You Know (05/08/22)

As is so often the case with Paul’s letters, one has to somewhat read between the lines to sense what was going on, why the letter needed to be sent.  Here, as we move into chapter 2, you can sense that there were some mild rumblings up in Thessalonica.  We know the circumstances that curtailed Paul’s ministry there, and so, of course, do they.  But it would appear that those who opposed Paul were seeking to make his absence appear as evidence of his falsehood.  He left and didn’t come back.  Surely, this either means this God of whom he speaks isn’t so all-powerful as he claims, or else he was just using you for his own gain.  He doesn’t care.  That much is obvious.  He came.  He stirred you up, and now, where is he?  He’s left you on your own.

Historically, that has been one of the dismissive charged laid against God Himself.  Fine.  Let us accept that this God of yours created everything and set it all in motion, but look around you!  It’s rather obvious that He’s just left this creation of His to manage on its own, and it’s equally obvious that it’s not doing particularly well at it.  It is presented as the watchmaker God idea.  He makes it.  He kicks it off.  Then, He’s off to other projects, and the watch must see to itself.  Of course, being a watch, it will wind down, and eventually cease to function, but this is no longer the Watchmaker’s concern.  So the thinking goes.  But, of course, it is quite incorrect.

Paul does not directly call out these false charges, but he does a marvelous job of reminding his readers as to the truth of the matter.  This whole section could be viewed as something of a chiasm, couldn’t it?  It begins and ends with the same general point, placing a stronger point in the middle.  So, we have this bookend observation that, “You yourselves know.”  Of course, this business of knowing has ever been one of those things that lead me to stop and consider which of several words are being used.  Here, it is perhaps the most common, oidate.  It is often taken as the inferred knowledge over against the experiential knowledge of gnosis. But that’s not my focus at this juncture.

Oidate is a form of the term eido, with its primary significance of seeing.  I see.  I perceive.  And the knowledge that it speaks to is that which is derived from the report of the senses.  We might call it the result of investigation, I suppose, or simply the conclusion built on evidence.  But one thing stuck out for me this time which I don’t rightly recall having noticed before.  When the term has this meaning of ‘to know’, it is always presented in the perfect tense.  Now, the thing with the perfect tense is that it always presents us with the present result of past action.  You know now because of past examination of the evidence put before you.  The knowing continues, even when that evidence is no longer before your eyes.

Oidate is a form of the term eido, with its primary significance of seeing.  I see.  I perceive.  And the knowledge that it speaks to is that which is derived from the report of the senses.  We might call it the result of investigation, I suppose, or simply the conclusion built on evidence.  But one thing stuck out for me this time which I don’t rightly recall having noticed before.  When the term has this meaning of ‘to know’, it is always presented in the perfect tense.  Now, the thing with the perfect tense is that it always presents us with the present result of past action.  You know now because of past examination of the evidence put before you.  The knowing continues, even when that evidence is no longer before your eyes.

Much of learning follows this course, doesn’t it?  You know the basic tenets, at least, of algebra because in your youth you had cause to examine the proofs and theorems upon which those tenets are based.  You may not recall those proofs any longer, but you know the resultant formulae, and your trust in those formulae is no less for having long since ceased from working out the proofs.  You don’t need to.  Those past actions still have their present result.

So it is with this knowledge to which Paul directs their attention.  You know.  You tested.  You perceived.  Things haven’t changed because I am not, cannot be there with you at present.  The facts are unaltered by my absence.

Now, there’s another aspect to this term which may or may not apply in this instance.  In a particularly Hebraic sense, this word speaks to the idea of regard.  It suggests a cherishing of that which is known.  I say it could apply, for Paul is certainly a Hebrew, and there were at least some among his readers who were likewise Hebrews.  But if there is an aspect to be cherished in this knowledge he points them back to, it must hold until the end of the passage, and its recollection of just how Paul ministered while among them.

This first part, the front end of the chiasm, if you will, is all about boldness and legitimacy.  Look at what it is that is known.  You know our work among you was not in vain.  Well, yes.  It would be quite evident to those who had come to real faith in the real Christ that Paul’s work had hardly been in vain.  Okay.  Let’s pause there, then.  If you were to look back across your life, I have to imagine you will find one, probably several, who were instrumental in the development of your faith.  It may be parents who sought to instill in you some understanding of God and of Christianity.  It may have been certain acquaintances along the way who made an impression not so much by preaching at you, but by living before you in unfeigned example.  It may have been a particular pastor whose message and manner finally registered as demonstrating the reality of this God.  Whoever it was that had some involvement in steering you towards that moment of conversion, and whoever it may be that has come alongside since as mentor and encourager, this you know:  Their coming to you was not in vain.

There is cause to remember them with a certain fondness, to cherish that care they took to see you arrive at sound faith, and to see you established in that faith.  There is cause, as well, to give praise to God for having so arranged things that these cherished individuals took that effort of care for you.  We cannot recall the one without recognizing the hand of the Other.  You know.  And knowing, you cherish.

Now, perhaps we can move forward.  You know the boldness that this ministry took.  It was no doubt quite evident on the persons of Paul and Silas that they had indeed suffered in Philippi.  They had, after all, been beaten with rods, and that was not something one could readily hide away.  Even if one clothed over the scars, there would be evidence of it in the painful act of moving.  But one might expect that having been locked in stocks, their ankles bore witness to that trial.  And, if the physical evidence did not suffice, those who came from Philippi to bring support for Paul and his companions no doubt spoke of events back home, and what had transpired there as they sought to proclaim the gospel.

