The two Thessalonian letters are sometimes identified as the “eschatological epistles.” This reputation is partly deserved, given that the parousia is developed in every chapter. Paul’s thought world includes spirit beings, fiery judgment, the Man of Lawlessness, and other points apocalyptic. Yet to limit the two letters to eschatology is reductionist. The two letters are above all pastoral. His “children” are under the barrage of the deceiver and need apostolic reminders of the truth. His teaching is aimed to help the disciples thrive in a Christian outpost deep within the pagan world.
Almost all of the material found in these letters is teaching that the disciples had already heard from Paul and Silas. Yet he weaves together what is known (labeled with “reminder language”) with a small amount of new material in order to give the Thessalonians what they need to remain steadfast and to thrive in their faith. The reader should consult the relevant sections of this commentary for details about these topics.
Most Thessalonian Christians came from a background of popular paganism and had no previous acquaintance with the synagogue. Their divinities did not include a Creator. Their gods were not the source of the material universe; they did not create humanity, nor would they hold the human race accountable at a future judgment. Heaven was the battleground for civil war; the gods fought constantly and formed alliances to gain the upper hand. Beyond this system of checks and balances, the gods were subject to the Fates, just as were human beings.
The apostles had passed on a new paradigm. That is why these letters do not introduce God in a systematic way. The apostles can assume a Christian (and scriptural) conception of God on the part of their hearers. They know, for example, that God is a God of justice, who will rescue his people when that Jesus comes to judge the wicked (1 Thess 5:10; 2 Thess 1:6–9).
The Thessalonians now affirm that the Deity’s interests extend to every part of one’s life, not simply the spheres of civic and domestic religion. That is to say, it was within the character of God that one find a true ethic of holiness (1 Thess 4:3), not through tradition or custom or philosophical reasoning. This too constitutes a paradigm shift that stretches the imagination of the ex-pagans, since now all issues—including sexual ethics, the redefining of friendship and philadelphia, the dignity of manual labor, and all other questions of human existence that might be imagined—have become “religious” topics. And the true God cannot be duped, since he is able to test everyone’s “heart,” that is, inner motives (2:4).
As Paul preached shortly before writing 1 Thessalonians, God “is not far from any one of us” (Acts 17:27). The “living and true” God (1 Thess 1:9) is not bound by Fate, nor is he frustrated by his own failures or by competing gods. He may “choose” (1:4) to establish a relationship with people through his own free will. We can barely imagine the shift that this has caused in the lives of converts from Hellenism. They came to realize that they could have a personal and communal relationship with the Creator of the universe, and that nothing stood in his way when he came to save them. This seeking God is revealed in Christ.
Paul knows well the power of myth to shape the self-understanding of both the individual and the community. In preaching Jesus, however, he does not simply ask people to replace old myths with new ones. Rather, he calls them to discard myth as a category of knowledge in favor of following one who died in a certain way at a recent time in Judea (1 Thess 2:15; 4:14) and was then resurrected (1:10; 4:14). In Paul’s theology, one cannot accept the ethical and existential features of the gospel without accepting its historical matrix.
For Paul, Jesus is “Lord,” the one to whom all the world is held accountable. Christians must follow his authority (1 Thess 4:1–2; 2 Thess 3:6, 12); his word is a divine oracle (1 Thess 4:15). But “Lord” does not simply mean someone with some sort of authority. Paul regularly mines motifs from the Scriptures, verses that spoke in the Hebrew of Yahweh, rendered in LXX as references to “the Lord”/κύριος. In his hands, these verses can be applied to the Lord Jesus. For example, when Jesus comes, people will be separated “from the presence of the Lord [Jesus] and his glorious might” (2 Thess 1:9). Paul’s language is taken from Isa 2:10, where Yahweh is the judge who inspires terror in the wicked.
In verse after verse Jesus and the Father interchange roles and actions. Although we modern Christians might not be fazed by this fact, its import would not have escaped Paul. The former Pharisee prayed to a crucified and resurrected man; he offered praise and thanks to the Son as he did to God the Father; he expected Christ to answer prayers as would the Father (cf. 1 Thess 3:11–13; 2 Thess 2:16–17). Paul, who had probably heard the Aaronic blessing of Num 6:24–26 every week of his life—“The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face shine on you and be gracious to you; the Lord turn his face toward you and give you peace”—now blesses the chosen people in the name of the Lord Jesus: “Now may the Lord himself, the Lord of peace, bestow on you peace at all times and in every way…. The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you all” (2 Thess 3:16, 18). Jesus is Yahweh Sabaoth, Lord of the heavenly armies (2 Thess 1:7). He is the divine Avenger (1 Thess 4:6), the divine Savior (1:10).
