Sermon Tone Analysis

“I charge you in the presence of God and of Christ Jesus, who is to judge the living and the dead, and by his appearing and his kingdom: preach the word; be ready in season and out of season; reprove, rebuke, and exhort, with complete patience and teaching.

For the time is coming when people will not endure sound teaching, but having itching ears they will accumulate for themselves teachers to suit their own passions, and will turn away from listening to the truth and wander off into myths.

As for you, always be sober-minded, endure suffering, do the work of an evangelist, fulfill your ministry.

“For I am already being poured out as a drink offering, and the time of my departure has come.

I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.

Henceforth there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, will award to me on that Day, and not only to me but also to all who have loved his appearing.”

[1]

Final words spoken as death is imminent are freighted with significance in our estimate.

Words uttered at the threshold of death are often a revelation for those remaining behind, as both saint and sinner hover before the grave, poised as it were with one foot planted among us who are yet trapped in the flesh even as the other foot settles in the realm of what lies beyond this life.

It is as though for one brief moment the veil that now obscures our vision of that unseen world is parted, and through the eyes of those exiting this mortal existence we are permitted a glimpse of their eternal destiny.

We thus receive a hint of our own final condition.

Those things spoken at that moment of transition are of considerable inter¬est to each of us, then, serving either as confirmation of what we have believed, or forcefully disabusing us of every false hope upon which we may have rested our eternal condition.

What would be the most important thing you could communicate with your final breaths?

What would be your dying words?

Your final words would perhaps be a revelation of what you were seeing for the first time, a spoken record of destiny, as it were, such as the words of D. L. Moody, who is reported to have said, “Earth recedes; Heaven opens before me.”

When his son remonstrated with him, he replied, “No, this is no dream, Will.

It is beautiful.

It is like a trance.

If this is death, it is sweet.

There is no valley here.

God is calling me, and I must go.” [2]

What will be the matters of primary concern for you?

Will your business, your occupation and the work in which you were engaged in those final days reign primary in your mind?

Will the care of your family occupy your thoughts, as you involuntarily surrender your responsibilities to another?

Will you inveigh against the unfairness of your enforced removal?

Will your mouth be filled with exclama¬tions of praise, or with execra¬tions and imprecations?

Will you rejoice at the prospect of something better, or will you experience regret at your loss as you leave behind all that you deemed valuable.

What will you say?

And what will you feel?

Chances are that you will speak of those things that now occupy your attention the majority of the time and that you will reveal the true condition of your heart; your life will be exposed and naked before those gathered about you.

It is, after all, only when eternity forcefully intrudes into our thoughts that we surrender all concern for current activities.

We have, as it were, the last statements of the Apostle Paul.

The words he penned to his spiritual heir, Timothy, serve to inform us of his final thoughts as his exodus from this life was nearing.

A review of those final thoughts serves to encourage each of us who follow the Son of God to review our spiritual priorities.

I invite you to consider the final thoughts forced out of the Apostle’s heart, as his departure from this life neared.

There was, for the apostle, A RECOGNITION OF REALITY.

We read his foreboding words recorded in the SIXTH VERSE: “I am already being poured out like a drink offering, and the time of my departure has come.”

That is reality speaking.

“For I (Egò gàr)” in contrast to “As for you (Sù dè)” of VERSE FIVE.

Timothy would continue to live and serve; but Paul's service was ending.

Therefore, what the apostle has to say is penned against the back¬drop of knowledge of situations which differed by the greatest imaginable degrees.

Take note of the contrast presented by the two positions; just as Joshua succeeded Moses, and Solomon succeeded David, and Elisha succeeded Elijah, so now Timothy must succeed Paul.

One generation succeeds another, as the work of God continues even though the life work of one generation reaches completion and that labourer ceases work while the labours of another begin.

Contending with the reality of the situations he and Timothy now faced, the apostle chose two metaphors of events which were even then transpiring in his life, one of a libation poured out as an act of worship and the other of a departure.

He spoke of his own life “already being poured out like a drink offering.”

Nor is this the first time Paul has employed this thought of the saint's life as a libation.

In PHILIPPIANS 2:17, likely penned only four or five years earlier, the aged saint had spoken of his life as a drink offering poured out on behalf of the Philippians.

The intervening years had not softened his view of the lives of the saints as sacrifices offered up to God.

The difference now is that he recognised his martyrdom as imminent.

Nero had likely already pronounced sentence, or at the least he would shortly render an unfavorable judgment against the apostle.

