A love deep and lasting

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 and sisters, in all our distress and persecution we were encouraged about you because of your faith. For now we really live, since you are standing firm in the Lord. 1Thessalonians 3:6-8

It dawned on me a few days ago (I’m not very good at consciously remembering anniversaries and things) that this summer marked fifty years since I was ordained into Christian ministry. In fact this month of October, 1971, saw me inducted into my first pastorate. Wonderful memories of Scunthorpe, North Lincolnshire!

Fifty years is a long time… By pure coincidence (as far as I know) I today received a Facebook “friend” request. I must have met the would-be friend almost exactly fifty years ago, for my induction was the occasion I became her pastor. I subsequently conducted her and her husband’s wedding. Did I also baptise them? I think I must have done though, to my shame, I can’t now be absolutely sure (but if not me, then I can’t think who else).

By another coincidence I attended, last week, a conference for ministers beginning to prepare for retirement. That didn’t include me, of course; no, I was there as one of the old hands who know everything there is to know about retirement (ha very ha) and whose job it was to pass on the benefit of their wisdom to these young sixty-somethings still on their way. It was, I think, a lively, happy occasion, though not without its serious side.

One topic we discussed was how close a pastor might, or should, remain to a church he or she has left. Should they remain in the membership? or head for the Outer Hebrides? or join another church a mile down the road? or what?

The feeling was that, as a general rule, it was probably unwise to stay in the same congregation. To do so is unfair to your successor; one sometimes hears horror stories about how a former minister turns out to be an absolute menace by staying on. But to move on is far from easy - the word “bereavement” cropped up more than once. In any reasonably happy pastorate strong relationships get formed which don’t dissolve simply because you’re no longer in day-to-day contact. Love, after all, isn’t something you can turn off like a tap; and isn’t love - that and nothing less - what we’re talking about when it comes to “pastor and people”?

Certainly, tact and sensitivity are vital if we maintain friendships with former church members. But, as that out-of-the-blue Facebook request demonstrated, the bonds we form in Christ can be amazingly durable. Which, surely, is exactly how it should be?

It’s all in the Bible, of course – not least in the ministry of the apostle Paul, though he was never simply a “local minister”. His two short letters to the church in Thessalonica simply ooze care and affection. An earlier separation from them was like being “orphaned” or “bereaved” (2:17), such was his feeling of “intense longing” for them. He describes them as his “glory and joy” (2:20). A point was reached when he “could stand it no longer” (3:1, and again in 3:5).

So when, at long last, Timothy turned up from Thessalonica (3:6), I can imagine Paul jumping out of his chair, grabbing hold of him by the throat, still sweaty and dusty from the journey though he was, and demanding, “So how are they?” And the massive sigh of relief and pleasure when Timothy told his news (3:6-9): they are “standing firm in the Lord”. Let no-one imagine that Paul was a dry, crusty old theologian; more like a besotted parent, or a mooning lover!

What in particular was it that bound Paul so emotionally to the Thessalonians? It isn’t, after all, only Christians - or Christian ministers - who feel deep and lasting love for people they no longer see.

The answer comes across clearly in the first three chapters of the letter: in essence, the church in Thessalonica was the fruit of his evangelistic ministry (1:5 and 2:2). He had shared their lives (1:5 again); he saw himself as having cared for them “like a nursing mother” (2:7-8) and also as a loving father (2:11; he obviously wasn’t too bothered about mixing his metaphors!).

In a word, his very existence had become intertwined with theirs in a way that physical absence couldn’t possibly disentangle.

It’s true, of course, that this is the case across the whole spectrum of Christian fellowship, not just “pastor and people”. There’s an old hymn which captures it beautifully…

Blest be the tie that binds/ Our hearts in Christian love;/ The fellowship of kindred minds/ Is like to that above… When for a while we part,/ This thought will soothe our pain,/ That we shall still be joined in heart,/ And hope to meet again… From sorrow, toil and pain,/ And sin we shall be free:/ And perfect love and friendship reign/ Through all eternity.

Yes, that’s true of all Christian fellowship. But there is a particularly strong bond with those for whom we have served as spiritual mid-wife. This is something my wife and I certainly found when eventually, and painfully, we moved on from Scunthorpe – only to find exactly the same thing in north-west London. Wonderful memories too of Lindsay Park, Kenton!

Thank you, Father, for the heavenly love that binds your people together. Help me to cherish and delight in it, and to eagerly anticipate the day when it will be perfected in your immediate presence. Amen.