And this, too, they knew:  All that pain and suffering had done nothing to render Paul more cautious or timid.  No:  “We had boldness in our God to speak.”  The emphasis here is not on knowledge and content.  It’s on the simple fact of speaking.  They were not silent.  When opposition arose again in Thessalonica, still they were not silent.  The jealous attacks from those in the synagogue did not dissuade Paul, Silas, or Timothy from proclaiming the true gospel.  Why should it?  “Our exhortation does not come of error, nor does it teach impurity.  We didn’t seek to deceive, but to deliver.”

Returning to what they knew for themselves at the close of this portion of his letter, Paul moves to the more tender aspect of what they knew.  They knew the outright violence of those who had opposed his message, and we’ll be dealing with them a bit more directly later on.  But they knew the contrast of Paul’s ministry.  He didn’t grow belligerent.  They didn’t resort to fisticuffs to defend their right to speak.  No.  “We proved to be gentle among you, as if nursing our own children.”  We’ll come back to that later, but for now, observe the tenderness, the cherished memory of a careful and caring ministry.

We didn’t harass you into faith.  We didn’t coerce you into believing.  We didn’t make demands upon you, and we certainly weren’t looking to profit from your acceptance of our message.  We cared.  You know we cared.  We were in earnest.  You know we were in earnest.  Our faith in God was quite evident, and His presence in us was likewise quite evident.

Now, it strikes me that we tend to look back at Paul, at Silas, and at these other pioneers of faith with a certain awe.  My, but how bold they were!  My, but they were amazing fellows.  How shining an example their lives set before us.  Well, all of this is true enough, but one has to ask:  Why is it so amazing?  “We are men of the same nature as you” (Ac 14:15)!  Yes, they may have had a specific and unique calling upon their lives, leading to this urgent commitment to preach and to plant.  But at base, there is nothing said of Paul or Timothy that ought not to be said of every one of us.  We, too, should be of such a manner of living that those who are acquainted with us know.

If they come to your coworkers, would those coworkers testify that your ways among them had been so pure?  Would they have the slightest clue that you were a Christian?  If your children were asked about your faith, would they account it a real thing, or merely an affectation?  If it should be that you are in fact actively involved in the ministry of the church, would the testimony be that you do so with gentle tenderness and care?  Would the testimony be of your boldness to proclaim the gospel come what may?  Or would there be questions as to your motivation?

I don’t think we can overstate the power of being genuine, and that’s the powerful reminder Paul appeals to here.  You know we were genuine.  We didn’t ask you to do as we say, rather than as we do.  We lived before you what we believed, what we proclaimed.  We spoke with the boldness of being fully assured as to the divine truth with which we had been entrusted, and our lives among you gave full evidence of both the truth of our message, and the divine nature of it. 

So, here’s lesson number one for us.  Be genuine.  Preaching need not be contrived.  Indeed, preaching needs to not be contrived.  The Gospel does not stand in need of embellishment.  God does not need to be prettied up so as to be acceptable to the modern, discerning audience.  He doesn’t need to get hep to the times.  And honestly, He doesn’t need all the latest technology.  If that technology can be put to good purpose in presenting the gospel, grand.  But if technology becomes an end in itself?  Watch out!  There’s an idol being erected in your church.

Let us, then, seek to be genuine, and genuinely bold in our faith.  What does that even mean?  It means that while we don’t hold back, we don’t act in forced manner, either.  It means that our earnest care for the souls of those we would reach with the gospel is evident, far more than our fervor to speak.  A bold but insensitive forcing of the gospel upon unwilling, uninterested ears isn’t really the goal here.  That’s not the model we find set before us in these opening days of Christianity.  Where there is no reception, there is no preaching.  We’ll go elsewhere.  We begin by sowing freely, but we focus upon where the seed takes root.  We don’t water dead stumps.  We water tender shoots.  And we care.

If you don’t care, don’t minister.  Is that harsh?  Probably.  But too many preach a gospel they don’t really apprehend.  Too many preach for profit, an ostensibly easy means of making a living.  And indeed, we can see some who have profited hugely by their ministry.  Sadly, the same can’t be said of those to whom they have ministered.  Don’t let this be our story!  Preach in boldness, and preach the truth.  But preach it in real, earnest love for those to whom you preach.  Even should they reject your efforts, let love rule.  Let your care lead, and who knows?  Perhaps in time, hearts will follow.

The sum is this:  Their genuine nature gave evidence to the genuineness of the gospel.  Outward form gave demonstration of inward state, and the two displayed perfect harmony:  Aletheia, truth.

God Knows (05/09/22-05/10/22)

If the experience and response of the Thessalonians supply the bookends to this message, verse 4 is the core.  It is the central point, as well as being at the center of the text.  To paraphrase, “We have been approved by God, as able to be entrusted with the gospel, and therefore, that gospel we speak.  We don’t speak to please men, but to satisfy God who examines our hearts.”  This is the fundamental point Paul wishes to establish here.  The evidence of their experience demonstrates the validity of his claim.  The vitality of their response demonstrates the validity of his source.  But all of that is as nothing if this statement cannot be made with assured veracity.

God has approved.  The KJV rather simplifies this, and to my thinking misses the power of it, writing, “we were allowed of God.”  While we should no doubt account it a great privilege to be entrusted with this precious gospel, it’s not a question of being allowed to speak it.  I don’t think Paul ever saw his calling as so gentle a thing.  Think how he expresses this point to the Roman church.  “I am under obligation both to Greeks and barbarians, both to the wise and the foolish” (Ro 1:14).  I have been entrusted with this glorious news, and how shall I not speak?  I am a bond-servant of my Lord Jesus Christ, Who commands me speak, and shall I stay silent?  No.  It’s not a question of being allowed to speak.  It’s a matter of being entrusted with the task, as a faithful servant certain to do his duty.

