Faith, Hope, Love

Well, if you’d like to take your Bibles to 1 Thessalonians, we’ll turn there once again.

Every local church is going to be known for something. It will be marked by certain facets and aspects that will become characteristic of it, and there is only a certain degree to which any company of God’s people have control over that. It’s largely something which happens unwittingly in most cases, so that as you think of different places in different times and different fellowships, you say to yourself, “Oh, yes, I remember that city, and I do remember that local church, and I remember these certain things about it.”

Well, the church at Thessalonica was known throughout the world, and the message that was ringing out from it was just a tremendous message. They had become a model church to all the believers in Macedonia and to Achaia. And all through the summer, since the earliest part of the summer, I’ve been reading 1 Thessalonians, and I’ve been wanting to study it with you as a church, and tonight we’re going to make a beginning at it. And I want to give you a suggestion—and some of you will not be able to do this because of the programs in which you’re already engaged. But if you are not presently engaged in a form of reading that would preclude this, I’m going to suggest to you that you set it as a target to read 1 Thessalonians every day for the next month. There are some five chapters—about seventy-nine verses, I think. And it’s not a particularly daunting prospect, but some of you may want to take me up on the challenge and the call and to read 1 Thessalonians every day for the next month.

Now, the reason for that is simply that you would become very, very familiar with it. By the end of thirty days, you will be surprised how much of this you actually have committed to memory, and you will be encouraged by that. And it may be that you’ve never, ever approached another portion of Scripture in this particular way. And so, I want to suggest that to you and, as I say, some of you may take me up on it.

My purpose this evening is to establish something of the background to the book—to look at it only in its opening couple of verses. And I want to forewarn you: I feel a bit like the gentleman, the pastor, who said, “Since my sermon this morning had sixteen points, my message this evening will be pointless.” And there is a sense in which there’s not a tremendous amount of structure to what I’m about to share, but I trust that there will be enough cogency to it that you will be able to follow the line along with me.

Historical Context

Now, having opened your Bibles to 1 Thessalonians, I’d ask you to turn back into the Acts of the Apostles and to chapter 16 so that we might put this in historical context. You understand that the Acts of the Apostles is the history book of the church. It’s the church’s minute book. So when you read through the Acts, you get the minutes of how the church was developing. And then, when you read in the Epistles and you wonder, “Well, I wonder where that fits in relationship to Corinth? And I wonder where Philippi was in relation to Thessalonica? I wonder if he was there first or there afterwards,” or whatever it is—we find, almost without exception, that by turning back to the Acts of the Apostles, we’ll be able to answer those questions, and helpfully so.

And what we discover when we turn back into Acts chapter 16 is this quite incredible and wonderful truth: that the existence of the church in Thessalonica was directly related to Paul’s obedience to a vision which Luke records for us in Acts 6:9–10. And there we’re told that the Holy Spirit, having kept Paul and his companions from going forward into Asia, simultaneously, “during the night”—Acts 16:9: “During the night Paul had a vision of a man of Macedonia standing and begging him, ‘Come over to Macedonia and help us.’ After Paul had seen the vision, we got ready at once to leave for Macedonia, concluding that God ha[s] called us to preach the gospel to them.” So, they learned where they were going, and they were in no doubt as to why they were going.

Now, this is very exciting for us, because we’re just on the threshold of seeing one of our own young couples go to Macedonia—go to Macedonia for the selfsame purpose: to preach the gospel and to see the church of the Lord Jesus Christ established. It is not on account of that that we’re studying this, but it is a happy providence.

In response to this particular vision, Paul becomes the first known Christian missionary to preach the gospel in Europe. It was, perhaps, from his perspective, in one sense, a very small step for the apostle, because it meant simply a shift from one Roman province to another—because the whole Roman, colonized world was pervading this whole area of the world. And yet it was a dramatic step in the history of Christianity. Because on account of Acts 16:9 and Paul’s obedience to it in verse 10, it set the whole course of Christianity westwards rather that further east. And the whole Christianization of Europe emerged from Paul’s obedience to a vision in the night to go to Macedonia and to preach the gospel. One small step for a man; one dramatic step for the issues of the kingdom.

