You are viewing page 5 of 18.
We live in an information age, bombarded with worldly wisdom, theological wisdom, biblical wisdom, and endless “pratical” wisdom for Christian living—and much of it may actually be wise. Yet Paul’s words encourage us to ask: “Does all this knowledge lead us to know God, or have we mistaken knowing things about Him for knowing Him?”
It’s easy to be busy with the Christian life—programs, good intentions, real effort—and still be missing the one thing that keeps it all from exploding. In Ephesians 1:15–16, Paul looks at believers whose faith in Jesus is visibly pouring out as love toward one another, and what he does in response is the piece we most often skip.
We fall into measuring our place with God by how much Scripture we know or how “spiritual” we sound. Paul tells us the real measure is somewhere else: “the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation.” What changes when we remember that the Christian journey began by hearing what God has done not what we do?
In the movies, every important meeting starts with a clear “You may be wondering why I’ve called you here today.” Real meetings leave you guessing the whole time—and sometimes long after. We often treat God’s Word the same way, yet Ephesians 1 addresses the question head-on: why are you here?
We keep reaching for more—a better version of the Christian life, a deeper secret, some upgrade that will finally make everything click—when Ephesians 1 says God has already lavished wisdom and insight on us and made known the mystery of His will. What does it look like to actually live in that, rather than keep reaching past it?
We turn onto the lane that looks like home, only to find barriers on both sides and nowhere left to go. Foot still on the accelerator, locked on the road to death, the only hope we have is mercy—and Ephesians 1:7 speaks right into that place: in him we have redemption through his blood.
We've all felt the crash that follows a sugar high—the emotional win, the reassuring word, the earthly success that lifts us for a moment before the bottom drops out again. Paul knew that feeling too, which is why he doesn't merely greet the Ephesians with good wishes but with something that doesn't fade: “grace and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.”
Most of us would rather keep our doubts quiet than be caught not having it all figured out—especially around people who assume we do. Nicodemus, one of the most respected religious teachers of his day, came to Jesus under cover of night with exactly that tension, and in John 3 Jesus meets him there, in the dark, unfinished.
Selfishness is sneaky—it feels like commonsense in the moment. As the disciples sat right in front of Jesus, they struggled with the same self-centered question we all are challenged: “But what about me?”
God had just routed the mightiest army of the ancient world on Hezekiah’s behalf, then healed him from a terminal illness—and somehow, facing the next threat, Hezekiah forgot both and went looking for an ally he could hold onto. Isaiah 39 traces how that forgetfulness works in a believing heart, and why it’s the sneakiest danger of all.
You are viewing page 5 of 18.
