MINISTRY, IRONICALLY, CAN be an incredibly lonely calling. This is despite the fact that pastors are very public people, constantly surrounded by those who are supposedly their sisters and brothers in Christ. Pastors have no lack of social connections, but far too often there are few if any people around them with whom they feel they can be completely themselves. They face high and demanding expectations from the congregations they serve, expectations not only of what they must do but who they must be.

Admitting their true thoughts or struggles with someone in the congregation, moreover, comes with a risk; many pastors have been betrayed by people who leaked what was said in confidence. And while some denominations offer counseling resources, pastors are often reluctant to take advantage of them. Why? Because they worry that letting anyone in the denominational hierarchy know that they’re struggling will come back to haunt them later.

Against that background, the greetings that typically fill the final verses of Paul’s letters are remarkable. Paul may be the most famous apostle among the Gentile churches; it may even be that some were tempted to put him on a pedestal. But his letters are deeply and transparently honest. He speaks not only about his passion for the gospel, but his regrets about his past, and even about how he can become discouraged when the ministry gets difficult.

And perhaps most importantly, he doesn’t do ministry alone. He is surrounded by people whom he considers his partners and co-workers in the gospel. Here are some of the men he names near the end of his letter to the Colossians, all of them Jews like himself:

My fellow prisoner Aristarchus sends you his greetings, as does Mark, the cousin of Barnabas. (You have received instructions about him; if he comes to you, welcome him.) Jesus, who is called Justus, also sends greetings. These are the only Jews among my co-workers for the kingdom of God, and they have proved a comfort to me. (Col 4:10-11, NIV)

Aristarchus is mentioned five times in the New Testament. Three of these are in the book of Acts, where he is described as hailing from Thessalonica and being one of Paul’s traveling companions. He was one of the two men seized by the mob in Ephesus and dragged into the local amphitheater before the city clerk calmed and dispersed the crowd (Acts 19:29). After that incident, he traveled with Paul through Macedonia, and Tychicus and others went with them (Acts 20:4).

In Colossians, Paul calls Aristarchus his “fellow prisoner.” It’s possible, though far from certain, that Aristarchus was actually in chains along with Paul. In Acts 27, for example, we read that when Paul was shipped off to Rome from his imprisonment in Caesarea, other prisoners made the journey as well. Luke was with him, and he mentions that Aristarchus was as well (vs. 2). Was Aristarchus already a prisoner? Did he become one in Rome, possibly to stay by Paul’s side? There’s no way to know. But whether he was literally or only metaphorically a prisoner, Paul’s point is to note his sacrificial service to the cause of the gospel, working alongside Paul.

Paul also mentions Mark, “the cousin of Barnabas.” Barnabas’ name is mentioned as if the Colossians already knew who he was. And who was Mark? Most likely, he’s the same person mentioned in Acts, who for a while traveled with Barnabas and Paul as a missionary on their journey together. At one point, for reasons unknown, Mark deserted the other two. When Barnabas later suggested to Paul that Mark accompany them again, Paul refused, and the two former partners in ministry parted in anger. That’s the last we hear of Barnabas in the book of Acts.

It’s only in the letter to the Colossians, that we learn that Mark was Barnabas’ cousin. That could explain why Barnabas had more confidence in him than Paul did. And the greeting from Mark to the Colossians suggests a happier ending to the story: Mark was now with Paul, and Paul and Barnabas had probably reconciled. Still, there’s the matter of that mysterious parenthetical comment: “You have received instructions about him; if he comes to you, welcome him.” What instructions had the Colossians received about Mark? It may be that, as with Onesimus, what the Colossians knew about Mark’s reputation was still colored by stories of the past. If so, Paul passes on Mark’s greeting as a way of letting them know that he is now to be trusted.

We know nothing about “Jesus, who is called Justus,” except for what we read here: he’s a Jewish Christian who is with Paul as he writes the letter. The name “Jesus” is the Greek or Latin version of the Jewish name “Joshua” or “Yeshua,” itself a common name among Jews. “Justus” would have been his Latin cognomen, functioning like a nickname that distinguished him from the one Lord they all shared in common.

Paul calls all three of these men — Aristarchus, Mark, and Justus — his “co-workers,” which for Paul is high praise indeed. He lists them as “the only Jews among my co-workers for the kingdom of God,” which probably means the only Jews who were with him as the letter was being written. He takes comfort in their presence and, one assumes, in whatever they are doing to minister to his needs.

Paul didn’t do ministry alone. Others traveled with him on his missionary journeys. When he was imprisoned, others came to see to his needs and carried on the work of the gospel alongside him. I imagine that they didn’t see themselves as having a special or specific calling to do this beyond what they believed every Christian was called to do.

It makes me wonder: might ministry be less lonely today if everyone thought the same way?