"All Truth is God's Truth"

All lies are the devil's lies.

Pigeons and Robbers

Mark 11:15-19 (ESV) 

¹⁵And they came to Jerusalem. And he entered the temple and began to drive out those who sold and those who bought in the temple, and he overturned the tables of the money-changers and the seats of those who sold pigeons. ¹⁶ And he would not allow anyone to carry anything through the temple. ¹⁷ And he was teaching them and saying to them, “Is it not written, ‘My house shall be called a house of prayer for all the nations’? But you have made it a den of robbers.” ¹⁸ And the chief priests and the scribes heard it and were seeking a way to destroy him, for they feared him, because all the crowd was astonished at his teaching. ¹⁹And when evening came they went out of the city.

It's always shocking to discover that you've been interpreting a certain passage of scripture incorrectly your entire life. I recently had that happen as I was preparing a Bible study on Mark 11 for my youth group. In the passage in question, Jesus makes his triumphal entry into Jerusalem and the next morning comes to visit the temple. He sees the temple activities and starts knocking over tables and making a general mess of things.

This passage naturally evokes the question of Jesus's purposes and intentions. What do his actions mean? Why does he do this? The standard answer, which I've heard my entire life, asserts that he is upset because the people are conducting business inside the temple courts. My own dear father first gave me this interpretation when I wanted to sell some fundraising items to church members after the service. "Remember what Jesus did when they were selling in the temple?" At first glance, this interpretation seems quite plausible.  After all, Jesus calls the temple a "house of prayer," not a place of business. Indeed, one of my initial discussion questions for my students was, "What does this passage have to say about having a coffee shop or bookstore inside a church?"

However, I think this interpretation suffers from a number of problems. First, the people needed to perform the money changing transaction. Exodus 30:13-14 states that every Jewish male has to pay a temple tax. If Roman money pictured Roman Caesars, it would be considered profane to pay the sacred tax with such currency. So the people needed to exchange their Roman money for Jewish money before they could worship God as he himself required.

Second, and similarly, the people needed to purchase animals for their sacrifices. If one could not afford to give the prescribed sheep, he could purchase turtledoves or pigeons instead (Lev. 5:7). Jesus own parents had to take advantage of that legal concession (Lk. 2:24). The sale of pigeons was vital for the operations of the temple system. Why would Jesus be trying to stop the pious from worshiping God as the law commanded?

In light of these problems, the standard view  is sometimes nuanced with the assertion that the salesmen are taking advantage of the poor. The money changers and pigeon traders are making an inordinate profit, essentially stealing from God's people. This interpretation also makes sense at first: Jesus calls the temple a "den of robbers."

Again, this slightly more nuanced view suffers from two problems, the first of which is that Jesus drove out "those who bought" (Mk. 11:15). Why would he forcibly remove the innocent people trying to follow the law to the best of their ability?

Second, Mark records that the people were astonished, and specifically astonished at his teaching. The people are often astonished in the gospels, and it invariably follows Jesus saying or doing something miraculous or shocking. In this case, they were not astonished specifically by what he did, but by what he taught. If his "teaching" was simply that the merchants were abusing the system to their own advantage, the reaction would be a polite disinterest: it is common knowledge. If they really were being oppressed by the greedy money-changers, would they not be rejoicing or celebrating?

I think Jesus is doing something much deeper here than merely liberating the people from financial oppression. He is making a greater point about the temporary and fulfilled purpose of the temple and the kingdom he has come to inaugurate.*

Jesus interprets his own actions inside the temple by alluding to two Old Testament passages: one from Isaiah 56, the other from Jeremiah 7. I've reproduced Isaiah 56:3a, 6-8 below:

          3  Let not the foreigner who has joined himself to the LORD say,

      “The LORD will surely separate me from his people”;

…….

     6 “And the foreigners who join themselves to the LORD,

      to minister to him, to love the name of the LORD,

      and to be his servants,

                  everyone who keeps the Sabbath and does not profane it,

      and holds fast my covenant—

            7      these I will bring to my holy mountain,

      and make them joyful in my house of prayer;

                  their burnt offerings and their sacrifices

      will be accepted on my altar;

                  for my house shall be called a house of prayer

      for all peoples.”

            8      The Lord GOD,

      who gathers the outcasts of Israel, declares,

                  “I will gather yet others to him

      besides those already gathered.”

The Lord proclaims through Isaiah that there will be a time when the foreigners, the gentiles, would no longer be separated from him and his people (v. 3).  Relationship with God is open to all who follow his law, who keep the terms of his covenant. God declares to gather into Israel even those who are not part of Israel (v. 8)

Jesus's specific quotation from verse 7 indicates that he is upset that the temple is a form of exclusion. Contra the standard interpretation, he is not so much reminding the people that the temple is for prayer, but that it is for all people. By law, only Jews could enter and worship in the temple proper. In the coming Kingdom of God, this exclusion is no longer how God operates with his people. The temple, as a bastion of ethnic Jewish pride, must go.

