2 Timothy

2 Timothy reads like a last letter, and it presents itself as one. Paul is in prison again, and this time he does not expect to be released. He writes about being poured out like a drink offering, about the time of his departure being at hand, and he asks Timothy twice to hurry and come before winter. He also asks him to bring a cloak he left behind, and some scrolls. It is a strange, human detail to find in a book of the Bible, and it is the kind of thing nobody invents.

Timothy was a younger man Paul had worked with for years, left in charge at Ephesus. He seems to have been earnest and easily discouraged, and the letter is written to someone the writer knows is struggling. Paul reminds him of the faith he saw first in his grandmother and his mother, tells him not to be ashamed, and warns him repeatedly that people are going to walk away from what he is teaching and prefer teachers who tell them what they want to hear.

Around that runs a series of pictures of what endurance costs: a soldier who does not get entangled in civilian affairs, an athlete who does not win by breaking the rules, a farmer who works before he eats. None of them are heroic. All of them are about showing up.

Chapter 3 contains the sentence most Christians can quote about scripture itself, that all of it is God-breathed and useful, and it is worth reading in place rather than on its own. Paul says it to a discouraged man in a bad situation, as a reason to keep going.

Four chapters, and it works best read slowly. There is not much narrative here. What there is instead is an old man telling a younger one how to hold on, which is worth hearing at any age.