But let me return to this testing.  I’ll offer the rather expansive view of it provided by Wuest.  “We have been approved by God as worthy.”  This is what the testing is about, and Paul returns to that same word, when he speaks of God examining his heart.  It begins with the passive voice of being tested, and ends with the active voice of God testing.  It’s the same act.  He examines the heart.  That is presented as a present participle, a stative condition; we might say a constant in the life of Paul, and in the life of the believer.  But there is a subtlety to this term which makes all the difference.  God tests with the purpose of proving and approving.  His goal is to prove the tested one good, or perhaps to make him good.  Either way, the intended end is approval. 

Now, let’s understand something here.  God doesn’t need proof.  He already knows.  He knows our inmost thoughts, though that may give us cause to shudder at the realization.  He knows our words before we have formed them into thoughts and given them expression on our tongue, or, as the case may be, by our writing or typing.  He knows who we are, what we are like.  He knows most thoroughly, most intimately.  He knows us far better than our spouse.  Frankly, He knows us far better than we know ourselves.  And that, I dare say, is where this proving comes into play.  It is often said, and rightly so, that God does not test us beyond our ability.  Indeed, I have already said as much in my preparatory considerations.  He knows us.  He knows our weaknesses.  He also knows our capacities, and just how much we have grown and matured in faith.  After all, as I quote probably more often than any other verse, it is He who is at work in us, both to will and to work for His good pleasure (Php 2:13).

He knows us, and as such, can fashion his confirming test to our current capabilities.  The thing is, we oftentimes don’t think we have those capabilities.  Pastor has been much about saying that God doesn’t call those who are equipped, but equips those whom He calls.  I think this is somewhat the same point.  We don’t always recognize the equipping that’s been going on until need arises to meet that equipage.  What’s happening?  God is testing to show us approved.  He is revealing to us just how ready we truly are.  Left to ourselves, I expect many, like myself, would be full of doubt and misgiving.  Oh, I could never.  That’s not my calling.  I’m more at home in this sort of ministering.  That may or may not be true, to be honest.  And for most of us, unless God comes with the test, we shall never really know what we are able to do in Him.

Paul, I’m sure, had great confidence in himself.  It shows in his early reaction to Christianity.  He knew his Torah, and at least from his perspective, he knew his God.  He would defend God.  Mind you, that supposes God is in need of defense, but leave that aside.  He was an intelligent and fervent young man and quite sure of himself in his views.  But God.  God had other views, and other intentions.  Paul would need retraining, and such retraining as he could probably not have accepted from any man even had any man offered to provide it.  No, he needed to be off by himself, alone with God, to receive the truth – the real truth, this time.  He needed taming, to be honest; not breaking, but taming.  He needed humility to temper his fierceness of conviction.  He needed wisdom to round out his knowledge.  He needed utmost preparation for the trials that would come his way.  And those trials would come.  But those trials would, however severe, however unpleasant, however undesirable their nature, demonstrate his faith, show him approved by God, and we may as well say, improved by God.

They would not break the man, but teach him just how thoroughly God was with him.  And in so doing, they would strengthen his message and more fully equip him for the task assigned to him.  Consider his commissioning.  “He is a chosen instrument of Mine, to bear My name before the Gentiles and kings and the sons of Israel; for I will show him how much he must suffer for My name’s sake” (Ac 9:15-16).  Isn’t that just the sort of job description that would have you jumping at the chance?  No?  Yeah, nor I.  But that was it.  You will have the honor of bearing this message to all manner of people, your own, those you account but dogs, and men of power.  But, know this, you will suffer much for this honor.  And every suffering he faced just proved the point.  For in spite of every suffering he faced, he remained faithful, proven, that with which God had entrusted him, he was trustworthy to deliver.

That gets us to the other half of this verse.  Let me return to the wordy Wuest presentation.  “We have been approved by God as worthy of being entrusted with the good news, that approval being based upon the fact that we had met His requirements.”  It’s wordy, but it establishes the point.  God has tested, and is continually testing.  And those tests, as per their design and His foreknowledge, have but demonstrated that His requirements have been met in us.  On this basis, He has entrusted us with this Gospel, and because He has entrusted us, and because He has done so with those who have met his requirements of faithful obedience, we speak.

Get this:  We speak for your benefit, it is true.  But whether you respond or no, it makes no real difference, for our real concern is obedience to the One who sent us.  Our real approval comes not in the response of man, but in the approving examination of our God.  He is witness to our fidelity to His mission and His word.  If we had come with flattering speech, seeking to gain friends among you, looking for approval in numbers, we would not be faithful to Him.  If we had come looking to make our living from you, we would not be faithful to Him.  Certainly, if we had sought to defraud you, to steal from you under the guise of piety, we would be slated for destruction by Him.  But it is not so.  He has tested.  He has approved.  He has entrusted.  And He continually watches over our use of that with which we have been entrusted.  We, for our part, are constantly aware of His examination.

