Up in the Air

There is a moment when you realize the warmth was real, but something else was running underneath it the whole time. A reflection on 1 Thessalonians 2:1–12 and what it looks like when witness has nothing to hide.

Up in the Air
Photo by Kaysha / Unsplash

1 Thessalonians 2:1–12

Phrases that spoke to me today:
• We never used flattery, nor did we put on a mask to cover up greed
• We were like a nursing mother caring for her own children
• We loved you so much we were delighted to share with you not only the gospel of God but our lives as well
• We dealt with each of you as a father deals with his own children

Applying the Word to My Life:
I met a guy on an airplane once. We hit it off right away. It was a good conversation with lots of common ground. He was coming back from a conference, I was heading home from a work trip. We exchanged emails at the end of the flight and I was really looking forward to staying in touch.

The first email was great. Then the second came and I started to see the shape of it. There was a COVID tax rebate program involved. A structure where if I signed up under his name he got a cut, and if someone signed up under mine, I'd get one too. Once I could see the form, I could see it everywhere—including in the conversation on the plane. The warmth had been real, maybe. But something else had been running underneath it the whole time.

Paul is writing to one of his beloved communities of new believers. It seems some of the newness had worn off and he is reminding them of how their relationship started — with him and with Christ. Before he came to them, Paul had been to Philippi where he was beaten and imprisoned for preaching. When he arrived in Thessalonica, it was clear that he wasn't there to use them. He had no interest in their praise or their money. He worked with his hands while he was there so he would not even owe them that. He goes through it point by point, and it has the feeling of someone who wants the record to be honest. I was not that kind of person to you. I wasn't there to see what I could take from you.

He came to give them something. It seems hard to believe someone so persecuted would make the trip to give a gift. So he explains it to them with two beautiful images: a nursing mother and a loving father.

A nursing mother does not nurse to perform. She gives because the child is hungry and she has what he needs. Paul says that is what the Thessalonians were to him — not a platform, not an audience, not a project. People he had come to love. So what he shared was not just the message. It was his life. And then, same love, different mode — a father who encourages, comforts, urges them to live lives worthy of God. A father's quiet confidence in what his child is made for.

Thankfully, our lives are rarely as dramatic as being beaten and persecuted, but there are still opportunities to give for love's sake. A few years back I was in town for a board meeting. Everyone in that room has a purpose and is asking for something. I had time before things started, so I went to mass. Walking out of the church, there was a man sitting outside. Homeless, clearly having a rough go of it. I asked if he wanted to get breakfast. We went to a little out of the way place that he knew was safe for him and we ate. As we were leaving, he held my hand and said a beautiful prayer.

Someone I told about it later said he could have been taking advantage of me. I remember thinking — maybe. But I had come out of the Eucharist that morning and I saw Christ in him. The question of whether I was being played just did not feel like the most important thing.

That is what Paul is describing with both images. The nursing mother is not running a risk analysis. The father is not looking for a return. They give because of who the other person is to them. And the only way to give like that is to not need something back.

Motive cannot be hidden for long, and it is the dividing line as we try to live our faith. On one side: flattery, masks, praise-seeking, leveraging whatever authority you have. We cannot witness with something running underneath it — something that wants to get, not give. Others can feel the falsehood and quickly see how they are being used. Whatever it may be, that is not love.

On the other side: a mother who feeds and a father who says you were made for more. Both showing the same love, neither one protecting itself or seeking their own gain. The only agenda is love. The only question is "What can I do for the person in front of me?" That is the love that lets the person in front of us put their guard down so that they can truly experience Christ in our midst.

I would rather be a fool a hundred times and serve Christ once than always look like I have it together and never serve Him at all.

My Response for Today:
Before I speak up about something that matters today, I will ask myself what I am hoping to get from saying it.