_THE PARADOXICAL EXULTATION OF THE APOSTLE.--HIS APPARENT FAILURE AND
THE APPARENT FAILURE OF THE CHURCH.--THE GREAT TEST OF SINCERITY._
"But be thou sober in all things, suffer hardship, do the work of an
evangelist, fulfil thy ministry. For I am already being offered, and
the time of my departure is come. I have fought the good fight, I
have finished the course, I have kept the faith: henceforth there is
laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the
righteous judge, shall give to me at that day: and not only to me,
but also to all them that have loved His appearing."--2 TIM. iv.
5-8.
St. Chrysostom tells us that this passage was for a long time a source
of perplexity to him. "Often," he says, "when I have taken the Apostle
into my hands and have considered this passage, I have been at a loss to
understand why Paul here speaks so loftily: _I have fought the good
fight_. But now by the grace of God I seem to have found it out. For
what purpose then does he speak thus? He writes to console the
despondency of his disciple; and he therefore bids him be of good cheer,
since he was going to his crown, having finished all his work and
obtained a glorious end. Thou oughtest to rejoice, he says; not to
grieve. And why? Because _I have fought the good fight_. Just as a son,
who was sitting bewailing his orphan state, might be consoled by his
father saying to him, Weep not, my son. We have lived a good life; we
have reached old age; and now we are leaving thee. Our life has been
free from reproach; we are departing with glory; and thou mayest be held
in honour for what we have done.... And this he says not
boastfully;--God forbid;--but in order to raise up his dejected son, and
to encourage him by his praises to bear firmly what had come to pass, to
entertain good hopes, and not to think it a matter grievous to be
borne."
Chrysostom's explanation is no doubt part of the reason why the Apostle
here speaks in so exalted a key. This unusual strain _is_ partly the
result of a wish to cheer his beloved disciple and assure him that there
is no need to grieve for the death which now cannot be very far off.
When it comes, it will be a glorious death and a happy one. A glorious
death, for it will crown with the crown of victory struggles in a weary
contest which is now ending triumphantly. And a happy death; for Paul
has for years had the longing "to depart and be with Christ, which is
far better." The crown is one which will not wither; for it is not made
of olive, bay, or laurel. And it is not one of which the glory is
doubtful, or dependent upon the fickle opinions of a prejudiced crowd;
for it is not awarded by a human umpire, nor amid the applauses of human
spectators. The Giver is Christ, and the theatre is filled with angels.
In the contests of this world men labour many days and suffer hardships;
and for one hour they receive the crown. And forthwith all the pleasure
of it passes away. In the good fight which St. Paul fought a crown of
righteousness is won, which continues for ever in brightness and glory.
But besides wishing to console Timothy for the bereavement which was
impending, St. Paul also wished to encourage him, to stimulate him to
greater exertion and to a larger measure of courage. "Be _thou_ sober in
all things, suffer hardship, do the work of an Evangelist, fulfil thy
ministry. For _I_ am already being poured out as a drink-offering, and
the time of my departure is at hand." That is: _You_ must be more
vigorous, more enduring, more devoted; for _I_ am going away, and must
leave you to carry on to perfection that which I have begun. My fighting
is over; therefore do you fight more bravely. My course is finished;
therefore do you run more perseveringly. The faith entrusted to me has
been preserved thus far inviolate: see to it, that what has been
entrusted to you be kept safe. The crown which righteousness wins is
waiting now for me: so strive that such a crown may await you also. For
this is a contest in which all may have crowns, if only they will live
so as to feel a longing for the appearing of the righteous Judge who
gives them.
But there is more in this passage than the desire to comfort Timothy for
the approaching loss of his friend and instructor, and the desire to
spur him on to greater usefulness, not merely in spite of, but because
of, that loss. There is also the ecstatic joy of the great Apostle, as
with the eye of faith he looks back over the work which he has been
enabled to perform, and balances the cost of it against the great
reward.