This is not something unique to Paul, nor even to the Apostles more generally.  I would not have us lose sight of the fact that throughout this epistle, and particularly this section, Paul speaks of ‘we’, not ‘I’.  Silas and Timothy are every bit as much in view as he is.  And even there, let us not suppose a boundary has been found for God’s examination.  No, it holds for all.  God examines His children.  He disciplines them, yes.  Scripture is clear upon this.  He is our Father, and any good father will discipline his children as need arises.  It is a clear enough teaching, isn’t it?  “He who spares the rod hates his son, but he who loves him disciplines him diligently” (Pr 13:24).  “For those whom the Lord loves He disciplines, and He scourges every son whom He receives” (Heb 12:6).  Love and discipline go hand in hand.  But discipline is not come as punishment, as reproof for failures of character.  No, these are tests set before us in order that we may be shown approved.  One doesn’t make assay of a piece of gold in hopes of proving it is but paint.  One doesn’t seek the provenance of a work of art, having in mind to reveal that it is but a forgery.  These things are already thought precious, and the testing comes only to prove their true worth is as we thought.

God tests to approve, not to condemn.  But that in itself is no guarantee of a passing grade, is it?  If I go back to my examples, that which is tested to determine it is truly gold may not in fact be so.  That which we believe to be a true masterpiece may in fact prove to be a forgery in spite of our convictions.  It is not impossible that we might fail that test in spite of God’s care in the testing.  It must remain a possibility or else it’s not really much of a test, is it?  It’s not that we are incapable of failure.  It’s more that we are capable of success.  Paul could have proven more like Jonah, in refusing to go where directed, to speak boldly, as instructed.  He could have insisted on going off into Asia Minor as intended when God first spoke to him of going to Macedonia instead.  He might even have had success there.  We cannot know, for he did not go.  But what we do know is that God blessed that work Paul did in Macedonia, and in return, that work proved a blessing to Paul.  The churches planted there were among his greatest successes, and his greatest supporters as ministry continued elsewhere.

Now, I say God’s tests don’t come with a guarantee of passing grade.  And yet, after a fashion, they do, don’t they?  He won’t test us beyond our means.  And in fairness, as Paul himself observes here, that testing is constant.  “God is witness.”  Interesting.  There is no verb in that statement.  It is purely a nominative clause.  But we have this as well.  “God, who examines our hearts.”  Now, we have a verb, that of examination, and it is presented as a present participle.  It is a stative activity.  It is not the perfect of something done once for all.  Neither is it the imperfect of past action with continuing result.  It is a steady state condition.  God is, we might say, ever examining our hearts.  As I said, He knows our weaknesses, our limits, and as such, He does not present us with challenges that exceed our ability.  We only think they do.  We are ever ready to give up, to claim the test is too great.  “You’re killing me!”  “I can’t take it!”  These are our standards.  But God’s testing proves us wrong yet again.  We can take it, and it won’t kill us.  And let’s be honest.  We have His word on this:  Even should we die, yet we will live, so what’s with the complaining?  He who tests us, has been testing us all along.  He knows us well, better than we know ourselves, and He would have us know ourselves as He knows us.  Then, we too can know that boldness to speak which so defined the ministry of Paul and his companions.

“We aren’t like those others who peddle God’s Word for profit.  No!  We come with sincerity.  We come as from God!  And we speak in Christ in the sight of God” (2Co 2:17).  It’s clear from Paul’s letters that he was very much aware of God’s oversight in all he said, all he wrote, and all he did.  If he felt he was but offering opinions, as opposed to presenting God’s revealed truth, he took pains to make that clear.  Now, I have to think that insomuch as God saw fit to preserve those opinions, Paul probably underestimated their worth in that moment.  But it is the caution, the awareness of being coram deo, in the sight of God that needs to have our attention, as it did his.

Here is the only viable means of preaching.  “We speak in Christ in the sight of God.”  If the preacher cannot say this, he ought not to be preaching.  If the teacher would expound upon the significance of Scripture, or upon matters of doctrine, he ought to be able to say this same thing in earnest conviction, else he ought to refrain from teaching.  If, as I put together these thoughts of a morning, I am not conscious of God’s oversight, not thinking in Christ, I really should put the whole effort aside and find something else to do.

I think of, who was it, Haydn, I think, who would spend his morning in prayer before ever approaching the work of composing his music, and if that composition failed to produce as it should, he would return to prayer.  To us, it might seem a profligate waste of precious time.  It can seem that way.  But that is primarily because we have been conditioned by societal influences to value effort and exertion, to put the matter of producing above all else.  What we fail to see, and I know I fail to see it as often as any, is that this business of time spent in prayer, rather than in action, is a matter of producing.  It is the chief matter, really.  Apart from prayer, I dare say we lose sight of this reality of God’s continual assay of us.

David wrote, “You have tried my heart, visiting me by night.  You have tested me, and found nothing.  I have purposed that my mouth will not transgress” (Ps 17:3).  I’m glad I revisited that verse, for my first take on paraphrasing it had David proposing that, “You will find nothing.”  That smacks of such pride as all but assures downfall.  But this is not false assurance.  It’s statement of past result.  You have tested me.  You have found nothing.  Of course, we know that this would not always hold for David.  There would come the time when his claims must change.  “Be gracious to me, O God, according to Your lovingkindness.  In Your great compassion, blot out my transgressions and wash me thoroughly from my iniquity.  Cleanse me from my sin, for I know my transgressions, and my sin is ever before me” (Ps 51:1-3).  But in that earlier moment, the testing had revealed purity of heart.  It still did in the later prayer, for the corrupt heart would not seek cleansing, but rather cover of darkness.  But as I said, the tests God sets before me are not guaranteed a passing grade.  Sometimes, in order to show us approved, He must first show us our weakness.  That, I suppose, is the disciplinary side of the matter.