Now, we’re told that associated at this time with Paul were three other fellows. There was Silas (who’s sometimes referred to as Silvanus, which is kind of his proper name), Timothy, and also Luke. And as a result of this call into Macedonia, we’re told—and we’re still in Acts chapter 16—that “from Troas” they “put out to sea,” they “sailed straight for Samothrace, and the next day on to Neapolis.”[1] And once they reached ground, they headed—or land, I should say—they headed for the most strategic center in which to begin their ministry. And so they traveled, we’re told in verse 12, “to Philippi, a Roman colony and the leading city of that district of Macedonia. And we stayed there several days.”[2]

If you like history, this is fantastic. If you like a good, developing drama, this is wonderful! This is real history. This is significant events in time and space. This is a real man with his real friends having a real vision and being committed to a real cause. And so they show up in Philippi. We can’t go through all of this, but as a result of their ministry in Philippi, they ended up in jail. Verse 22: “The crowd joined in the attack against Paul and Silas, and the magistrates ordered them to be stripped and beaten.” And “after they had been severely flogged, they were thrown into prison, and the jailer was commanded to guard them carefully.”[3] So, they arrive in Philippi, they preach with great effectiveness, and the next thing they know, they’re having all their clothes torn off them, a sound beating, and thrown in the jail.

You can just imagine the kind of comments that would have come from us if that had been the case: “Ha! Are you sure,” says Silas to Paul, “that you got the right vision? Are you sure it was Macedonia? I mean, there’s a lot of words begin with M. Are you sure that we’re on the right track here?” And Paul might have said, “You know, I was wondering myself, quite frankly. Because although it’s gone off to a great start, I never bargained for this.” And so they put their feet “in the inner cell” and they “fastened their feet in the stocks.”[4]

But in actual fact, my conjecture is unfounded, because look at what we’re told in verse 25: in the middle of the night, right around midnight, “Paul and Silas were praying and singing hymns to God, and the other prisoners were listening to them.”[5] Praying and singing hymns in the middle of the night, after having been soundly beaten and having been fastened in the stocks.

I can’t—it’s without my orb—go through the rest of chapter 16, but it’s a great story, you know: the earthquake, and the shaking of the manacles, and the opportunity to make a run for it, and then telling the prisoners, “Hang on, don’t go yet!” stopping the Philippian jailer from falling on his sword, and going over to his house for a cup of tea, and giving him a little bit of the gospel, and everybody getting converted, and everybody getting baptized. I mean, it’s just fabulous! I mean, it’s really good. I wish I’d been there.

Now, we go from there, once they leave, into Thessalonica. Verse 1 of chapter 17: “When they had passed through Amphipolis and Apollonia, they came to Thessalonica, where there was a Jewish synagogue.” Now, they would have gone by way of the Via Egnatia or the Egnatian Way. I believe in Thessalonica it is still there. It is known as the Egnatian. We’re about to find out. And this great Roman highway led to the east. And so, they had gone down the common thoroughfare of the time, and they had arrived at the next strategic point of influence.

Thessalonica, situated on what is now the Gulf of Salonika, was the largest and most influential city of its time in Macedonia. And 17:2 tells us that they ran what was essentially a three-week crusade: “As his custom was, Paul went into the synagogue, and on three Sabbath days he reasoned with them from the Scriptures.” There was no question about what he was going to do. He was not going to go in there and entertain them. He was not going to go in there and just seek to win their favor. He was not going in there to try and let them know that he was a very nice guy in the hope that maybe three or four weeks down the road he would have an opportunity to talk with them. No, he went in there, and he began immediately to “reason with them from the Scriptures.”

This is, as always, the task of the missionary. This is the task of evangelism. This is the issue of our day: find a place and reason with people from the Scriptures. About what? Not about versions of the Bible, not first of all about seven days of creation, but reason with them, explain to them, and prove to them the issues of Jesus. Verse 3: that he “had to suffer” and that he had to “rise from the dead.” “[And] this Jesus I am proclaiming to you is the Christ.” And as a result, “some of the Jews were persuaded,” and they “joined Paul and Silas, as did a large number of God-fearing Greeks and not a few prominent women.”[6] That was the result of their three-week crusade: a few Jews, “a large number of God-fearing Greeks.”

