Recently my father had open-heart surgery and my father-in-law broke his back. Immediately after their surgeries—and for the weeks that followed—both men tearfully expressed their deep affection for family and friends. “I just love people!” my bedridden father-in-law repeated to anyone within hug-shot.

While their emotional outbursts might be attributable in part to their medication, it seems likely that their brushes with death focused their minds on what mattered most. Both men kept obsessively tidy cars, lawns, and homes. But after their crises, neither asked about the things they owned. They cared only about people.

Paul’s final letter to Timothy conveys a similar focus. Aware that “the time of my death is near” (2 Timothy 4:6), Paul implored Timothy to “please come as soon as you can” (v.9). The apostle felt alone, for Demas, Crescens, and Titus had left him. So he urged Timothy to “bring Mark with you when you come” and to “do your best to get here before winter” (vv.11,21).

Paul was as driven as anyone you’ll ever meet. How else could he have become our greatest missionary? Yet, at the end of the day he cared most about people. Perhaps this is why he concluded his most doctrinal epistle with approximately 30 greetings to specific Christians in Rome. Paul knew that theological orthodoxy means little without people to share it with.

The same holds true for any kind of success. Warren Buffett said: “I know people who have a lot of money, and they get testimonial dinners and hospital wings named after them. But the truth is that nobody in the world loves them. When you get to be my age, you’ll measure your success in life by how many people actually do love you. That’s the ultimate test of the way you’ve lived your life.”