Jesus's second allusion, "den of robbers," is to Jeremiah 7:

The word that came to Jeremiah from the LORD: 2 “Stand in the gate of the LORD’s house, and proclaim there this word, and say, Hear the word of the LORD, all you men of Judah who enter these gates to worship the LORD. 3 Thus says the LORD of hosts, the God of Israel: Amend your ways and your deeds, and I will let you dwell in this place. 4 Do not trust in these deceptive words: ‘This is the temple of the LORD, the temple of the LORD, the temple of the LORD.’

5 “For if you truly amend your ways and your deeds, if you truly execute justice one with another, 6 if you do not oppress the sojourner, the fatherless, or the widow, or shed innocent blood in this place, and if you do not go after other gods to your own harm, 7 then I will let you dwell in this place, in the land that I gave of old to your fathers forever.

8 “Behold, you trust in deceptive words to no avail. 9 Will you steal, murder, commit adultery, swear falsely, make offerings to Baal, and go after other gods that you have not known, 10 and then come and stand before me in this house, which is called by my name, and say, ‘We are delivered!’—only to go on doing all these abominations? 11 Has this house, which is called by my name, become a den of robbers in your eyes? Behold, I myself have seen it, declares the LORD. 12 Go now to my place that was in Shiloh, where I made my name dwell at first, and see what I did to it because of the evil of my people Israel. 13 And now, because you have done all these things, declares the LORD, and when I spoke to you persistently you did not listen, and when I called you, you did not answer, 14 therefore I will do to the house that is called by my name, and in which you trust, and to the place that I gave to you and to your fathers, as I did to Shiloh. 15 And I will cast you out of my sight, as I cast out all your kinsmen, all the offspring of Ephraim.

In this passage, certain men of Judah do wicked deeds and then trust in the deceptive thought that being in the temple of the Lord will save them from judgment. Repeating the mantra, "the Temple of the LORD" will not rescue them from divine justice. The Lord has seen it.

What then is a den of robbers? In verse 10, Jeremiah rebukes those men for doing many "abominations" and breaking pretty much every one of the Ten Commandments. In 11-14, he's basically saying, "you've done all this wickedness, and now you try to hide out in my temple, turning it into a den of robbers? It doesn’t matter. I have seen what you've done. And I will destroy it just like I destroyed Shiloh."

In Jeremiah, the den of robbers is not the place where the robbers do their robbing. It is the place where the robbers hide out from justice: it is a hideout. Jesus imports this context into his actions. The scribes, chief priests, and Pharisees have the faulty thought that they can do whatever they want, then offer the sacrifices according to the Law of Moses and everything will be alright. As Dr. David E. Garland put it, "The leaders of the people think that they can rob widows' houses and then perform the prescribed sacrifices according to the prescribed patterns at the prescribed times in the prescribed purity in the prescribed sacred space and then be safe and secure from all alarms. They are wrong"*

So what exactly is Jesus advocating? Jesus is following in a long history of prophets symbolically acting out their message, much like Jeremiah (see Jer. 27) and Ezekiel (see Ezk. 3) did quite often. He is proclaiming nothing shorter than the end of the temple system, the end of the sinner's hideout, as Jeremiah proclaimed in Jer. 7:14. The temple and its sacrifices were meant as a temporary means of worship and pointed to a greater reality. Jesus himself is that greater reality, and therefore predicts that the temple will be brought to an end. This is the teaching which astonished the people and led to his crucifixion (Mk. 11:18). If Jesus simply meant clean the temple, as the standard interpretation asserts, his actions would have disrupted their activities for what, an hour? Jesus is instead teaching a greater reality: the full destruction of the temple, which would come some 30 years later in 70AD.

This interpretation is confirmed by comparing it to the framing story (Mk. 11:12-14, 20-25) of Jesus cursing the fig tree, which was a common OT image for Israel (Jer. 8:13; Hosea 9:10, 16; Micah 7:1). From a distance, the tree appeared to have fruit. When Jesus saw its barrenness, he cursed it, and it withered into nothing. From a distance, the temple seemed to be full of worship, but like the fig tree, it was barren in the true fruit of faith and piety. The sacrifices are being offered, yes, but the Lord had long declared that he did not delight in sacrifices alone, but the heart of faith and obedience. (Ps. 51:16-17, 1 Sam. 15:22). As a result, Jesus effectively cursed it, and it would soon wither away into nothing. What happened to the fig tree would soon happen to the temple.

