Anticipation
Commentary
Psychiatrist Viktor Frankl often wrote about the meaninglessness of his patients’ lives. He was able to sympathize with them in a powerful way, since he spent part of World War II in a concentration camp. He remembered the dark weeks of 1944 vividly. The numbness of the gray days, the cold sameness of every dreary morning.
And then, suddenly, like a bolt of bright colors, came the stunning whisper that the Allies had landed at Normandy. The push was on. The Germans were running. The tide of the war had turned. “By Christmas we’ll be released!” they told each other.
Frankl recalls the changes that took place in the camp: every day the workers went out to their same jobs, but their hearts were lighter, and the work seemed a bit easier. Each mealtime they peered into the same cauldron of slop but somehow it seemed less difficult to swallow since every bite was a countdown to freedom. The stress in each barrack’s community was the same: people fighting for a little privacy; jealousies and dislikes aired in spicy retorts. Yet forgiveness came a little easier these days, for the ups and downs of the present dimmed as the future became a closer and closer reality.
What was most interesting, says Frankl, is that fewer people died in those months. Even the weakest ones began to cling tenaciously to life.
But Christmas 1944 passed, and the Allied troops never came. There were setbacks and defeats, and the bits of news smuggled into the camp made no more promises. And then, says Frankl, then the people began to die. No new diseases came into the camp. Rations remained the same. There was no change in working conditions. But the people began to die one after the other, as if some terrible plague had struck.
And, indeed, it had. It was the plague of hopelessness, the epidemic of despair.
Studies show that we can live forty to sixty days without food, eight to twelve days without water, and maybe three minutes without oxygen. But without hope we cannot survive even a moment. Without hope we die.
Without hope there is no reason to wake up in the morning. But with hope, even the darkest night has promise of a dawn. This is the message in each of our readings today. Through Isaiah, Yahweh paints a portrait of a world waiting to be born. In Paul’s letter, the return of Jesus winks from a not-too-distant horizon. And Jesus instructs his disciples about living faithfully in the turmoil of the end times.
Isaiah 65:17-25 and Isaiah 12
There is an inherent consistency of message and focus among all of the diverse religious ruminations and rantings of Israel’s prophets. First, the prophetic sermons are invariably rooted in the web of relationships created by the Sinai covenant. Israel belongs to Yahweh, and her lifestyle must be shaped by the stipulations of that Suzerain-Vassal treaty. Obedience to Yahweh triggers the blessings of the Sinai covenant, while disobedience is the first reason for Israel’s experiences of its curses: drought, war, famine, enemy occupation, destruction of cities and fields, deportation, etc. For this reason, the prophetic writings are laced with moral diatribes that carry a strong emphasis on social ethics.
This is not to say that Israel was held to a different behavioral standard than would otherwise be expected among the nations of the earth. Rather, through Israel’s lifestyle there was supposed to flow a witness toward its neighbors, revealing the unique splendor of its God. By looking at the people of Yahweh, living in Canaan, other tribes and nations were to gain a sense of the true character of life when it was experienced in harmony with the forgotten Creator of all. For this reason the public actions of Israel were crucial to its covenant existence. Both Isaiah and Micah succinctly summarized it in this way:
In the last days the mountain of the Lord’s temple will be established as chief among the mountains; it will be raised above the hills, and all nations will stream to it. Many peoples will come and say, “Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the house of the God of Jacob. He will teach us his ways, so that we may walk in his paths.” The law will go out from Zion, the word of the Lord from Jerusalem. He will judge between the nations and will settle disputes for many peoples. They will beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks. Nation will not take up sword against nation, nor will they train for war anymore. Come, O house of Jacob, let us walk in the light of the Lord. (Isaiah 2:2-5; nearly identical is Micah 4:1-5)
Second, the function and message of prophecy were very political. Since Yahweh alone was Israel’s sovereign, for the nation to come under the domination of other political powers was always seen as a divine scourge which resulted from the application of the covenant curses due to Israel’s disobedience. How Israel handled its international relations showed plainly whether she trusted Yahweh, or if she had otherwise become enamored with power and politics rooted in lesser gods. Constantly, the prophets asked whether Israel was Yahweh’s witnessing people, or if she was merely another nation with no particular mission or divine purpose. Israel’s self-understanding was thus always very religious, and at the same time invariably political. This is echoed in the grand prayer and song of Isaiah 12.
It is in this light that the typical prophetic litany against the nations surrounding Israel must be read. These other social and political entities were assessed for public moral behavior by Yahweh alongside Israel because Yahweh was the Creator of all, and continued to be Lord of the nations. All countries are chided for their own internal social sins as well as for their inappropriate aggressions toward one another, including and especially for their treatment of Israel. While they may be used by Yahweh as a temporary tool of chastisement, punishing Israel according to the covenant curses, they might never presume to hold dominance over either Israel or her God. This typical hubris of nations was regularly condemned as idolatrous by the prophets, and any society afflicted by it would receive divine retribution in its own turn.