And this is just the thing.  God is witness to the whole of our lives, not just those moments when we are consciously and conscientiously seeking to serve and obey Him.  He is witness not only when we are doing our best, but when we are at our worst.  He sees the whole man, not the façade.  He knows our inmost thoughts, not merely our best expressions.  And still, He loves us.  Isn’t that something?  And still, He uses us for His glory, and that’s more than something.  That’s stunning.

It is when we get hold of this reality – when we have come to a true recognition of God’s ever present testing and empowering – that we can know that same fearlessness in ministry as defined Paul.  I have seen him described as God’s lion.  Oh, he could be fierce indeed in defending the sheep.  He could be fierce indeed in countering false doctrines.  But he is also shown the tender shepherd, another like David, willing to set himself in harm’s way to keep the sheep in his charge secure.

Understand where Paul is coming from, and where we, too, could and should be coming from.  God is witness.  It is Him and Him alone we serve.  Yes, we do you good service in our service to Him, but it is Him we serve.  It is His approval that matters, and His alone.  If He is satisfied with our workmanship, then we are approved.  Whether or not those to whom we bring His word think well of us or poorly really doesn’t enter into it.  It has no bearing on the shape of ministry.  Our success in adhering to His instructions and His plan are not measured by numbers.  We cannot look to full pews as necessary evidence of sound ministry.  There are plenty of mega-churches and the like out there whose message is far removed from gospel truth.  It sure is popular, though.  Oh, yes.  The fallen will ever appreciate hearing of a God who is pleased to let them go on as before.  It has ever been thus.  Why do you suppose all those false teachers found ready reception, even while the Apostles were yet present to counter their nonsense?  And why would you think it would stop after they had departed?  No, there are plenty of ministries out there who could not make the same claims Paul makes here, not without risking thunderbolts from on high for their audacity!  “We never came with flattering speech.”  That’s a far cry from the ‘best life now’ sort of preaching.  That’s a far cry from health and wealth teachings.  “We never came with a pretext for greed.”  Compare and contrast with, “God wants me to have another Lear Jet.”

Let it be said of us that we have not come peddling God’s Word, nor do we give it lip service, and go back to life as usual.  Let it be said of us that we come with sincerity, that we live our faith in sincerity.  Let it be said of us, that whatever we may speak, we speak in Christ in the sight of God.  It needn’t be preaching as we would normally construe it.  It needn’t be purposeful evangelism, accosting the lost with the message of Christ.  There’s a time and a place for both.  And if that is the time and place in which you find yourself, then by all means, as the Lord leads.  But this should define our day to day.  If we are in a meeting at work, and called upon to contribute, we do so in Christ in the sight of God.  If we labor in private, out of sight, with little to no interaction with our coworkers, yet we do so in Christ in the sight of God.  If we are in the grocery store, the park, on the road, wherever we are, whatever our activities, let it be that our pursuits and our words are indeed in Christ in the sight of God.

As to the latter, the message here is that, consciously or not, you are indeed in the sight of God.  Best we remain conscious of that fact.  Then, perhaps we will find that indeed our thoughts, our words, our deeds are done in Christ, and not in willful self-regard.

Weight of Authority (05/11/22-05/12/22)

In the last three verses of this passage, Paul returns to what was evidentially clear to his readers, which is the matter of how he and his companions comported themselves while with them.  We see, in verse 5, the two witnesses testifying together.  You know how we spoke, and God knows our hearts, our motives.  The two testify as one that our ways were right and pure among you.  As to motive, he writes in verse 6, “We were not looking for praise from men, not from you or anyone else.”  That’s taken from the NIV translation.

I have to say that in these last two verses there appear to be challenges for the translator.  I see it already with that offering from the NIV, for the idea of looking for praise doesn’t sit quite right when you set it against the latter half of verse 6.  They solve this by terminating the sentence immediately, and leaving that second clause to connect with verse 7.  The NASB has gone the other way, connecting the two clauses of verse 6 as one sentence, together with verse 5, and then letting verse 7 stand as its own sentence.  To us, this seems an odd thing, that translators can’t even concur as to sentences and paragraphs, but of course, the original manuscripts did not account for either divisions, but consisted of one long chain of words.  Indeed, even spaces between words would have been missing.  It’s a wonder, honestly, that we can read it with any accuracy at all.

But leave that aside.  If we take the NASB’s view, we have this idea of not seeking from man, even though as apostles they could have.  In the first clause, we are discussing the term doxan, glory, which, yes, can have this sense of praise, or positive opinion. When we apply it to God’s glory, we are thinking of His splendor, His magnificence, His dignity and grace; things captured in the Hebrew shekinah, with its sense of the weight of glory.  That, to my mind, plays into Paul’s description of exercising authority.  They could have asserted the power of the weight of their authority as apostles.  This connecting idea of weightiness does supply a sort of link between the glory and the authority.

But leave that aside.  If we take the NASB’s view, we have this idea of not seeking from man, even though as apostles they could have.  In the first clause, we are discussing the term doxan, glory, which, yes, can have this sense of praise, or positive opinion. When we apply it to God’s glory, we are thinking of His splendor, His magnificence, His dignity and grace; things captured in the Hebrew shekinah, with its sense of the weight of glory.  That, to my mind, plays into Paul’s description of exercising authority.  They could have asserted the power of the weight of their authority as apostles.  This connecting idea of weightiness does supply a sort of link between the glory and the authority.

If, however, we follow the NIV, we have the power of the weight of authority which could have been brought to bear placed in contrast to the gentleness of their treatment of the believers in Thessalonica.  We could have pushed our authority, but instead, we were gentle among you.  I can see the sense of this partitioning as well.  The idea of not seeking approval – praise or glory – from any man does stand alone easily enough, and more or less echoes or completes what was said in verse 4.  We aren’t looking for approval from you, we have it from God. We don’t seek your praise, nor anybody else’s.  We have our approval from God.  That, then, leaves the powerful weight of authority to be shown in gentleness.