In 1–2 Thessalonians, eschatology is key, and it is christocentric. This too might seem unremarkable for us who were raised to equate the end of the age with the second coming of Christ. Yet in Second Temple Judaism, the Messiah typically played a subordinate role in the final judgment. Eschatology consisted in the coming of God himself, who might also use a human Davidic king, or angels, or a heavenly Son of Man. But the focus was always on God, and the glorious epiphany was the coming of God. I have had cause to remark throughout this commentary that Paul may have taught the Thessalonians something like the Matthean Olivet Discourse. There too, Jesus’ teaching was focused on his own coming as the Son of Man. The kingdom of God comes, Jesus taught, but where is God himself when the age draws to a close? Paul follows neatly this line of thought, that God’s kingdom comes in and through Jesus.
Nowhere is this more apparent than in 1 Thess 3:13, which we have interpreted as “the coming of our Lord Jesus with all his holy angels.” Here Paul gives a clear nod to Zech 14:5—and perhaps Matt 24:31—as he applies a passage about Yahweh’s coming to Jesus: “Then the Lord my God will come, and all the holy ones with him.” The parousia of Jesus is the divine epiphany, at which he will kill the Man of Lawlessness (2 Thess 2:8). It is Jesus’ name that is glorified at his coming (1:12). The day of Yahweh from the OT prophets has been transformed into the day of the Lord Jesus Christ (see comments on 1 Thess 5:2). For the saints, eternity is defined as being forever with the Lord Jesus (4:17; see also 5:10; 2 Thess 2:1).
There is a handful of specific references to the Spirit; Paul seems to assume his operation even when it goes unmentioned. The Holy Spirit performed miracles when the apostles evangelized the city (1 Thess 1:5–6). It is he who inspired some believers to utter prophecies (5:19–20). He empowered Christians—even those from a Gentile background—to live in holiness (4:8; 2 Thess 2:13). Paul anticipates his teaching on the “fruit of the Spirit” in Gal 5:22–23 when he traces the Thessalonians’ joy to the Spirit (1 Thess 1:6).
Second Temple Judaism thought of the Spirit of Yahweh as the power behind the prophets of old. The Spirit would also come in the last days, as part of the new covenant (e.g., Ezek 36:22–32). This Jewish theology contrasts sharply with the new understanding that the church is a people of the Spirit. In these early letters, Paul does not develop the doctrine of the Spirit as he does in Galatians, 1 Corinthians, and Romans. Yet he strongly underscores the truth that the eschatological gift of the Spirit had come during this present age (1 Thess 4:8).
Although Satan appears in the OT, it is in Second Temple Judaism and in the NT that he begins to figure prominently as the chief enemy of God. In 1–2 Thessalonians, Satan appears in many of the roles for which he is well-known. He lurks behind false gods (2 Thess 2:4, 9–10; cf. also 1 Thess 1:9), deceives human beings, and leads them away from the living and true God.
It is small wonder then, that once men and women join themselves to God’s camp, Satan exerts himself to harm them. He puts believers to the test, pushing them to give up on the gospel (1 Thess 3:5; Satan seems to be the persecutor in 2 Thess 1:4 as well). As a deceiver he circulates the rumor that the current persecution is the day of the Lord and tries to fill the Christians with fear. Perhaps most cruelly of all, he tries to keep new disciples apart from their apostles, depriving them of the spiritual nourishment they need (1 Thess 2:18).
Paul does not state so explicitly in these letters, but it is implicit that when Jesus comes to destroy Satan’s proxy, the Man of Lawlessness, he comes for Satan as well. Paul is in line with the Olivet Discourse, which foresees eternal fire for the devil and his angels (Matt 25:41).
God was bringing to pass in pagan Macedonia a set of prophecies that he originally offered to Israel. Centuries earlier, the new covenant had promised a rewriting of the inner heart so that the Israelites could and would obey the Torah (Ezek 36:27).
The Jewish nation of AD 50 should have been enjoying life within this new covenant. Yet only a minority received Christ. The Judean establishment had even participated in killing Jesus and hindered the spread of his message to the nations (1 Thess 2:14–16). The Thessalonian synagogue was particularly vociferous in rejecting the gospel (Acts 17:5–7, 13).
Nevertheless, the new covenant was making astounding headway among some Jews and a greater number of Gentiles. One cannot begin to understand the Thessalonians’ experience without first appreciating how in the new covenant, the Spirit had transformed them into “children of light and children of the day” (1 Thess 5:5).
