As I sit here with his last letter to me on my lap, trying to fully absorb into my lugubrious mind what my broken heart wants to resist, I can remember as it were only last week, the very first day I met him. The sight of his slightly bent frame topped with a somewhat overly large head with its heavily scared bald spot on top might have been both fearsome and grotesque if not for the bright eyes and broad smile which dominated the face. And then there was that voice. At once distracting and captivating in its almost annoying nasal sound and comforting words of love and hope. And although his stature, appearance and speech were distinctly unspectacular, he commanded attention, exuded authoritative confidence, and warmed the heart of the listener with true unconditional compassion. He was a man no one could ignore; always attracting a crowd, and exciting thoughts and emotions, not by his manner of speaking, but by the cosmic force of the words he spoke. For it was clear to those of us whose hearts were touched by the pure water of the life giving message flowing from the sacred spring within his soul that he conveyed to mortal man the truths of God. The Spirit living in him communicating with out spirits; transforming us from the lifeless existence of our carnal beings into new creatures filled with the exuberant and eternal energy of the Creator himself. So changed in every aspect of heart, mind, and soul, we saw not only life in a different way, but beheld our new friend and teacher in a different light. No longer simply uncommon and unattractive, but spectacular and beautiful. For we saw him, not with the mind of carnal man, but through the eye of the Spirit which now dwells inside us. The Spirit of the living God, glorified by his risen Son. This is how I now and shall always remember my friend, Paul of Tarsus, Apostle of Jesus Christ.

It was not long after my sixteenth birthday, and the Greek ceremony of leaving the life of a boy and entering into the world of men, that Paul arrived in my hometown of Lystra. My mother, being a Jew, had begun to teach me the history of the children of Abraham once my father had died, and she had been freed from conforming to his ways. As a result of the freedom of adulthood combined with an interest in my mother's ancestral religion, I began to associate with men who spoke, not only of the God of Abraham, but also of the promised Messiah. I learned from them that this Savior had supposedly arrived in Jerusalem, signifying that God's kingdom had come to Earth. It was at one of our weekly meetings that Paul and his companion first appeared, enlightening us with the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Paul told us that, indeed, the Messiah, the Savior, the Son of God had been born, persecuted, crucified unto death, buried, and then arose to life, and ascended into Heaven. In this way the promises made by God to Abraham, and the prophecies declared by Isaiah had been fulfilled. And the name of this man was Jesus of Nazareth. Born of a virgin in the city of David, Bethlehem, and baptized by the water of John the Baptist and by the Holy Spirit of God, Jesus was both the son of Man and the Son of God; come to give all men, Jews and Greeks, a path to righteousness and eternal life with God. That way, Paul explained, was through faith, itself a gift from God, in Jesus as the Christ, born, crucified, and risen from the dead for the propitiation of sins. By the gift of faith in Christ Jesus alone, and not by any works of Jewish Law, could all men, Jews and Greeks, enter into the Kingdom of God.

I cannot fully explain in the words of ordinary man how Paul's message touched my heart more than my mind. I can only testify that I believed what he was saying. And I do not mean I thought what he was saying to be true; for it was not of my mind but of my soul, my very being, that I felt my spirit stir and convict me in my heart. It was then, at that moment, that I felt what I later understood to be the Holy Spirit wash over me from head to toe with a strange but wonderful tingling stirring every nerve and muscle in my young body. And, incredibly and most wondrously, I felt His Spirit breath into my nostrils the the breath of life. Suddenly, as if emerging from deep sleep, I felt truly alive. I had been re-born.

I know now, as my friend Paul knew, that my life is not my own, but belongs to my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. And I know that my days in this world are but a brief term of service in His great plan before receiving an eternal reward of life in His kingdom. Therefore, rather than mourning the passing of my teacher and spiritual father, I rejoice and praise God for being allowed the great privilege of knowing him. And I look forward to the day when together we shall in Heaven, as we did on Earth, give all praise, honor and glory to Almighty God in Christ Jesus. I have no doubt that upon falling into the final sleep in this world, I shall awake in the next to be greeted by my friend Paul and my brother Jesus with a smile and the words, "Welcome home, brother Timothy. Our Father will be pleased to receive you."

May His Spirit be with you. Amen.