(66 A.D.  Roman prison cell.  Dark, damp & deathly daunting.)
Inmate:  Psss, hey?  What are you doing?
Paul:  Writing a letter.
Inmate:  Who are you writing?
Paul:  Um, my son.  Not my biological son, long story.
Inmate:  Why are you writing him?
Paul:  Well, as you can see I’m in a precarious situation.  That’s why I’m writing with such eagerness.  I don’t have that much time.
Inmate:  Where are you going?
Paul:  My earthly sojourn is quickly concluding.
Inmate:  Huh, not tracking?
Paul:  They are preparing to kill me.  The sword will most likely touch my neck before this letter touches Timothy’s fingers.
Inmate:  Oh.  I’m sorry to hear that!
Paul:  Don’t be.  I’ve been working on my epitaph, ‘I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.’  What do you think?
Inmate:  Yeah, that sounds good.  Was it worth it?
Paul:  Was what worth it?
Inmate:  Whatever you did to get in here.
Paul:  (Long pause) I would do it a thousand times over!

2 Timothy 1
Paul, an apostle of Christ Jesus by the will of God, according to the PROMISE of LIFE in Christ Jesus, to Timothy…