, the dogged leader who had called out heresy and corruption in an effort to keep the churches pure … No, the Paul we meet here is lonely, dejected and bored; most of his companions are in distant places, continuing the Gospel work (he’s thankful for that but realises that his part in it has now come to an end); others abandoned him when he needed them most (he’s finding it hard to forgive their failure). He pleads for Timothy to visit, bringing books to read, parchments to edit and a warm cloak for the winter. I don’t like Paul very much, but I do find the pathos and humanity of this chapter very moving.

But there is another side to this chapter. Despite his disappointment, sadness (and, quite possibly, age-related aches and pains!), there is still a quiet confidence about Paul. He looks back on his ministry with satisfaction, even pride: “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith”. Despite the setbacks and hardships, the disappointments and difficulties, the challenges and opposition, Paul can say to himself (and to Jesus), “I kept going, I didn’t give up, I was faithful to your commission”. Although he must have been aware of mistakes he’d made, Paul had consistently served his Master to his best ability. I wonder how many of us can honestly say that?

And now Paul looks to the future – a future which seems far rosier than his current predicament. For he has an unshakeable belief that physical death is not the end of human existence; that (to quote Jesus himself), we on earth are “laying up treasure” for our continuing life in heaven. Paul seems confident that he has been successful in this quest, for he is looking forward to receiving Jesus’ crown of righteousness – whatever he might actually mean by that! He states his belief clearly: “The Lord will (not “may”!) rescue me from every evil attack and save me for his heavenly kingdom”. We may well feel that Paul’s confidence verges on arrogance – but we also notice how he quickly says that it won’t just be him who Jesus crowns, but “everyone who has longed for his appearing”. Did Paul expect to be given special credit for his ministry? I don’t know; but he certainly does want to hear Jesus saying, “Well done, good and faithful servant!” It’s this hope which lifts him out of despondency and despair.

All this makes Paul’s situation more bearable. We sense that, beneath his complaints and questions, there is an underlying calm. Although Paul has always been an activist, he has learned both that he cannot everything, and that somethings simply cannot be sorted out. We might say that he has withdrawn himself from events, but we can also see that he is expressing his faith. He knows that he has run his race and reached the finishing line. Paul is at the end, not of a sprint, but of a marathon which may have lasted 30 years or more. Now is the time to let things go, and feel peace about not picking up the pieces. That is now the job for others, and he must trust that they will do it.

I wonder how far back Paul went as he reflected? Did he think about the riot he’d caused in Ephesus, the earthquake which had freed him from prison in Philippi, the shipwreck on Malta when he had taken charge of the frightened sailors, the dream of the man saying, “Come over to Macedonia”? Did he think of the crucial debates which led to the Church accepting Jews and Gentiles as equals, the despair he’d felt when the Galatian churches bound themselves up in the false security of Old Testament law, or his exasperation with the immature Christians in Corinth? And did his mind go further back still, to those “hidden” years of preparation in Arabia and Antioch and, of course, to his never-to-be-forgotten encounter with Jesus on the Damascus Road? He certainly had the time to remember everything.

One event he must have recalled took place just three days after his conversion – days which were frightening as he’d been struck blind and must have wondered if he would ever see again. I’m referring, of course, to Paul’s (or still, at that point, Saul’s) baptism. We read how an otherwise unknown believer called Ananias is told by God to go to the house where Saul is staying; how he very nervously obeys this divine command; how he courageously greets the future apostle with the words, “Brother Saul” and lays his hands on his head; how scales seem to fall from Saul’s eyes and his sight returns; and how Saul is then baptised. The former persecutor has now formally joined the Christian Church; his life will never be the same.

Baptism took place at the very start of Paul’s Christian journey (no lengthy instruction classes for him!). That’s a pattern we find repeated elsewhere in the New Testament, from the Day of Pentecost onwards. Today we are delighted to be baptising Hassan. He and Naghmeh have come from a place where it is dangerous to openly identify oneself as a Christian. This means that his baptism has been delayed- but he’s got there in the end! Although he’ll only be under the water for a few seconds, we trust it will be a hugely significant moment for him.

At the beginning of this message I reflected on my own Christian journey. Some of you will have had longer journeys than mine; others of you weren’t even born when mine began! But can I invite you all to think back over the years, and ask yourselves what where the highlights – and, yes, the times when you faced struggles and almost gave up? Be honest with yourselves: did you always feel God with you, giving you strength, or did you sometimes feel that he had abandoned you?

I want to close with two challenges for you to ponder. The first is specifically for anyone who has never been baptised (or, if you were baptised as a child, who has never publicly affirmed their faith in Confirmation). And the challenge is this: what has stopped you doing this, what is still stopping you? Is it embarrassment, or a sense of not being worthy, or the feeling that you’ve left it too late? None of those, in my view, are adequate reasons. The Bible simply says, “Believe and be baptised”.

The other challenge is for all of us – and particularly for those among us who are nearer the end of our earthly journey than the beginning. Are we able to confidently echo Paul’s words. “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith”? Do we share his strong belief that we will receive Christ’s “crown of righteousness”? Well, we’re not Paul, and we’re living in very different times to him. So I suspect that the answer for most of us will be, “I wasn’t perfect but I did my best; I’m not quite sure about the future but I’m trying to be hopeful”. That’s honest: but does Jesus expect more? Perhaps he does.