As has been already pointed out in an earlier passage, there is nothing
in this touching letter which is more convincingly like St. Paul than
the way in which conflicting emotions succeed one another and come to
the surface in perfectly natural expression. Sometimes it is anxiety
that is uppermost; sometimes it is confidence. Here he is overflowing
with affection; there he is stern and indignant. One while he is deeply
depressed; and then again becomes triumphant and exulting. Like the
second Epistle to the Corinthians this last letter to the beloved
disciple is full of intense personal feelings, of a different and
apparently discordant character. The passage before us is charged with
such emotions, beginning with solemn warning and ending in lofty
exultation. But it is the warning, not of fear, but of affection; and it
is the exultation, not of sight, but of faith.
Looked at with human eyes the Apostle's life at that moment was a
failure,--a tragic and dismal failure. In his own simple but most
pregnant language, he had been "the _slave_ of Jesus Christ." No Roman
slave, driven by whip and goad, could have been made to work as Paul had
worked. He had taxed his fragile body and sensitive spirit to the
utmost, and had encountered lifelong opposition, derision, and
persecution, at the hands of those who ought to have been his friends,
and had been his friends until he entered the service of Jesus Christ.
He had preached and argued, had entreated and rebuked, and in doing so
had rung the changes on all the chief forms of human suffering. And what
had been the outcome of it all? The few Churches which he had founded
were but as handfuls in the cities in which he had established them; and
there were countless cities in which he had established nothing. Even
the few Churches which he had succeeded in founding had in most cases
soon fallen away from their first faith and enthusiasm. The
Thessalonians had become tainted with idleness and disorder, the
Corinthians with contentiousness and sensuality, the Galatians,
Colossians, and Ephesians with various forms of heresy; while the Roman
Church, in the midst of which he was suffering an imprisonment which
would almost certainly end in death, was treating him with coldness and
neglect. At his first defence no one took his part, but all forsook him;
and in his extremity he was almost deserted. As the results of a life of
intense energy and self-devotion, all these things had the appearance of
total failure.
And certainly if the work of his life seemed to have been a failure with
regard to others, it did not bear any resemblance to success as regards
himself. From the world's point of view he had given up much, and gained
little, beyond trouble and disgrace. He had given up a distinguished
position in the Jewish Church, in order to become the best hated man
among that people of passionate hatreds. While his efforts on behalf of
the Gentiles had ended for a third time in confinement in a Gentile
prison, from which, as he saw clearly, nothing but death was likely to
release him.
And yet, in spite of all this, St. Paul is exultingly triumphant. Not at
all because he does not perceive, or cannot feel, the difficulties and
sorrows of his position. Still less because he wishes to dissemble
either to himself or others the sufferings which he has to endure. He is
no Stoic, and makes no profession of being above human infirmities and
human emotions. He is keenly sensitive to all that affects his own
aspirations and affections and the well-being of those whom he loves. He
is well aware of the dangers both of body and soul which beset those who
are far dearer to him than life. And he gives strong expression to his
trouble and anxiety. But he measures the troubles of time by the glories
of eternity. With the eye of faith he looks across all this apparent
failure and neglect to the crown of righteousness which the righteous
Judge has in store for him, and for thousands upon thousands of others
also,--even for _all_ those who have learned to look forward with
longing to the time when their Lord shall appear again.
In all this we see in miniature the history of Christendom since the
Apostle's death. His career was a fore-shadowing of the career of the
Christian Church. In both cases there appears to be only a handful of
real disciples with a company of shallow and fickle followers, to set
against the stolid, unmoved mass of the unconverted world. In both
cases, even among the disciples themselves, there is the cowardice of
many, and the desertions of some. In both cases those who remain true to
the faith dispute among themselves which of them shall be accounted the
greatest. St. Paul was among the first to labour that Christ's ideal of
one holy catholic Church might be realized. Eighteen centuries have
passed away, and the life of the Church, like that of St. Paul, looks
like a failure. With more than half the human race still not even
nominally Christian; with long series of crimes committed not only in
defiance, but in the name, of religion; with each decade of years
producing its unwholesome crop of heresies and schisms;--what has become
of the Church's profession of being catholic, holy, and united?