It is by historical accident that 1 and 2 Thessalonians have 1 Timothy as their neighbor in the canon. Yet if one compares the three letters, the Thessalonian letters come off looking as “pastoral” as that which follows in our NT. The apostolic work is summed up in 1 Thess 2:7–12: they worked “night and day”; they nurtured their disciples as “a wet-nurse might cherish her very own little ones”; “as a father with his own sons and daughters; that’s how we entreated you, that’s how we comforted you, that’s how we implored you to walk worthy of the God who called you.” Their occupation was no mere job, no list of goals to be set and fulfilled. They sacrificed their very selves in order to seek the good of others. John Chrysostom said it well: “For merely to preach is not the same thing as to give the soul.”1
As makers of disciples, the team made broad use of mimēsis, that is, providing in their persons a pattern for the disciples to follow. This model was often enough visual; for example, Paul branded on their sense memory the image of him and Silas working with their hands. At the same time they had also verbally “instructed” them how to live (with regard to the work ethic, see 1 Thess 4:11; see 2 Thess 3:6, 10, 12).
Looked at from a certain angle, 1 Thessalonians may be viewed as a prayer report, which also happens to include an itinerary and apostolic instruction. The apostles’ prayers include both intercession and thanksgiving. Christian prayer is not a manipulation of the cosmic laws, as in magic. Rather, it is an appearing before the presence of the almighty God to ask for his intervention. They pray against the work of Satan, but also and principally that their disciples might flourish in the faith. Here too, Paul and the team serve as patterns for the new converts, so that they too might learn how to enter God’s presence in prayer.
In his letters, Paul rarely instructs his disciples to become evangelists. The best explanation of this is that “basic evangelism” was a theme covered in the early days of discipleship and thus did not need to be brought up in the letters.2 In the case of Thessalonica, the gospel broke forth from a small church to a larger region. Paul simply reminds them how to be people worthy of sharing the gospel. He cannot bear to have the gospel spread by anyone who would soil its reputation and—through displeasing God—short-circuit its transforming power. Therefore when he says “we were this, we were not that” (1 Thess 2:1–12), he is speaking not exclusively of himself, Silas, and Timothy, but of a pattern that they set for all makers of disciples. An evangelist should give of him- or herself (2:8) and should be prepared for hard work, even manual labor (2:9). An evangelist should be prepared for a negative reaction, including persecution (2:2, 15).
According to Acts, the Lord commissioned Paul “to open [the Gentiles’] eyes and turn them from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan to God” (Acts 26:18), and sent him “far away to the Gentiles” (Acts 22:21). Some years later and many hundreds of kilometers away from the Damascus Road, Paul and his team found themselves carrying a word from God, the “gospel.”3
The saving message is centered in the work of Christ: that he died and rose again to save his people (1 Thess 4:14; 5:9–10). Yet one cannot separate the basic gospel from what we sometimes call “follow-up” or discipleship. For the apostles there is no break in continuity from the moment of belief to following Jesus as Lord and growing in holiness.
We need not limit “evangelism” to one method or another or imagine that Paul was always speaking to a gathering from a pulpit. The ministry of the word might take place in a large meeting, a small group, or an intimate conversation. A “successful” proclamation of the message takes place when people accept it and repent, recognizing that it is a message from God and not of mere human origin (1 Thess 2:13). The apostles believe that for the gospel to be successful, it is necessary to invoke divine intervention (2 Thess 3:1). It is a dreadful sin to oppose its spread (1 Thess 2:16), and those who do so are taking part in the devil’s schemes. The hellish parallel to receiving the gospel is to believe and follow “the lie” (2 Thess 2:10–12).
For the apostles, manual labor was concrete proof of their love for the church. Paul thus has no hesitation in reproaching a group within the Thessalonian church that falls short of the “tradition” of the apostolic work ethic (2 Thess 3:6–15). Apparently some were depending on the church for their daily needs rather than working to support themselves. We have interpreted these people as would-be evangelists and teachers who were claiming the right to take support, as Jesus had permitted (Matt 10:11).
The church cannot easily be made to fit into the sociological category of “fictive family,” that is, an organization where people “act as if” their fellow members are a family. The church truly is family, the Spirit making each one a child of the Father and brother or sister to one another. Within the new covenant, “family values” have their primary reference to what goes on between members of the church. Each person, male or female, young or old, of whatever social stratum, belongs to the other. The members go so far as to give their fellows the holy family kiss (1 Thess 5:26).