Now, you need to understand where these “God-fearing Greeks” were coming from. Why were they at the synagogue? Because after all, the synagogue was monotheistic, and it was Jewish, and the Greeks were neither. Well, the fact of the matter was that this God-fearing group that had begun to gather itself around the monotheistic system of Judaism was there because they were so disillusioned with the world out of which they were coming. It was a moral cesspool. It was an intellectual disaster zone, in terms of confusion. And as a result of that, their hearts were crying out for reality.

And so they began, with an interest in God and with a search for God in their hearts, to go to the place that they thought they might find him. And so, they began to gather themselves around the synagogue. And they were known as “God-fearers.” They didn’t know who God was. They weren’t sure if they might. They knew that they couldn’t become Jews like the people who were really in the synagogue, but nevertheless, they were there, and they were ripe for the gospel. And as a result of Paul’s reasoning and proclamation, these God-fearing people came to trust in Jesus Christ. And so, they were greatly encouraged.

But once again, it ends up in a riot: “The Jews were jealous,” verse 5, “so they rounded up some bad characters from the marketplace,” they “formed a mob,” and they “started a riot in the city.” So, there we have it. He’s been in Philippi, gets a hammering and ends up in the jail; leaves there, comes to Thessalonica—still in obedience to the vision—has a measure of success, and then is forced to leave because a riot has taken place.

If your Bible is open, you will notice that they go then to Berea. In Berea, they hang around with another group of people who are very noble, and they’re examining their Scriptures every day.[7] But when the Jews in Thessalonica found out that they were in Berea, they decided to send the bovver boys down to Berea and stir up the trouble all over again. So, off they went, and they came down, “agitating the crowds and stirring them up.”[8] And the tremendous word, of course, was that these people who had turned the world upside down were now in your city.

Now, from there, he then goes to Athens; and from Athens, with a measure of success, he then goes to Corinth. And by that time, we’re in chapter 18: “After this, Paul left Athens,” and he “went to Corinth.”[9] And then we have the account of him being in Corinth. And it’s not surprising, when we put all this together, that when he recounts to the Corinthians, when he writes his first letter to them, how he was feeling when he showed up in Corinth, he said, “I came to you in weakness and fear, and with much trembling.”[10] Surprise, surprise!

You get a Macedonian vision in the middle of the night. The Lord says, “I don’t want you to go to Asia Minor. I want you to go to Europe.” So in obedience, you go to Europe. The first place you go, you get a hiding and end up in the jail. The second place you go, you start a riot. The third place you go, the people who started the previous riot come down and start another riot. And the fourth place you go, you’re so consumed with the pagan idolatry of the place that your heart is almost crushed within you. And after a measure of success and a kind of apologetic sermon, you finally make your way into Corinth, this vast city full of all of its nonsense and its confusion, and you’re honest enough to write back to the folks, “I came to you in weakness and fear, and … much trembling.”

So, by the time he had reached Corinth, he had every reason for discouragement. Fanatical opponents had brought about his forcible rejection from three successive preaching places, just when it appeared that the work was going really well. And every time he got moved along.

I was thinking about this—thinking about the fact that we have no theology for suffering; thinking about the fact that we always have to try and describe everything in great terms, glowing terms. We think that somehow or another, we have to keep up the cause of the gospel; we have to make Jesus look good; we have to make the church look good; we have to make sure that it’s all successful and fine and effective, and there’s no trouble, there’s no strife—“No, no, we’re really good, you know. We’re doing well.”

There’s nothing of that in the New Testament. It wasn’t the ministry of Jesus. It wasn’t the experience of the apostles. It wasn’t the encounter of the first four centuries of the early church. It’s a uniquely late twentieth-century phenomenon. And consequently, when people ask us why it is that there is suffering, why it is that we face death, why it is that we are beaten up, why it is that we’re fearful, why it is that we’re ineffective, we’ve got nothing to say, because we’ve suggested, almost completely, that it’s not supposed to be that way. And he had every reason for discouragement.