Jesus himself brings this out when he answers John's question about the fig tree (Mk. 11:22-25). He says simply, "Have faith in God. Truly, I say to you, whoever says to this mountain, ‘Be taken up and thrown into the sea,’ and does not doubt in his heart, but believes that what he says will come to pass, it will be done for him. (Mk. 11:22-23, emphasis mine). To which mountain does he refer? We often spiritualize this saying, as if the mountain is some obstacle in our lives, and if we just believe hard enough it will be removed. But Jesus is specifically referring to the Temple Mount. Indeed, Isaiah 56:7, which Jesus cited earlier, parallels the Lord's "holy mountain" with his "house of prayer."

If one believes that the temple is thrown into the sea for him, that it is not the way to salvation, that it has no bearing on his relationship with God, then it will be symbolically done for him. Justification and salvation come to us through faith. Jesus further relates forgiveness of others to forgiveness from God. "Forgive, … so that your Father also who is in heaven may forgive you your trespasses." What's striking is that this forgiveness does not come through the temple or its priesthood. It comes directly to a person, through faith.

So the question is not about what this story has to say about bookstores in churches. The pressing question is what does this passage say to those of us who trust in our church attendance, our good works, our tithing, or our daily bible study? Where is your den? Where do you try to hide from the justice of God? Indeed, as Jeremiah declares, The Lord has seen it, and it will be destroyed. But Jesus proclaims the gospel in response to those chilling words. Mercy and justice meet at the cross, where Jesus takes on our burden and suffers the consequence for our sin. Trust not in your own piety, but in Christ, God's appointed savior.

* I found this interpretation in the NIV Application Commentary by David E. Garland. 

Finding the Will of God in 3 Easy Steps

1. Do what God has commanded in scripture.
2. Don't do what God has prohibited in scripture.
3. Then, do whatever you want.

RTS Charlotte

Earlier this week I drove down to North Carolina to see the Charlotte campus of Reformed Theological Seminary.


I was initially disappointed by the campus. I guess I expected it to look like a regular undergrad campus, with multiple buildings, dorms, and paths. Instead it was a renovated church, with the classes being held in the old Sunday School building. In reflection, I realize my disappointment is related to my faulty expectations. Most seminaries are probably similar.

That said, there were many things I appreciated about RTS.

• Biblical focus. The students and the professors spoke often of using the Bible as a foundation. The curriculum includes three semesters each of biblical Greek and Hebrew as well as plenty of exposition classes. The Scriptures are central: RTS wishes to teach "ministers of the Word" first and foremost.
• Pastor-scholar focus. RTS's motto is "A mind for truth, a heart for God." They want to create pastors who know their bible, their history, and their theology, but at the same time have a heart for God and their congregations.
• Preaching focus. The curriculum includes something like 7 semesters of preaching labs and classes. Solid biblical preaching is missing in lots of churches, and I appreciate RTS's commitment to training up pastors who will hold fast to the teachings of the Bible and communicate them in a meaningful way.
• Professors are pastors. I love when my professors can tell me the pastoral implications of my current studies. Professors that are active in their churches always have an eye towards how the theology can be applied to their ministry. This perspective is very important to me.
• Approachable professors. The students and professors clearly knew each other very well. The professors take a personal interest in each of their students, always ready to mentor and encourage.
• Academics. The academics are top-notch. The professors certainly know their stuff: most have written numerous commentaries, articles, and books.
• Friendly students. In the classes that I sat in, students came up to me and introduced themselves. They asked about my life and encouraged me in my decision making process.
• Admissions staff really went the extra distance. I had a personal tour, 3 meetings with professors, sat in on 2 classes, had lunch with 3 students, and met another for coffee. This really reflected well on the institution.
• Location. Charlotte is a nice city. It has plenty of churches. Students remarked that it's very easy to find a solid church to join. Internships and jobs are not terribly difficult to come by. There are cheap apartments nearby.

All in all, I'm pretty sold on RTS Charlotte. I think I could do very well there. They seem to have everything I'm looking for. I'm still going to check out a few other schools for comparison (probably Pittsburg Theological Seminary and/or Westminster Theological Seminary), but I wouldn’t be surprised to wind up at RTS.

I Don't Have an Awesome Testimony

Yesterday I was reading through a booklet entitled "Why Do We Baptize Infants" by Bryan Chapell, and I was struck by a curious phrase. Having made his case for paedobaptism, the author lists some of the many blessings of the practice. One of the benefits is that it unites a church around the life of the child, committing them to help raise him in grace and truth. He writes

In this atmosphere, faith naturally germinates and matures so that it is possible, even common, for the children of Christian parents never to know a day that they do not believe that Jesus is their Savior and Lord. (27, emphasis in the original)

He goes on to say that it is not only possible, and common, but also desirable. That is what really got me to thinking. It is indeed the will of God that children who grow up in believing households never face the consequences of living a wayward life.