Within the meetings of the church (1 Thess 5:12–22), there was a group dynamic of mutual support, prayer, prophecy, and its companion, “discernment.” While Paul implies the existence of church leaders (5:12–13), they are by no means the primary focus of the church’s ministry, which is carried out by the congregation. As responsible partakers of that group, each member must be made aware of the content of Paul’s teaching (5:27).
Sanctification is no mere human struggle; rather, it is a realization that in the new covenant, Christians are “of the day” and “of the light” already (1 Thess 5:4–8). Yet the Thessalonians also must make holiness their business; as Paul wrote them, “thrive even more” (4:1). First Thessalonians contains some of the strongest apostolic teaching on Christian sexuality, instruction made necessary by the environment of pagan Macedonia. Paul speaks about both men and women possessing their own bodies in holiness and honor (4:4).
This divine interest in human holiness is in part a result of the resurrection doctrine, that God has an interest in what is done in the physical body, as well as in the mind or spirit. That is what makes it so relevant that Paul speaks of sex in the section prior to the resurrection teaching of 1 Thess 4:13–17. He concludes the letter with a prayer that they may be holy in all aspects, including the physical (5:23). As Irenaeus would say in the next century: “For it is manifest that those acts which are deemed righteous are performed in bodies.”4
The Gentile Christians learned a new way of understanding history. They came to see that it was not aimless or cyclical but “telic,” that is, moving toward an end that is under the control of almighty God. Only at that future point will God fully demonstrate his wrath and his salvation—not capriciously, but in accordance with his character.
Paul’s teaching about the light and the day are predicated on the salvation of God that will appear in the parousia (1 Thess 1:10), and also on the operation of the Holy Spirit during this age. Whether time is long or short before the return of Christ, believers have what they need to serve God.
These two letters are like the rest of the NT, which gives little eschatological detail for its own sake and discourages calculations of times and seasons. Instead, each reference to the end times exists in order to direct the listener to God, which in turn results in changes in their behavior. First Thessalonians 5:6 is an excellent example of the NT pattern: “So then, let us not let ourselves fall asleep, as do other people, but let us keep alert and exercise self-control.”
Paul addresses a number of eschatological issues.
The majority of Paul’s audiences—i.e., the relatively few who even bothered to listen to him in the first place—rejected and even burlesqued the gospel. Even as he was dictating these letters, the Corinthian multitude was labeling his message as “foolishness” (1 Cor 1:18). But during his three stops in Macedonia and two in Achaia, some few had a radically distinct reaction: they “received the word.” They, like the apostles, experienced tribulation, which Paul describes in terms reminiscent of Jesus’ own warnings. To Paul’s deep pleasure, the Thessalonians not only acted on the gospel, but they held on to it despite fierce trials.
Before the day of the Lord, a mere man will set himself up as a god. He will do so by the unleashed power of the devil, fully manifested because of the removal of the “restrainer.” In Paul’s day, signs and wonders were strong proof of God’s presence; in the end times, however, they might also come from the devil and be “signs … that mislead” (2 Thess 2:9). Whether the Lord’s return is near or distant, believers should always be on guard against misdirection (2:1–3a).
The Thessalonian Christians were standing firm against apostasy—so far. But Paul knew that the end times will bring about a horrific falling away from the truth (2 Thess 2:3). It will be pushed by Satan and engineered through the deceptive Man of Lawlessness.
This final Apostasy was a staple of Jewish eschatology. While the OT prophets usually focused on the ongoing apostasy of the nation, Second Temple Judaism laid greater emphasis on an eschatological “apostate generation” (so 1 En. 93.9; see also Jub. 23.14–23; 1QM XIII, 7–9). Eschatological apostasy also features in the teaching of Jesus: “Many will turn away from the truth and will betray and hate each other” (Matt 24:10). While the world will be led away by Satan, Christians need to keep on the alert: the one who endures faithful to the end will be saved (24:13). During the apostolic age, the church received prophetic oracles about apostasy either in the short term (Acts 20:29–30) or in the undefined “later times” (1 Tim 4:1).
The Apostasy in 2 Thess 2 refers to the falling away of Christians, as do the predictions in 1 Tim 4:1 and 2 Tim 3:1 (see also in 2 Peter and Jude; 1 John 2:18–19; Revelation). Paul encountered examples of apostasy during his own lifetime: some Galatians began to fall from the gospel (Gal 1:6); Demas wandered off (2 Tim 4:10). Although the Thessalonian Christians are God’s elect (2 Thess 2:13), still, they must take care to stand firm (2:15). After all, people who look just like them will in the end times be casualties to Satan’s lies.
