For Paul, his apostolic ministry truly was not simply the chief work of his life, but life itself. In this, however, there was nothing surprising, if we remember what the life of a Christian in general and the life of an apostle in particular are.

The life of every Christian becomes witness from the very moment he becomes a Christian. Strictly speaking, it cannot be otherwise: a Christian is a person of the Kingdom, and it is impossible to live in the Kingdom and hide it. But the ministry of an apostle consists in the fact that he is not only a person of the Kingdom, but also a person of the Church. Of course, this can be said of every Christian, but the chief and only task of an apostle is precisely the building up of the Church as the body of Christ. And such a task is inseparable from constant communication with the people who came into the Church through you. This, as we can see, is what Paul does throughout his life. He does not stay anywhere for long, because the task of an apostle is not the task of the one who presides over a church assembly or of a church administrator; the task of an apostle is spiritual support for individual people and church communities that need such support.

At the same time, the ministry of an apostle is also a visible manifestation of the unity of the Church, not only at the level of a particular church community, but also at the level of the Church as a whole. As is known, in the earliest Christian period, as also in the early Christian period, the Church was a community movement and managed quite well without a rigid centralized structure. In the earliest Christian period, the Church had a council of elders, or presbyters, which handled church-wide matters. But the connection between separate church communities at the grassroots level was carried out precisely by the apostles. Strictly speaking, the Church, for example at the first council in the history of the Church, was represented by apostles and presbyters: the former as people who knew the church situation, as people say, firsthand, and the latter as the most authoritative representatives of church communities. It is no accident that Paul speaks of his desire someday to come to his fellow believers and bring their faith to fullness: for an apostle this was the most natural task. This is how the early Christian Church lived, relying not on structures created by human beings, but on ministers sent by God, who helped it remain the body of Christ.

Addressing his Thessalonian brothers, Paul writes to them that he rejoices in the steadfastness with which they endure the persecutions and harassment that have fallen to their lot (vv. 5-8). Of course, only a masochist can rejoice in sufferings as such. And the apostle, of course, is not glad that he himself or his brothers suffer. For him, sufferings for the faith are simply a sign that Christians remain Christians, not betraying their calling. Of course, Christians suffer not because they themselves seek conflicts or trouble. The issue lies elsewhere, namely in that incompatibility of the Kingdom with the untransformed world about which the Savior Himself warned His disciples, and Paul warned those to whom he preached Christ and the Kingdom (vv. 1-4). This incompatibility becomes the source of the conflict that the apostle repeatedly mentioned in his letter to the Thessalonian church.

As for joy, persecuted Christians rejoice, of course, not in being right as such, although from the standpoint of both the Torah and God's truth they are certainly right before their persecutors. But the feeling of being right in itself rarely gives rise to joy in the persecuted; it can give firmness, confidence in the correctness of one's own position, even strength to endure sufferings, but the feeling of being right usually does not add joy as such. The most it allows one to experience is satisfaction that one's duty has been fulfilled and that the one fulfilling it has become neither a traitor nor an apostate.

For joy, something more is needed. Christians have it: it is that same Kingdom which the Savior brought into the world and which everyone who has shared in the new life senses as the undoubted and true reality of his own existence even when, at first glance, there is and can be no place for it in the life of a persecuted sufferer. That is why Paul (and after him many other witnesses) regarded joy during persecutions and harassment as an undoubted sign of full Christian life. Steadfastness and calmness of spirit during persecutions have at all times been characteristic of far more than Christians alone. But the joy of the Kingdom in such a situation could belong only to those who have shared in it - Christians living in the Kingdom.

The church in Thessalonica was undergoing quite serious persecutions, which became known to other churches as well. That is why Paul hastens to support the Thessalonian brothers, reminding them that for a Christian in the fallen world persecution is something inevitable and, in general, normal. Of course, persecution is not always meant in the literal sense, as, judging by the apostle's words, it was in Thessalonica, but rejection always takes place, both on the part of secular people, "Gentiles," and on the part of religious people, "Jews." The Savior Himself warned His followers about this during His earthly ministry.

And the issue here is often not some special malice on the part of the persecutors, though that too happens, but simply the incommensurability and incomparability of the Kingdom and the fallen world. And not because this world is natural, but because it is fallen. The issue is not nature as such, but the fact that people to whom God offered another law and another way of existing in His world chose life according to the law of nature, a law intended not for man but for the animal kingdom.

But man cannot by definition become a normal animal; he can become only a human being who does not answer to his own divine calling and divine definition, which is far worse. In such a state every manifestation of the Kingdom objectively becomes destructive for him, if not for his outward life, then certainly for his inner life. The very fact that there exists in the world an alternative to the laws of the natural world, which fallen man considers his own because he senses himself primarily as an animal, already deprives man of peace.

The world must be one; it must live according to one set of laws; there is and must be no alternative to the existing order. This is how man understands the natural totality of the natural world, which animals feel instinctively and within which they live, without, of course, any reflection and without any discomfort, from which man cannot free himself no matter how much he wants to.

Of course, thinking about the existing order of things is in itself a purely human property connected with man's spiritual principle, but fallen man does not much like to do this precisely because he does not want at all to remember himself as a spiritual being. Culture, and especially religion, may sometimes remind him who he really is, but here everything is still not so unambiguous: something can be understood in one's own way, something can simply be ignored, since all culture and even religion still belong to the fallen world. But the manifestation of the Kingdom is an entirely different matter. It clearly and distinctly manifests its otherworldliness.

The alternative becomes obvious, intensifying anxiety and the desire to make it either not exist at all or at least not be so noticeable. Hence the inevitability of rejection of Christ and the Kingdom, and therefore of Christians, if they remain Christians not only in name. Sometimes such rejection remains within the bounds of propriety, but it can also go beyond them, especially when there are many witnesses and the light of the Kingdom shines brighter than usual. This was the situation in which the Thessalonian church found itself, and Paul supports it in his letter: persecutions are precisely what show that the Thessalonian Christians' witness is in order.