Evangelicalism in America today, influenced as it is by the revivalism that preceded it, loves a conversion story. We love to hear about how Johnny used to do drugs and alcohol and was promiscuous, but now he found Jesus. He put down the bottle and gave up the crack pipe. This is indeed a great transformation, an awesome testimony to the life transforming power of the gospel. Praise God!


But this love of a conversion story often leaves those of us who lack such a harrowing and inspiring tale feeling somewhat left out. It can even lead to doubt. Am I really saved, if I can point to no particular time in my life when I repented of sin and turned to Jesus?


The burden is further compounded by most learn-to-evangelize programs. While preparing for each of our youth groups mission trips, we were always asked to write out our testimonies. In my mind, a testimony necessarily followed the pattern of "I used to do X, but then I met Jesus, and now I don't." I felt that my story of growing up in the church was weak. It was uninspiring, uninteresting, and not particularly uplifting. How does this boring tale illuminate the unconquerable power of the Son of God?


I brought this idea up with father, and he resonated with my concerns. He too grew up in a church that emphasized conversion stories even greater than our current congregation. He too felt unmotivated to share the gospel because he felt he had nothing inspiring to talk about.


But he shared great wisdom from a song a woman in his church used to sing. Its chorus (though the particular words are now lost in his memory) was something along the lines of "Jesus has the power of keeping." Christ is magnified in that there was no need for a conversion story. Jesus has the power to keep his little ones from needing to be rescued.


Note that nowhere in here do I mean to imply that I am morally perfect. Like the person who comes to faith later in life, I struggle against the underlying sin nature. I mess up. I repent. I turn to Jesus and trust that his blood is the payment for the debt I've incurred. I am still saved by grace through faith. Through God's grace, I have not been lead too far astray by the more seductive sins that offer more dire consequences.


So perhaps I have an awesome testimony after all. God's grace and power in my life is evident in that I never became addicted to drugs, got a girl pregnant, or totaled my car driving home drunk from a party. In this modern age, where these things are so common, the fact I never had a desire to do them could be just as intriguing as if I had been delivered from them. So my testimony doesn't tell of a time when I did X and Y, but no longer do. It tells of a God who in grace and mercy kept me from the pain that results from those actions. It tells of a Christ who paid the due penalty for the many other sins I did commit. It tells of a Spirit who convicts me of those sins and points to a better way, one that is more pleasing to God. My testimony definitely still speaks of an awesome God, and that, of course, is of what every testimony should speak.

I Am a Pharisee

I am a Pharisee. Wait, let me clarify that. I am a recovering Pharisee. Unlike the biblical ones, I’m not proud of it; in fact, I’m quite ashamed of it. Jesus reserved some of his harshest words for these kind of people.

Those that (think they) know me will likely be confused by this confession. I probably don’t come across as, “self-righteous and sanctimonious,” as the dictionaries put it. My particular brand of Pharisaism is mostly a heart issue: it doesn’t often bubble up into the external world. But I know it’s there, and the Lord knows it’s there. Its visible manifestations are subtle.

Mostly it emerges in the inner dialogue I have within my head. These conversations are usually with vague, shadowy opponents with whom I debate the current point of theology I’m pondering. This is extremely telling. My love for theology is primarily about being able to best someone in a debate. My love for the Scriptures is because they are the ammunition for battle. I do not contemplate different theological issues with the goal of arriving at truth so that I may love and worship God better. I do it to be well prepared to beat someone in debate. But how is it wrong to point out error?

Indeed, pointing out error is not in and of itself wrong. Jesus and the New Testament writers do it all the time. They know that false understanding about God will often result in pain. One example of false belief is thinking God has made a promise that he really hasn’t. “Train up a child in the way he should go; even when he is old he will not depart from it.” (Proverbs 22:6 ESV). The fundamental misunderstanding of many people is that the book of Proverbs is not a list of promises; it is a list of general truisms. It is certainly true that, in general, if you raise your children correctly, they will turn out to be hardworking and productive members of society. But experience tells us that this is not always the case. History is replete with examples to the contrary. The problem arises when we think of this statement as a promise from God. What does the mother think when her child turns from what he was raised? Either she thinks God is a liar, or that she is a failure. Poor understanding of God ultimately comes back to hurt.

Like Jesus and the NT writers, my motivation for discussions on Christian doctrine should be love: to demonstrate the error so that the mistaken individual will understand truth and hence avoid future pain. But it is almost never so. My motive is self-righteous, to prove in my own eyes that I am a smarter, better, stronger Christian. I get a perverse pleasure out of besting someone intellectually. I’m a Pharisee.

