A Narrative Lectionary Sermon on Ephesians 1:1-14 and John 14:25-27
Ephesians 1:1-14 (NRSV)
Paul, an apostle of Christ Jesus by the will of God; to the saints who are in Ephesus and are faithful in Christ Jesus: Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places, just as he chose us in Christ before the foundation of the world to be holy and blameless before him in love. He destined us for adoption as his children through Jesus Christ, according to the good pleasure of his will, to the praise of his glorious grace that he freely bestowed on us in the Beloved. In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace that he lavished on us. With all wisdom and insight he has made known to us the mystery of his will, according to his good pleasure that he set forth in Christ, as a plan for the fullness of time, to gather up all things in him, things in heaven and things on earth. In Christ we have also obtained an inheritance, having been destined according to the purpose of him who accomplishes all things according to his counsel and will, so that we, who were the first to set our hope on Christ, might live for the praise of his glory. In him you also, when you had heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation, and had believed in him, were marked with the seal of the promised Holy Spirit; this is the pledge of our inheritance toward redemption as God’s own people, to the praise of his glory.
John 14: 25-27 (NRSV)
“I have said these things to you while I am still with you. But the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you everything, and remind you of all that I have said to you. Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.”
The Message
I have to be honest—in terms of preaching, this passage from Ephesians makes me feel like I’m cheating a little bit. Or like I lucked out. Because there is nothing I could say about God that the author of this epistle hasn’t already said. Our first portion of text here could be a sermon, in and of itself, because it does what every theologically sound sermon does: it proclaims the very essence of God, which centers us in the good news of God’s promises.
Our text gets straight to the point:
- God has blessed us with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places.
- God chose us in Christ before the very foundation of the world, destined us for adoption as children.
- In that very same Christ, we have redemption through blood, forgiveness of our trespasses and riches of grace lavished on us.
Essentially, the message here is that God has a cosmic vision, and that we’re a part of it! God’s classic move—God’s defining characteristic—is making big plans with us, around us and including us. The author of Ephesians is trying to drive home the point that God has been operating this way forever, and that God will continue to operate this way, seeking relationship with us in quite literally creative ways. God’s work is to redeem all of creation and to foster wholeness on a universal scale. We are inseparable from that agenda. From that wholeness. From that redemption.
God has a cosmic vision, friends, and we’re a part of it.
Now, that is an overwhelming thesis. It’s beautiful. But overwhelming. It’s really nice on paper, isn’t it? Comforting and warm and very grand. But I think it’s hard to understand in terms of lived experience.
I mean, when I hit the snooze button for the second or third time and roll out of bed; when I’m looking in the mirror, brushing my teeth; sitting in traffic; sending emails; taking another Zoom call; picking up my groceries; paying my bills; watering the garden for the millionth time; what does it mean in all of that mundane that God loves me in this way? And that God loves me so much? What does it mean that we, as a community, together, are loved in this way? And loved so much?
What does it mean in all of this mundane that God loves me in this way? And that God loves me so much?
Let’s break it down.
This is not a text where we can lean on historical context like we normally might. For one thing, we’re never going to be sure who the author of Ephesians really is. We say that it’s Paul, but most scholars are convinced that it’s someone else writing in the style and the tradition of Paul. (That’s not too strange. It was understood in the early church that plagiarism and imitation were the highest forms of flattery—credibility, even. People wrote as other people all the time.) So some of our context goes cold there.
If we wanted to, we could dig into the dynamics of the city of Ephesus. It was one of the largest and wealthiest cities in the Eastern Mediterranean, and a very unique link between East and West, especially in terms of travel and trade. As it came under Roman control, Ephesus became known as a melting pot, much more ethnically and religiously diverse than other regions. But, this letter to Ephesus doesn’t even hint at any part of that. In fact, it’s one of the only epistles in our Biblical witness that doesn’t mention any details about the city for which it is intended. There are no particularities in any of the six chapters we have at our fingertips today. So, we’re at a geographical dead end of sorts, too.
On top of all of that, the Greek used in this letter is very repetitive. It doesn’t really benefit us to analyze individual words or scrutinize portions of vocabulary because so much of the language in this letter is used again and again and again and again.
And that’s actually what I think the Holy Spirit is calling us to reflect on. The connotation of this letter—the feeling that it gives you as you read it—is just as important as the denotation. The experience of the words is just as important as what the words are saying; in fact, the experience of the words mirrors what the words are saying.
This is a text that performs very thing it’s talking about. It plays to our senses, more like a song than a letter. Ephesians 1 almost oozes an idea of the overly abundant grace of God to try to lull us into a state of awe. To try to get us to dwell for a few moments in the mystery that is our God.
So, I would argue that this language is not so much redundant as it is experiential. It reminds me of every best man and maid of honor toast I’ve ever heard at a wedding.
