God’s Call to Spiritual Fatherhood

A sermon preached on 1 Thessalonians 2:7–12 by Ps Phil Hunt

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Introduction

Take your Bibles, please, and turn with me to the book of Thessalonians—First Thessalonians, chapter two. This morning we’re going to take a one-week break from our study in the book of Romans and look together at First Thessalonians chapter two. I meant to acknowledge earlier—Faith, I don’t know where she went, but it’s good to see her back from college and serving the Lord here with us. And to anyone else who’s been away for some time and whom I missed, it’s great to have you with us.

First Thessalonians chapter two—we’re going to look at verses seven through twelve.

I want to speak to you on this subject this morning: God’s call to spiritual fatherhood. God’s call to spiritual fatherhood.

I thank God for each one of you men who stood a few moments ago, and for your faithfulness—the fact that you are in the Lord’s house this morning. Praise God for you, and praise God for your leadership and your faithfulness. The reality, though, is that perhaps your lived experience, as you sit here as a son or a daughter, is something different.

In Zambia, the absent father is a painful reality—children raised without the provision and direction of a father. In the country where I was born, statistics indicate that 85% of youth in prison come from fatherless homes. It is said that children from fatherless homes are ten times more likely to abuse alcohol or other drugs, and that 70% of teen pregnancies occur in fatherless homes. Closer to home, here in Zambia, a UNICEF report states that 45% or more of Zambian children live without a father in the household—45%. And according to that report, Western Province is the worst affected: nearly two in three children there live without their father.

I want to talk to you this morning about God’s call to spiritual fatherhood. You see, gospel ministry is the father who shows up. That’s gospel ministry. He shows up. He labors endlessly, day and night, so that the gospel is freely communicated and demonstrated, and he will not stop laboring in the gospel until the children are charged to walk worthy of God. The church is meant to be such a household—where the fatherless find both a nursing mother’s tenderness and a father’s steady, guiding hand.

I want to speak to all of us this morning. There are certainly applications here for every lady in this auditorium. But I want to speak in a special way this morning to men, both young and old. This text is a call for you and for me to step up, to be spiritual fathers to others, beginning right here in our own congregation.

Notice, please, in the text—chapter two, verse seven—the very first word in this section: but.

You see, God could testify, in verse five, that Paul did not come to the Thessalonians and use flattery. He was not motivated in his ministry by greed. In other words, he didn’t come to Thessalonica trying to manipulate these people or to get something for his own benefit. He was not seeking glory. He was not ministering to them because he wanted their approval, or to be lifted up, exalted, or glorified in any way.

He makes that very clear in verse six. Rather, Paul has been entrusted with the gospel (verse four), and he has boldly declared that gospel to the Thessalonians.

Verse seven: “But we were gentle among you, like a nursing mother taking care of her own children. So, being affectionately desirous of you, we were ready to share with you not only the gospel of God, but our own selves, because you had become very dear to us.”

I would like to suggest this morning, men, that God is calling us to spiritual fatherhood—where we minister with love, set the example of godly character, and guide others in their walk with God.

So where does this begin? It’s interesting—it doesn’t begin with authority. It doesn’t begin with making demands. Paul didn’t suddenly pull out the “apostle card” and say, “Okay guys, I’m about to tell you something, and you’d better do it because I’m an apostle.” That’s not where he started. This is not about authority. He does not come with demands based on his position; rather, this journey begins with the heart.

God Calls Men to Be Fathers Who Minister with Affection

Notice, in verses seven and eight, the first big idea I want you to see in the text this morning: God calls men to be fathers who minister with affection.

Do you see it? Look at verse seven. Spiritual formation requires gentleness. We are to be motivated by a love for God—we love God first with all our heart, soul, strength, and mind, and then we love others as ourselves. So we are to be motivated by love for God and love for God’s people.

Look at what Paul says in verse eight—notice these terms of affection. He says, “so being affectionately desirous of you.” And notice the end of verse eight: “because you had become very dear to us.” This phrase, affectionately desirous, carries the idea of yearning after, of longing for them. It’s the ache of a parent yearning for a child who has been separated from them.