And through this experience, the Holy Spirit was moving him along. Were it not for all these things, perhaps the ministry of the gospel would have stopped. Perhaps Paul would have gone no further than Philippi—maybe built a place there, maybe became the full-time pastor, maybe saw the church grow to large, large numbers. And people would say, “You know, Paul, he used to be a missionary and an evangelist, but he became a pastor and a teacher, and he settled down.” And so the Holy Spirit moves him along—not by means of giving him lovely carrots to entice him but as a result of being driven by the response of the world around him.

Now, why have I got you to Corinth? Well, let me tell you why: because it was not long after that, that Paul and Silas came from Macedonia, and they came to Corinth. Now, why do we know that? Well, Acts 18:5: “When Silas and Timothy came from Macedonia, Paul devoted himself exclusively to preaching [and] testifying to the Jews that Jesus was the Christ.”

Now, if you turn back to 1 Thessalonians—you remember, we’re doing a study in 1 Thessalonians—in 3:6, he says to the Thessalonians, “But Timothy has just now come to us from you and has brought good news about your faith and love. He has told us that you always have pleasant memories of us and that you long to see us, just as we also long to see you. Therefore, brothers, in all our distress and persecution we were encouraged about you because of your faith.”

Here’s this wonderful thing: through the process, as Paul has gone in obedience to God and has now found himself in Corinth, with all the daunting prospect of it all—with the bruises and the beatings on his body as a result of his commitment to Christ, with the apparent disinterest that had marked his visit to Athens, and now facing all the daunting challenge of this—what did he need? He needed a wee word of encouragement. He needed some good news. He needed to know that something, somewhere had gone well. And the Holy Spirit, recognizing this need in his life, dispatches at just the right moment his buddies, Timothy and Silas. And they come into town, and they say, “Hey, listen, Paul. I know it’s been tough. I know it’s rough. I know the prospects are difficult. But let me tell you what’s going on in Thessalonica.” “Oh,” he says, “tell me!” And then they told him, “They have pleasant memories of us, Paul. They said they long to see you.” “Therefore … in all our distress and persecution we were encouraged about you because of your faith.”[11]

Peace is simply the consciousness of having been reconciled with God through Jesus.

Now it is, you see, this resultant relief and exaltation which is experienced by Paul, in the framework of Corinth, that gives rise to this letter. They come, and they tell him this about Thessalonica, and he says, “I’m going to write these guys a letter. I’m going to write them and tell them how much I love them. I’m going to tell them how much I’m concerned for them. I’m going to write to them, and I’m going to tell them every good thing I can tell them about them. I’m going to answer some of their questions. I’m going to allay some of their fears. I’m going to set them right on the question of the second coming of Jesus Christ. I’m going to encourage the lazy people to give it a bit of a shake. I’m going to encourage them to be thankful at all times, and I’m going to encourage some of those immoral boys to cut that nonsense out. But over all of that, I’m just going to write them a letter and tell them my concern for them and my joy in them.”

Now, just in passing, let me suggest to you that you do something else this week: write somebody a letter which contains nothing other than an expression of your concern for them and your joy in them. They’ll be delighted to hear from you. And this first Thessalonian letter is not a theological treatise, largely. It is the heart of a pastor pouring out, for those whom he has birthed under God, all of his great and deep concerns.

The Writer, Recipients, and Greeting

Now, having said all of that, we’ve now reached the first word of the first verse: “Paul.” “Paul.” The name Paul is not the same as the name Saul. It’s a different name completely. Paul means “little.” It’s interesting, actually, because… It’s interesting to me, because the name Begg means “little.” The Gaelic name B-e-a-g-h, it means “small.” The English translation of Begg is “small.” So, I was just interested in that, and I thought I’d mention it to you. I wish I hadn’t now, but there we have it. As a result of the fact that he was given the name “Small,” people throughout the ages have made much of that. Chrysostom referred to him as “the man three cubits tall.”[12] And he has always been regarded in biblical folklore, if you like, as a small individual.

