Being a pastor is an acquired taste. It has its origins in the experience of being seized by God for some divine mission in the world. As that mission has disclosed itself to me over the years, I have been pulled by two tensions: the life of the spirit and the relentless needs of people.

By the life of the spirit I mean both the intellectual, dealing with reason and ideas, and the mystical, dealing with the inescapable sense that the life of God is growing within me. By the relentless needs of people I mean both the emotional, dealing with the agony and ecstasy of being human, and the mystical, dealing with the uniqueness of every human being, made in the image of God.

All my natural tendencies, developed early in my life, draw me to the life of the spirit. My particular agony and ecstasy in Portland, OR, opened me up decisively to the relentless needs of people. I am not always adequate to the needs of people, but I could never again refuse those relentless and limitless demands.

The second chapter of 1 Thessalonians feeds this hunger to be enmeshed with people’s lives, with your lives in particular. Join me as we read the apostle’s words.

Sources of Pastoral Integrity
Two weeks ago, we read through chapter one together. You remember Paul’s exuberant thanksgiving for the fledgling Thessalonian church, a gratitude and an exuberance that the pastoral staff here shares about you, the congregation we love.

In 1 Thessalonians 2:1 Paul is saying in effect, “And you Thessalonians know that what I just said in chapter one is the truth.” Verse one puts it this way: You know, brothers, that our visit to you was not a failure. There may have been people in the city who saw it as a failure. After all, opposition to Paul in Thessalonica was so intense that friends had to escort him out of town to safety in the middle of the night. It was the second time Paul had been forcibly evicted from a city. Verse two:We had previously suffered and been insulted in Philippi, as you know.

But opposition and eviction are not necessarily signs of failure. Paul went on in verse two to measure success by a different standard:but with the help of our God we dared to tell you his gospel in spite of strong opposition.

In Philippi he and his companions were beaten, imprisoned and requested to leave the city. In Thessalonica Paul’s life was in danger of unruly mob action, and he fled the city by night. And in each case he left behind a pitifully small band of people, who believed in Jesus Christ. Why did he stay in the game, when the game went against him every time? The short answer he gave in verses 3-6 was, “We were there for the right reason to begin with.”

Verse three mentions some wrong reasons he might have had for being there. For the appeal we make does not spring from error or impure motives, nor are we trying to trick you. There was one right reason that brought him to Philippi and Thessalonica. Paul had received a sacred trust from God.

The first line of verse four puts it this way: On the contrary, we speak as men approved by God to be entrusted with the gospel. At the time of his conversion to Christ, a man named Ananias had said to Paul, “The God of our fathers has chosen you to know his will and to see the Righteous One and to hear words from his mouth. You will be his witness to all men of what you have seen and heard” (Acts 22:14-15).

A person armed with conviction like that will not be deterred by beatings, prison, and deportation; He marches to a different drumbeat. Here is how Paul expressed it from the middle of verse four through verse six.

We are not trying to please men but God, who tests our hearts. You know we never used flattery, nor did we put on a mask to cover up greed – God is our witness. We were not looking for praise from men, not from you or anyone else. “Your opinion of me and my need for money are secondary to God’s opinion of me.”

Pastoral Care
We have to guess at some of what lay behind Paul’s words here, especially when it comes to money. He had already said plainly that greed did not motivate him. You wonder if someone had accused him of mishandling funds. In verses 7-12 he appeals for vindication to the Thessalonian congregation, the only people who were in a position to judge him fairly. As he does so, the nasty innuendoes about him recede into the background, and a tender picture of Paul the pastor emerges.

Listen to verses 7-8. As apostles of Christ we could have been a burden to you, but we were gentle among you, like a mother caring for her little children. We loved you so much that we were delighted to share with you not only the gospel of God but our lives as well, because you had become so dear to us. Verse nine gives verifiable evidence for Paul’s claim of self-giving.

Surely you remember, brothers, our toil and hardship; we worked night and day in order not to be a burden to anyone while we preached the gospel of God to you. We know from Acts 18:3 that Paul had a marketable skill in making tents. It is a reasonable inference that he plied that skill while in Thessalonica so that he would not be a financial burden to the new congregation.

Don’t miss the impact of verse ten. You are witnesses, and so is God, of how holy, righteous and blameless we were among you who believed. You are witnesses. “Was I greedy? Did I scam you? Or did I go out of my way to avoid being a financial burden to you? What did you see? Can you trust your own eyes?”

In verses 11-12 the apostle pressed them to remember their experience with him: for you know that we dealt with each of you as a father deals with his own children, encouraging, comforting and urging you to live lives worthy of God, who calls you into his kingdom and glory.

Paul had said in verse one that the Thessalonian believers knew his mission in their city had not been a failure. They were the best evidence of that, as verses 13-17 show. And we also thank God continually because, when you received the word of God, which you heard from us, you accepted it not as the word of men, but as it actually is, the word of God, which is at work in you who believe. Here is the evidence for that. For you, brothers, became imitators of God’s churches in Judea, which are in Christ Jesus: You suffered from your own countrymen the same things those churches suffered from their countrymen, the non-Christian Jews, some of whom killed the Lord Jesus.

“You suffered the way I suffered. You suffered the way churches in Judea have suffered. Suffering removes illusions. With your greater clarity do you see anything in me that pursued my own advantage at your expense?”