Third, as the epochs of Israel’s political fortunes unfolded, the message of the prophets became increasingly apocalyptic. There was a growing sense that because things had not gone the way they should have, producing heartfelt and ongoing national repentance and covenant restoration, Yahweh will have to intervene directly again, in a manner similar to that which happened during the time of Moses. When Yahweh interrupts human history the next time, however, along with judgments on the wickedness of the nations of the world, Israel will also fall heavily under divine punishment. But because Yahweh is on a mission to restore the fallen world, this next major divine intervention will be paired with a focus on establishing a new world order as well, even while the old is falling away under the conflagration. In this coming messianic age, everything in both society and the natural realm will finally function in the manner the Creator had intended in the beginning. Furthermore, because Yahweh is faithful to promises made, Israel will not be forgotten, and a remnant of God’s servant-nation will be at the center of all this renewal and restoration and great joy.
This increasingly forward-looking thrust of prophecy leads some to think of it as primarily foretelling, a kind of crystal ball gaze into the future. In reality, however, the nature of prophecy in ancient Israel is more forth-telling: declaring again the meaning of the ancient Sinai covenant, explaining the mission of Yahweh (and thus Israel also) as witness to the world, and describing the implications of the morality envisioned by the Suzerain-Vassal treaty stipulations. Included in this forth-telling is the anticipation of how things will look when everything is renewed. This becomes the basis for the “new covenant” of Jeremiah and Ezekiel. This forms the background to the prophecies about the “new heavens and new earth” in Isaiah’s readings for today. This shapes the contours of the messianic age described by Isaiah, Ezekiel, Joel, Micah and Zechariah.
2 Thessalonians 3:6-13
It was probably late in 49 A.D. when Paul and Silas left Syrian Antioch, their home base. They traveled overland to the communities in central Asia Minor where Paul and Barnabas had established Christian congregations more than a year earlier. At Lystra they were joined by Timothy (Acts 16:1-2), a promising young man whose mother was Christian, but whose father was not. Together this growing company of itinerant preachers had in mind an itinerary taking them farther north in Asia Minor (Acts 16:6-8). There were other new areas where Jewish settlements in Hellenic cities might give them an open door for talking about Jesus.
While pondering their options at Troas, Paul may have had some medical problems. The text of Acts 16 shows a shift at that point from third-person references to first-person recollections (note verses 6-10). It seems obvious that doctor Luke, the man who would author this book, joined the band at Troas. It might well be that he came to Paul as a healer, and stayed with Paul as a new believer and fellow evangelist. Also in this city, a divine directive illumined Paul in a vision (Acts 16:9-10), with the result that the company headed next across the Aegean Sea to Macedonia. Philippi was their first major stop, a fairly new Roman colony established by military personnel who received parcels of land as their pensions. As of yet there was no sizeable Jewish population in the city, since Paul and Silas found a small group of Jews worshipping at the river’s edge on a Sabbath (Acts 16:13). Once there were ten Jewish males in any town, a synagogue had to be established, so the river gathering meant that Jews had not come to Philippi in any significant numbers. As was his custom, Paul spoke to the small group about Jesus, and a new Christian congregation was formed in the home of Lydia (Acts 16:14-15).
It was on to Thessalonica next, for Paul and Silas and their team (Acts 17:1-9). For three weeks Paul preached about Jesus in the Jewish synagogue. When Gentiles swelled the crowd of Christ-believers, however, some Jews became jealous and formed a mob to disrupt civic life. The uproar caused city officials to arrest leading members of the new Christian congregation, and the group sent Paul and Silas out of town that evening under the cover of darkness. With brief stops in Berea (Acts 17:10-15) and Athens (Acts 17:16-34), Paul eventually arrived in Corinth, where he met Aquila and Priscilla for the first time (Acts 18:1-3). This couple would become fast friends with Paul, keeping in touch for the rest of his life.
Although Paul would spend the next year and a half in Corinth, at the outset his heart remained back in Thessalonica. Already when he was traveling through Athens, Paul worried about how the fledgling Thessalonian congregation was faring (1 Thessalonians 2:17-20),and sent Timothy back to find out more and make a report (1 Thessalonians 3:1-5). Paul had already continued on to Corinth by the time Timothy caught up with him and was elated at the good word his younger associate brought (1 Thessalonians 3:6-10). With emotions running high, Paul dashed off a letter of appreciation and encouragement to his new friends (1 Thessalonians).
Most of this short letter is given to expressions of praise for the great testimony already being noised about from those who observed the grace and spiritual energy of this newborn congregation. Paul rehearsed briefly (1 Thessalonians 1-3) the recent history that had deeply connected them and told of his aching heart now that they were so quickly “torn away” from one another (1 Thessalonians 2:17). Only after these passionate confessions does Paul spill some ink on a few notes of instruction (1 Thessalonians 4-5). While most of what Paul has to say are typical exhortations toward quiet and godly living, a surprising topic suddenly jumps out as prelude to a new and unique trajectory in Christian doctrinal development. Paul wrote:
Brothers, we do not want you to be ignorant about those who fall asleep, or to grieve like the rest of men, who have no hope. We believe that Jesus died and rose again and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him. According to the Lord’s own word, we tell you that we who are still alive, who are left till the coming of the Lord, will certainly not precede those who have fallen asleep. For the Lord himself will come down from heaven, with a loud command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet call of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first. After that, we who are still alive and are left will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. And so, we will be with the Lord forever. Therefore encourage each other with these words (1 Thessalonians 4:13-17).