Now, I don’t think there’s any particular significance in this, but I wanted to mention it just in passing, because it’s of interest to some. The Acts of Paul and Thecla, which was a writing around that time, describe Paul as “baldheaded, bowlegged, strongly built, a man small in size, with meeting eyebrows, with a rather large nose, full of grace, for at times he looked like a man and at times he had the face of an angel.”[13] Now, I don’t know about you, but that has a kind of authentic ring to it. If you were making up a description of somebody, that’s a wee bit far-fetched, is it not? And so it has a sort of authentic dimension to it. And it may well be characteristic of how the apostle Paul looked. Others have pointed out that irrespective of his physical stature, Paul, Saul of Taurus, was destined by God’s grace to regard himself as small, to regard himself as very little, to regard himself as insignificant—to regard himself, as he says to the Ephesians in 3:8, “the least of all” the saints.[14]

And the apostle Paul was, then, if you like, a small man with a big heart. He was small in his estimation of himself and large in his understanding of God and his purposes. He was, if you like, perhaps by stature and by calling and by spiritual entity, the very epitome of the man to whom God will look: “He who is humble and contrite in spirit, and [who] trembles at [his] word.”[15] After all, what would you have from this little three-cubit, bowlegged, eyebrow-meeting, funny, big-nosed, little character with a baldy head and bow legs? Not exactly what you would call the average high school quarterback, huh? Unless you went to a very small school. And yet he’s God’s man.

What about his colleagues? Well, there’s Silas. Sylvanus is his Roman and his proper name. Incidentally, Sylvanus was the name of the god of the woods, hence our English word sylvan, the adjective sylvan; hence our English state Pennsylvania, the woods of William Penn. And such was his name. He was known as Silas. We read of him in Acts 15 with frequency. He was there taking part in the singing—50 percent of the duet in the jail in Philippi. Timothy, of whom we read in Acts 16, picked up as Paul’s assistant and taken along on the journeys, was a timid man, constantly being encouraged to stand up for things and to be bold and be strong—not your natural, not necessarily the kind of person that you would think immediately would be included with somebody like Paul. And yet these two individuals were God’s men for this moment.

They were writing to an express group of people: “To the church of the Thessalonians.” Now, the word here for church is the word ekklesia. It was a word which was used at that time of the popular assembly of people. For example, in the city of Athens, all those who were registered to vote and could come out in the public thoroughfare as free citizens were regarded as the ekklesia . When the Old Testament was translated into the Greek, the word ekklesia was used to refer to the company of Israel. And when you read the New Testament, you discover that ekklesia is used as a reference to those whom God has called “out of darkness” and “into his [marvelous] light”—1 Peter 2:9.

It is, in passing, a word to us about the nature of the church—that when we speak in terms of the church of the Thessalonians, we’re not just talking about a group of people who went into a building, for there was no building into which to go. We’re not talking about people who were vaguely religious and who liked to sing interesting songs. We’re talking about an express group of people—if you let your eye go down to verse 4—whom God had chosen (we won’t come to this till next time, for sure), because the gospel had come to them “not simply with words, but … with power,” and “with the Holy Spirit and with deep conviction.” And as a result of that, they had been incorporated into “God the Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.” These two phrases put together here are expressive of the coordinate activities of these two members of the Trinity, the Father and the Son. And when you add to that, in verse 5, the ministry of the Holy Spirit, you have this wonderful picture of God—the triune God—at work in putting together his church.

And so, to these people comes this greeting: “Grace,” he says, “and peace to you.” Now, this is the customary way to begin a letter at this time, as I think we all realize—unlike today, when we would start, “Dear Susan,” and then finish off, “Yours Sincerely,” or “Yours Faithfully.” At that time, they would identify themselves, they would identify those to whom they were writing, and then they would begin with a short inscription by way of greeting. And the greeting here is a wonderful greeting: “Grace and peace”—an expression of God’s favor towards those who were his own; his kindness delivering from guilt and from sin; the love of God for the undeserving; the unmerited favor of God in operation in the hearts of his children.

And as he uses this word, he understood it for himself. Because you will remember that you only need to go back to the ninth chapter of the Acts of the Apostles, and you find there this man, Saul of Tarsus, whose whole life is bent on the extermination of Christianity. His whole committed passion is to see those who name the name of Jesus flogged and imprisoned and closed down. And how could it be, then, that in such a relatively short period of time, he should himself be on the receiving end of the beatings, he should be the one who is imprisoned? It is as a result of God’s grace.

