1 Thessalonians 2:1–12

Original Meaning

The Missionaries’ Reliance on and Responsibility to God (2:1–4)

VERSE 1 PICKS up the mention of the “visit” in 1:9a: Not only do the Thessalonians5 indeed know (the “yourselves” [omitted by NIV] after the opening “you” is emphatic) that the visit of Paul and his companions was not a “failure” (kene; i.e., “without results”6); they themselves are, in view of their conversion, the evidence of success. The rest of the section, however, focuses on the way in which Paul and his coworkers conducted themselves during that visit, rather than on its results.

For the “suffering” and “insults” (2:2) experienced in Philippi, see Acts 16:12–40. Despite the missionaries’ experiences in Philippi and despite encountering in Thessalonica “strong opposition” (in light of 1:6, the probable meaning here, rather than “exertion” or “anxiety”), “with God’s help” they courageously took the risk (“dared”) of speaking out freely and boldly.7

In 2:3 Paul reminds the Thessalonians that his “appeal” to them did not involve delusion (i.e., an “error” on Paul’s part), “impure motives” (akatharsia, used here, as in Rom. 6:19, in a general sense, without any specific implication of sexual misconduct), or trickery (a word that deals with how he preached)—a trio of words that reflect traditional charges against traveling charlatans of various sorts.8 To the contrary, he says in 2:4, nothing of the sort could have motivated the forthright behavior of Paul and his companions, especially in the face of such stiff opposition; only a sense of mission and purpose arising out of God’s approval and trust could have prompted such boldness. This means further that it is not human approval they seek, but God’s, for he is the one who ultimately “tests the heart.” That is, God is the one who has examined and approved them, and they are responsible to him, not (in contrast to conventional expectations) to the crowds whom they address (a point emphasized again in 2:6a).

Bridging Contexts

MODELING PRINCIPLES. In this and other letters, Paul explicitly calls his converts to imitate him (cf. 1 Cor. 4:16; 11:1; Phil. 3:17; 2 Thess. 3:7) or praises them for having done so (1 Thess. 1:6). In particular, he acknowledges that when he was in Thessalonica, he deliberately chose to act and live in a certain way “in order to make ourselves a model for you to follow” (2 Thess. 3:9). This passage (1 Thess. 2:1–12) is Paul’s description of how he chose to act and live in that city. In light of 2 Thessalonians 3:9, it is also, therefore, his own description of specific behaviors and attitudes he wanted his new Thessalonian converts to follow or imitate. Furthermore, there is no hint that his model was intended only for or limited to the Thessalonians, while there is evidence that he modeled essentially the same behaviors and attitudes elsewhere (see, e.g., 1 Cor. 9:3–18). Thus we have a clear indication that what he models in this passage is applicable not only to the Thessalonians, but to other Christians as well, including us.

In terms of the culture of his day, it was important for Paul to offer a model for his converts to follow. As Beverly Gaventa points out,

a wide variety of teachers in Paul’s day employed personal example and urged their students to conform to those examples…. Had Paul avoided the use of example and imitation, he might have appeared to his contemporaries as a person who knew himself unfit as a teacher.25

In reflecting on this matter, it is important to notice just what aspects or elements of his lifestyle Paul wanted the Thessalonians to imitate:

He does not praise the Thessalonians for wearing what Jesus wore or eating what Paul ate. He praises them for embodying in their own setting a response to the gospel that is consistent with Jesus’ own faithfulness and with the faith of their teachers.26

In other words, what Paul wants the Thessalonians to do is to respond to God and to other people as Jesus did (cf. Phil. 2:5, “Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus”), and as Paul tried to do as a disciple of Jesus.

So exactly what was it that Paul modeled for the Thessalonians? What attitudes and behaviors did he want them to imitate? I suggest that at least the following four stand out.

(1) Paul modeled a clear sense of priorities. Serving God faithfully was clearly Paul’s single most important priority. As he says in 2:4, “We are not trying to please men but God.” He knew that “no servant can serve two masters” (Luke 16:13). It was God, not someone else, who had called him to proclaim the gospel (Gal. 1:15–16), and it was therefore God to whom he owed his allegiance and who had first place among his priorities.