We find these terms of affection with Paul not only here with the Thessalonians. In Philippians 1:7–8, he tells the believers in Philippi, “I hold you in my heart.” Do you see how warm and affectionate that statement is? Then in verse eight he says, “I yearn for you with the affection of Jesus Christ.” And he doesn’t speak this way only to churches—he speaks this way to individuals too. To Timothy, in 2 Timothy 1:2, listen to Paul’s terms of affection: “Timothy, my beloved child.”

I grew up in a home where I knew I was loved, but it wasn’t said. Especially by my dad. Dad just didn’t—it wasn’t “daddish,” it wasn’t manly, you know, to say, “I love you, son.” So he’d punch me in the arm, or do something like that, but rarely did I hear the words, “Son, I love you.” But that’s not how Paul approaches these children in the faith. He is continually, repeatedly expressing affection for them.

God calls men to be spiritual fathers who minister with affection. And notice how this affection is explained back in verse seven: “We were gentle among you, like a nursing mother taking care of her own children.” This is the gentleness of a nursing mother—a young child born into a home, tenderly cared for and nourished. This same word, gentle, was also used of a mother bird sitting on her nest, warming her chicks. There’s a tenderness there.

This word “gentle” literally speaks of power under control, for the good of the one who benefits from it—for the good of the one who is the object of our love. This is power under control.

My grandfather was a wonderful Christian man. When my dad went through all the problems that led him out of our home, one of the men who influenced me simply through his quiet faithfulness was my grandfather. He was a dairy farmer his entire life—up at 4 a.m. milking cows, then shoveling manure out of the barn, then out in the afternoon cutting and baling hay. I always remember his hands—a working man’s hands. They were hard, calloused, rough from working day after day.

That was my grandfather. And yet, alongside his dairy cows, he also loved his chickens. I remember, as a boy, watching him with those rough, calloused hands gently picking up newborn chicks and placing them back with their mother.

That’s the idea of gentleness—power under control. This is a gentle love, a yearning love. You desire to be with them. This is not something you have to manufacture, something you have to talk yourself into—”I have to love these people.” This flows naturally from the very inner part of who Paul is. It flows from the heart toward the object of love.

Paul is saying that he was gentle in how he handled others with his words—a disposition that soothes rather than provokes. To be kind in speech is the opposite of harsh, domineering, and quarrelsome. This is the gentleness expressed toward those who are immature, slow, or even hard to handle.

“We were gentle,” he says—”you people know that we were gentle with you, like a nursing mother with her newborn child.” In fact, in 2 Timothy 2:24–25, Paul writes to Timothy that the servant of the Lord must be kind—the same root word—gentle to everyone, able to teach, patiently enduring evil, correcting even his opponents with gentleness. This is the temperament of a minister: not quarrelsome but gentle to all, able to teach, patient with wrong, patient toward all—even those who oppose him, even those who set themselves up as enemies. Your response to them, as a spiritual father, is gentleness. Spiritual formation requires gentleness.

Paul could have thrown his apostolic weight around—he mentions it in verse six—and made demands. Instead, he is deliberate and tender in his restraint. Paul demonstrates strength under control for the good of the weak and immature converts at Thessalonica. Brothers, men, we can do this. We can. Gentleness is an achievable pattern we can follow. In chapter one, verse five, Paul mentions that the gospel came to the Thessalonians in power—carried by a man who chose to be gentle. Divine strength, delivered through gentle hands.

Spiritual Formation Requires Selflessness

God calls men to be spiritual fathers who minister with affection, and that speaks of spiritual formation through gentleness. But it also speaks of spiritual formation that requires selflessness. I think that’s the whole picture Paul is painting—like a mother who tenderly and gently nurses her newborn infant, it requires selflessness.

What does this gentle affection motivate us to do? Men, at least two things.

First, look again at verse eight: “So being affectionately desirous of you, we were ready to share with you the gospel of God.” Not only the gospel, but it began there—we were prepared and ready to share with you the gospel. Spiritual formation requires that you and I share the gospel with others.

We’re talking about this in the context of our church, but the context of our church begins in my home. If I have a wife and children sitting at my breakfast table, that certainly does not exclude them—I am to minister the gospel to them. But not only to them; I am to minister the gospel to those within the fellowship of faith, the family of God here at Kitwe Church. This is God’s calling to us as men, and it requires selflessness—feeding disciples the Word of God, the gospel, patiently and repeatedly training the child up in the way they should go.