The central message of Paul’s missionary preaching focused on the resurrection of Jesus. This was, for Paul, the astounding confirmation of Jesus’ divine character. It was the undeniable proof that Jesus was the Messiah, and that his words and teachings had ushered in the new age of God’s final revelation and redemptive activity.
Paul understood that Jesus was the great “Day of the Lord” event foretold by the Old Testament prophets (1 Thessalonians 5:1), and that out of gracious forbearance, Jesus had split this cataclysmic occurrence in two, so that the beginning of eternal blessings could be experienced before the final judgment fell (1 Thessalonians 5:2-11). This meant that Jesus had gone back to heaven only briefly and would be returning to earth very soon—probably next week, but maybe next month. It was the generous grace of God which had provided this brief window of opportunity, allowing Jesus’ disciples a chance quickly to tell others the good news, so that those who believed would also reap the benefits of the looming messianic age. Neither Paul nor God wanted anyone to be destroyed in the judgments that were still ahead.
The response of the Thessalonian church to this insistent focus on Jesus’ imminent return apparently echoed back to Paul through Timothy’s report in a way he had not expected. Rather than energizing the new believers in Thessalonica, with anticipations of divine vindication after the painful struggles they had recently endured, some had instead become deeply discouraged. In the few intervening weeks or months since they had come to faith in Jesus under Paul’s passionate preaching, several members of the congregation had died. The grief of those who survived was heightened, because they supposed that their lost loved ones had come so close to sharing in the powers and perfections of the new age, only to succumb to death virtually on its threshold. They assumed that the dead were excluded forever from the messianic kingdom.
Paul corrects this mistaken notion with a brief eschatological teaching. Jesus will return soon, to be sure, and those of us who are alive when that happens will enjoy renewed direct interaction with him. But those who have already died will not be left behind. Their bodies will be raised and restored, just as happened with Jesus himself on resurrection morning. Assurance of this comes from “the Lord’s own word,” according to Paul. Although none of the gospels records this exact teaching from Jesus, evidently it had become part of the oral tradition already being passed along from one believer to another.
Paul then went on to reaffirm the central imminent-return-of-Jesus proclamation that had precipitated these reflections in the first place (1 Thessalonians 5:1-11). Jesus will come back very soon, most likely in the foreseeable future. Paul fully expected that he himself, and most of his readers there in Thessalonica, would experience this event firsthand, and probably nearer on the calendar than more distant.
The letter closes with a quick litany of moral and ethical exhortations, urging faithful living regardless of circumstances (1 Thessalonians 5:12-28). It was probably sent in early 50 A.D., just as Paul was getting started with his work in Corinth.
A month or two later Paul received a follow-up report on the Thessalonian congregation. It may have been written as a result of another visit by Timothy, but we do not know for sure. What is certain is that Paul’s letter had increased the climate of expectation for Jesus’ return very dramatically, to the point where a significant number of the Thessalonian Christians had either stopped working their careers, believing that these were no longer necessary because Jesus was coming so soon (2 Thessalonians 3:6-12), or came to the conclusion that the Messianic age had already arrived, and they were free to carry on with no normal social restraints or obligations (2 Thessalonians 2:1-3). Paul’s second letter to the Thessalonians addresses both issues. After a rousing note of appreciation for their growing faith (2 Thessalonians 1), Paul tempers his imminent-return-of-Christ teachings by injecting a likely waiting period during which a “man of lawlessness” will appear (2 Thessalonians 2:3-4). Who this person will be or when it will happen remains unclear. For a moment, Paul’s writing verges on apocalyptic speculations (2 Thessalonians 2:5-12), but then it settles quickly back into exhortations of moral behaviors consistent with the “sanctifying work of the Spirit” (2 Thessalonians 2:13-17).
In his final instructions (2 Thessalonians 3), Paul urged the Thessalonian Christians to live lifestyles of faithful service toward others, not getting caught up in the disease of idleness which seems to have sprung among some from over-zealous expectations of Jesus’ imminent return. A closing line, apparently in Paul’s own handwriting, indicates that once again he has used an amanuensis for creating this document (2 Thessalonians 3:17).