The failure, as in St. Paul's case, is more apparent than real. And it
must be noted at the outset that our means of gauging success in
spiritual things are altogether uncertain and inadequate. Anything at
all like scientific accuracy is quite out of our reach, because the data
for a trustworthy conclusion cannot be obtained. But the case is far
stronger than this. It is impossible to determine even roughly where the
benefits conferred by the Gospel end; what the average holiness among
professing Christians really is; and to what extent Christendom, in
spite of its manifold divisions, is really one. It is more than possible
that the savage in central Africa is spiritually the better for the
Incarnation of which he knows nothing, and which his whole life seems to
contradict; for at least he is one of those for whom Christ was born and
died. It is probable that among quite ordinary Christians there are many
whom the world knows as sinners, but whom God knows as saints. And it is
certain that a belief in a Triune God and in a common Redeemer unites
millions far more closely than their differences about ministers and
sacraments keeps them apart. The Church's robe is tattered and
travel-stained; but she is still the Bride of Christ, and her children,
however much they may quarrel among themselves, are still one in Him.
And where the failure of St. Paul and of those who have followed him can
be shown to be unquestionably real, it can generally be shown to be
thoroughly intelligible. Although Divine in its origin, the Gospel has
from the first used human instruments with all the
weaknesses,--physical, intellectual, and moral,--which characterize
humanity. When we remember what this implies, and also remember the
forces against which Christianity has had to contend, the marvel rather
is that the Gospel has had so large a measure of success, than that its
success is not yet complete. It has had to fight against the passions
and prejudices of individuals and nations, debased by long centuries of
immorality and ignorance, and strengthened in their opposition to the
truth by all the powers of darkness. It has had to fight, moreover, with
other religions, many of which are attractive by their concessions to
human frailty, and others by the comparative purity of their rites and
doctrines. And against them all it has won, and continues to win, man's
approbation and affection, by its power of satisfying his highest
aspirations and his deepest needs. No other religion or philosophy has
had success so various or so far reaching. The Jew and the Mahometan,
after centuries of intercourse, remain almost without influence upon
European minds; while to Western civilization the creed of the Buddhist
remains not only without influence, but without meaning. But the nation
has not yet been found to which Christianity has been proved to be
unintelligible or unsuitable. To whatever quarter of the globe we look,
or to whatever period of history during the Christian era, the answer is
still the same. Multitudes of men, throughout eighteen centuries, under
the utmost variety of conditions, whether of personal equipment or of
external circumstance, have made trial of Christianity, and have found
it satisfying. They have testified as the result of their countless
experiences that it can stand the wear and tear of life; that it can not
only fortify but console; and that it can rob even death of its sting
and the grave of its victory by a sure and certain hope of the crown of
righteousness, which the righteous Judge prepares for all those who
love, and have long loved, His appearing.
"Who have loved and do love His appearing."[96] That is the full force
of the Greek perfect (=tois êgapêkosin=), which expresses the present
and permanent result of past action; and therein lies the test whereby
to try the temper of our Christianity. St. Paul, who had long yearned to
depart and be with Christ, could not easily have given a more simple or
sure method of finding out who those are who have a right to believe
that the Lord has a crown of righteousness in store for them. Are we
among the number? In order to answer this question we must ask ourselves
another. Are our lives such that we are longing for Christ's return? Or
are we dreading it, because we know that we are not fit to meet Him, and
are making no attempt to become so. Supposing that physicians were to
tell us, that we are smitten with a deadly disease, which must end
fatally, and that very soon,--what would be our feeling? When the first
shock was over, and we were able to take a calm view of the whole case,
could we welcome the news as the unexpected fulfilment of a long
cherished wish that Christ would deliver us out of the miseries of this
sinful world and take us to Himself? The Bible sets before us the crown
of righteousness which fadeth not away, and the worm which never dieth.
Leaning upon God's unfailing love let us learn to long for the coming of
the one; and then we shall have no need to dread, or even to ask the
meaning of, the other.
FOOTNOTES:
[96] The somewhat unusual word here used for Christ's second coming
(=epiphaneia=) has been condemned as un-Pauline; but it occurs 2 Thess.
ii. 8, and the cognate verb =phaneroun= is found Col. iii. 4. Cf. 2 Tim.
i. 10; iv. 1; Tit. ii. 13; 1 Tim. vi. 14.