And if grace is that, what, then, of the peace which comes as a result of it? Peace is simply the consciousness of having been reconciled with God through Jesus. One of the commentators says helpfully, “Grace is the fountain, and peace is the stream which issues from [it].”[16] It’s the peace of which Jesus spoke, when he said, “My peace I give to you, my peace I leave with you: not as the world gives give I unto you. Let not your hearts be troubled”—John chapter 14.[17] It’s a peace about which the world does not know tonight. It’s the kind of peace for whom people long—deep-seated anxiety and fretfulness in their hearts, a sense of alienation of bondage. It’s the kind of peace that the materialist longs for as he goes another rung up the ladder, only to find that the ladder is propped against the wrong wall. It’s the peace that the junkie longs for as he shoots up, as she shoots up once again, hoping that maybe this time there will be the ultimate high. It is a peace that is found only in the love and grace and kindness of God.

Three Causes for Thankfulness

Now, Paul tells them that he’s thankful. He says, “I want you to know, you church, there, of the Thessalonians, you who are experiencing God’s grace and his peace—I want you to know that along with Silas and Timothy, we’re thankful for you, and we’re also prayerful for you. And we have three things in particular about which we’re thankful.” And will you just notice them, and we’ll draw this to a close: “We always thank God for all of you, [we mention] you in our prayers. We continually remember before our God and Father,” first of all, the work which springs from faith; “your work produced by faith.”

You know, Paul is very, very clear. He’s emphatic, always, that salvation is a matter of faith and not of works. He makes that clear time and time again. But when that issue is not at stake, Paul frequently speaks of the good works which should characterize the life of faith. And he says here, “As we think of you, we remember your warm, living faith that issues in action.” “We’re thankful for your work which springs from faith.”

There’ll be no blood, sweat, and tears for the kingdom until our hearts have been broken in love.

Secondly, “We’re thankful for your labor that is prompted by love.” We tend to think of a labor of love as a little thing—you know, “Oh, I cut the grass for the lady next door. Oh, it’s nothing at all. It was just a labor of love.” “I bring my wife a cup of tea in the morning,” says the husband. “It’s nothing, really. It’s just a labor of love.” And it’s a kind of funny little phrase. It’s not insignificant, but it doesn’t mean much. The word here for “labor,” the word kopos, means “an arduous, wearying toil involving sweat and fatigue.” That’s the word. He says, “When we think about the church in Thessalonica, we think sweat. We think fatigue. We think weary people. We think of you burned out for the cause of Jesus Christ. And as we find ourselves in all the challenges of Corinth, this is a tremendous encouragement to us—that here there are people whom we’ve had the privilege of touching their lives, and when we think of them, we remember their kopos.”

The cost of their love is what is in focus—not the result of their love but the cost of it. And their love here is the agapē love of God, which was a love that cost God his Son. It was a love that was active in the cross of his Son, and it was and remains a love which demands a decision. You cannot stand and just look at this love and remain the same. “Love so amazing, so divine,”[18] demands something! And when we look at the love of God to us in the cross of Jesus Christ, we cannot simply shrug our shoulders and walk out the door and say, “Well, it doesn’t really matter one way or another,” for the shrug is the answer, and the answer is no, and our destiny is a lost eternity.

And that is the exact word which is used here. He says, “When I think of your love, I think of passion. I think of you loving with conviction.” And I want you to notice something here, folks: this passion is a prerequisite for working for God. Until we learn to love like this, we’ll never labor like this. There’ll be no blood, sweat, and tears for the kingdom until our hearts have been broken in love. And the reason that some of us are merely going through the routines—the reason that we’re simply opening our Bibles, closing our Bibles, coming in and going out—is because there is no passionate conviction within our lives, stirring us to this kind of labor of love.