Those of you who are dads remember when your children were little—they didn’t listen so well. Maybe they don’t when they’re older either, but they certainly didn’t when they were little. Sometimes you just feel like you’re going crazy, because all you do is repeat yourself over and over and over. You know what I mean, dads? And sometimes it’s exasperating—you feel, “I’ve told you, if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times.” Don’t throw the food at the table, or whatever it is. And sometimes you wonder, is it ever going to get through their heads? Are they ever going to get it?

I remember my wife telling our boys—they were always horsing around, they didn’t want any part of sitting nicely with manners at the table. They wanted to mess around. She’d say, “You know—someday you’re going to thank me. Someday you’re going to go on a date, and you need to know how to sit in a restaurant and how to talk to a lady.” They didn’t see it at all. She would get so frustrated with them. They’d burp at the table—we don’t do that at the table!—and they did it on purpose a lot of the time.

Repeatedly training the child in the way he should go—that’s what Paul says. Spiritual formation requires selflessness. I have to give of myself again and again and again and again.

Those of you who do have families and children in your home, let me urge you: have family devotions with your family, with your children. Talk with them about what they learned in the service today. If they were out in junior church, on the way home—or this afternoon over the lunch meal—the conversation ought to be, “What did you learn? Tell me one thing you learned at church today.” Why? Because this gospel is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes (Romans 1:16), and it’s the power of God for sanctification, enabling us to live like Jesus after we have believed in Him.

But notice—he doesn’t stop at sharing the gospel. Verse eight says something even more selfless: “We were ready to share with you not only the gospel of God, but also our own selves.”

To share yourself with them. Spiritual formation requires the giving of oneself—this is one life touching another life. This requires humility. This requires becoming vulnerable. This requires honesty. Because when you let someone get up close and personal with you, guess what? They see the genuinely good person you are, and they see all your giftedness and how admirable you are. But guess what else they see? They see what your wife sees—the failures. They see the flaws too.

To allow someone to get that close to you, for the sake of their spiritual good, requires selflessness and humility. Share yourself with them. Ministry is self-donation, not self-promotion—the giving of oneself in tenderness. It’s availability and access. It’s transparency and the unselfish sharing of your life with another.

Let’s put it in different terms: this is discipleship, brothers. This is discipleship. It’s personal, it’s patient, it’s purposeful. God calls men to be spiritual fathers who minister with affection—but affection that costs nothing is mere sentiment. This tender love that Paul speaks of must put on work clothes.

God Calls Men to Be Fathers Who Set an Example

So now look at verses nine and ten, and watch how a spiritual father is to set an example for his children to follow.

Verse nine: “For you remember, brothers, our labor and toil: we worked night and day that we might not be a burden to any of you, while we proclaimed to you the gospel of God. You are witnesses, and God also, how holy and righteous and blameless was our conduct toward you believers.”

Here’s the second big idea: God calls men to be fathers who set an example—and we do that in two ways.

First, notice verse nine—we set an example by our work. He uses two words there: labor and toil. The word labor comes from a Greek word that means “to take a beating,” as if someone had beaten you up. It carries the idea of the weariness caused by a beating—work that wears you down and leaves you weary. Paul uses this word eighteen times in his letters, describing being agonizingly weary because of the work one is engaged in.

He also says toil—a word that references pain or struggle, grinding difficulty. Three times in Paul’s writing he pairs laborand toil together: to the Corinthians, here to the Thessalonians in his first letter, and again in his second. Together they describe exhausting effort piled up on top of grinding hardship.

Do you see the imagery he’s building? “Remember, brothers, our agonizing work—our labor and toil.” This toil was real, literal, and relentless. “We labored and we toiled; we worked night and day.” Paul worked his trade as a tentmaker from early morning until evening, on top of all his pastoral work. He was down in the marketplace, in the trades area, doing leather work, making tents with his own hands.