Luke 21:5-19
Mark, Matthew, and Luke each report, at some length and with generally greater detail than is found in the earlier stages of Jesus’ ministry, the events that happened in Jesus’ final week of life in Jerusalem, before his crucifixion. One incident, in particular, captured their attention. Jesus and his disciples were wandering through the temple expanses, and his disciples, all from the more rural environs of Galilee, were quite taken by the size and magnificence of the buildings that Herod the Great had renovated to match the grandeur of Solomon’s temple. They made comments about the overwhelming strength and beauty of these structures to Jesus, who immediately responded that someday even these grand building would be torn down:
Viewed through this lens, provided by the documents of the Bible themselves, the diverse writings of the Christian scriptures gather around two significant and miraculous events which reveal both the nature of reality from within the human experience and also the divine intention transcending and superseding unguided or uninterpreted historical meanderings. The “Day of the Lord” carries with it three dominant themes:
Application
H. G. Wells pictured faith’s anticipations powerfully in his short story “The Door in the Wall.” A boy, five years old, wanders down a street and sees a green door in a white wall. Fascinated and intrigued, the boy pushes at the door and stumbles into a land of enchantment where two great black panthers greet him, yet he is not afraid. The world around him scintillates, pulsing with freshness and vibrancy. The blue sky is bluer, the flowers almost radiate reds and golds and violets. Animals abound, of every type, many of which he has never encountered and doesn’t know their names, and yet all are familiar to him, and he tumbles and plays with each in delirious fun. People surround him too, folks of all ages. They seem to know him, and boys gather him quickly into their games. Food, smells, tastes, the air itself are rich and energizing. A woman even takes him on her lap to read a book, which turns out to be the story of his own life, right up to the point where he stepped through the green door.
And then it is time to leave. The boy doesn’t know how or why, but he moves back through the green door and finds himself again in the world of time and normalcy. Only now, everything seems very drab. The colors all look rather grayish. Sounds are noisier. People rush by, not caring about each other. The experiences of life are harsh and cold and intimidating and unfriendly.
The boy grows to be a man, now telling his story to a trusted friend. Yet he is haunted by the world he once knew behind that green door. He tries to find it again and cannot. But more than anything else, he seeks to bring something of that world into the lifeless meanderings of his existence here. The hope of that world keeps him going through the challenges of these times.
Years ago, Dr. Arthur Gossip preached a sermon entitled: “When Life Tumbles In, What Then?” He preached it the Sunday after his beloved wife had suddenly died. And no one could bring more powerfully than he the challenge of the closing lines:
Our hearts are very frail, and there are places where the road is very steep and very lonely. Standing in the roaring Jordan, cold with its dreadful chill and very conscious of its terror, of its rushing, I . . . call back to you who one day will have your turn to cross it, “Be of good cheer, my brother, for I feel the bottom and it is sound!”
Alternative Application (2 Thessalonians 3:6-13)
Paul’s letters to the Thessalonian congregation occurred early in his ministry, with both epistles most likely penned in 50 A.D. These writings are very short, and do not spell out a fully explored eschatology. But in their brief exhortations they contain some of Paul’s most direct and explicit eschatological teachings.
First, it is clear that the emphasis in Paul’s preaching was on the resurrection of Jesus. This was the confirmation that Jesus was the Messiah foretold by the prophets. It was also the most profound sign that the new messianic age had arrived. Since the messianic age was part of the promised “Day of the Lord,” a time of divine judgment was sure to arrive soon.
Second, Jesus’ first coming brought the beginnings of the blessings of the messianic age, but it delayed the judgments of God for a time, so that the followers of Jesus could spread the news of salvation far and wide. Splitting the “Day of the Lord” in two was an act of kindness on God’s part, providing more opportunity for people to respond in faith. It also placed upon the church a missionary urgency. The reason Jesus left his followers behind during the gap between his ascension and return was to send them as ambassadors of hope to the nations.
Third, the return of Jesus was imminent, and likely to take place within weeks or months. This was the expectation that made any trials, persecutions or difficulties endurable. Knowing that one can outlast an opponent, no matter how nasty or strong, gives great resilience to hang on and survive with dignity.
Fourth, all who trusted in Jesus when he returned would share in his glory and power. But so too would those who had believed in Jesus and then died before Jesus had made his return. This teaching profoundly changed the burial habits of Christians and altered expectations at dying. Rather than closing doors to human existence, death instead opened them to eternal life. Many early Christians welcomed death by martyrdom, knowing that through this act they were immediately secure in resurrection hope.
Fifth, the yawning gap of time that had been widening since Jesus’ ascension required meaningful explanations for the delay of his return. Answers came in three major varieties. Some saw this lengthening “in-between” age as evidence of divine grace: God was not going to bring final judgment until more people could respond to the gospel message in faith. Others declared that the delay was a tool for testing the faithfulness of those who said they believed in Jesus. A final group called to mind Jesus’ words about signs that would appear before the final days and tried more closely to define the number of specific events must still take place prior to his return.
Intertwined together, these three dimensions of eschatological expectations became hardwired into the church, and infused it, for Paul, with a missionary urgency and an uncompromising ethic. The church must speak to everyone with loving passion about Jesus. At the same time, Christians were responsible to live in a profound moral simplicity that assessed every behavior by the question, “What should we be doing when Jesus returns?”
And then, suddenly, like a bolt of bright colors, came the stunning whisper that the Allies had landed at Normandy. The push was on. The Germans were running. The tide of the war had turned. “By Christmas we’ll be released!” they told each other.
