Paul did not write “epistles” the way we picture them today, as polished theological documents meant to stand alone for centuries. He wrote letters. Real letters. Urgent ones. Sometimes corrective. Sometimes tender. Sometimes clearly written with a furrowed brow and a prayer muttered between sentences. The word epistle itself is a later label. In Paul’s own world, this was correspondence, part of an ongoing, very human conversation between a living teacher and living communities, much like a parent writing to children scattered across towns or a pastor writing to his flock to guide them in pressing matters of faith and daily life.
Most of the time, Paul did not even hold the pen. He dictated. Scripture itself tells us this plainly. Romans closes with a simple, almost throwaway line: “I Tertius, who wrote this letter, greet you in the Lord” (Romans 16:22). That single sentence opens a whole window into the process of writing. Paul spoke. Someone else wrote. Galatians confirms the same practice when Paul suddenly says, “See with what large letters I am writing to you with my own hand” (Galatians 6:11), which only makes sense if another hand had been doing the writing up to that point. Dictation was normal in the Greco-Roman world. It was efficient, practical, and very human.
And dictation is never sterile. Anyone who has ever dictated notes knows that speech flows differently than writing. Thoughts run long. Scripture pours out woven with memory, emotion, urgency, and care. A scribe (an amanuensis, like a secretary) had to keep up, choosing structure, spelling, and sometimes smoothing phrasing while faithfully preserving intent. This does not weaken inspiration. It shows how inspiration moved through real people, real mouths, and real hands. God’s Word works through human instruments, honoring their abilities, limitations, and care.
Once the letter was complete, it was folded, sealed, and handed to a messenger. Not a delivery service. A person. Often someone like Timothy or Titus, young men who knew Paul well, who had traveled with him, who had heard him teach these very communities face to face. In the ancient world, the messenger was part of the message itself, embodying the sender’s voice and character, carrying authority, warmth, and concern to the congregation.
Here’s something modern readers rarely stop to consider. Most people in those congregations could not read. Literacy rates were low, and letters were meant to be read aloud to the gathered assembly. Reading aloud in the ancient world was not flat or mechanical. It was interpretive. Tone, emphasis, pauses, volume, facial expression… all mattered. A gentle correction could sound sharp if read harshly. A rhetorical question could land like a command if voiced firmly. Once the letter was read, questions would erupt immediately:
“What did he mean by that?”
“Was he talking about us?”
“Is this instruction for everyone or just this situation?”
“Did he really say that?”
And this is where Timothy comes in. He didn’t just roll up the parchment and leave. He explained. He clarified. He answered questions from memory and his relationship with Paul. He knew how Paul spoke. He knew when Paul was firm and when he was pleading. He knew what Paul had taught in person that the letter only alluded to. This is why Paul could write to the Thessalonians, “We wanted to come to you, certainly I, Paul, did, but Satan hindered us” (1 Thessalonians 2:18). Paul’s intent was always relational and practical, not just doctrinal, and his messengers carried that nuance.
Scripture itself shows us this process. Paul repeatedly refers to reports coming back to him. “It has been reported to me…” (1 Corinthians 5:1) That means someone explained to Paul how his words had been received and understood. Corinthians especially reads like a long distance conversation over time, not a single drop of doctrine delivered in isolation. Follow up letters exist precisely because misunderstanding persisted. Time passed. Teaching spread. Habits formed. Paul then responds, sometimes sharply, not just to confusion, but to confusion that had been allowed to settle.
Distance mattered. There was no instant clarification. If a church misunderstood Paul, months or even a year could pass before he could respond. By then, misunderstandings had momentum. That helps explain why some passages feel urgent, emotional, or narrowly focused. They are addressing real problems in real time. Paul’s instructions were rooted in immediate circumstances (1 Corinthians 7:1-16, for example, addresses specific relational issues within the church).
And here is the key point that modern readers miss all too often. Paul assumed shared memory. He assumed his readers remembered how he lived among them, how he taught in person, how he balanced correction with mercy. He says this outright in several letters when he reminds them of “when I was with you” (1 Thessalonians 2:9-10; 2 Corinthians 1:8-10). He never imagined his letters would be separated from his life, stripped of that shared context, and treated as stand alone rule books two thousand years later.
That does not diminish Scripture. It honors it. Understanding this does not mean Paul was wrong. It means Paul was human, inspired, and working within God’s design, which always included living teachers alongside written words. The letters were never meant to replace explanation. They were meant to travel with it.
If Paul could sit down today and watch how some of his lines are isolated, he might well say, “That sentence was never meant to stand alone.” Not because Scripture fails, but because context was assumed. Then he would do exactly what he always did. Explain again. Clarify again. Teach again.
That is not adding to Scripture. That is restoring what was originally there: voice, situation, and humanity. God breathed through real lungs, real ink, real messengers, and real patience.
And this is why explanation matters. Teaching was never meant to stop at the page. The letters were seeds. Teachers were always part of the design. The Word was meant to travel through mouths and hands, hearts and minds, not merely to sit on a shelf.
And it wasn’t only Paul whose letters worked this way. Other apostles and leaders also wrote letters that assumed living context, relationships, and explanation.
Peter, for example, writes in 1 Peter 1:1-2 to believers scattered across Asia Minor, opening with, “To God’s elect… who are… chosen according to the foreknowledge of God the Father…” This shows that he knew exactly who he was addressing, and his words assumed they remembered previous teaching and their relationship with him. John writes in 1 John 2:12-14, reinforcing what the churches had already learned from him (John), including how to live in love and avoid sin. Like Paul, these letters were pastoral, situational, and relational.
Even James, in the opening of his letter, emphasizes understanding the trials of his readers: “Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds” (James 1:2). James isn’t giving abstract theology. He’s speaking to real people facing real problems, assuming they know each other and have a shared context.
The point is that letters in Scripture, whether from Paul or others, all moved through real human hands, voices, and situations. They weren’t intended to stand alone on a page, separated from community, context, and living explanation. Messengers, readers, and teachers were always part of the chain. The same principle applies whether you are reading Paul’s advice to Corinth, Peter’s encouragement to the scattered believers, or John’s warnings to the churches in Asia Minor, just to name a few. Each letter was a living conversation, reaching out to people who already had a relationship with the writer, who were still processing, learning, and applying God’s Word in the midst of their lives.
This helps us to understand why context, guidance, and pastoral teaching remain essential. Scripture is not a static instruction manual.It is meant to be shared and explained by living teachers within a community of faithful believers, so that God’s Word comes alive in the hearts of His people.