But Paul was at a disadvantage. He could only write. He could not talk face to face. His sudden midnight exit from the city cut him off from those new believers, and, as verses 17-18 point out, he had not been able to go back. But, brothers, when we were torn away from you for a short time (in person, not in thought), out of our intense longing we made every effort to see you. For we wanted to come to you – certainly I, Paul, did, again and again – but Satan stopped us.

And why did he want to go back? Part of the answer was his concern that they weren’t strong enough to handle the opposition they were facing. We’ll see that in chapter three. Another part of the answer in verses 19-20 may surprise you. For what is our hope, our joy, or the crown in which we will glory in the presence of our Lord Jesus when he comes? Is it not you? Indeed, you are our glory and joy.

There is no nostalgia or sentimentality in those words. His labor among those new Christians was a trust God had committed to him. Accountability to God some day for how he kept that trust fired in him the desire to go back and firmly establish the work he had started.

Integrity at BVBC
As I did last week, I would like to retell with us in mind the story Paul told in this chapter about his relationship to the Thessalonian believers. It is not just their story. It is also our story.  Across 20 centuries, the family likeness between the experience Paul has described and BVBC is plainly visible. I cannot make too much of this family likeness. God has created that likeness. As with everything else He does, He has acted with embarrassing generosity.

You know, brothers, that our visit to you was not a failure. You tell us many times and in many ways that our labor among you has not been a failure, but it might have. At that dreadful board meeting more than 30 years ago, the idea to disband this church altogether might have succeeded. If it had, an apartment complex might now stand at 7 Mount Lebanon Road.

The horrendous year of 1993 could have resulted in my premature departure from BVBC. If it had, I would have failed, and the last decade would have told a different story of this congregation. But that did not happen. Instead, with the help of our God we dared to tell you his gospel in spite of strong opposition.

On the human side, I would say the last decade turned out as it did, because, like the apostle, the appeal we make did not spring from error or impure motives, nor were we trying to trick you. There was one right reason that kept us faithful, and it was the same as that of Paul. We had received a sacred trust from God. We spoke as men approved by God to be entrusted with the gospel.

At this point, for integrity’s sake, I will speak only for myself, although my colleagues in ministry might say very much the same thing. I have no idea why God approved me to be entrusted with the gospel. The liabilities I brought to ministry often weigh heavily on me. God knew them, and yet He gave me this trust. He knew them, and He approved me for the ministry of the Word of God and the care of the Church. It’s a miracle. It is sheer grace.

I have often felt desperately unworthy; and the answer always comes back, “Get over it. Of course, you are unworthy, but I approved you. Now, get on with it.” That is why I often say to you that I have no message but His Word. I don’t want to be original or clever or groundbreaking. When it comes to the gospel, I don’t want to please people, but Him who gave himself for our sins to rescue us from the present evil age, according to the will of our God and Father, to whom be glory for ever and ever.

The Pastoral Center of Gravity
But here is the paradox. When it comes to the gospel, my aim is not to please you; but that same gospel makes it possible for us to say with the apostle in verse eight: We love you so much that we are delighted to share with you not only the gospel of God but our lives as well, because you have become so dear to us.

People occasionally say to me with the best intentions, “You can’t do church work all the time, or you’re not going to have any life at all.” Of course, I do have other interests, and maybe that is all people are concerned about. But I have to tell you: you and my relationship with Christ are my life. This is what I was made for.

There are things about ministry I don’t like, but this is my life. I get tired, but this is my life. I don’t always know what to do, but this is my life. This consuming trust from God is why you are dear to us. We want to share your sorrows. We want to spend and be spent for your benefit. We want to rejoice in your successes.

But nothing fulfills us more than Paul’s occasion thanksgiving in verse 13. And we also thank God continually because, when you received the word of God, which you heard from us, you accepted it not as the word of men, but as it actually is, the word of God, which is at work in you who believe.

I could go down row after row and tell story after story of the word of God, which is at work in you who believe. Every one of you is sitting next to a miracle. My relationship to these miracles rises no higher than that of a mid-wife. I am present as the life of God in the souls of men and women emerges plainly into sight. I offer nourishment to that life by the preaching of the word of God and by encouraging, comforting and urging you to live lives worthy of God, who calls you into his kingdom and glory.

But the miracle, the life of God in the souls of men and women, comes into being as you receive the word of God. That gives rise to our thanksgiving to God. That gives rise to our joy, and once again, our experience parallels that of the great apostle.

We would say of you what he said of those mostly anonymous Thessalonian believers. What is our hope, our joy, or the crown in which we will glory in the presence of our Lord Jesus when he comes? Is it not you? Indeed, you are our glory and joy.

I said a moment ago that you and my relationship with Christ are my life. This is what I was made for. When at last our faith turns to sight, and we look upon Him whom we have never seen but love, and we are made like Him, because we shall see Him as He is – after we have recovered sufficiently from that overwhelming glory, then the conversation will turn to you.

We will give an account of the trust God has approved us to have to preach the gospel and care for the Church. However He justly assesses my trustworthiness, I hope He will allow me to express my joy over you, the crowning achievement of my life’s work. Then, in peace, and perhaps even together, we can get on with the tasks of eternal life.