Frankl recalls the changes that took place in the camp: every day the workers went out to their same jobs, but their hearts were lighter, and the work seemed a bit easier. Each mealtime they peered into the same cauldron of slop but somehow it seemed less difficult to swallow since every bite was a countdown to freedom. The stress in each barrack’s community was the same: people fighting for a little privacy; jealousies and dislikes aired in spicy retorts. Yet forgiveness came a little easier these days, for the ups and downs of the present dimmed as the future became a closer and closer reality.
What was most interesting, says Frankl, is that fewer people died in those months. Even the weakest ones began to cling tenaciously to life.
But Christmas 1944 passed, and the Allied troops never came. There were setbacks and defeats, and the bits of news smuggled into the camp made no more promises. And then, says Frankl, then the people began to die. No new diseases came into the camp. Rations remained the same. There was no change in working conditions. But the people began to die one after the other, as if some terrible plague had struck.
And, indeed, it had. It was the plague of hopelessness, the epidemic of despair.
Studies show that we can live forty to sixty days without food, eight to twelve days without water, and maybe three minutes without oxygen. But without hope we cannot survive even a moment. Without hope we die.
Without hope there is no reason to wake up in the morning. But with hope, even the darkest night has promise of a dawn. This is the message in each of our readings today. Through Isaiah, Yahweh paints a portrait of a world waiting to be born. In Paul’s letter, the return of Jesus winks from a not-too-distant horizon. And Jesus instructs his disciples about living faithfully in the turmoil of the end times.
Isaiah 65:17-25 and Isaiah 12
There is an inherent consistency of message and focus among all of the diverse religious ruminations and rantings of Israel’s prophets. First, the prophetic sermons are invariably rooted in the web of relationships created by the Sinai covenant. Israel belongs to Yahweh, and her lifestyle must be shaped by the stipulations of that Suzerain-Vassal treaty. Obedience to Yahweh triggers the blessings of the Sinai covenant, while disobedience is the first reason for Israel’s experiences of its curses: drought, war, famine, enemy occupation, destruction of cities and fields, deportation, etc. For this reason, the prophetic writings are laced with moral diatribes that carry a strong emphasis on social ethics.
This is not to say that Israel was held to a different behavioral standard than would otherwise be expected among the nations of the earth. Rather, through Israel’s lifestyle there was supposed to flow a witness toward its neighbors, revealing the unique splendor of its God. By looking at the people of Yahweh, living in Canaan, other tribes and nations were to gain a sense of the true character of life when it was experienced in harmony with the forgotten Creator of all. For this reason the public actions of Israel were crucial to its covenant existence. Both Isaiah and Micah succinctly summarized it in this way:
In the last days the mountain of the Lord’s temple will be established as chief among the mountains; it will be raised above the hills, and all nations will stream to it. Many peoples will come and say, “Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the house of the God of Jacob. He will teach us his ways, so that we may walk in his paths.” The law will go out from Zion, the word of the Lord from Jerusalem. He will judge between the nations and will settle disputes for many peoples. They will beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks. Nation will not take up sword against nation, nor will they train for war anymore. Come, O house of Jacob, let us walk in the light of the Lord. (Isaiah 2:2-5; nearly identical is Micah 4:1-5)
Second, the function and message of prophecy were very political. Since Yahweh alone was Israel’s sovereign, for the nation to come under the domination of other political powers was always seen as a divine scourge which resulted from the application of the covenant curses due to Israel’s disobedience. How Israel handled its international relations showed plainly whether she trusted Yahweh, or if she had otherwise become enamored with power and politics rooted in lesser gods. Constantly, the prophets asked whether Israel was Yahweh’s witnessing people, or if she was merely another nation with no particular mission or divine purpose. Israel’s self-understanding was thus always very religious, and at the same time invariably political. This is echoed in the grand prayer and song of Isaiah 12.
It is in this light that the typical prophetic litany against the nations surrounding Israel must be read. These other social and political entities were assessed for public moral behavior by Yahweh alongside Israel because Yahweh was the Creator of all, and continued to be Lord of the nations. All countries are chided for their own internal social sins as well as for their inappropriate aggressions toward one another, including and especially for their treatment of Israel. While they may be used by Yahweh as a temporary tool of chastisement, punishing Israel according to the covenant curses, they might never presume to hold dominance over either Israel or her God. This typical hubris of nations was regularly condemned as idolatrous by the prophets, and any society afflicted by it would receive divine retribution in its own turn.
Third, as the epochs of Israel’s political fortunes unfolded, the message of the prophets became increasingly apocalyptic. There was a growing sense that because things had not gone the way they should have, producing heartfelt and ongoing national repentance and covenant restoration, Yahweh will have to intervene directly again, in a manner similar to that which happened during the time of Moses. When Yahweh interrupts human history the next time, however, along with judgments on the wickedness of the nations of the world, Israel will also fall heavily under divine punishment. But because Yahweh is on a mission to restore the fallen world, this next major divine intervention will be paired with a focus on establishing a new world order as well, even while the old is falling away under the conflagration. In this coming messianic age, everything in both society and the natural realm will finally function in the manner the Creator had intended in the beginning. Furthermore, because Yahweh is faithful to promises made, Israel will not be forgotten, and a remnant of God’s servant-nation will be at the center of all this renewal and restoration and great joy.