I am still struck, however, by that connecting thought of weightiness.  There is a weightiness to the glory of God.  With it being so associated with light and brightness, I think we tend to thoughts that are lighter, airier.  God is Spirit, after all, so it’s understandable that we would think of His glory as more spirit-like, rather ethereal and gauzy.  But that’s not how it’s described.  It is weighty.  When God’s glory is present, you feel it, and it will bear you down, for you are not suitably designed, at present, to stand in its presence.  Whenever we find man in the visceral presence of God’s glory, it seems they are bowed to the ground by it, until and unless God chooses to set them on their feet.  On one level, yes, this is merely the traditional cultural mode of demonstrating honor and submission.  You come before the king, you make sure to bow down, and particularly so when that king has cause to consider you an enemy, and has the power to destroy you.  If one would bow down to, say, a Caesar or a Pharaoh or what have you, then assuredly, when almighty God is at hand, you will bow deeply indeed!  There’s a weightiness to His glory, because it is backed with power, unopposable power.  Should He choose to punish you, you are finished.  There’s really no question about it.  Should, however, He choose to extend welcome?  There is power indeed in that, and joy unspeakable.

To what degree this idea of weightiness would continue to hold to doxa as applied to man, I don’t know.  But the idea would still be there, I should think, with one so steeped in Torah.  And so, we have this weight of authority played against the weight of glory.  And that idea of power, which is lurking in the background as concerns glory, is brought right out into the forefront with authority.  The fact of the matter is that these two things are coworkers.  Authority comes with power.  Or, to put it another way, without power, authority is an empty and pointless thing.  In the case of these servants of Christ, the power and the authority come not from some inherent quality in the individuals, but rather from Christ who appoints and equips.  It comes, we might say, of God’s glory.  He imparts of His weight to our own, as concerns our pursuit of His purposes.

Do I labor this too much?  Perhaps.  But it is something of a recurring theme for Paul, and also something he imparts as instruction to others who would serve God in the way of active ministry.  In his second letter to this same church, the idea emerges again.  “It’s not that we didn’t have the right to have our upkeep from you, but we instead offered ourselves as a model for you, an example to be followed” (2Th 3:9).  Hear it, and hear it well!  If ministry is but a means to make a living, or if it is even reduced to a means to earn favor with God, then ministry is ill pursued.  First off, if you would minister on behalf of God, it would be best you were clear on the point that you can’t earn His favor.  It has already been freely given to you all undeserved.  How shall you pass on what you have yet to receive in truth?  But then, too, if you are ministering for profit, you fall into that category of false shepherds so roundly condemned by God through the prophets.  And that is a fearsome place to be, for He does indeed require much of those to whom much has been entrusted.  If He will bring each individual sheep before the throne of judgment, how much more the shepherd?

And hear the instruction to Timothy in later years, as Paul sets out the requirements for those who would serve the church in leadership.  “The Lord’s bond-servant must not be quarrelsome, but kind to all and able to teach.  He must be patient when wronged” (2Ti 2:24).  He wasn’t kidding about that need for patience.  If you lead God’s church, you can expect that you will be wronged.  There will always be those who are confident, though possessed of but a sliver of the facts, that they would have chosen a better and wiser course.  And the nature of the elder’s business is often such that those other facts are not really up for public disclosure, but private matters entrusted to the keeping of the elders.  It kind of goes back to that middle portion of the text.  We have been tested and approved as able to be entrusted with such matters.  Yes, these are lesser matters than the Gospel, entrusted by lesser beings than God, but the principles are much the same, and the weight of responsibility to God for the former informs our responsibility as to the latter.  So, when there are doubts as to decisions made on the basis of a more complete picture of whatever the situation, there will be plenty of armchair elders ready to naysay your decision, and you can but bear it in silence, and in confidence that you have together heard the Lord’s direction in this matter and acted accordingly.  “We don’t seek glory from men.  God is witness.”

There is indeed a weightiness to this authority that God entrusts in His servants.  It will tend to bear one down, and the more so if one seeks to carry it by main strength.  Main strength is not enough.  It requires the equipping power of God to stand up to the weight of this responsibility, and to do so with constant, consistent godliness of character.  We don’t come to quarrel, although we may indeed be fierce in defending the true doctrine of Christ over against those who would bring falsehood into the house of God.  Yet, even in that fierceness there is to be a gentleness, a desire to nurture and correct rather than to destroy and expel.  The one who would minister Christ must be kind to all, even those who would spitefully use you, revile you, and, if we take the whole counsel, even put you to death for your faith.  Even then, like Stephen being stoned by the crowd for his faith, we are called to be gentle, compassionate, forgiving.  “Lord, do not hold this sin against them!” (Ac 7:60).  You know, it’s hard enough to contemplate bearing some tortured death for Christ.  I would hope that, should it come to that, by His strength I shall indeed stand fast, even if it be amidst flames.  But to do so and to continue to regard one’s executioners with this desire for mercy from God?  That’s hard indeed.  I fear I should tend to be far more like David in his fiercer prayers.  Yet, even he, in the end, tended to arrive at godly perspective and seek, instead, that they might be redeemed rather than destroyed.

