The Doorframe in the Hallway

Marcus Thompson still lives in the same house on Elm Street in Decatur, Georgia, where he raised his three children. If you walk past the kitchen toward the back bedroom, you'll notice the doorframe covered in pencil marks — dozens of horizontal lines with names and dates scrawled beside them. Maya, age 4. Elijah, age 7. Deshawn, September 2009. The lowest marks barely clear two feet. The highest ones stretch above Marcus's own shoulder.

His children are grown now. Maya teaches in Nashville. Elijah pastors a small church in Savannah. Deshawn is finishing nursing school in Atlanta. They are scattered, busy, building lives of their own. But every single morning, Marcus stands in that hallway with his coffee and runs his finger along those pencil lines, and he prays. Not short prayers either. He prays that Maya's compassion for her students would deepen. He prays that Elijah's faith would outpace his doubts. He prays that Deshawn would find the kind of love that makes him braver.

He doesn't pray for them to stop growing. He prays for more.

That is exactly the heart of Paul in 1 Thessalonians 3. Separated from the church he loved, overflowing with gratitude for their faith, Paul cannot stop himself from praying — not that they have arrived, but that the Lord would make their love increase and overflow still more, strengthening their hearts in holiness until Christ returns.