Paul would be executed in a matter of days.

In these words are found a beautiful way of looking at life and service for the Christian.

Though casual observers would conclude that the old man's life was in Caesar’s hands, the old man would review his life and conclude that the whole of his life had been a continual sacrifice to the One whom he called Master.

Now, at the appropriate time, it was not that Caesar was taking life from him, but that he was offering his own life as a sacrifice.

The second picture conveys something else quite different.

When Paul writes those seemingly innocuous words, “The time of my departure has come” [analúseós], he employs what had become for Greek speakers of that day a euphemism for death.

Paul had previously employed this term in an earlier letter written during his first imprisonment, when he had written the Philippian Christians concerning his desire to depart [PHILIPPIANS 1:23].

The term análusis is a rich, exceptionally descriptive word.

It was used of strik¬ing camp, of taking down a tent, of removing the shackles of a prisoner or of weighing anchor in prepar¬ation for slipping the moorings of a ship.

Each use is particularly suggestive of a view which extends beyond time and into eternity for the apostle.

Already Paul was loosing his barque from its moorings in preparation for venturing onto an uncharted sea.

The ropes were slipping as the tide was turning; departure was at hand.

What seemed to be an end to anyone watching this final drama was in fact the beginning of a glorious new era when all restrictions would be removed and freedom was to become the rule of the day.

The scene painted with striking verbal colours presents a novel view of death, presaging a rich insight provided shortly.

For the Christian, death is not an end; it is a beginning.

In my library is a biography of John Jasper.

Jasper was a powerful spokesman for God.

Born into slavery in old Virginia, he was saved late in life and began to preach among the slaves.

After the American Civil War, the old man found opportunity to preach in Richmond, Virginia, where he became the proud pastor of the far famed Sixth Mount Zion Baptist Church of that city.

Few of his sermons exist, as his was an impoverished race and unable to pay for transcribing his messages.

But Dr. William Hatcher, Pastor of the First Baptist Church of that city and a prominent Southern Baptist minister of a previous century, was an ardent listener to many of Jasper's sermons; he recorded por¬tions of some of those sermons.

Here is a description of one of his sermons preached as a funeral oration in the twilight of Jasper’s years.

“The house was thronged to overflowing.

It was the funeral of two persons—William Ellyson and Mary Barnes.

The text is forgotten, but the sermon is vividly recalled.

From the start Jasper showed a burden and a boldness that promised rich things for his people.

At the beginning he betrayed some hesitation unusual for him.

‘Lemme say,’ he said, ‘a word about dis William Ellersin.

I say it de fust an' git it off my min’.

William Ellersin was no good man—he didn't say he wus; he didn't try to be good, an’ dey tell me he die as he live, ‘out God an’ ‘out hope in de world.

It's a bad tale to tell on him, but he fix de story hisself.

As de tree falls dar it mus’ lay.

Ef you wants folks who live wrong to be preached and sung to glory, don’ bring ‘em to Jasper.

God comfort de mourner and warn de unruly.

“‘But, my bruthrin,’ he brightened as he spoke, ‘Mary Barnes was diffrunt.

She were wash’d in de blood of de lam’ and walk’d in white; her religion was of God.

Yer could trust Mary anywhar; nuv’r cotch ‘er in dem playhouses ner friskin’ in dem dances; she wan’ no street walker trapsin’ roun’ at night.

She love de house of de Lord; her feet clung to de straight and narrer path; I know’d her.

I seen her at de prayer meetin’—seed her at de supper—seed her at de preachin’, an’ sed her tendin’ de sick an’ helpin’ de mournin’ sinners.

Our Sister Mary, good bye.

Yer race is run, but yer crown is shure.’”

“From this Jasper shot quite apart.

He was full of fire, humour gleamed in his eye, and freedom was the bread of his soul.

By degrees he approached the realm of death, and he went as an invader.

A note of defi¬ant challenge rang in his voice and almost blazed on his lips.

He escorted the Christian to the court of death and demanded the monster king to exhibit his power to hurt.

It was wonderful to see how he pictured the high courage of the child of God, marching up to the very face of the king of terrors and demanding that he come forth and do his worst.

Death, on the other hand, was subdued, slow of speech, admitted his defeat, and proclaimed his readiness to serve the children of Immanuel.

Then he affected to put his mouth to the grave and cried aloud: ‘Grave!

Grave!

Oh, grave!’ he cried as if addressing a real person, ‘Whar's yer vict’ry?