We come to a second matter of translation, then.  This contrast that Paul sets up; does he present himself as having been gentle, or having been like a child?  Keeping in mind the consistently plural extent of this message, I suppose it’s more were they gentle or child-like?  Now, given certain of Jesus’ teachings, we might well suppose that being child-like would indeed be commendable, and in its way it assuredly is.  To be trusting of Christ, utterly assured of His goodness and His love, yes; in this sense, to be childlike is needful for us, and very much to be desired.  The idea is not so much one of childlike innocence, were there such a thing, but of childlike trust and dependence.  But that’s not what the word proposed here is presenting to us.  Rather, it is the idea of one childish and unskilled, a simple-minded person, and not yet even capable of speaking proper words.  That, I dare say, is not something to be commended, nor would it be something we would say of ourselves in hopes of convincing others of our sincerity and earnestness.

But to be gentle, that is something different, isn’t it?  It is merely to be kind, mild-mannered, affable.  There is a consistent graciousness to such a one, a courteousness in conversation, a friendliness of demeanor.  Is our contrast with that powerful weight of authority?  Then this is contrast indeed!  It makes little sense, honestly, to contrast this powerful office with which one has been entrusted to a condition incapable of satisfying the demands of that office.  If on the other hand the whole of verse 7 is held together in contrast to this weighty power being used in club-like fashion to enforce compliance and gain one’s advantage, then the picture is much clearer with this note of gentleness.  I’m sorry, whatever the arguments of text criticism, the concept of being simple-minded and unskilled neither serves the context, nor fits it. It seems unlikely in the extreme that Paul suggested such a wording.  I suppose it could be that his amanuensis mis-heard him and slipped the one word in where the other belonged, but even that seems most doubtful.  Surely, such a servant hearing a phrasing of that nature would pause and question whether he had heard right.

To my mind, the question is settled rather clearly by the context.  Nothing here is answered by childish, simple-minded behavior.  Much is answered by a graciousness and courteousness maintained even in the face of much opposition, what we speak of as grace under fire.  That’s what’s in view.  And that grace is so all-supporting as concerns the ministry of God’s servants that they indeed treated their charges as their own children.  They didn’t lord it over them with appeals to their office.  They tenderly cared.  They functioned as elder members in the family of Christ which was being established, recognizing their converts for the young children in the faith that they were.  If any in this depiction should have that label of children it would be they, not those who ministered to them.  But, while the apostles often speak of their acquaintances as children, even little children, it is not with the terminology suggested here. 

John, in closing his first epistle, writes, “Little children, keep yourselves from idols” (1Jn 5:21), but there, we are looking at teknia, which, while it still bears the idea of infancy, has none of the negative connotations that apply with the choice of nepioi suggested for this verse.  It is a diminutive, and as such, a term of endearment, an expression of exactly that sort of loving care that Paul has in view with our passage.  That presents a particularly intimate relationship of shared bonds, of trust and love.  This term has none of that in it, only the sense of incapacity, and incapacity has nothing to do with Paul’s message.  Indeed, it is counter to the message.

Go back and look at verse 1.  “You know that our coming to you was not in vain.”  Their mission was not a failure, and their ministry was not, ‘useless and fruitless,’ to bring in the Amplified Version.  It was in every way effectual, and they who received this letter were living proof of that fact.  It was as undeniable as the facts on the ground.  Here in verse 7 we might suggest we have at least partial cause for that effectiveness.  They didn’t come pushing their prerogatives, but rather, saw to their own needs in order that they might minister that much more effectively, presenting no unnecessary barrier to belief.  An overbearing claim of authority will do much to drive away those one might desire to reach. 

Oh, it can have its effect, certainly, on a certain type of person, and those who would abuse the title of minister for gain are well aware of this point.  As it happens, I as reading somebody’s article in regard to Jim Jones and how it was that he was able to so readily lead those who had been Christians so thoroughly astray.  Part of it was his skill as a con-man, as he carefully selected who was granted admittance to his services, winnowing out any who were unlikely to respond to the sorts of gimmicks he was using.  We might say he was bringing in only those predisposed to believe his nonsense.  Have a penchant for supernatural display and miracles?  Have a hunger to see signs and wonders, and a childlike trust in any who lay claim to being servants of Christ?  Come on in!  And before long, he had this group so enamored of his powers that these former Christians were cheering as he quite visibly and viscerally dispensed with the Bible and pronounced his own words the only rule and standard.

Now, here is Paul presenting the work of himself and his coworkers.  We were courteous, not demanding.  We did not ask you to supply our upkeep, but rather, we labored to care for you, went out of our way to ensure that we imposed no burden upon you, in order that we might more effectively proclaim to you the message with which God had entrusted us.

Everything that Paul is presenting in this last verse is about nurture and nourishment.  Everything about it is demonstrating a ministry that fully internalized that key teaching of Jesus.  “If anyone wants to be first, he shall be last of all, and servant of all” (Mk 9:35).  Now, I don’t think any of these men were pursuing their course with an eye to being first.  They weren’t vying for position, as were James and John at that time when Jesus spoke this message.  It wasn’t about establishing primacy in the church hierarchy, and if it were, I dare say, that testing of the heart which God so constantly exercises with His children would have exposed their weaknesses and pronounced them unfit to be entrusted with this Gospel.  By corollary, this consistent, affable character, this grace under fire, demonstrated that God’s test was passed by them, and they were exactly the sort He calls into service.

This is not, I should stress, to say that they were called into service because their character so commended them to God’s attention.  No.  He called and He equipped.  In Paul’s case, that equipping had taken some time.  It strikes me that there was much to the man who had been Saul that needed to be stripped away and rebuilt in this new, gracious character, before he could be entrusted to preach in even the simplest and easiest of circumstances.  And he was not being prepared for easy service.  He was being prepared for service most difficult, as history would show.