This sense of calling as an apostle of Christ (1 Thess. 2:6; cf. 1 Cor. 1:1; Gal. 1:1) explains (at least in part) why Paul continued to preach the gospel despite “strong opposition”: Proclaiming the gospel was the task that God had entrusted to him (1 Thess. 2:4a), and “it is required that those who have been given a trust must prove faithful” (1 Cor. 4:2). Moreover, it is God “who tests our hearts” (1 Thess. 2:4b; cf. 1 Cor. 4:3–5; 2 Cor. 5:10), not someone else. That is, Paul made it his priority to please God (1 Thess. 2:4; cf. 2 Cor. 5:9) as a servant of Christ (Gal. 1:10).

(2) Paul modeled a clear sense of concern for the integrity of the gospel. People in the ancient world were well acquainted with traveling hucksters, alleged miracle workers, and scam artists—smooth and persuasive talkers whose eloquence hid their main goals: to enhance their reputation by winning the adulation of the crowds and/or to line their own pockets. A thin veneer of religious or philosophical terminology was merely a “pretext for greed” (2:5). Public speaking in such a context was often little more than a sideshow characterized by fraud, flattery, impure motives, and trickery (2:3, 5).27

Precisely because of the widespread negative perceptions and deep suspicion of traveling preachers, Paul deliberately sought to conduct himself in a manner that (a) would not give an observer any reason whatsoever to stereotype him as just another fly-by-night huckster, and (b) more important, would not call into question in any way the truthfulness of the gospel he preached.

Paul did this in two ways. (a) He was careful about how he presented the gospel. His own statement to the Corinthians—“We have renounced secret and shameful ways; we do not use deception, nor do we distort the word of God. On the contrary, by setting forth the truth plainly we commend ourselves to every man’s conscience in the sight of God” (2 Cor. 4:2)—summarizes well his goal in this respect. He sought, in short, to proclaim the truth of the gospel truthfully.

(b) Paul was extremely careful with regard to financial matters. For one thing, he refused to take money from those whom he evangelized, lest they think he was somehow benefiting from what he preached. “Unlike so many, we do not peddle the word of God for profit” (2 Cor. 2:17). Instead, as he makes clear in this passage, he worked to support himself “in order not to be a burden to anyone while we preached the gospel of God” (1 Thess. 2:9). For another, when he later was involved in taking up a collection from Macedonia and Achaia for relief of believers in Judea (see 1 Cor. 16:1–4; 2 Cor. 8–9), he made sure that people from the congregations giving the money accompanied it to Jerusalem (1 Cor. 16:3; 2 Cor. 8:19; the delegates included two from Thessalonica, Aristarchus and Secundus, Acts 20:4). Not surprisingly, Paul did this in order “to avoid any criticism of the way we administer this liberal gift. For we are taking pains to do what is right, not only in the eyes of the Lord but also in the eyes of men” (2 Cor. 8:20–21).

As a result of Paul’s care for the integrity of the gospel, he was able to call both the Thessalonians and God as witnesses to “how holy, righteous and blameless” he was while in Thessalonica (2:10). More important, the Thessalonians accepted the gospel for what “it actually is, the word of God” (2:13). Paul’s behavior and conduct did not compromise or call into question the message he proclaimed.

(3) Paul modeled a clear sense of love and commitment to those to whom he ministered. The depth of Paul’s love for the Thessalonians is evident not only from his description (in 2:7–12) of the care and gentleness with which he encouraged and comforted them, but also from the sense of loss he felt when he was unexpectedly separated from them (2:17–3:5) and from the way in which his own sense of well-being was bound up with theirs (2:19–20; 3:7–8). That he loved and acted towards them as though they were his own children—which in a sense they were, since he had introduced them to Christ (cf. 1 Cor. 4:15)—is clear from his extensive use of parental images.

In the ancient world typically the mother nurtured the child, while the father was responsible for the child’s behavior, moral instruction, and socialization. Paul applies to himself both roles: Like a mother he has given birth (cf. Gal. 4:19, “my dear children, for whom I am again in the pains of childbirth until Christ is formed in you”) and nurtures them, and like a father he seeks to instruct and socialize them. (Actually, he seeks to resocialize them, so that they would no longer follow the social mores by which they were raised, but to live instead according to the standards of the Christian community into which God called them.)

