1 Th 1:1-10

1 Th 1

19 October 2008

“We Always Give Thanks”

On a cool, misty morning, I was following a rocky brook that passes under a railroad bridge. The tree cover deepened the shade of the overcast sky. I was alone. The tree-lined creek was adjacent to a park, still empty and quiet. Not even the municipal park employees had shown up for work yet. Deciding to get out of the light drizzle, I took shelter in a gazebo and sat at one of the picnic tables inside. For a while, I listened to the silence.

Then I took out the pocket-sized Bible that I used to carry everywhere, and I read today’s epistle text. Years later, the image of that peaceful moment remains with me every time I read 1 Thessalonians 1.

I think—I hope—that there’s more to it than some experience I once had. It seems to me that the message of this chapter has a part to play in that peaceful feeling!

We have an expression of thanks for this young church. The apostle Paul is truly happy at how the believers in Thessalonica are coming along. He gives them his familiar greeting: grace and peace. As he tells them in chapter 2, “you are our glory and joy!” (v. 20). In my humble opinion, these are ideas that might easily inspire peaceful reflection!

The people who receive his message live in what was an important city in the Roman Empire. Thessalonica was the capital of the province of Macedonia. As such, it was a major commercial center. Plenty of traffic flowed through it. And Paul says something that would garner quite a bit of attention. It concerns the word “lord.”

We need to bear in mind that that is a political term. By referring to “the Lord Jesus Christ,” he’s staking out new territory. This letter is probably the earliest writing of the New Testament, in roughly the year 50. The Lord Jesus Christ—how dare him? Every patriotic Roman knows that Caesar is our lord!

The city endures to this day. As Thessaloniki, it’s Greece’s second largest city. And, as Banu once reminded me, while part of the Ottoman Empire in 1881, it was the birthplace of Atatürk, founder of modern Turkey.

As we learn from Acts 17, it’s not without a great deal of turmoil that the gospel is brought there. An angry mob, searching in vain for Paul and Silas, settle for Jason and some other believers. They drag them before the city officials, who release Jason and his friends after they post bail. Meanwhile, the church is helping Paul and Silas plan their escape.

As a result, the Thessalonians understand very well what Paul is talking about in verse 6 when he congratulates them for becoming “imitators of us and of the Lord…in spite of persecution.” From the very founding of the Thessalonian church, they’ve had to endure stern opposition. But they’ve become, as Paul reminds them, “an example to all the believers in Macedonia and in Achaia,” the province to the south, where Athens is (v. 7).

What is it that’s enabled the Christians in Thessalonica to become this shining example? How have they endured this persecution? Well, it’s not something that happened overnight. Paul has already given us a clue in verse 3, where he describes what he and his friends remember about the Thessalonians in their prayers to God.

In speaking of their “work of faith and labor of love and steadfastness of hope,” the apostle uses one of his favorite themes. In several of his letters, Paul mentions the three virtues of faith, love, and hope (5:8; 1 Co 13:13; Ga 5:5-6; Col 1:4-5).

The Thessalonian church is a strong church precisely because these qualities are present within it. Faith, love, and hope enable the church to be the thing that is such a source of glory and joy. But to each of these three virtues, Paul adds another word that helps explain what he means.

For example, it’s not just the “faith” of the Thessalonians, but their “work of faith.” That may sound strange. Isn’t this the same guy who says in Romans 3 that “a person is justified by faith apart from works” (v. 28)? Is he saying that faith itself is a work? It’s important that Paul speaks of “work of faith,” singular, and not “works of faith,” plural. In his book, First and Second Thessalonians, Earl J. Richard talks about this.

Paul is impressed, not with the individual deeds inspired by their faith, but the faith itself. It is the faith that is at work. The Greek word for “work,” ergon (ergon), besides referring to the deed itself can also refer to the activity, the process of work. Another way of putting “your work of faith,” then, would be “your faith in action” or “the dynamism of your faith.” Paul is “thankful not for acts of faith but for the community’s vibrant faith”—the faith that is truly alive.[1]

In the same way, Paul praises, not simply their “love,” but their “labor of love.” That word “labor” comes from the Greek term kopo" (kopos), which has the sense of “wearisome labor” and “travail.” It comes from a verb meaning “to beat” or “to cut.” The Thessalonians have been “wearing themselves out” for each other, even for those outside the church. They endure all kinds of hardship for the sake of love.