This toil had a deliberate purpose. He says, “We did this so that we might not be a burden to any of you.” He did not want to burden the Thessalonians, in order that he might provide the gospel to them freely. The calluses on his hands were proof that he was not there to take advantage of them, unlike the many false prophets and false teachers who had come through Thessalonica before him. The people had watched teacher after teacher come through, clearly motivated by envy and greed, trying to take from them. Paul showed up with the true gospel and did it differently—willing to labor with back-breaking, agonizing work from morning till evening, and then also preach the gospel, so these people would understand he was not there to take advantage of them.

This toil was also parental and exemplary. He was a spiritual parent working for the good of his children: “that we might not be a burden to any of you, while we proclaimed to you the gospel of God.” Paul worked in order to give them an example to imitate—and in 2 Thessalonians 3:7–9, he says exactly that: they were to follow his example in labor. His sweat was a sermon. Discipleship by demonstration. We set the example by our work.

Some time back I had a plumber come to my house to fix some leaking pipes. He was an older gentleman, and he introduced me to his son—a young adult, or older teenager—who was working with him. This plumber wasn’t teaching the boy from a plumbing manual. He wasn’t sitting him down with a book saying, “Here’s how you do plumbing.” No—he was simply bringing his son along, letting him watch, working beside him day after day, until one day the boy’s hands would move just like his father’s. No lecture—just catching on by participating alongside the master plumber. That’s exactly what Paul is describing here. We set the example by our work.

But notice verse ten—we also set the example by our integrity. He mentions three things: “You are witnesses, and God also, how holy and righteous and blameless was our conduct toward you believers.”

It begins with holy conduct—reverence, devotion, the fulfilling of one’s duty toward God. This is conduct that looks upward to God first. From God’s vantage point, as He looks at our conduct, does He affirm it as conduct set apart in righteousness and holiness? Men, let me ask you: when God looks at your life from that vantage point, what does He see? Does He see a set-apart, holy conduct—in the quietness of your home, in your relationship with your wife and children, in how you carry out your responsibilities through the week? Paul says, “You are witnesses, and God is also my witness, of holy conduct.”

Second, it was righteous conduct. Whereas holiness looks upward toward God, this is justice toward others—right conduct in relationships with other people. It’s being blameless, faultless, with no grounds for accusation. This is justice toward other people, living rightly in the eyes of others.

Third, it was blameless conduct. This means the conduct—the way we carry ourselves as spiritual fathers—is beyond reproach in front of everybody, even our enemies. Even our enemies, when they look at our lives and evaluate them, find nothing to hook into, nothing to say, because we are blameless. This is the public verdict.

Notice, too, that Paul calls a double witness: “You can testify of this, and God can testify of this”—that he had lived among them in holiness and righteousness, and was blameless. This is the example. God calls men to be fathers who set an example—in contrast to the charlatans motivated by flattery, greed, and glory-seeking, mentioned in verses five and six. The attractiveness of the gospel is displayed in the life of the messenger. Paul is saying, “I’m living what I’m preaching. Not in perfection, but consistently, by God’s grace and through the power of His Holy Spirit.”

His conduct made his message credible. Nobody would take health advice from a doctor who shows up with a hangover because he’s been drinking all weekend—a hundred kilograms overweight, the bottom two buttons of his shirt undone, his stomach hanging over his belt, sitting there telling you that you ought to get in shape. You’d say, “This guy has no credibility.” We set the example in our integrity.

God Calls Men to Be Fathers Who Provide Direction

A father feeds, and a father models—but a father also speaks. That brings us to verses eleven and twelve. He has shown them how to walk by his example; now Paul opens his mouth and begins to direct them toward the goal of walking worthy of God in their calling.

Verse eleven and twelve: “For you know how, like a father with his children, we exhorted each one of you and encouraged you and charged you to walk in a manner worthy of God, who calls you into His own kingdom and glory.”

So here is the third big idea: God calls men to be spiritual fathers who provide direction.

Verse eleven gives us the foundation: spiritual fatherhood is founded on the gospel and carries undeniable affection and authority. The goal of the gospel is conduct that matches the God who calls us into relationship with Himself. Paul wrote to the Galatians, in chapter four, verse nineteen, that the goal of all ministry is to conform us to the image of Christ.