Paul’s sense of commitment to the Thessalonians is evident from his repeated efforts to return to Thessalonica following his forced premature departure (2:17–3:1). Indeed, as he reminds them, he sought repeatedly to return to them. His lack of success in doing so was not due to any lack of effort on his part, but to the opposition of Satan (2:18).

On one level, it is hardly surprising that an evangelist sent by a loving God (1:4) to call people to a life of love (4:9–12) would model a loving and caring attitude toward his converts. In 2:8, however, there is a hint that Paul’s feelings for the Thessalonians may have developed more fully than he anticipated: “We loved you so much … because you had become so dear to us.” It appears that the hearts of not only the hearers but also the preachers were transformed. In any case, it is clear that Paul had a deep and genuine love for those to whom he ministered.

(4) Paul modeled a clear sense of the goal toward which he worked. The apostle’s goal in ministering to the Thessalonians was not to boost his own reputation or ego by winning their praise and/or approval (2:4, 6) or to flaunt his own authority over them (2:6b). Rather, it was to enable them “to live lives worthy of God, who calls [them] into his kingdom and glory” (2:12; cf. 3:13; 4:1; 4:7). In short, his goal was the well-being of others rather than the enhancement of his own status, reputation, or bank account.

Family imagery. Before leaving this section, we should say a word about Paul’s use of family imagery. For some believers, the loss of family relationships was part of the price of accepting the gospel (Matt. 10:34–36; Mark 10:29; 13:12–13; Luke 12:51–53; 1 Cor. 7:12–15). In this light Paul’s extensive use of parental and family images is significant. Through the use of such language he essentially portrays the congregation as a new family, whose relationships substitute for those that have been broken or lost.28

Not a few of those who come to the church today—as well as a disturbing percentage of those within the church—have lost or never experienced the genuine self-giving love characteristic of healthy family relationships. Thoughtful use of family images today (remembering, of course, that for those who have experienced an abusive situation, paternal or maternal imagery may not carry positive connotation), when coupled with the kind of love and commitment Paul demonstrated toward the Thessalonians, opens up another direction for applying this passage.

Contemporary Significance

THE FOUR POINTS Paul modeled for the Thessalonians as he ministered to them offer important models and/or reminders for anyone or any group involved in ministry, as well as for individual believers in general.

Goals and Priorities. The need for “goals and priorities” is widely discussed today in Christian and secular books and seminars of all sorts. They are, for example, the second and third items discussed in Stephen Covey’s best-selling book, The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People.29 But the fact that the terms have become trendy clichés does not diminish their importance. Most of us learn early on that life is a series of choices, some of which will irrevocably shape the course of the rest of our life. In contrast to the ads that claim that “we can have it all,” most of us find life to be more like the 1960s’ hit song by the Lovin’ Spoonful, “Did You Ever Have to Make Up Your Mind?” The lyrics of the first verse go like this:

Did you ever have to make up your mind?

To pick up on one, and leave the other behind?

It’s not often easy, and not often kind,

Did you ever have to make up your mind?

Indeed, as the song suggests, a key part of growing up is learning that life requires choices.

For some people making choices seems easy, while others are virtually paralyzed by the prospect of having to choose. The difference often (but not always, of course) is a matter of whether or not a person has a clear sense of goals and priorities. As a college professor, one of my responsibilities is advising students. I find that one of the most frustrating things for many of them, especially the freshmen, is making choices. Apart from simply being overwhelmed by the number of choices they face as they enter college, many of them find it difficult to choose simply because they haven’t yet sorted out their goals and priorities in life, and therefore lack criteria by which to make choices. By the time most are juniors, academic decisions have become pretty routine because by then they have focused on a major and so forth, and they have some clear criteria by which to make choices.

Goals and priorities not only help us make choices; they also provide a yardstick by which to evaluate. With respect to many of the programs we are involved in or which our churches offer, we may need to ask: Why are we offering this program, or why are we involved in this activity? What are we trying to accomplish or achieve? Too often programs that once started with a clear goal continue on because of inertia, or “just because that’s the way we’ve always done things.” Clear goals can help us assess and perhaps redirect our efforts.