And the third and final thing: he says, “And we remember your endurance, which is inspired by hope in our Lord Jesus Christ.” The word here is not a quiet, passive resignation; it is an active constancy in the face of extreme difficulty. An act of constancy in the face of extreme difficulty. In other words, it’s not all going well. There are many things that are deeply challenging. There is much that is disconcerting. There are confusions here, and there are problems there, and there are issues all over the place. He says, “But when we think of you,” he says, “when we bring you to our minds, we remember endurance—not that you somehow are hunkered down in the trenches, passively resigned to a dreadful fate, but that you are up, and you are active, and you are constant in the face of difficulty.”

Says Willy Barclay, the Scottish theologian, “It is the spirit which can bear things, not simply with [a spirit of] resignation, but with blazing hope.” And he then goes on to quote George Matheson, the musician, who was “stricken in blindness,” says Barclay, “and disappointed in love.” As a result of blindness, his love was [unrequited] with frequency, and he lived in isolation. But nevertheless, “stricken in blindness and disappointed in love,” he “wrote a prayer in which he plead[ed]” with God “that he might accept God’s will, ‘not with dumb resignation, but with holy joy; not only with the absence of murmur[ing], but [rather] with a song of praise.’”[19]

So, what’s your life looking like tomorrow? Pretty challenging, huh? What are the prospects of the gospel at the late part of the twentieth century in America? What’s it looking like here in Cleveland? Little daunting. Do you ever feel like we’ve only one wheel left on the wagon? You ever feel that the whole tide of hell is unleashed against us—that somehow or another, we can only hunker down and face it with grim resignation? Well then, let the example of this lovely church of Thessalonica stir our hearts tonight.

And nobody may say it of us today, but perhaps, in the goodness of God, they may in a coming day. They may think of Parkside Church, they may think of you, they may think of your life and your ministry, and they may say, “When I think of that place, I think of a faith that functions, I think of a love that labors, and I think of a hope that hangs on.”

I think God—I know God—has much to say to us through these five chapters. May God expand our capacity for study, our interest in the things of his Word, and may he produce in us that which is pleasing in his sight.

Let us bow in prayer:

O Lord, we’re rightly jealous of this church. We want to know this kind of working faith in increasing measure. We want, Lord, to be prepared to labor to the point of weariness, fatigue, and perspiration because of your great love for us and your love for those who do not know you yet. And we want, Lord, not to face a Monday with grim resignation but with active constancy. We want to have this kind of endurance that is based on the solid certainty of the life and reality and power of the Lord Jesus. We want to be passionate about the right things. We want to be able to say as the psalmist said, and really mean it, “As the dear pants for water, so my soul longs after thee.”[20] And then we ask humbly that you will do in us what we cannot do for ourselves and do through us what will commend your great name.

Thank you for each other. Thank you for all the joy and encouragement that is represented in our even being in these seats tonight. Thank you for all of the expression of your grace and favor towards us as just another local church in the midst of all that you’re doing. Help us to want you more than we want stuff, more than we want success, more than we want notoriety. Help us to seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness and to find that all these things will be added to us.[21] For Jesus’ sake we ask it. Amen.

[1] Acts 16:11 (NIV 1984).

[2] Acts 16:12 (NIV 1984).

[3] Acts 16:22–23 (NIV 1984).

[4] Acts 16:24 (NIV 1984).

[5] Acts 16:25 (NIV 1984).

[6] Acts 17:3–4 (NIV 1984).

[7] See Acts 17:11.

[8] Acts 17:13 (NIV 1984).

[9] Acts 18:1 (NIV 1984).

[10] 1 Corinthians 2:3 (NIV 1984).

[11] 1 Thessalonians 3:7 (NIV 1984).

[12] Quoted in William Hendriksen, Exposition of I and II Thessalonians, New Testament Commentary (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1955), 38.

[13] Quoted in Hendriksen, 38.

[14] Ephesians 3:8 (NIV 1984).

[15] Isaiah 66:2 (NIV 1984).

[16] Hendriksen, Exposition, 43.

[17] John 14:27 (paraphrased).

[18] Isaac Watts, “When I Survey the Wondrous Cross” (1707).

[19] William Barclay, New Testament Words (London: SCM, 1964), 144.

[20] Psalm 42:1 (paraphrased).

[21] See Matthew 6:33.