Iscariot. We know more
particulars about him--we know that he was one of the original
apostles, that he managed their common fund, that he posed as a strict
economist, and above all, that he was a consummate hypocrite. Yet when
we mention his name, we call up the remembrance of only one vile deed,
one treacherous act--an act that has made his name a curse and a byword
throughout the ages. The same remark is applicable to Demas. His name
is familiar enough, but the story of his life is almost unknown. Paul
refers to him more than once as a fellow-labourer, which shows that for
a time at least he was an exemplary Christian. But he failed in the
hour of trial--failed through being dominated by an inordinate love of
the world--and his memory survives, therefore, as a representative of
that worldly-mindedness which leads to apostasy.

The tone in which the great apostle mentions Demas, in his second
letter to Timothy, is very touching. "_Demas_," saith he, "_has
forsaken me, having loved the present world_" (2 Tim. iv. 16). We
might have expected him to give vent to his feelings in bitter
invective--as is customary in such cases--and to denounce the
cowardliness of this desertion in language aflame with indignation. It
would have been no more than justice to the offender, and it might have
deterred others from stumbling in the same way. But no, he does
nothing of the kind; his words contain nothing more than the brief,
deep, pathetic groan of a wounded heart. He had probably built many
hopes upon Demas, and not without reason. In his arduous labours among
the Gentiles he had found him an efficient helper, and many were the
hours of sweet communion he had spent with him and others, in
discussing the triumphs of the Gospel. And he was confident that now
in his bonds, waiting the pleasure of the Roman tyrant, he would have
derived comfort from his companionship and encouragement from his
faithfulness. But alas! these bright hopes had been cruelly shattered;
for in the hour of his greatest need Demas had abandoned him. The
apostle was too grieved to use harsh language--too grieved, not only at
his own disappointment, but also when he thought of Demas's own future.
Unconsciously, in this unostentatious exercise of self-restraint, he
has left us an impressive lesson in Christian charity, and has shown us
the way in which those who fall away from their steadfastness ought to
be treated. How many of those hapless de