Love and discipleship work together. Love is not permissive—it calls, it summons, it corrects, it demands. It is always moving the child toward maturity. This relationship between a spiritual father and a spiritual son always carries forward the deposit of sound teaching. Our goal is to produce faithful disciples who will, in turn, teach others also—this is what Paul lays out for Timothy in 2 Timothy 2:2.

God calls men to be spiritual fathers who provide direction. Notice the responsibility in verse twelve: “We exhorted each one of you and encouraged you and charged you to walk in a manner worthy of God who calls you into His own kingdom and glory.” Three things here.

First, he exhorts his children—the idea of calling them close: “Come, children.” He invites them, so that he can speak into them, encourage them toward a particular action. It’s the idea of providing comfort as they strive to walk worthy.

Second, he encourages his children—relating to them, speaking gently to one who is growing weary, getting discouraged, who doesn’t think they can continue, who feels like giving up. This is a father who comes alongside in that moment to encourage the fainthearted (see chapter five, verse fourteen).

Third, this father charges his children. This speaks of a solemn charge, insisting on something with the weight of witnesses—calling everyone together, giving the child a specific task, a specific duty, in the presence of witnesses. Exhorting and encouraging speak of coming alongside; but this word charge means to stand before them and issue a declaration with solemn reverence.

Picture a father with a young child, four or five years old, walking along a dangerous road—like any of the roads here in Zambia. What does he do? He comes alongside the child to exhort him, to guide him. He speaks gently when the child is dragging behind, feeling tired and weary. And he gives a sharp, firm word when the child drifts toward oncoming traffic.

That’s the idea here. That’s our responsibility. God calls men to be spiritual fathers who provide direction. These are the tasks of every father, every spiritual father, and they are all moving toward one overarching goal: spiritual maturity—that God’s children will walk worthy of the God who called them.

Conclusion

You see where Paul began just a few minutes ago? We have moved from motherly tenderness to fatherly instruction, and the whole focus is spiritual maturity—children growing into spiritual adults who will, in turn, pour their lives into others.

Men, we can father like this. Spiritually, within this congregation, every man here ought to strive to become this kind of spiritual father. And we can do it, because God is the Father who calls us into His own kingdom and glory (verse twelve), and because the Son of God secured our adoption as His sons and has put His Spirit in our hearts, whereby we cry, “Abba, Father.”

So what’s the point this morning? The tender heart, the toiling hands, and the charging voice—every part of a father’s labor points toward one goal: that his children will enjoy God forever. That’s what we’re after. We want to see our children as lovers of Jesus, as faithful servants of God.

You might be saying, “Well, I’ve heard you, Pastor Phil, but what do I do?” Christian men, we’re going to dismiss in about five minutes. Look around this room. Determine that before this year is over, you will pour your life into one person who is here—that you will look around and identify someone you will get close to, that you will intentionally seek to share your life with, that they might be formed into the image of Christ.

Young Christian, look around this room and find a man who will help you walk worthy. Go ask him. Approach one of these men: “Hey, would you be willing to meet up with me?”

Here is our goal: no fatherless children, no fatherless Christians in this church—not one. Some of us might not have had the benefit of an earthly father who set the right example for us, but there should never be, at Kitwe Church, anyone without a spiritual father who will set that example for them.

Closing Prayer

Father, I pray that we might be spiritual fathers like the Apostle Paul has challenged us to be. We thank You for Your call to spiritual fatherhood. I pray, dear God, that You might empower us to be men who minister with affection, men who set an example, and men who speak direction into the lives of others.

God, we thank You for every man in our church, every man here this morning. May this task of discipleship, this task of forming others into the image of Christ, begin at our own breakfast tables, in our own homes, for those of us who have a wife and children. But may it not be confined there—may it flow from that breakfast table, may it flow across our church, until we can gladly affirm that all of us together are walking worthy of the God who called us by His grace and made us into His children.

I pray, dear God, if there is anyone here this morning who does not know You as their Savior—who has never begun this journey, this relationship with You—who knows You as God but not as their personal Heavenly Father—I pray that today they would repent of their sins and receive the Lord Jesus as their Savior. And for those who are new to the faith, I pray that You would raise up men from this congregation who will come alongside to love, to set an example, and to speak words of encouragement, until we are all formed into the image of Christ. In His name we pray, amen.