Finally, we have “steadfastness of hope.” As I’ve said before, hope in Christ isn’t something we wish for; it isn’t something we merely long for. Rather, it’s something assured. It doesn’t depend on our state of mind; it doesn’t matter how we feel. That’s why it is steadfast; that’s why it is rock solid.

Our friend Earl, who I just quoted, does something with faith, love, and hope that I especially like: he shows how Paul’s use of them can be applied to time.[2] I’ve always been fascinated with time. (I’ve even read what some physicists say about the possibilities of time travel!)

If “faith” is based on past events (the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus), then “work” shows how the church’s faith is energetic and active. If “love” shows how they reflect the presence of Christ among them now, then “labor” indicates how deep and costly that love can be. And if “hope” orients the Thessalonians to the future, then “steadfastness” shows how secure that hope in Christ really is.

Yes, I think it’s safe to say that the apostle finds plenty of reasons for gratitude. He’s thankful for the Thessalonian church, and he’s thankful for the church universal.

On the matter of gratitude, did you notice something about our opening hymn, “For the Beauty of the Earth”? It’s filled with addresses to God, but all of them are praises. There isn’t a single petition—there are no requests at all—in the song.

In the Handbook to the Hymnal, published by the Presbyterian Church back in the 1930s, we’re told a story.[3]

It’s about “God’s sending out two angels into the earth—the angel of petition and the angel of thanksgiving, each with a basket to bring back what he found. The two came back presently, the angel of petition loaded down and with an overflowing basket, the angel of thanksgiving with an almost empty basket, grieving that [we are] so much more ready to ask than to return thanks for gifts [already] received.”

Let me ask you a question. Who or what do you love? And I don’t mean, “I love cheesecake!” What’s really in your heart? For whom or what do you truly thank God? When you think, “I love……,” what first comes to mind? Got something? Let’s think about that again. I love…… What else comes to mind? How many things come to mind? Now, did anyone think, “I love the church!”? I thank God for the church!

I ask all that, because in our text, Paul doesn’t speak about gratitude in general; he gives thanks for the church. My sermon title, “We Always Give Thanks,” doesn’t complete his thought. As important as it is to underline a spirituality of gratitude, he doesn’t stop there. Verse 2 continues, “We always give thanks to God for all of you and mention you in our prayers.” How often do we really pray for the church? How often do we really pray for each other?

In my sermon last week, I mentioned the priest and scientist Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, who I said I’d been rediscovering in a book by André Dupleix.[4] In Sunday school, I spoke of how the Vatican took a dim view of some of Teilhard’s ideas. I imagine he would rank with anyone who’s been misunderstood and criticized by the church.

Still, despite all of that, in his communication, Teilhard displays immense amounts of love in return. Speaking of the church, Teilhard says, “It seems that it gives me a great deal of peace…I hope, with God’s help, to never do anything against the Church, apart from which I discern no course of life with a chance to succeed.”[5] On another occasion, he declares, “Happy are we with the authority of the Church! Left to ourselves, just how far would we drift away?”[6]

Why speak of love of the church? Why give thanks to God for the church? I suppose to put it simply, people can speak of faith, love, and hope, but without Christ—and the body that is his creation, the church—they lack a firm foundation. There’s no other gathering, no other ekklēsia (remember that from a few weeks ago?), no other association that can do what the church does.

Here are some thoughts from the Sacred Space website: “A harvest can be ruined by a lack of workers. A field full of fruit can go to waste when there are not enough people to pick the fruit. The world is the harvest of God where his love and his word are sown. Without the followers of Jesus, the word is unspoken and even the love of God is unrecognized.”[7]

Our choice is between lives of fear and wrath, from which Jesus rescues us, and lives of love and gratitude. That’s the church the world needs to see today.

[1] Earl J. Richard, First and Second Thessalonians (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 1995), 61.

[3] Handbook to the Hymnal (Philadelphia: Presbyterian Board of Christian Education, 1935), 86.

[4] André Dupleix, 15 Days of Prayer with Pierre Teilhard de Chardin (Liguori, MO: Liguori Publications, 1999).

[7] www.sacredspace.ie/dailyprayer/index.php?lang=en&d=18&m=10&y=2008#inspiration