It also appears in my outright dismissal of people I have one small disagreement with. One of my current targets is N.T. Wright, a renowned biblical scholar. In recent years he’s been a proponent of a squirrely redefinition of justification. However, much of his other material on the life of Jesus, heaven, the Kingdom of God, the reliability of the Gospels, etc., is very orthodox and extremely helpful and well written. But because I disagree with his justification theory (which, admittedly, is an important and central doctrine) I dismiss everything he has to say. I become suspicious of anyone who quotes him or finds his writings helpful. I’m a Pharisee.

Finally, it appears in the target of my love of theology: theology itself. Biblical doctrine and understanding is supposed to drive me to loving God more fully. My heart has stolen this. I love theology for theology’s sake.

It’s a very subtle works-righteousness. Christianity has always taught that salvation is by grace: sheer unmerited favor towards a rebellious sinner. “For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast” (Ephesians 2:8-9 ESV). I know that I can’t earn my salvation. But I approach the Bible and theology as a way of doing so. I seem to think that if I just learn enough of the right doctrines, then God will have to love me. After all, I understand him much better than the average Joe in my church.

Tim Keller, in his book, The Prodigal God, has demonstrated that what I’m doing is rebelling through obedience. I don’t obey God’s law or learn about him for the sheer pleasure of doing right by him. I do it to put him in my debt. I don’t treasure God, I treasure the things he can give me. I am trying to make him owe me temporal blessings and eternal life. I try to put myself above God, to be god myself.

How did I get this way? The root cause is my own sinful nature. I can blame no one but myself. But I can name one thing that brings my internalized Pharisaism to life: my education. This is not to say that anyone taught me to think this way. My professors have all been godly, humble, Christ-like teachers. The game of higher education itself brings the Pharisee in my heart to the surface.

One of the most tried and true methods of making sure a student understands a topic is to have him critique one of its opponents. To refute someone who denies, for example, the Trinity, the student needs to have a very firm grasp on what historic Christianity has said on this doctrine, as well as know all the Scripture to back it up. Writing papers, answering exam questions, and doing projects of this type have given an opportunity for my internal Pharisee to come to life. The methodology reinforces my love for debate. I learn things for the sake of being able to eventually defeat someone and to elevate myself above them.

Also, just the simple attribute of being educated makes me think I’m better than the riff raff who simply has not had the opportunities with which I’ve been graced. I certainly know more theological terms and ideas than the average Christian in the pew, but that definitely does not make me a better Christian. I think that because I can write a systematic theology, I know more about God and am therefore he will look on me more favorably. That’s an absurdity. There are plenty of people who can’t define precisely the difference between justification and sanctification. These same people are far more godly than I. They love better, serve better, and worship better.

But there is hope for recovering. At times, thinking about my Pharisaism has robbed me of assurance of God’s love. Am I really a Christian if I can’t say I love God more than doctrine? Am I going to be able to get past this? Is there any hope for me? But God has not allowed these errant thoughts to drive me to despair. He gently reminds me of some of those very doctrines: especially the ones about the work of the Holy Spirit.

The Bible teaches that all Christians are indwelt by the Holy Spirit, and one of his activities is the conviction of sin. The very fact that I am convicted of my Pharisaism is proof of my regeneration (that God has given me new life, ala II Cor. 5). If I were not a Christian, I would likely not care that I was so self-righteous and sanctimonious. Since I am convicted of these sins, I know that God will make progress in my heart. I will get better.

Furthermore, I have hope for recovery because of my calling to ministry. I have no doubts that the special call I felt 2 summers ago was authentic. If God has called me to ministry, then he will prepare me for it. Part of this preparation is the removal of these prideful sins. I will get better.

From a pragmatic standpoint, I blame much of my problem on being uninvolved in ministry. It’s easy to maintain Pharisaic thoughts and practices when you are stuck in academia. When you start dealing with real people, with real problems, and real misunderstandings of God, the desire to debate will shrink. I can hold spirited and strongly worded verbal fights with fictional opponents in my head. I definitely could not speak so strongly in person. Working with real people will help curb the Pharisee in me. I will get better.

So what is my next step? What I am I doing to turn from my wicked thoughts? First, I am repenting daily for my actions and beliefs. I spend some moments before going to bed asking God and myself how I have been a Pharisee that day. It is against him that I have primarily rebelled, and it is to him that I am repentant.

Second, I think about all the doctrines I’ve learned, and think especially about how they apply to me personally. I remember that Christ has perfectly obeyed his Father and fulfilled all the points of the law. I remember that he then died a brutal death on the cross in my place, to pay for my sins, though he himself was perfect. I remember that this is because God has loved me.

Finally, I need to apologize to the individuals who I’ve hurt because of my Pharisaism. I’ve maintained ill thoughts about these brothers and sisters in Christ, and have said things that have been hurtful. If any of these friends are reading this now, I offer my sincere apologies.

