This is my morning so far: wake up slightly before 6 am, shower, let Tori out, feed Tori, make coffee, start a load of laundry, sit on the couch for my devotional time while working on this meditation, and, in less than five minutes, drift back off to sleep. Not a very promising start to my day!
Anyway, yesterday evening I was looking through a few of Paul’s letters for an ending to an upcoming sermon when I came across 2 Timothy 4:13. It’s not very inspiring, and you’ve likely never heard it preached, but the context is interesting.
Second Timothy is one of Paul’s last letters, if not the last. He’s done it all – met Jesus on the Damascus Road, been kicked out of more places than I’ve been to, planted churches, and endured prison, shipwrecks, and beatings. He has written letters to churches that we read and study today, giving practical advice while offering deep theological insight. And, now, in one of his final letters, he pauses to say something entirely unremarkable to his friend, Timothy:
“When you come (to visit), bring the cloak that I left with Carpus at Troas—and my scrolls, especially the parchments.”
This isn’t the stuff of sermons. There’s no grand doctrine here. Just a man who wants something to keep him warm and something to read.
Scripture is full of moments like this, small personal moments that remind us of ourselves. Moments of sitting down to pray and drifting back to sleep. Moments of the routine, like making coffee or doing laundry. We forget that behind Paul the theologian, there’s Paul the human being. But here he is—asking for his coat and his books, and reminding us that faith, while it sometimes calls us to do extraordinary things, lives in ordinary needs.
Paul never outgrew his humanity. Like us on a cold winter day, he still feels the chill and wants to curl up with a warm cloak. And, like us, he wants something to occupy his mind. He wants to learn. He still loves words.
There is something quietly comforting about this one little verse that is so easy to overlook and ignore.
God isn’t only present in moments of sacrifice and courage. God is present in the small things of life—in forgotten jackets, laundry, coffee, errands, reading a favorite book, and even drifting off to sleep on the couch.
Paul doesn’t apologize for his needs. He names them and asks for help. And Scripture preserves them, as if to say: these little things matter. Perhaps there’s something more spiritual in the ordinary and routine than we think. A thought to ponder.
Prayer: Gracious God, meet me in the ordinary needs of this day.
Remind me that my humanity isn’t a failure of faith but a place where your grace meets me and offers peace. Amen.
