Where Big Ideas Meet Everyday Kindness

At the end of Paul’s letters, there’s often this roll call of names—greetings, thank-yous, friends sending their love. If you’re anything like me, it’s easy to skim that part, move along to the next book. But recently, while teaching through Colossians 4, I found myself slowing down. Reading not just the names, but reading them in light of everything Paul had been building across the first three chapters. And I started to see how these personal notes are not just tacked on. They’re the very place his theology lands: in relationships, in connection, in care.

Theology in the Form of a "Hey, Say Hi for Me"

There’s something beautiful about this list. Titus will tell you all the news. He’s traveling with Onesimus—Paul calls him a faithful and dear brother now. Aristarchus sends greetings, so does Mark, and even Justice (whose real name is Jesus, but understandably goes by something else). Paul is writing from prison, but these people, these greetings, they bring him close.

Epaphras is mentioned again—remember chapter one? Still praying for the community. Luke, the doctor, wants to be known that way. Demas says hi. Paul asks the community to encourage Archippus. And then there's this instruction: once you’ve read this letter, pass it along to the folks in Laodicea. Read theirs too.

Then, in what feels like a smile at the end of the page, Paul takes the pen from Timothy and writes, “Grace and peace. Paul out.”

Lost Letters and Present Relationships

There is some surprisingly fun stuff in this section.

First of all, we don’t know what happened to the letter to the Laodiceans. Some early church leaders mention it, but no one quotes it. Same with another letter Paul wrote to Corinth before 1 Corinthians. Just… gone. Lost to history.

But what we do have is this extraordinary moment where Paul takes everything he’s said about Christ holding the universe together—about us being invited into that story, about our hearts, our homes, our habits—and brings it down to something as simple as a greeting. As encouragement. As a reminder that theology should shape our posture toward the people closest to us.

Big ideas landing in small gestures. I love that.

A Cosmic Invitation to Hope and Kindness

Still, as Paul begins to close the letter, he offers this:

"Devote yourselves to prayer, be watchful and thankful. Pray for us, that God might open a door for our message, that we may proclaim the mystery of Christ… Be wise in the way you act toward outsiders; make the most of every opportunity. Let your conversations always be full of grace, seasoned with salt, so you may know how to answer everyone."

This is how he lands Colossians. Not with grand conclusions or forceful commands, but with this soft invitation:

Be thankful. Be hopeful. Be wise.

Because the universe is being reconciled. That’s the story. That’s where we start every morning. With gratitude. The reminder that we are already part of what God is doing. And the hope that we might get to help move that story forward, even just a little. So we ask for wisdom. Guidance to try to live the kind of lives that make the world a little better.

Like salt. Adding flavour and bringing out the best in everything around us.

Because in the end, those big cosmic thoughts? They always find their way into how we speak to each other. How we encourage. How we show up with love.

Grateful. Hopeful. Wise.

That’s how we participate in the repair of all things.