I am so thankful that God does not expect us to get everything right before we enter into his kingdom. Becoming Christ-like is the result of a life of following God, not the prerequisite. I’m clearly far from perfect, and I’m glad that he has begun to move me towards being a better Christian.

---

“17 Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come. 18 All this is from God, who through Christ reconciled us to himself and gave us the ministry of reconciliation; 19 that is, in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting to us the message of reconciliation. 20 Therefore, we are ambassadors for Christ, God making his appeal through us. We implore you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God.21 For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.” (II Corinthians 5:17-21)

Sermon on Ephesians 3:14-21

I preached a sermon earlier today for my homiletics class. Some people expressed interest in reading it, so I've posted the manuscript here.

My text for today is Ephesians 3:14-21, so if you have a Bible, and you would like to turn there with me, that would be great.

Prayer for Spiritual Strength

¹⁴ For this reason I bow my knees before the Father, ¹⁵ from whom every family in heaven and on earth is named, ¹⁶ that according to the riches of his glory he may grant you to be strengthened with power through his Spirit in your inner being, ¹⁷ so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith—that you, being rooted and grounded in love, ¹⁸ may have strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, ¹⁹ and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.

²⁰ Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us, ²¹ to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen.

Have you ever had someone you respect pray for you personally? Perhaps your pastor, father, professor, or another respected individual? If you have, you know how it can humble you, to think that this great person would be concerned with you and your future. The Ephesians found themselves being prayed for by the Apostle to the Gentiles, arguably the greatest Christian thinker who ever lived. We’re going to take a look at Paul’s prayer for the Ephesians and see what he thought was most important for them to have. Through studying this text, we’ll see some reasons to make Paul’s prayer our prayer. After all, if it’s good enough for the Ephesians, perhaps it’ll be good enough for us…

This section starts off with: “For this reason.” The obvious question is: “for what reason?” Usually, such a question would find its answer in the immediately preceding verses. However, in this case, Paul is pointing back to the beginning of chapter 3, where he began with the same phrase. In general, Paul is a very logical thinker. Point A leads to Point B and then to Point C. Nevertheless, he often times shows a great propensity for getting sidetracked. He sometimes gets caught up in the moment, suddenly struck with ideas so profound that he is derailed from his logical progression. Ephesians 3:2-13 is one such digression and so he repeats this phrase again to get back on track. The context for this prayer, the reason for his petition, will be found in the end of chapter 2.

Chapter 2 of Ephesians, and in fact the entire book, is dominated by a theme of unity in Christ. He has reconciled all people to himself and therefore the church is to be a unit, flawlessly working together to achieve God’s plan for the world. Ephesians 2:11-22 is about Jews and Gentiles, especially, becoming one family in Christ. The last verse in chapter 2 is the clearest expression of the reason for Paul’s prayer: “²² In him [who is Christ] you also are being built together into a dwelling place for God by the Spirit.” If the church corporately is to be a “dwelling place for God by the Spirit,” then it will be fitting to pray for individuals to experience the mystery of Christ dwelling in their hearts.

And we now come to the meat of this passage, in verses 16 through 19: “¹⁶ that according to the riches of his glory he may grant you to be strengthened with power through his Spirit in your inner being, ¹⁷ so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith—that you, being rooted and grounded in love, ¹⁸ may have strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, ¹⁹ and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.”

The main goal of Paul’s prayer is that each of the Ephesians will be strengthened by God through the Holy Spirit. The Ephesians would need this strength for a number of reasons. They, like us, were challenged with being “salt and light” in a decaying world. They would need spiritual strength to live out the Christian life and be an example to the surrounding peoples. They would need spiritual strength to live out their unity in Christ.

For the Ephesians, their prejudices mainly fell among Jew-Gentile lines. The Jews had always believed that the Gentiles were godless pagans; always working to bring down God’s chosen people. The Gentiles likewise, probably thought of the Jews as a bizarre and condescending cult: deeply committed to monotheism in a polytheistic Greco-Roman world, as well as to their arrogant notions of being a specially chosen race. Today we hold similar racist and political and social prejudices. Like the Ephesians, we need to be strengthened by God to learn to leave these thoughts behind. We need to see all people for what they are: belonging to the greater family of God. For God so love the world that he gave his one and only Son so that whoever would believe in Him would have eternal life. So when you feel yourself thinking ill of others, remember that they are potential brothers or sisters in Christ. Leave your ill thoughts behind.

The Ephesians would also need strength to avoid being led astray by a fallen culture. We know from the book of Acts that Ephesus was particularly committed to the Roman goddess Artemis. Paul had already been in conflict with a mob who was shouting “Great is Artemis of the Ephesians” some years previously. The Ephesian church (especially the Gentile component) would need spiritual strength to avoid being sucked back into old pagan beliefs and practices. We too, face temptations to bring cultural baggage into the church. Some may have benefit, and some may not.

