A headline went by this week making the case that churches shouldn't quietly retire the title reverend. October is Pastor Appreciation Month, so the piece had a reason to exist. I'll leave the argument about titles to people who enjoy arguing about titles. What caught me was the thing sitting underneath it — a question about whether we still know how to honor people out loud, or whether we've decided that feeling grateful is close enough.
Paul asked for this on purpose
There's a line near the end of Paul's first letter to the Thessalonians that most of us read past on our way to the famous verses about rejoicing and praying. "Now we ask you, brothers and sisters, to acknowledge those who work hard among you, who care for you in the Lord and who admonish you. Hold them in the highest regard in love because of their work. Live in peace with each other" (1 Thessalonians 5:12-13).
Notice who he's writing to. Thessalonica was a brand-new church, maybe months old. These people were not seasoned. They had no committees, no building, no history. And one of the first instructions Paul hands them is: know the people who are pouring themselves out for you, and say so. That word "acknowledge" carries the sense of actually recognizing someone — not nodding at them in a hallway, but knowing what it costs them.
Paul also tells them why the honor is owed: "because of their work." Not because of a credential, a platform, or a title on a sign. Because of the hours. That keeps the whole thing from turning into flattery.
The thank-you we assume is obvious
Here is something you learn fast when you lead people, whether that's in a church or in a business: the encouragement you thought about sending helps exactly no one. I have had a sentence of thanks sitting in my head for a week, fully composed, never delivered, and been genuinely surprised to realize the other person never received a word of it. We assume gratitude is understood. It almost never is. People who serve quietly tend to be the last to know they matter.
And the people who need to hear it are rarely only the ones with titles. Think about who has actually carried the word of God to you. Maybe it's a youth leader who kept showing up for a kid who gave her nothing back for two years. A worship team member who is at the building at 8am on a Sunday so the room is ready at 10:30. Somebody who prayed over you once, hand on your shoulder, when you could not pray for yourself — and who probably has no idea that prayer is still working in you. That person can be reached. You have their number.
Honor without a pedestal
Let's be honest about the other ditch. Churches have gotten this wrong in both directions: some have scrubbed away every form of honor until no one is ever thanked, and some have built pedestals so high that the person standing on one couldn't admit a struggle if his life depended on it. Paul's version has neither problem. Hold them in highest regard in love, he says, and then immediately: live in peace with each other. Honor flows sideways in a healthy church, not just upward. It isn't a ranking. It's a family noticing each other.
And then pray
Thirteen verses later, Paul adds the shortest request in the letter: "Brothers and sisters, pray for us" (1 Thessalonians 5:25). The man who planted the church still needed the church to pray for him. Appreciation that stops at a card is nice. Appreciation that turns into intercession is a different kind of gift, because it brings the Holy Spirit into the room on that person's behalf — and the Spirit is still the one who strengthens, convicts, heals and sustains people right now, not only in the book of Acts.
If the Spirit drops a name on your heart as you read this, don't file it. That's not a random thought; that's an assignment. Pray it, then send the text. And if you want company in it, our Prayer gathering is Tuesday, October 27 at 11am — bring the names with you. Ten minutes of somebody's name lifted up out loud has a way of changing something you can't see.
Some of you can't summon much gratitude for a leader, because a leader is where the wound came from. I'm not going to talk you out of that, and you're not less welcome here for carrying it. But hear this: every shepherd worth the name is pointing past himself. "And when the Chief Shepherd appears, you will receive the crown of glory that will never fade away" (1 Peter 5:4). Christ has never once mishandled you. He knows the hours you've given that nobody counted. He is not waiting for October to notice.
Join us this Sunday at 10:30am — Outpouring Worship Center, Ravenna.