The Last Alarm

In fire stations across America, there is a tradition called the "last alarm." When a firefighter retires after decades of service, the crew gathers one final time. The dispatcher reads the firefighter's name over the radio, recounts the years served, the fires fought, the lives saved. Then the station bell rings — slow, deliberate tolls marking the end of a career spent running toward danger while everyone else ran away.

In 2023, Captain Mike Washington retired from Station 7 in Memphis after thirty-one years. His hands bore scars from a warehouse collapse in 2004. His lungs carried the memory of a chemical fire in Midtown. He had buried two fellow firefighters. When asked by a local reporter if he had any regrets, Washington said simply, "I showed up every shift. I went through every door. And my crew always knew I was right behind them."

That is the quiet confidence of 2 Timothy 4. Paul, writing from a Roman prison, does not boast — he bears witness. He has fought the good fight. He has finished the race. He has kept the faith. And the Lord who stood with him through shipwreck, stoning, and betrayal will bring him safely home. The crown waiting for Paul is not a trophy for the extraordinary. It is the promise of the Righteous Judge to everyone who simply refused to quit — who showed up for every shift and went through every door, trusting that the Almighty was right behind them.