What are some examples of cultural baggage? How about the American idols of entertainment, entitlement, and independence? Do you feel entitled? Do you give a tithe, and expect programs and activities and spiritual support in return? Do you expect to be entertained during worship? Do you really think it’s all about you? Do you place your desires and needs ahead of those of the body of Christ? We need spiritual strength and discernment to notice these cultural ideas creeping in and compromising our faith and witness.

As we’ve just seen, our situation is not so radically different from that of the Ephesians. It is fitting, then, to endeavor to make Paul’s prayer our prayer. Doing so, Paul teaches, will have three aspects. We should make Paul’s prayer our prayer so that Christ may dwell in us. We should make Paul’s prayer our prayer so that we may have strength to understand Christ’s love. And we should make Paul’s prayer our prayer so that we may be filled with the fullness of God.

Let’s look at each of these in turn. First, we should make Paul’s prayer our prayer so that, as he says in verse 17, “Christ may dwell in your [our] hearts through faith.” All Christians are already united to Christ through the Spirit. Paul is not implying that the Christians in Ephesus were missing this vital part of Christian spirituality. No, he’s asking that God would reveal Christ in the believer’s hearts – the center of the personality. He’s praying that through the strength of the Holy Spirit, the Ephesians personalities would ooze Christ; that He would shine in all their actions, words, and deeds.

The word “dwell” implies making residence, to be at home in. In other words, Christ is not just there for a visit. He doesn’t come and go, providing strength when you need it, but then disappearing afterwards. No, he is always present. As he said in Matthew 28, “I will be with you always, even to the ends of the age.” Paul is praying for the Ephesians to be aware of this.

If Christ is dwelling in your heart, then there is nothing hidden from him. You must ask yourself, “who then owns the house?” When a friend is staying at your house for a visit, it may be appropriate to ask him to stay out of certain rooms. But no! Christ is not visiting; he is taking up residence there. And he is your master, who died and rose for you! There is no room that you can rightfully hide from him. Your altar room, with its idols of independence, self-fulfillment, and self-determination must be removed. He is allowed to peruse your video collection, your bookshelf, your computer history. If these things are not as they should be, repent and believe that you are forgiven. Christ died for sins such as these.

Part of this Christ dwelling is giving you a foundation. Paul prays that you will be “rooted and grounded in love” because of Christ’s indwelling. Christ, who is love, is living in you. He is your root and foundation. “Rooted” points to something you grow out of; a source of nourishment. It’s like growing a tomato in the garden. The fruit (or is it a vegetable?) takes on many of the properties and nutrients of the soil it’s planted within. If you plant it in desolate earth, full of plant killer and poison, then the fruit, if it indeed lives long enough to bear it, will be poor. It will be as poisonous as the soil that bore it. Conversely, if you plant the tomato in nutrient-rich fertilizer and Miracle Grow ™ then the fruit will be nutritious as well. By way of analogy, the Christian being rooted in love will bear the fruit of love for God and for others.

Being grounded in love is your foundation. To mix in the metaphor Jesus used, a castle built on sand will not stand up to the storms that life will throw your way. But a castle built on a rock, i.e. the love of Christ, will be able to bear the winds and the rain. In times of turmoil and pain, focus on the love God has pledged to you. God always keeps his promises, and this focus will keep your faith strong.

We should make Paul’s prayer our prayer so that Christ may dwell in us.

Second, we should make Paul’s prayer our prayer so that we may have strength to understand the love of Christ. Being rooted and grounded in love is the key. Paul prays that “may have strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, ¹⁹ and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge.”

“Comprehend” carries the connotation in the Greek to grasp, to acquire. Basically, Paul is praying that we would be strengthened to be able to take hold and claim for our own the love of Christ. It’s a lot like the difference between knowing intellectually and knowing experientially. Many of you have probably broken a bone before in your life. While I haven’t been so richly blessed, I know intellectually that it hurts. I know that it hurts a lot. Before you broke it, you probably knew that as well. But once you experience it, then you really know. Likewise, from the Bible, we learn that God loves us. We can grasp that intellectually rather easily. Paul is praying that we will learn that in a more deeper way; that we will find this love, and be utterly enthralled by it.

And how can we not be enthralled by the outrageousness of this love? Think about the absurdity of it! God’s creatures are in active rebellion against him. We thumbed our noses at him, and arrogantly told him to “buzz off, we don’t need or want you.” Justice demanded that he just blow up the whole thing. But he loved us still, and sent His Son to die an excruciating death in our place. Paul wants us to know this deeply sacrificial love. It is life changing.