This increasingly forward-looking thrust of prophecy leads some to think of it as primarily foretelling, a kind of crystal ball gaze into the future. In reality, however, the nature of prophecy in ancient Israel is more forth-telling: declaring again the meaning of the ancient Sinai covenant, explaining the mission of Yahweh (and thus Israel also) as witness to the world, and describing the implications of the morality envisioned by the Suzerain-Vassal treaty stipulations. Included in this forth-telling is the anticipation of how things will look when everything is renewed. This becomes the basis for the “new covenant” of Jeremiah and Ezekiel. This forms the background to the prophecies about the “new heavens and new earth” in Isaiah’s readings for today. This shapes the contours of the messianic age described by Isaiah, Ezekiel, Joel, Micah and Zechariah.
2 Thessalonians 3:6-13
It was probably late in 49 A.D. when Paul and Silas left Syrian Antioch, their home base. They traveled overland to the communities in central Asia Minor where Paul and Barnabas had established Christian congregations more than a year earlier. At Lystra they were joined by Timothy (Acts 16:1-2), a promising young man whose mother was Christian, but whose father was not. Together this growing company of itinerant preachers had in mind an itinerary taking them farther north in Asia Minor (Acts 16:6-8). There were other new areas where Jewish settlements in Hellenic cities might give them an open door for talking about Jesus.
While pondering their options at Troas, Paul may have had some medical problems. The text of Acts 16 shows a shift at that point from third-person references to first-person recollections (note verses 6-10). It seems obvious that doctor Luke, the man who would author this book, joined the band at Troas. It might well be that he came to Paul as a healer, and stayed with Paul as a new believer and fellow evangelist. Also in this city, a divine directive illumined Paul in a vision (Acts 16:9-10), with the result that the company headed next across the Aegean Sea to Macedonia. Philippi was their first major stop, a fairly new Roman colony established by military personnel who received parcels of land as their pensions. As of yet there was no sizeable Jewish population in the city, since Paul and Silas found a small group of Jews worshipping at the river’s edge on a Sabbath (Acts 16:13). Once there were ten Jewish males in any town, a synagogue had to be established, so the river gathering meant that Jews had not come to Philippi in any significant numbers. As was his custom, Paul spoke to the small group about Jesus, and a new Christian congregation was formed in the home of Lydia (Acts 16:14-15).
It was on to Thessalonica next, for Paul and Silas and their team (Acts 17:1-9). For three weeks Paul preached about Jesus in the Jewish synagogue. When Gentiles swelled the crowd of Christ-believers, however, some Jews became jealous and formed a mob to disrupt civic life. The uproar caused city officials to arrest leading members of the new Christian congregation, and the group sent Paul and Silas out of town that evening under the cover of darkness. With brief stops in Berea (Acts 17:10-15) and Athens (Acts 17:16-34), Paul eventually arrived in Corinth, where he met Aquila and Priscilla for the first time (Acts 18:1-3). This couple would become fast friends with Paul, keeping in touch for the rest of his life.
Although Paul would spend the next year and a half in Corinth, at the outset his heart remained back in Thessalonica. Already when he was traveling through Athens, Paul worried about how the fledgling Thessalonian congregation was faring (1 Thessalonians 2:17-20),and sent Timothy back to find out more and make a report (1 Thessalonians 3:1-5). Paul had already continued on to Corinth by the time Timothy caught up with him and was elated at the good word his younger associate brought (1 Thessalonians 3:6-10). With emotions running high, Paul dashed off a letter of appreciation and encouragement to his new friends (1 Thessalonians).
Most of this short letter is given to expressions of praise for the great testimony already being noised about from those who observed the grace and spiritual energy of this newborn congregation. Paul rehearsed briefly (1 Thessalonians 1-3) the recent history that had deeply connected them and told of his aching heart now that they were so quickly “torn away” from one another (1 Thessalonians 2:17). Only after these passionate confessions does Paul spill some ink on a few notes of instruction (1 Thessalonians 4-5). While most of what Paul has to say are typical exhortations toward quiet and godly living, a surprising topic suddenly jumps out as prelude to a new and unique trajectory in Christian doctrinal development. Paul wrote:
Brothers, we do not want you to be ignorant about those who fall asleep, or to grieve like the rest of men, who have no hope. We believe that Jesus died and rose again and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him. According to the Lord’s own word, we tell you that we who are still alive, who are left till the coming of the Lord, will certainly not precede those who have fallen asleep. For the Lord himself will come down from heaven, with a loud command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet call of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first. After that, we who are still alive and are left will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. And so, we will be with the Lord forever. Therefore encourage each other with these words (1 Thessalonians 4:13-17).
The central message of Paul’s missionary preaching focused on the resurrection of Jesus. This was, for Paul, the astounding confirmation of Jesus’ divine character. It was the undeniable proof that Jesus was the Messiah, and that his words and teachings had ushered in the new age of God’s final revelation and redemptive activity.