One church I attended while in seminary drew its membership from a large geographic area. Participation levels on Sundays were high, but attendance at the traditional Wednesday night prayer meeting at church was very low. One reason was that the distance people lived from the church made it difficult to gather there in the early evening during the week. When the church leadership began to evaluate the situation, one of the first questions they asked was: What was the goal for Wednesday night activities? The answer: to provide opportunities for mid-week prayer, fellowship, and spiritual refreshment. Clearly the poorly-attended activities scheduled at the church were not achieving these goals. So they took the “radical” step of canceling all Wednesday activities at the church and, instead, offered prayer and Bible study opportunities at four strategically located homes. As a result, involvement in Wednesday night programs nearly tripled.

In short, Paul’s example (cf. points 1 and 4 in Bridging Contexts) ought to prompt us to reflect on our own goals and priorities, especially the “big ones.” What, for example, do I really want to do with my life? What am I doing with my life? What is it that I really value in life? Is serving Jesus and living faithfully in accordance with the gospel really the most important thing for me? Or am I really most committed to accumulating a big enough nest egg so that I can retire by a certain age, or some similar goal? Am I (perhaps without realizing it) trying to serve two masters at the same time? What do my activities say about my priorities? These are the kind of questions that Paul’s example prompts us to ask.

Integrity. A Christian talk show host solicits money for a specific purpose but diverts it to others. A nationally known evangelist who preaches often about sexual morality is discovered to have a long-term relationship with a prostitute. A Christian entrepreneur (and former candidate for highest office), who promised investors in his communications empire that everyone would profit equally if part of the business were to be sold, is reported in the secular business press to be negotiating a sale in which he would receive a considerably higher price for his stock than other investors. A Christian fund-raising organization that promises high returns on investments by nonprofit groups turns out to be, when it collapses and leaves them buried in losses, a pyramid scheme. An investigation reveals that an evangelist/healer who claims to receive messages from God about people in his audience is actually being fed information by a colleague in a control room via a radio transmitter. And so on, and so on.

What these examples have in common is a lack of integrity. The people involved in these incidents all said one thing and did something else. In contrast to the familiar saying, “practice what you preach,” these people “preached” one thing and “practiced” another. They “talked the talk,” but they didn’t “walk the walk”; there was a lack of coherence between what they claimed and how they acted. In short, they lacked integrity.

The negative consequences of this kind of “unintegral” behavior hardly need to be spelled out. We’ve become much too well acquainted with the damage inflicted on the cause of Christ by scandals involving the idols of money, sex, and power. That the topic of TV evangelists is a surefire source of humor and ridicule on late night talk shows is some indication of the dimension of the problem. But we are also familiar with the goodwill earned by those who with faith and discipline have worked hard to live with integrity for the sake of the gospel. We need only contrast the positive impact and image of a Billy Graham, or a Mother Theresa, or former President Jimmy and Rosalynn Carter with any of the well-known causes of scandal whose names are not worthy of mention in the same sentence.

A key point to observe about Graham’s reputation for integrity is that it did not happen by accident. The story of how at the beginning of his ministry Graham and his team took deliberate action and established firm guidelines (such as never being alone in a room with a woman other than his wife) to forestall accusations against him is well known. This idea of integrity involving deliberate effort fits in closely with the definition of integrity offered by Stephen L. Carter:

Integrity, as I will use the term, requires three steps: (1) discerning what is right and what is wrong; (2) acting on what you have discerned, even at personal cost; and (3) saying openly that you are acting on your understanding of right from wrong. The first criterion captures the idea of integrity as requiring a degree of moral reflectiveness. The second brings in the ideal of an integral person as steadfast, which includes the sense of keeping commitments. The third reminds us that a person of integrity is unashamed of doing the right.30

In other words, integrity is not something that happens by accident. It involves the hard work of discerning what is right and of learning right from wrong, and then living out—consistently—what has been discerned. It is, to phrase it differently, not just a matter of ethical insight or instruction, but of discipline as well. The subtitle of Richard Foster’s famous book on money, sex, and power catches it exactly right: In seeking to live with integrity, we confront “the challenge of the disciplined life.”31 And that may be why, apart from a personal unwillingness to pay the costs sometimes associated with integrity, so many of us find integrity a hard thing to achieve: We lack the discipline to do what we say. We find it much easier to talk a good game than to walk one.