I think I should observe, even stress, that the same holds for each one of us.  None of us were called with an eye to easy service.  We weren’t saved in order that we might get on with a comfortable life.  That is, I think, our default setting.  But it’s not what this calling is about.  Jesus was plain enough in saying so.  In this life you will have tribulation (Jn 16:33).  Welcome to the army, son.  You didn’t join a peacetime army, but an army always in the field, always facing battle.  But our battle is not against flesh and blood, rather against spiritual powers in high places, against ‘world forces of darkness’ (Eph 6:12).  That was true then, and it’s true now.  How do we engage in this battle?  With much prayer, and also with the same sort of consistent graciousness displayed by these men.

There is a weight to the authority we bear, and that holds whether we are ministers, elders, or simple laity.  Every Christian bears this weight of authority in some degree, for every Christian walks this world as an ambassador of Christ.  We bear His authority, but not as a thing to be used for personal advantage, not as a ground for prideful claims.  We bear it as His representatives, as having delegated authority which only pertains so long as we exercise that authority in keeping with His instructions.  Those instructions are well exemplified in the record Paul presents of the ministry efforts in Thessalonica.  We were as nursing mothers with you.  We had, after our fashion, the experience of bringing forth life out of pain and anguish when it comes to you.  It might reasonably be said that they had felt something of labor pains in birthing these churches up in Macedonia.  It hadn’t come easy, and the pain had been rather severe.  But life had come forth out of it, and like any mother, the joy of seeing this life soon put paid to the pain required to make it so.

Where do I take this message?  What is the take-away?  I think it is in this.  If we are in fact Christians, we have this authority upon us.  It is both an equipping for service, for there is power in back of this authority, power such as can be called upon in the exercise of that authority.  Indeed, I would say power that is entirely needful if we are to exercise that authority.  But there is weightiness as well.  The ambassador of Christ who takes lightly this power entrusted to him, or makes it his plaything has, in fact, no authority.  He has relinquished any claim to it by its abuse.  Whether God will withdraw it, or whether He will, as only He can, turn that one’s abuses to His own good purpose alters nothing in regards to the case.  The shepherd who so uses those sheep in his charge – we cannot say his sheep, for they are not his, they belong to Another – will face the consequences of his failure.  But God does not lose sheep; not even due to such failed servants as these.  The sheep shall have another Shepherd, one Who will care for them as His own, for His own they are.  And that shepherd, whatever comforts he may have carved out for himself on the backs of those sheep, shall face an eternal punishment for his eternal crimes.  Don’t be that shepherd.

Rather, take the example of these earliest servants of Christ.  Be gentle in your ministering of the gospel.  Don’t seek to take advantage, but to bring advantage.  Don’t seek for your own supply, but seek to supply those to whom you minister with those things that truly matter.  This dovetails rather well with pastor’s message on Matthew 10 last Sunday, doesn’t it?  Don’t look to make financial gain.  Indeed, don’t even consider how you shall support yourself as you go.  “The worker is worthy of his support” (Mt 10:9-10).  And this is hand in hand with the Sermon on the Mount.  Don’t be anxious!  God knows your needs, and He provides.  For your part, seek His kingdom, His righteousness.  Serve Him.  He shall see to your needs (Mt 6:25-33).

Be gracious.  Bear the weight of authority in the power God supplies with that authority.  If office weighs you down, recognize that you have been trying to fill that office by your own strength, and your own strength cannot suffice.  The weight is too great, and your inherent power negligible.  Rather, seek Christ.  Pray for strength, yes, but pray more for guidance.  Pray that He would reveal to you more clearly your purpose in this day, in this moment.  Pray that He would refresh you even as you labor in His vineyards, even as you tend His sheep.  For, lo, He is with us even to the end of the age (Mt 28:20).  Bear the weight in the strength of Christ, and present Him truly.  Be gracious as He has been gracious to you.  “Freely you received, freely give” (Mt 10:8).  It’s not about money, and it needn’t be about miraculous display.  It is everything to do with obedience to what Christ is calling you to do in this time, in this place, and doing so in the manner He has chosen.  Is there a place for praying with a caveat of, “if it be Your will”?  I should think so!  If we don’t recognize that His will is the determining factor, we risk arrogance rather than confidence.  It’s one thing if we are adding that because we don’t really suppose God is going to respond, or perhaps we think He got out of the miracle business.  It’s quite another to keep oneself mindful that the chain of command is not that of our prayers enforcing our will upon God, but rather our prayers being effective as they align us with the will of God.  Thy will be done.  Jesus had no qualms with conditioning His most urgent prayer with that appeal.  I don’t see why we should.

Have every confidence in God, by all means, but let not confidence become arrogance.  Let not appeal become demand, not even in your thinking.  No, but be gracious servants of your gracious King.  Seek Him always, and present Him always.  Present Him as He truly is, neither candy-coated for acceptability nor threateningly such that He comes across more like Zeus than like Himself.  Present the whole Gospel.  Present it winsomely, yes, but free of embellishment.  And present it freely.  It’s not your ticket to wealth and ease in this life, nor even in the next.  If anything, it is the joyous service rendered in recognition that your eternal reward is already settled and awaiting you.  So, be affable.  Treat those you would reach with the Gospel with the respect that is due these fellow bearers of God’s image.  Even should they spitefully use you, do so.  Be gracious under fire, for there is the most telling testimony of faith that is like pure gold, tested and true.  And that faith is in itself a testimony to the God Who Is True.