Paul understood that Jesus was the great “Day of the Lord” event foretold by the Old Testament prophets (1 Thessalonians 5:1), and that out of gracious forbearance, Jesus had split this cataclysmic occurrence in two, so that the beginning of eternal blessings could be experienced before the final judgment fell (1 Thessalonians 5:2-11). This meant that Jesus had gone back to heaven only briefly and would be returning to earth very soon—probably next week, but maybe next month. It was the generous grace of God which had provided this brief window of opportunity, allowing Jesus’ disciples a chance quickly to tell others the good news, so that those who believed would also reap the benefits of the looming messianic age. Neither Paul nor God wanted anyone to be destroyed in the judgments that were still ahead.
The response of the Thessalonian church to this insistent focus on Jesus’ imminent return apparently echoed back to Paul through Timothy’s report in a way he had not expected. Rather than energizing the new believers in Thessalonica, with anticipations of divine vindication after the painful struggles they had recently endured, some had instead become deeply discouraged. In the few intervening weeks or months since they had come to faith in Jesus under Paul’s passionate preaching, several members of the congregation had died. The grief of those who survived was heightened, because they supposed that their lost loved ones had come so close to sharing in the powers and perfections of the new age, only to succumb to death virtually on its threshold. They assumed that the dead were excluded forever from the messianic kingdom.
Paul corrects this mistaken notion with a brief eschatological teaching. Jesus will return soon, to be sure, and those of us who are alive when that happens will enjoy renewed direct interaction with him. But those who have already died will not be left behind. Their bodies will be raised and restored, just as happened with Jesus himself on resurrection morning. Assurance of this comes from “the Lord’s own word,” according to Paul. Although none of the gospels records this exact teaching from Jesus, evidently it had become part of the oral tradition already being passed along from one believer to another.
Paul then went on to reaffirm the central imminent-return-of-Jesus proclamation that had precipitated these reflections in the first place (1 Thessalonians 5:1-11). Jesus will come back very soon, most likely in the foreseeable future. Paul fully expected that he himself, and most of his readers there in Thessalonica, would experience this event firsthand, and probably nearer on the calendar than more distant.
The letter closes with a quick litany of moral and ethical exhortations, urging faithful living regardless of circumstances (1 Thessalonians 5:12-28). It was probably sent in early 50 A.D., just as Paul was getting started with his work in Corinth.
A month or two later Paul received a follow-up report on the Thessalonian congregation. It may have been written as a result of another visit by Timothy, but we do not know for sure. What is certain is that Paul’s letter had increased the climate of expectation for Jesus’ return very dramatically, to the point where a significant number of the Thessalonian Christians had either stopped working their careers, believing that these were no longer necessary because Jesus was coming so soon (2 Thessalonians 3:6-12), or came to the conclusion that the Messianic age had already arrived, and they were free to carry on with no normal social restraints or obligations (2 Thessalonians 2:1-3). Paul’s second letter to the Thessalonians addresses both issues. After a rousing note of appreciation for their growing faith (2 Thessalonians 1), Paul tempers his imminent-return-of-Christ teachings by injecting a likely waiting period during which a “man of lawlessness” will appear (2 Thessalonians 2:3-4). Who this person will be or when it will happen remains unclear. For a moment, Paul’s writing verges on apocalyptic speculations (2 Thessalonians 2:5-12), but then it settles quickly back into exhortations of moral behaviors consistent with the “sanctifying work of the Spirit” (2 Thessalonians 2:13-17).
In his final instructions (2 Thessalonians 3), Paul urged the Thessalonian Christians to live lifestyles of faithful service toward others, not getting caught up in the disease of idleness which seems to have sprung among some from over-zealous expectations of Jesus’ imminent return. A closing line, apparently in Paul’s own handwriting, indicates that once again he has used an amanuensis for creating this document (2 Thessalonians 3:17).
Luke 21:5-19
Mark, Matthew, and Luke each report, at some length and with generally greater detail than is found in the earlier stages of Jesus’ ministry, the events that happened in Jesus’ final week of life in Jerusalem, before his crucifixion. One incident, in particular, captured their attention. Jesus and his disciples were wandering through the temple expanses, and his disciples, all from the more rural environs of Galilee, were quite taken by the size and magnificence of the buildings that Herod the Great had renovated to match the grandeur of Solomon’s temple. They made comments about the overwhelming strength and beauty of these structures to Jesus, who immediately responded that someday even these grand building would be torn down:
- “Do you see these great buildings? Not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down” (Mark 13:2).
- “You see all these, do you not? Truly I tell you, not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down” (Matthew 24:2).
- “As for these things that you see, the days will come when not one stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down” (Luke 21:6).
Viewed through this lens, provided by the documents of the Bible themselves, the diverse writings of the Christian scriptures gather around two significant and miraculous events which reveal both the nature of reality from within the human experience and also the divine intention transcending and superseding unguided or uninterpreted historical meanderings. The “Day of the Lord” carries with it three dominant themes:
- Because of the evil in this world, particularly that perpetuated by nations and individuals who seek to establish their dominance at the expense and hurt of others, the Creator must interrupt human history with judgment, destroying the power of wickedness and restoring righteousness as the foundation of society.