These toasts are showy. Most of the time, they’re a little cheesy, too. Over-the-top. They wax poetic about at least one of the spouses-to-be, forming a kind of testament to their character. Maybe the maid of honor or the best man will include a little anecdote about an awkward meeting or an embarrassing moment, but they always bring things back to how wonderful this person is. How happy they are for this person. How excited they feel looking to the future alongside this person.
That should make most of us roll our eyes a little. That should make most of us say something like, “That’s a bit much.” I will admit, though, that every time I hear one of these speeches, I get emotional. It doesn’t matter if I know the couple or not, if the best man or the maid of honor is an engaging public speaker or not—it doesn’t matter. I always tear up when these toasts roll around.
And that’s because, when you think about it, this maid of honor or this best man is trying to fit an entire person—the all-encompassing connection they have with that person—into sixty seconds. And then they’re trying to make a room full of strangers understand that all-encompassing connection. To internalize it. I think they’re going so far as to invite a room full of strangers to be a part of that all-encompassing connection.
Wedding toasts are always over-the-top, but that’s because they are marking and sharing entire relationships. Whoever the author of Ephesians is, this first chapter is his best man speech. He’s trying to fit all of who God is and what God does and why into a mere few pages of mail. He doesn’t want you to walk away with a chronological or intellectualized understanding of God. He wants you to walk away feeling a new kind of closeness to God. He’s inviting you into relationship with God.
Some scholars use a set of verbs to organize the letter to the Ephesians and to track its movement or its evolution. They’ve extracted some of those repetitive Greek words to pick up on overarching patterns. On the whole, the book goes from emphasizing “sit,” to emphasizing “walk” to emphasizing “stand.”
On the whole, the book goes from emphasizing “sit,” to emphasizing “walk,” to emphasizing “stand.”
Chapter 1 falls solidly into the “sit” category. Chapter 1 is immersing us in the fact that God has seated us in heavenly places (heavenly wedding reception halls, if you will, with cute little name cards and slices of sheet cake and the chicken dance in the background). Because of who God is and what God does and why, we are sitting in more sacred places than we were before we knew God.
This sitting isn’t passive. It is preparing us to walk. That’s probably the most familiar and beloved portion of Ephesians, right? To walk worthily in the ways we have been called…to lead lives worthy of our callings. (Ephesians 4:1)
And from there, we will be empowered to stand. To turn toward the outside world and somehow, remain grounded. Centered. Strong.
Alongside the rest of the church following the Narrative Lectionary, we’re focusing on the sitting today. But we do that knowing that the sitting is not an isolated or disconnected stage. We sit knowing that the love we remember; God’s love that we experience; God’s love that we’re invited into here has momentum. Direction. We know that we will bring this love with us as we walk breathing it in and out as we go about our normal, ordinary days. We know that this love will fortify us when we find ourselves needing to stand in the moments that are abnormal. Out of the ordinary. And we know that we’ll move back to sitting again.
Rinse and repeat.
Our John passage cements this process of sitting and walking and standing. Jesus is giving his disciples something of an overview. An executive summary of what they’ve seen and everything they’ve been a part of in the trajectory of his ministry. And he is doing this so that they can be prepared for what they what they haven’t seen. What they haven’t been a part of. What they will need to lead after he leaves this realm.
In Verses 28-31, just after the verses we read together today, we hear Jesus say:
“I am going away, and I am coming to you. If you loved me, you would rejoice that I am going to the Father, because the Father is greater than I. And now I have told you this before it occurs, so that when it does occur, you may believe. I will no longer talk much with you, for the ruler of this world is coming. I do as the Father has commanded me, so that the world may know that I love the Father. Rise, let us be on our way.”
Jesus sits with the disciples in love. But then he calls them to action—to walk with him away from that place and to stand as his witnesses in the world.
This is why big ideas about God matter in the every day. This is how they matter in the everyday. If we can sit and remember God’s love; if we can sit and remember that there is nothing God won’t do to show us that love; if we can sit and remember that God’s love for us can never disappear or be diminished; then we can walk. We can stand. We can grow into our ever-cyclical identities as agents of God’s love.
Jesus has promised us the Advocate—the Holy Spirit—to guide us in this growth. She is calling us today to write, deliver and live out our very own wedding toasts. To love precisely because God loves us first and always has, in the biggest way.
Amen.
This sermon was authored and delivered on July 11, 2021.
Helpful influences included:
“Commentary on Ephesians 1:1-14; 2:11-22; 4:1-16; 6:10-20” by Mary Hinkle Shore (August 11, 2013)
“NL277: Preaching Series on Ephesians” episode of I Love To Tell The Story: Working Preaching Narrative Lectionary Podcast (July 8, 2017)
P A S T O R ( I S H ) 