Do We Love His Appearing?
In the life of every believer—and certainly in the fellowship of those devoted to the work of the Gospel—there will come moments of strain, disagreement, and even division. Scripture does not hide this reality from us. Rather, it brings us face to face with it. In Acts 15:36–41, we encounter one such moment: a sharp disagreement between Paul and Barnabas over John Mark, who had previously withdrawn from the mission (Acts 13:13). What began as a partnership marked by shared calling and spiritual power is suddenly fractured.
The disagreement is not trivial; it is described as “sharp,” and it results in separation. It has not gone unnoticed from scholars that the Lord, by Luke, does not reveal the exact dynamic of this “sharp” disagreement. Neither do we know which of these two missionary giants were in the wrong. Perhaps Paul discerned that John Mark’s immaturity would hinder his endurance as they faced trial. Maybe Barnabas discerned a call to further disciple John Mark that would necessitate proximity on the mission field. We simply do not know. Luke does not record the reconciliation; but the Lord would later reveal it through Paul.
It is not difficult for us to relate. Who among us has not experienced the strain of disagreement within the household of faith? Relationships once marked by unity can become burdened by differing convictions, wounded trust, unresolved tensions, or deep hurt. How long should such breaches remain? Scripture does not always give us a timetable, but it does reveal the posture we are to maintain: we should be eager for reconciliation, quick to mend what has been torn, and humble enough to recognize our own limitations in the process.
The Lord works even through our divisions, but division itself is never His design. Paul and Barnabas continue in their respective callings, and the Gospel advances. The Lord is not hindered by human fracture. Still, we should not overlook the grief such division would have caused within the wider community. These were not obscure figures; their partnership was known, their unity visible. Now, that unity was broken. Paul viewed John Mark as a liability, perhaps unreliable in the face of hardship, while Barnabas, true to his character as an encourager (Acts 4:36), saw in him someone worthy of discipleship and restoration.
As we follow the apostle Paul beyond this moment, we discover that the cost of ministry is not only measured in physical suffering, though Paul endured much of that. It is also measured in relational loss. In 2 Timothy 1:15, Paul laments that “all who are in Asia turned away from me.” This is no small statement. Paul had labored, suffered, and poured himself out for these communities. Now, in his time of need, they have withdrawn. The emotional weight of such abandonment is difficult to overstate.
And yet, Paul does not collapse under the weight of disappointment. Near the end of his life, he writes with remarkable clarity and resolve: “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” (2 Tim. 4:6–8). Here, Paul reveals the anchor of his endurance: a steadfast love for the appearing—ἐπιφάνεια—of the Lord.
This theme becomes even more striking when we consider the contrast Paul draws just a few verses later. Among those once close to him was Demas. Paul had previously referred to him warmly in Colossians 4:14 and counted him among his fellow workers in Philemon 1:24. Yet something changed. “Demas, in love with this present world, has deserted me and gone to Thessalonica” (2 Tim. 4:10). The tragedy of Demas is not just that he left Paul; it is that his love was redirected. He exchanged a love for the appearing of Messiah for a love of the present age.
Set alongside Demas is the account of John Mark. Once the cause of division, once deemed unfit for the journey, Mark is later described by Paul in entirely different terms: “Get Mark and bring him with you, for he is very useful to me for ministry” (2 Tim. 4:11). What changed? Time, certainly. Growth, undoubtedly. But also the patient investment of Barnabas and the grace of God working through restored relationship. Even Barnabas himself, though once separated from Paul, is later acknowledged in 1 Corinthians 9:6 as a legitimate fellow laborer in the Gospel. What was once fractured finds, at least in part, its healing.
Here, then, we are presented with two trajectories. One leads toward restoration, usefulness, and continued fellowship in the work of the Kingdom. The other leads toward abandonment, not just of a person, but of a calling shaped by love for Christ. The dividing line between these paths is not simply disagreement, nor is it failure. It is love - what we ultimately set our affections upon.
Life, especially in ministry, can become a succession of disappointments. Misunderstandings arise. Trust is tested. Relationships falter. Some will be restored, and others, at least in this age, may not be. How, then, do we endure? How do we continue when the weight of relational loss presses heavily upon us? Paul’s answer is both simple and profound: we endure by loving His appearing.
To love His appearing is to orient the heart toward the future revelation of the Messiah. It is to live not for the shifting sands of present approval or temporal comfort, but for the sure promise of His return. This love reorders our priorities, steadies our emotions, and anchors our faith when circumstances would otherwise unsettle us. It allows us to pursue reconciliation where possible, to extend grace where needed, and to release what we cannot repair into the hands of the righteous Judge.
Disputes will come, among ministry leaders, even among the faithful. Differences will arise, even between those who share a common mission. But the question that remains is this: what do we love? If we love this present world, we will, like Demas, eventually drift from the costly path of discipleship and faithfulness. But if we love His appearing, we will find the strength to endure, to forgive, to restore, and to continue in the work set before us.
Paul, Barnabas, and John Mark, in their own ways, bore witness to the power of grace working through imperfect relationships. Demas stands as a sober reminder of how easily love can be misdirected. The call, then, is not simply to avoid conflict, or even to resolve it, but to anchor our hearts in something greater. Do we love His appearing? If we do, we will endure what would otherwise undo us, and we will remain faithful until the day when all things are made right in His presence.
Ministry leaders, the weight of relational strain is often felt most deeply by those of us entrusted with the care of others. We will face disagreement, disappointment, and at times even desertion. Some relationships will be restored, and others may not be reconciled in this age. We must guard our hearts, therefore, not only against conflict, but against misplaced affection. We must not allow the wounds of ministry to redirect our love toward lesser things. Rather, we fix our hearts firmly on His appearing. Do not lead from the instability of present circumstances, but from the steady hope of His return. For in loving His appearing, we will find both the strength to endure and the grace to continue shepherding those entrusted to our care.
In the service of Messiah and His Church,
Bishop Justin D. Elwell
Restoration Fellowship International