- Since humans are uniquely created and endowed with the ability to share aspects of divine identity and purpose, the Creator seeks to spare humanity generally from self-destruction, without imposing divine direction in a coercive manner, and thus uses witnessing communities of the faith-filled faithful to provide an on-going voice of hope and call to repentance.
- The goal of this divine interruption into human history is to renew humanity, earth and the cosmos, and set them fully free to live out and express the best of themselves in an age that has the divine intentions for humankind fully restored.
Application
H. G. Wells pictured faith’s anticipations powerfully in his short story “The Door in the Wall.” A boy, five years old, wanders down a street and sees a green door in a white wall. Fascinated and intrigued, the boy pushes at the door and stumbles into a land of enchantment where two great black panthers greet him, yet he is not afraid. The world around him scintillates, pulsing with freshness and vibrancy. The blue sky is bluer, the flowers almost radiate reds and golds and violets. Animals abound, of every type, many of which he has never encountered and doesn’t know their names, and yet all are familiar to him, and he tumbles and plays with each in delirious fun. People surround him too, folks of all ages. They seem to know him, and boys gather him quickly into their games. Food, smells, tastes, the air itself are rich and energizing. A woman even takes him on her lap to read a book, which turns out to be the story of his own life, right up to the point where he stepped through the green door.
And then it is time to leave. The boy doesn’t know how or why, but he moves back through the green door and finds himself again in the world of time and normalcy. Only now, everything seems very drab. The colors all look rather grayish. Sounds are noisier. People rush by, not caring about each other. The experiences of life are harsh and cold and intimidating and unfriendly.
The boy grows to be a man, now telling his story to a trusted friend. Yet he is haunted by the world he once knew behind that green door. He tries to find it again and cannot. But more than anything else, he seeks to bring something of that world into the lifeless meanderings of his existence here. The hope of that world keeps him going through the challenges of these times.
Years ago, Dr. Arthur Gossip preached a sermon entitled: “When Life Tumbles In, What Then?” He preached it the Sunday after his beloved wife had suddenly died. And no one could bring more powerfully than he the challenge of the closing lines:
Our hearts are very frail, and there are places where the road is very steep and very lonely. Standing in the roaring Jordan, cold with its dreadful chill and very conscious of its terror, of its rushing, I . . . call back to you who one day will have your turn to cross it, “Be of good cheer, my brother, for I feel the bottom and it is sound!”
Alternative Application (2 Thessalonians 3:6-13)
Paul’s letters to the Thessalonian congregation occurred early in his ministry, with both epistles most likely penned in 50 A.D. These writings are very short, and do not spell out a fully explored eschatology. But in their brief exhortations they contain some of Paul’s most direct and explicit eschatological teachings.
First, it is clear that the emphasis in Paul’s preaching was on the resurrection of Jesus. This was the confirmation that Jesus was the Messiah foretold by the prophets. It was also the most profound sign that the new messianic age had arrived. Since the messianic age was part of the promised “Day of the Lord,” a time of divine judgment was sure to arrive soon.
Second, Jesus’ first coming brought the beginnings of the blessings of the messianic age, but it delayed the judgments of God for a time, so that the followers of Jesus could spread the news of salvation far and wide. Splitting the “Day of the Lord” in two was an act of kindness on God’s part, providing more opportunity for people to respond in faith. It also placed upon the church a missionary urgency. The reason Jesus left his followers behind during the gap between his ascension and return was to send them as ambassadors of hope to the nations.
Third, the return of Jesus was imminent, and likely to take place within weeks or months. This was the expectation that made any trials, persecutions or difficulties endurable. Knowing that one can outlast an opponent, no matter how nasty or strong, gives great resilience to hang on and survive with dignity.
Fourth, all who trusted in Jesus when he returned would share in his glory and power. But so too would those who had believed in Jesus and then died before Jesus had made his return. This teaching profoundly changed the burial habits of Christians and altered expectations at dying. Rather than closing doors to human existence, death instead opened them to eternal life. Many early Christians welcomed death by martyrdom, knowing that through this act they were immediately secure in resurrection hope.
Fifth, the yawning gap of time that had been widening since Jesus’ ascension required meaningful explanations for the delay of his return. Answers came in three major varieties. Some saw this lengthening “in-between” age as evidence of divine grace: God was not going to bring final judgment until more people could respond to the gospel message in faith. Others declared that the delay was a tool for testing the faithfulness of those who said they believed in Jesus. A final group called to mind Jesus’ words about signs that would appear before the final days and tried more closely to define the number of specific events must still take place prior to his return.
Intertwined together, these three dimensions of eschatological expectations became hardwired into the church, and infused it, for Paul, with a missionary urgency and an uncompromising ethic. The church must speak to everyone with loving passion about Jesus. At the same time, Christians were responsible to live in a profound moral simplicity that assessed every behavior by the question, “What should we be doing when Jesus returns?”
