I Am Being Poured Out

I like old photographs. All of them have a story to tell, even our old family snapshots where everyone is frowning into the sun. I like them because all of them reveal something of the lives of people now long gone. With people who are unknown to me, or who lived long enough ago, I often wonder what their lives were like. What did they eat, how did they normally dress, what were their houses like? What kind of work did they do? What did they think about their lives? Did they wonder what future generations might think about them? I like old letters too, and they often provoke the same questions. Did you ever come across a cache of letters from distant relatives and find yourself wondering about their lives? If the letters date from the earlier part of their lives, you might get a sense of their first deep feelings for a life partner or their hopes and dreams for themselves or their children. If the letters are from a later period of their life, you may get a sense of the hard times they went through, the conflicts and illnesses they endured. Perhaps they were able to look back on their lives with a sense of satisfaction, knowing that they were leaving a legacy for the next generation.

Reading the second letter of Paul to Timothy is a little like finding a letter from a long gone relative or family friend. Scholars believe that the letter we’ve been hearing the last several weeks was written early in the second century. Most probably it was not written by Paul himself, but rather by a disciple of Paul writing in Paul’s name. As you’ve been hearing, the letter is addressed to a young pastor, Timothy, a third-generation Christian who is part of a community of disciples that included his grandmother and mother. Paul – let’s say Paul for convenience – is in prison, most probably in Rome. He has been deserted by his friends and now waits for what most certainly will be execution in the persecution of Christians instigated by Nero. Alone, languishing in prison, as he comes to the end of the letter, in the piece of it we heard today, he contemplates the meaning of his life, most especially the meaning of his allegiance to Jesus. His tone is passionate, and his words are bittersweet. What do we hear?

To begin with, we hear Paul’s sense of joy in having persevered and endured, often in the face of great obstacles. We know from the Book of Acts and from other letters that Paul was dragged before magistrates, imprisoned, and beaten. He had narrow escapes from dodgy places, covered long distances in his travels, and worked at a trade while preaching the gospel. From every perspective it was a hard life. Yet, using images of athletic competition, Paul can say confidently and joyfully, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.” I have held fast to the community of followers of Jesus, and I have done my best to spread the good news about Jesus. More important, like a successful competitor, he feels sure of the laurel wreath, a “crown of righteousness,” that will be awarded not only to him but to all who have held fast to their allegiance to Jesus.

Second, Paul reminds Timothy that, although friends have deserted him, and he is now alone in prison, in truth he has never been alone. In all his struggles, especially his struggles to spread the good news, he has had a deep and abiding sense of Jesus’ presence: “the Lord stood by me and gave me strength.” And more: the Lord rescued him from all those who would do him harm. Even in his present dire straits, Paul is confident that he will meet Jesus who will “save me for his heavenly kingdom.”

Finally, Paul demonstrates a powerful sense of his ministry as a giving of self. He uses the metaphor of “libation.” “Libation” has a special meaning. Libation was the pouring out of wine or oil as a gift to a god. The amount poured out was finite, whatever the vessel containing the wine or oil could hold. Eventually it was all poured out. Paul has come to that point. Yet, he understands that his life has been an offering that has benefited others. Just as Jesus’ life was a precious self-offering that was of infinite benefit to humanity, so Paul is confident that he has given his life in a sacrifice that has enriched the lives of those to whom he has ministered. Concluding his letter, he urges the young pastor Timothy to regard his own ministry as a self-giving, as a sacrifice that will benefit those to whom he ministers.

Down through the centuries, many of those who followed Paul into ministry, who willingly adopted a life centered on spreading the good news of God’s reign, would also know that they had followed in Jesus’ footsteps and had given their own lives as sacrifice to God. One of those whose names might be familiar to us is C.S. Lewis. Clive Staples Lewis was born on November 29, 1898. He died on November 22, 1963, the day President John F. Kennedy was assassinated. For that reason, his death went largely unnoticed in the U.S.

What many people also don’t know about Lewis is that, like St. Paul, he wholeheartedly embraced Christian faith only as an adult. Although he had been raised in a church-going family in Ireland, at the age of fifteen he declared himself to be an atheist. He started his adult work as a scholar of English literature at Oxford. Slowly he came under the influence of George MacDonald, G.K. Chesterton, J.R.R. Tolkien, and other professed Christians. Yet, again like St. Paul, he fought against faith. He felt as if he came into Christianity like a prodigal, "kicking, struggling, resentful, and darting his eyes in every direction for a chance to escape." He described his last struggle in his book, Surprised by Joy:

You must picture me alone in that room in Magdalen, night after night, feeling, whenever my mind lifted even for a second from my work, the steady, unrelenting approach of Him whom I so earnestly desired not to meet. That which I greatly feared had at last come upon me. In the Trinity Term of 1929 I gave in, and admitted that God was God, and knelt and prayed: perhaps, that night, the most dejected and reluctant convert in all England.

After his conversion, Lewis continued his scholarly work on English literature. But he also became a towering figure in Christian apologetics. Perhaps you or your children have read The Chronicles of Narnia, seven fantasy novels that appeal to children but also contain profound theological lessons for adults. Some of you might have read The Screwtape Letters, pungent letters from a senior demon to his nephew Wormwood that deftly skewer many of our human pretensions. Perhaps you’ve enjoyed his “space trilogy:” Out of the Silent Planet, Perelandra, and That Hideous Strength. Some of you might have read his poignant account of the death of his wife Joy Davidman in A Grief Observed. For many of us, Lewis’s Mere Christianity helped to make Christian faith more comprehensible and convincing. It is still regarded as one of the best books on Christianity of the twentieth century. Though his health began to fail in 1960, with his legacy of scholarly works, novels, memoirs, and apologetics, Lewis too could have said with confidence and conviction, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.” Lewis too had poured himself out as gift to God and had known Jesus’ continuing companionship in his life.

And what of us? Some of us are closer to the end of our lives than others. But all of us will die. God may not ask us to die as Jesus and Paul did, violent and unjust deaths. But all of us will eventually pour out the cup of life. Have we planned for that day? In practical terms, have you made a will? Have you provided for your dependents, and for the charities close to your heart? If not, why not? Do you have advanced directives? Have you appointed a healthcare power of attorney, and do your loved ones know what your wishes are for end-of-life care when you are no longer able to articulate them?

Most important, does your life have a purpose. Can you share Paul’s joy at having persevered in following God’s call? Are you living your life in the knowledge of Christ’s continuing presence? Do you take the time to acknowledge that God is with you, whatever the hurdles, troubles, persecutions, and setbacks? Are you using your resources or some part of your life to spread the good news and to partner with God in bringing God’s reign closer? When the end comes, will you be confident that you too have poured out your life in God’s service? Will you too be able to say, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith?”