Salvation is principally a future, eschatological goal (1 Thess 1:10; 5:9; 2 Thess 1:10–12; 2:14, 16). Along the pathway lies the real possibility of disaster (1 Thess 3:5). That is why all believers must be constantly on their guard (5:1–11).
Paul states that the day of the Lord could not be immediately at hand in AD 50, given the current circumstances. Neither the final Apostasy nor the appearance of the Man of Lawlessness is present, and both are expected before the Lord’s coming (2 Thess 2:1–12). Some agent of God, perhaps as we have suggested one of the principal angels, is “hindering” the appearing of the Man of Lawlessness until such time as God decides to remove him (2:6–8).
The disciples hear that God is just; that is, he will reward the righteous in the end time and punish the wicked in his “coming wrath” (1 Thess 1:10; 2:16; 5:9). This will be manifested in the parousia of Jesus, who brings with him “unexpected destruction” (5:3), “tribulation” (2 Thess 1:6; cf. 2:12), and “retaliation” (1:8). The unbelievers will experience separation from the Lord and “eternal destruction” (1:9). God’s judgment is proof that he does not stand aloof from his creation, nor, as in other systems, is he himself unjust or capricious.
Second Thessalonians 1:5–10 may properly be correlated with Rev 14:10–11 as predictions of the eternal conscious torment for the wicked. They will not be annihilated, whether instantly or after a period of suffering.
Although it would probably be some years before the gospel of Matthew is published, Paul knows and teaches something that resembles the Olivet Discourse in its Matthean form. It is thus noteworthy that Matt 24–25, while speaking of the “gathering” of the saints (24:31), does not speak of their resurrection as such.
Yet in Thessalonica, some members of the church had died within the short space of time between Paul’s hasty departure and the writing of 1 Thessalonians (1 Thess 4:13). We cannot now determine how they died; we need not think in terms of large numbers or of death by martyrdom—even one or two deaths would have shaken up the small “family.” Thus, Paul gives them a doctrine that, in the most reasonable interpretation, they had heard but forgotten or, better, forgotten how to apply: the resurrection of the saints. He puts the data together for the Thessalonians: Jesus has risen from the dead; Jesus is our eschatological Savior; therefore, Jesus will save us by raising us from the dead at the parousia (1 Thess 4:13–18). The manner in which Paul links their resurrection anticipates the fuller expression in a later letter (1 Cor 15).
In the decades after the apostles, Christians concluded the Lord’s Supper with this prayer:
Remember your church, Lord,
to deliver it from all evil
and to make it perfect in your love;
and gather it, the one that has been sanctified,
from the four winds into your kingdom,
which you have prepared for it;
for yours is the power and the glory forever.5
This encapsulates as well as any commentary the heart of 1 and 2 Thessalonians: not a fascination with the end time as such, but pastoral help for a church as it grows in holiness and looks toward the coming of Christ.
As their pastor, then, and not as an armchair theologian, Paul shows the Thessalonians the meaning of their election by God and their entry into a new (and truer) family, the manner in which they must teach and model the gospel in the world, the fact that the persecution they feel will not last forever, and the ramifications of Christ’s second coming for the unbeliever.
Above all else, Paul sketches out a cosmovision at the center of which is Christ. In these earliest extant Christian texts, in passage after passage, the Lord Jesus fulfills the OT passages concerning the intervention of Yahweh to save and to judge. In the earliest written testimony about Easter, a message from the AD 40s, but having its roots in the earliest Christian proclamation, it is written: “he whom God raised from the dead, Jesus our Savior from God’s coming wrath” (1 Thess 1:10).
This is why even dying in Jesus is no tragedy. Mortality is grievous, but its powers are temporary for the follower of the resurrected Lord. And it is Jesus himself who is the focus of true life:
No Loss at All
“This way, please,” the angel urges,
shaking your all-too-tangible elbow,
an arm now filled with incomparable vigor,
fine hairs alit from finer glory within,
senses that bear the brilliance and the trumpet.
Ascending, the way grows steadily busier,
ancients mingling together with moderns,
myriads in togas and loincloths and business suits,
shouting and marveling, each tongue a known one,
every word and tonal and click with ease deciphered.
Church members, martyrs, children, great-great-greats,
better known than during life, call greetings.
Yet the fascination is ever with the center,
the focus is personal, the one like a Son of Man.
You lost nothing by dying in Him.
Gary S. Shogren