Homilies on Second Timothy

Often, 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 is desirous to console the despondency of his disciple, and therefore bids him be of good cheer, since he was going to his crown, having finished all his work, and obtained a glorious end. You ought to rejoice, he says, not to grieve. And why? Because, “I have fought the good fight.” As a father whose son was sitting by him, bewailing his orphan state, might console him, saying, Weep not, my son; we have lived a good life, we have arrived at old age, and now we leave you. Our life has been irreproachable, we depart with glory, and you may be held in admiration for our actions. Our king is much indebted to us. As if he had said, We have raised trophies, we have conquered enemies, and this not boastfully. God forbid; but to raise up his dejected son, and to encourage him by his praises to bear firmly what had happened, to entertain good hopes, and not to think it a matter grievous to be borne. For sad, sad indeed is separation; and hear Paul himself, saying, “We being bereaved of you for a short time, in presence, not in heart.” If he then felt so much at being separated from his disciples, what do you think were the feelings of Timothy? If on parting from him while living he wept, so that Paul says, “Being mindful of your tears, that I may be filled with joy.”, how much more at his death? These things then he wrote to console him. Indeed the whole Epistle is full of consolation, and is a sort of Testament. “I have fought the good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith.” “A good fight,” he says, therefore do thou engage in it. But is that a good fight, where there are imprisonment, chains, and death? Yea, he says for it is fought in the cause of Christ, and great crowns are won in it. “The good fight”! There is no worthier than this contest. This crown is without end. This is not of olive leaves. It has not a human umpire. It has not men for spectators. The theater is crowded with Angels. There men labor many days, and suffer hardships, and for one hour they receive the crown, and immediately all the pleasure passes away. But here far otherwise, it continues for ever in brightness, glory, and honor. Henceforth we ought to rejoice. For I am entering on my rest, I am leaving the race. You have heard that “it is better to depart and to be with Christ.”

I have finished “the course.” For it behooves us both to contend and to run; to contend, by enduring afflictions firmly, and to run, not vainly, but to some good end. It is truly a good fight, not only delighting, but benefiting the spectator: and the race does not end in nothing. It is not a mere display of strength and of rivalry. It draws all up to heaven. This race is brighter than the sun's, yea, this which Paul ran upon earth, than that which he runs in heaven. And how had he “finished his course”? He traversed the whole world, beginning from Galilee and Arabia, and advancing to the extremities of the each, so that, as he says, “From Jerusalem and round about unto Illyricum I have fully preached the Gospel of Christ.” He passed over the earth like a bird, or rather more swiftly than a bird: for a bird only flies over it, but he, having the wing of the Spirit, made his way through numberless impediments, dangers, deaths, and calamities, so that he was even fleeter than a bird. Had he been a mere bird, he might have alighted and been taken, but being upborne by the Spirit he soared above all snares, as a bird with a wing of fire.

“I have kept the faith,” he says. There were many things that would have robbed him of it, not only human friendships, but menaces, and death, and countless other perils: but he stood firm against all. How? By being sober and watchful. This might have sufficed for the consolation of his disciples, but he further adds the rewards. And what are these?

Ver. 8. “Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness.”

Here again he calls virtue in general righteousness. You should not grieve that I shall depart, to be invested with that crown which will by Christ be placed upon my head. But if I continued here, truly your might rather grieve, and fear lest I should fail and perish.

Ver. 8. “Which the Lord, the righteous Judge, shall give me at that day, and not to me only, but to all that love His appearing.”

Here also he raises his mind. If “to all,” much more to Timothy. But he did not say, “and to you,” but “to all”; meaning, if to all, much more to him.

Moral. But how, it may be asked, is one to “love the appearing” (τὴν ἐπιφανειαν) of Christ? By rejoicing at His coming; and he who rejoices at His coming, will perform works worthy of His joy; he will throw away his substance if need be, and even his life, so that he may obtain future blessings, that he may be thought worthy to behold that second coming in a fitting state, in confidence, in brightness and glory. This is to “love His appearing.” He who loves His appearing will do everything to ensure, before His general coming, a particular coming to himself. And how, you will say, is this possible? Hear from Christ, who says, “If a man love Me, he will keep My words, and My Father and I will come unto him, and make Our abode with him.” And think how great a privilege it is that He who will appear to all generally, should promise to come to us in particular: for He says, “We will come and make Our abode with him.” If any man “love His appearing,” he will do everything to invite Him to himself, and to hold Him, that the light may shine upon him. Let there be nothing unworthy of His coming, and He will soon take up His abode with us.

And it is called His “Epiphany,” because He will appear above, and shine forth from on high. Let us therefore “seek those things that are above,” and we shall soon draw down those beams upon us. None of those who grovel below, and bury themselves in this lower earth, will be able to view the light of that Sun. None of those who defile themselves with worldly things will be able to behold that Sun of righteousness. He shines on none of those who are so occupied. Recover yourself a little, recover yourself from that depth, from the waves of a worldly life, if you would see the Sun, and enjoy His appearing. Then you will see Him with great confidence. Be even now a philosopher. Let not a spirit of perverseness possess you, lest He smite you severely, and bring you low. Let not your heart be hardened; nor darkened, lest you be shipwrecked there. Let there be no self-deceit. For the rocks beneath the sea cause the most fatal shipwrecks. Nourish no wild beasts, I mean evil passions, worse than wild beasts. Confide not in things ever flowing, that you may be able to stand firmly. None can stand upon water, but upon a rock all find a secure footing. Worldly things are as water, as a torrent, that passes away. “The waters,” he says, “have come in unto my soul.” Spiritual things are as a rock. For he says, “You have set my feet upon a rock.” Worldly things are as mire and clay; let us extricate ourselves from them. For so we shall be able to attain to the appearing of Christ. Whatever may befall us, let us endure. It is a sufficient consolation in all circumstances that we suffer for Christ. This divine incantation let us repeat, and it will charm away the pain of every wound.