Colossians 4:14

The apostle Paul wrote this letter from prison to a group of early Christians in the city of Colossae, in what is now Turkey. As was his custom, Paul closes with personal greetings from those sharing his difficult circumstances. Luke, described here as the doctor, is widely believed to be the same person who wrote the Gospel of Luke and the book of Acts — two of the most detailed accounts of Jesus's life and the early church. He was a physician and one of Paul's most loyal companions. Demas is also named here, present and warmly regarded. But a shadow follows his name: in one of Paul's later letters, 2 Timothy, Paul writes with grief that Demas has abandoned him because he loved this world.

Lord, I want to be a Luke — someone whose faithfulness shows up not just in bright moments but in the long chapters, when the world is loud and following you feels costly. Guard me from the slow drift that took Demas. Help me love what you love more than what fades. Keep me close. Amen.

Two names. One sentence. A world of difference hiding between them. When Paul wrote these words, both Luke and Demas were right there — faithful companions in a hard moment. You couldn't have told them apart from the outside. Both were present. Both sent greetings. But somewhere down the road, something in Demas shifted. The world pulled harder than the gospel, and he went. We tend to read endings backward, which makes Demas look like the obvious villain. But here in Colossians, he wasn't. He was just a person — like Luke, like you — making choices that accumulated slowly, a small preference here, a small withdrawal there. The difference between the two men wasn't a single dramatic moment of faithfulness or failure. It was the quiet math of ordinary decisions made when nobody was writing them down. Luke stayed. Demas drifted. Both had started at the same table. What in your own life has the slow, patient pull of the world on it — and what would it look like to choose, today, the Luke path?