The difficulty of living with integrity may explain why we as a society tend to downplay its importance. Stephen Carter goes so far as to assert that in contemporary culture “what matters is not veracity but verisimilitude; it is less important for something to be true than for it to seem to be true.”32 Such an approach may work in the short run, but over the long haul it is an approach destined for failure. In real life it is difficult (as Paul well knew) to separate the message from the messenger. If we do not trust the messenger, we are unlikely to believe the message. Paul’s example reminds us of the fundamental importance of integrity on the part of all of us who have been entrusted by God with the gospel of Jesus Christ (cf. 2:4).

Love and commitment. Among the more subtle hazards faced by those engaged in ministry is a temptation (often unconscious) to meet personal needs by ministering to others, or to do things for people in order to win their approval or get them to like us. We are glad to serve or minister to others as long as we somehow benefit from it, or as long as it doesn’t place too great a strain on our precious time, energy, and/or money. We greatly admire and honor people like Mother Theresa, but manage somehow to avoid following her example. The human heart being what it is (“deceitful above all things,” Jer. 17:9), even when we do something genuinely helpful or loving for someone else, we are not unaware of how we might personally benefit, if only in terms of reputation (Did I go out of my way to help that student in the library because I secretly knew others would observe me being helpful?). Moreover, not only are we experientially familiar with the concept of “fair weather friends,” we probably have been one. In short, when it comes to genuine, other-directed love, our “preaching” is often better than our “practice.”

There are some broad categories of exceptions, to be sure—family and close friends, for example. The willingness of parents to sacrifice for their offspring, the tenderness and patience with which an adult child will care for an aging parent, or the friend who is there without question or hesitation are familiar to most of us. But even in cases such as these there are no guarantees, and as a culture an increasing number of us have neither experienced self-giving love nor even observed it in action.

Why is this? Because ours is a self-centered age, and true love is sacrificial. As Bill Hybels observes, “Tell me how to show love without spending time, energy or money, and I will gladly sign up. Tell me that love means sacrifice, however, and I become reluctant to commit myself.”33 Apart from the self-centeredness characteristic of our fallen human nature, so overwhelming are the cultural messages to look out first and foremost for our own interests and to seek first our own happiness that we are reluctant to commit to helping others without fully knowing the cost or limits in advance. The risk to our own interests if we do otherwise, we have been persuaded, is simply too great. We have even convinced ourselves that we can help others be happy only when we are happy. But as Stephen Carter observes, the “trendy contemporary philosophy that we can make others happy only when we are happy ourselves is too often a smokescreen for the pursuit of self interest.”34

In an age so committed to self-interest, Paul’s example of committed, costly love for others is pointedly countercultural. In deciding how to spend his time, he did not think first of his own needs or rights, but those of the Thessalonians. For their sake and because of his love for them, he was willing to endure “toil and hardship” (2:9) and to share with them not only the gospel but his life (2:8). In doing this he was, of course, simply following the model of Jesus, who put a priority on giving rather than getting, on serving rather than being served, on loving rather than being loved.

The irony in this is that in giving of himself for the sake of others, Paul found happiness and satisfaction for himself. Indeed, if 2:8 is any indication, Paul seems a bit overwhelmed by the extent to which the relationship with the Thessalonians developed; in loving others he seems to have received back more than he could have imagined. In so doing, he proved the truth of what Jesus taught when he said, “Whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will save it” (Luke 9:24 NIV [adapted]). Even some therapists have recognized the principle Paul modeled. Karl Menninger, the well-known psychiatrist, is reported to have said, in answering a question about advice for a person suffering from depression, “Lock up your house, go across the railway tracks, find someone in need and do something to help that person.” How different would our churches be if we focused more on meeting the needs of others and less on our own?35

Original Meaning

The Missionaries’ Behavior Toward and Care for the Thessalonians (2:5–8)

IN 2:5–8 PAUL extends and develops the point made in 2:4. In approaching these verses, it is important to observe that he sets up a fundamental contrast that dominates the entire passage: (2:5) “we never came … (2:7) but instead we became” (NIV, “we never used … but we were”). That is, the fundamental structure of these verses involves a contrast between the three negative characteristics (flattery, greed, praise) listed in 2:5–6a (which Paul avoided) and the three positive qualities (gentle, caring, loving) described in 2:7–8 (which Paul modeled).