Christ’s love is magnificent and all encompassing. It has “breadth and length and height and depth.” Allow me to borrow from Matthew Henry, a 17^th century biblical expositor:

By enumerating these dimensions, the apostle [Paul] designs to signify the exceeding greatness of the love of Christ, the unsearchable riches of his love, which is higher than heaven, deeper than hell, longer than the earth, and broader than the sea … By the breadth of it we may understand the extent of it to all ages, nations, and ranks of men; by the length of it, its continuance from everlasting to everlasting; by the depth of it, its stooping to the lowest condition, with a design to relieve and save those who have sunk into the depths of sin and misery; by its height, its entitling and raising us up to the heavenly happiness and glory. We should desire to comprehend this love: it is the character of all the saints that they do so; for they all have a complacency and a confidence in the love of Christ.

Christ’s love is indeed rich, and we can find rest and security in it.

We end this aspect of Paul’s prayer with a paradox: to know the unknowable, “to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge.” These are the words of someone indeed surprised by grace. One who elsewhere describes himself as the “chief of sinners,” yet still knows something of the absurd love Christ has for his people.

How are we to learn of this love? How do we grasp it? I can think of a number of things that might help. Read scriptures that magnificently express the heights and depths of love God has for you. Meditate on the good news of Jesus: that reckless sinners can be reconciled to God. Think deeply on these ideas, and take them to heart. Then you may indeed begin to know the unknowable. Finally, like the context of these verses: pray. Pray for understanding, that God will make himself known to you. Make Paul’s prayer our prayer, that you can comprehend the love of Christ

Lastly, we should make Paul’s prayer our prayer so that we may be filled with the fullness of God. Paul prays, that through understanding, even a little, of Christ’s love, we “may be filled with all the fullness of God”

The fullness of God is indeed a curious phrase. What does it mean? What is the fullness of God? Thankfully, the Bible contains both an Old Testament and New Testament. The old can often shed light on ideas found in the new. In the Old Testament, God’s Shekinah, his glory, was said to fill the temple. This particularly refers to making his presence and power felt in the hearts of the worshipers who visited.

Indeed, Paul writes elsewhere that the body is the Temple of the Holy Spirit: the new covenant temple of God. The fullness of God, then, especially refers to the believer feeling and knowing the eternal presence and power of God within himself. Christ is the fullness of God. Christ is where God has made his presence and power felt in both in history (his life, death, and resurrection) and in the individual.

In the believer, God makes his presence and power felt through a number of methods. He gives his children spiritual gifts. The Holy Spirit convicts us of sin. God sometimes guides and prompts our decisions, closing doors that lead to destruction, and opening doors that lead to life.

I can remember a few times of being filled with God’s presence: confident of his indwelling. When God confirmed my call to ministry, I felt a supernatural passion, energy, and confidence. I knew that this was what God wanted for me. Because of this experience, even during times of trouble and difficulty, I do not waver in my confidence that I’m on the right path. Hopefully you can point to some times in your life when you were sure of God’s presence.

The Christian life is indeed a spiritual one. We should make Paul’s prayer our prayer so that we may be filled with the fullness of God.

Paul ends all this, as is appropriate, with praise. “²⁰ Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us, ²¹ to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen.” Thinking and reflecting on the love of Christ, and the eternal mysteries of his union with us, drive him to doxology, they drive him to singing praises to God.

Contrary to popular conceptions, good theologians are not boring and stodgy defenders and expositors of doctrine. Their writing and thinking about the great truths God has revealed, like his dwelling in the hearts of believers and the outrageous depths of his love, fill them with hearts of praise. Paul’s writing did not just solve problems and teach truth: it drove him to spontaneous praise! It made him love God more deeply.

Think about this, especially you Christian Thought majors. Remember the altar room in your heart that I mentioned before? Have you made an idol of doctrine and placed it next to the idols of success, ministry, and knowing all the answers? Doctrine and ministry are certainly important, no one is denying that. But to love theology to the exclusion of loving Christ is just as bad as loving the Baals and Asherahs of the Old Testament. Paul doesn’t write theology because he loves theology. He writes it because he loves God, and reflecting on these thoughts makes him love God more

Now to all of you: Think about the love of God expounded thus far in Ephesians. Think about how God fills us with his presence. Think about the fact that the One who can do far more than all we can even imagine has chosen to love you, in spite of what you were.

Remember from Ephesians 2 how God has raised us up from spiritual deadness! Recall how we were once “children of wrath!”

⁴ But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, ⁵ even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved— ⁶ and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, ⁷ so that in the coming ages he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus. ⁸ For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God!

Amen, Amen, Amen! Know this love! Be strengthened by this love! Be filled with the fullness of this love! Let it permeate your soul, let it inform your every decision. Soak in it daily! Remember it in times of trouble and strife. Share it with everyone you encounter. Praise God for this love that is beyond understanding!

Please pray with me to close.