The Cost of Faithfulness: Friends, Foes, and Finishing Well Text: 2 Timothy 4:9-15
Introduction: The Final Accounting
We come now to a passage that is intensely personal. Paul, the aged apostle, is in a Roman prison, awaiting his execution. He knows the time of his departure is at hand. And in these final words to his beloved son in the faith, Timothy, the veil is pulled back. We see the heart of a man who has poured himself out for the gospel. We see the loneliness, the disappointments, the urgent needs, and the settled confidence of a man who has kept the faith.
This is not abstract theology. This is theology with flesh on it. This is the grit and grime of pastoral ministry. It is a ledger of names, some written in the ink of loyalty, others in the bitter ink of betrayal. It is a list of simple, human needs: a cloak for the cold, scrolls for the mind, and parchments for the soul. And it is a solemn warning about a man who had become a vessel of satanic opposition.
In our therapeutic age, we are tempted to read a passage like this with a certain detached pity for Paul. We see him as isolated and abandoned, and we might think, "How sad." But that is to miss the point entirely. Paul is not writing this as a victim. He is writing as a general, surveying the field at the end of a long and brutal war. He is giving his final report to his lieutenant. He is showing us that the Christian life is a battle, and in any battle, there will be casualties. There will be deserters, there will be faithful soldiers, there will be enemies, and there will be a Commander who sees it all and who will render a perfectly just verdict.
This passage forces us to ask ourselves some hard questions. When the roll is called for our own lives, which column will our name be in? Will we be a Demas, who loved this present age? Or a Luke, who was faithful to the end? Will we be a Mark, who was once unserviceable but was restored to usefulness? Or an Alexander, who set himself against the truth? The Christian life is not a playground; it is a battleground. And this passage is a stark and necessary reminder of the cost of faithfulness and the reality of spiritual warfare.
The Text
Be diligent to come to me soon, for Demas, having loved this present age, has deserted me and gone to Thessalonica; Crescens has gone to Galatia, Titus to Dalmatia. Only Luke is with me. Pick up Mark and bring him with you, for he is useful to me for service. But Tychicus I sent to Ephesus. When you come bring the cloak which I left at Troas with Carpus, and the scrolls, especially the parchments. Alexander the coppersmith showed me much harm; the Lord will award him according to his deeds. Be on guard against him yourself, for he vigorously opposed our words.
(2 Timothy 4:9-15 LSB)
The Pain of Desertion and the Comfort of Loyalty (vv. 9-11a)
Paul begins with an urgent and personal plea, which reveals the state of his fellowship.
"Be diligent to come to me soon, for Demas, having loved this present age, has deserted me and gone to Thessalonica; Crescens has gone to Galatia, Titus to Dalmatia. Only Luke is with me." (2 Timothy 4:9-11a)
Paul's urgency, "Be diligent to come to me soon," is not the panic of a desperate man, but the longing of a father for his son. But the reason for this urgency is stark: "for Demas...has deserted me." The word for deserted here is the same used for leaving a military post. Demas was a soldier who went AWOL. And the reason is laid bare: "having loved this present age."
This is the great temptation for every Christian in every generation. The love of this present age is the siren song of comfort, security, acceptance, and pleasure. Demas had once been a fellow worker with Paul, mentioned alongside Luke in Philemon. He had seen the power of the gospel. He had walked with the apostle. But when the cost got too high, when the prison cell grew cold and the threat of execution became real, the world looked much more attractive than the cross. He traded the eternal crown for the temporary comforts of Thessalonica. He chose the seen over the unseen. This is the essence of worldliness. It is not about enjoying a good meal or a beautiful sunset; it is about where your ultimate love and allegiance lie. Demas's heart was captured by the world, and so he abandoned his post.
Crescens and Titus have also gone, but their departure is different. Paul does not say they deserted him. They were likely sent out on apostolic business, faithful men continuing the work. Ministry is a constant sending and going. But their absence, coupled with Demas's desertion, leaves Paul feeling the sharp edge of loneliness. "Only Luke is with me." Luke, the beloved physician, the faithful historian, the loyal friend. In the midst of betrayal and the necessary separations of ministry, God always provides a remnant of faithfulness. Luke's quiet, steadfast presence is a profound testimony. He was not a fair-weather friend. He was there for the final watch.
The Grace of Restoration and Usefulness (vv. 11b-12)
Next, Paul makes a surprising request that is overflowing with the logic of the gospel.
"Pick up Mark and bring him with you, for he is useful to me for service. But Tychicus I sent to Ephesus." (2 Timothy 4:11b-12)
This is the same John Mark who had deserted Paul and Barnabas on their first missionary journey (Acts 15:37-39). That earlier desertion was so sharp that it caused a split between Paul and Barnabas. Paul had refused to take Mark with them again. But here, years later, we see the fruit of restoration. Mark, who was once useless for the hard work of pioneer missions, has been restored. Through the patient ministry of others like Barnabas and Peter, Mark has matured. And now Paul, at the end of his life, specifically asks for him. "He is useful to me for service."