Paul begins 2:5 by once again calling on the Thessalonians to verify the missionaries’ claims: They obviously were not seeking human approval, since (1) they avoided the use of flattery (kolakeia, a well-known term for a practice despised as much as “boldness” was valued, and which is occasionally connected with financial gain), (2) nor were they seeking to promote their own financial self-interest (“greed,” pleonexia, which Col. 3:5 labels idolatry), (3) nor were they “looking for”9 fame or honor (“praise,” doxa, 2:6a). The context of all three of these terms is popular rhetoric, especially that of hucksters or entertainers seeking their own benefit, in contrast to true philosophers, who sought the moral improvement of their audiences. Behind this concern over means and motives is Paul’s obvious concern for the integrity of the message. He deliberately avoided behavior or actions that might lead people to doubt or suspect the integrity of the message or the sincerity of his preaching.

In fact, so concerned was Paul to avoid any hint of financial self-interest that could compromise the gospel that he took an additional precaution. As an apostle he had a right to be supported in his ministry (1 Cor. 9:3–18). But for the sake of the integrity of the message and for the sake of the Thessalonians, he voluntarily gave up that right. This is the point of 2:6b (“As apostles of Christ we could have been a burden to you”).10 The phrase translated “be a burden” (NRSV “make demands”) can indicate either financial matters (cf. 2:5, “greed”) or a matter involving authority or recognition (cf. 2:6a, “praise”). Since receiving financial support would imply recognition of one’s apostolic status, it seems likely that Paul has both nuances in mind. His basic point is clear: Although as apostles11 they could have made demands or imposed their authority, they chose not to do so.

Having spelled out in 2:5–6 the behaviors he and his companions avoided, Paul goes on to describe in 2:7–8 how they did behave: They were gentle, caring, and loving. As the language of 2:5–6a reflects commonplace rhetorical terminology, so does also 2:7–8. For example, some prominent Cynics of Paul’s day stressed the need for those who spoke “boldly” (cf. 2:2) to exercise “gentleness” as well,12 and philosophers used the nurse metaphor to suggest how one ought to care for those being taught.13 Paul thus casts not only his negative but also his positive points in terms familiar to people well acquainted with the popular rhetoric of the day.

In contrast to whatever way Paul and his companions might otherwise have chosen to act towards the Thessalonians, Paul says they were first of all “gentle.”14 He then indicates what he means by this with the use of a maternal metaphor (cf. Gal. 4:19), that of a nurse. This was a metaphor with strong positive overtones; ancient writers with few exceptions portrayed a nurse as kind and generous. “This suggests that Paul’s metaphorical use of the nurse would conjure up in the minds of his audience an important and beloved figure. Whatever the social status of the Thessalonian Christians, they could understand this reference to an important social relationship—one proximate to kinship itself.”15 In this instance, Paul compares himself to a nurse who is also a mother: While competently caring for the offspring of others, she especially nurtures and cherishes her own children.16

Verse 8 further develops this image of love and tender concern. So strong was Paul’s (and his companions’) affection (a rare verb, homeiromenoi; cf. Job 3:21 LXX) for the Thessalonians that they freely chose (NIV “were delighted,” or “gladly decided”) to share with them not only the message they had been commissioned to deliver, but also themselves—because, as things turned out, the Thessalonians had become “so dear” (i.e., agapetoi, “beloved”) both to God (cf. 1:4) and to Paul, Silas, and Timothy. The apparent parallelism between 2:7–9 (as a nurse fulfills her duty by caring for others and goes beyond duty in cherishing her own, so the missionaries fulfill their obligations by sharing the gospel and go beyond obligation by sharing themselves17) suggests that the development of such deep affection was perhaps unexpected, though certainly welcome. That is, it is not clear that the formation of such deep personal friendships was part of the missionaries’ original strategy. If so, then we get a glimpse here of how preaching the gospel transformed not only the hearers but also the preachers.

To summarize 2:5–8: In contrast to charlatans and entertainers, who sought in some way either to fill their own pockets or to enhance their public renown, and despite having, as an apostle of Christ, certain “rights” that he could have insisted the Thessalonians recognize (cf. 1 Cor. 9:3–18), Paul deliberately adopted a different strategy of ministry in Thessalonica. For the sake of the gospel, he avoided behaviors that could call into question the integrity of the gospel. On the one hand, their speech was bold and forceful; on the other hand, their actions were characterized by gentleness and care and motivated by love.