This is a glorious picture of grace. The gospel does not just save us from the penalty of our sin; it restores us to usefulness. Past failure does not have to be a final verdict. The man who once fled his post is now requested for front-line service. This ought to be a tremendous encouragement to every one of us who has ever failed the Lord. Repentance and grace can transform our greatest failures into future strengths. Paul does not hold a grudge. He recognizes the work of God in Mark's life and joyfully receives him back as a valuable co-laborer.
And then we see Tychicus, another faithful messenger, sent to Ephesus. The work of the kingdom does not stop because Paul is in prison. Men are constantly being deployed, sent out to strengthen the churches. Paul is still directing the affairs of the mission from his cell. He is a king in chains.
The Needs of a Man (v. 13)
Paul's humanity is on full display in this simple, domestic request.
"When you come bring the cloak which I left at Troas with Carpus, and the scrolls, especially the parchments." (Genesis 1:3 LSB)
Here is the great apostle, a man who shook the Roman empire, shivering in a cold prison. He needs his cloak. He is not a Stoic, pretending not to feel the damp chill. He is a man, and he is cold. This reminds us that our great heroes of the faith were men of like passions as we are. They got cold, they got lonely, and they had practical needs.
But his greater need is for his books. "The scrolls, especially the parchments." The scrolls were likely copies of the Old Testament Scriptures. The parchments were probably more valuable documents, perhaps his own letters, notes, or other important writings. Here is a man on death row, and what does he want? He wants to read. He wants to study. His mind is still sharp, his desire for the Word of God is insatiable. He is about to meet his Lord, and he wants to spend his final days steeping his soul in Scripture. This is a powerful rebuke to the anti-intellectualism that plagues so much of modern Christianity. The life of the mind is not at odds with the life of the spirit. For Paul, they were inseparable. He wanted to be warm, yes, but more than that, he wanted to be faithful with his mind to the very end.
The Reality of Opposition and Divine Justice (vv. 14-15)
The tone shifts from personal need to a solemn warning about a dangerous enemy.
"Alexander the coppersmith showed me much harm; the Lord will award him according to his deeds. Be on guard against him yourself, for he vigorously opposed our words." (2 Timothy 4:14-15)
We do not know the exact nature of the harm Alexander did. Perhaps he was a key witness against Paul in his trial. Perhaps he was a false teacher who, like a metalsmith, tried to hammer and twist the gospel into something ugly and unrecognizable. The text says he "vigorously opposed our words." This was not a polite disagreement. This was active, hostile, and malicious opposition to the apostolic message.
Notice Paul's response. He does not organize a protest. He does not start a petition. He does not call for personal vengeance. He does two things. First, he entrusts the matter to God's perfect justice: "the Lord will award him according to his deeds." This is a quotation from the Psalms and Proverbs. Paul is standing on the bedrock promise that God is the judge of all the earth, and He will do right. There is a final accounting for every evil deed. This is not vindictiveness; it is a profound act of faith. It is freeing. When we hand our enemies over to God's justice, we are liberated from the soul-destroying poison of bitterness and the desire for personal revenge. We let God be God.
Second, Paul issues a practical warning to Timothy: "Be on guard against him yourself." Faith in God's ultimate justice does not mean we become naive or foolish. We are to be wise as serpents. There are dangerous men in the world, and some of them are in the church. We are to identify them, mark them, and warn the flock about them. Pastoral ministry requires not only feeding the sheep but also fending off the wolves. Paul's love for Timothy compels him to give this sharp, necessary warning.
Conclusion: Finishing the Race
So what do we take from this intensely personal snapshot at the end of Paul's life? We see that faithfulness is lived out in the messy details of relationships. It is tested in loneliness and betrayal. It is demonstrated in loyalty and forgiveness. It is fueled by a deep and abiding love for the Word of God.
We are reminded that the Christian life is a marathon, not a sprint. And how we finish is of utmost importance. Demas started the race, but he was lured off the track by the cheap prizes offered by "this present age." Mark stumbled badly early in the race, but by God's grace, he got back up and became a strong finisher. Luke ran faithfully, stride for stride, with the apostle to the very end. Alexander set himself up as an obstacle on the track, seeking to trip up the runners.
Paul is finishing his race. He is cold, he is largely alone, and he is surrounded by enemies. But his eyes are fixed on the prize. He knows that the Lord, the righteous judge, is waiting for him. And because the Lord is a righteous judge, He will not only welcome Paul home with a crown of righteousness, but He will also deal justly with the Alexanders of the world.
Therefore, we must not grow weary. Let us be a Luke to our brethren, a Barnabas to a faltering Mark. Let us crave the Scriptures more than our comfort. And when we are wronged, let us entrust our cause to the one who judges justly. Let us be diligent, not in loving this present age, but in running the race set before us, so that on that final day, we too may hear, "Well done, good and faithful servant."