Setting Our Hope

Let’s say you accepted the lectionary challenge and have chosen to tackle the Epistle to the Ephesians over the course of the summer. Let’s say you are hesitant because you know that the minds of your hearers might be on things other than dealing with a theologically dense text that attempts to wrestle with some foundational truths about our faith. But let’s say you have chosen to dig down deep into this letter to find the streams of living water that will bring refreshment and revitalization to a world weary, travel hesitant, hope-starved people. Because that is indeed what is offered. That is what this “queen of the Epistles” has in store. Set aside the concern over whether you can sustain such a long series with each text building on the previous and ending with some kind of coherent whole. Just let each one stand on its own, if need be, like drops of refreshment from a single source. Each sip will be good in and of itself, and if we get a glimpse of the larger whole, then so much the better; but if we don’t, we can just dwell in each moment as complete in and of itself.

So, where do we start when preaching from a letter like Ephesians? Do we spend time explaining that this letter is different from others? Do we reveal that even the name of the church addressed doesn’t appear in all the manuscripts and that some wonder if maybe this was designed to be a circular letter, passed from hand to hand, congregation to congregation? Shall we discuss that there is some considerable question about the authorship of this letter, that it does sound like Paul’s thought, even while it uses language and grammar that is unique to this writing? Do we talk about the fact that this letter is the least personal of all the letters, in some ways, that there aren’t the glimpses into church life that enliven so much of the New Testament writing, which forces us even more to look at the words themselves and not attempt to get a glimpse behind the curtain at what caused this Epistle to be written? Where do we start?

Start wherever makes sense to you. You were expecting a waffling kind of response, weren’t you? The question is, “How much information do you feel is necessary to get people to take a deep look at this letter?” What kind of groundwork do you need to lay to convince the hearers that they too need to engage more fully in these words, in this study? Because that is what it needs to be, a study—an examination of the truth that is offered here, not as surface, cliché-ridden, easy-answer simplicities; but as a deep grounding into the nature of what it means to be a disciple of Jesus Christ and a desire to help others find their way into this relationship.

So, yes, maybe some of this needs to be shared in the sermon to keep people on the edge of their seats, to keep their summer brains engaged. Or maybe there is space for a pre-sermon text study or post-sermon talk-back session that allows more of this to be revealed. Let’s be honest with the questions. Let’s invite the congregation to engage in serious study and to learn to think for themselves. Because it is only when we can engage our critical faculties that we become effective witnesses in the process of disciple making.

Once you’ve determined the place of the background information, we come back to the question, “Where do we start?” Start where the text starts – with good news. Just look at the opening verses from our text:

You are blessed! You are chosen! You are part of the family! What a declaration to offer thirsty people in a desert world of failure and exclusion and neglect. Consider what it would mean for a young person struggling with feelings of self-worth or an older person feeling neglected and abandoned by family. Please start with good news.

Of course, if it is amazing to hear such a proclamation, think of the joy it would be—and is—to be able to proclaim such a word. As the text unfolds in this opening thesis statement of the letter, it becomes revealed that this good news is not to be contained within the walls of the community of faith. The hope and the will of God, the beloved, is that the whole world will be gathered up into the blessing that is covenant with God into the beloved community. And our job, it appears from these verses, is not to draw lines of exclusion, but to open wide the arms of graced-filled faith and to welcome, to bless, to adopt into our family all the sons and daughters of God. This is the “purpose of him who accomplishes all things” and therefore our purpose as well. We who have been adopted are now the adopters. We who have been blessed are now the ones who bless. We who have been included are now the includers. The circle enlarges; the ripples work out to bring transformation to a world sorely in need of the influence of the kin-dom.

The text ends with a promise of sustenance, a reminder that we aren’t on our own as we navigate this faith journey, the discipleship path. We are “marked with the seal of the promised Holy Spirit,” writes the author of this letter – but not promised as in, “One day you’ll get this, if you are good and eat all your vegetables.” No, we are promised, as in, “You have it; that presence is there; you can count on it; you can lean into it; you can trust that you are not alone as you seek to live out and proclaim the good news of adoption and blessing.” As a sign of that presence, there is a community that surrounds you – a community that is a part of you. As the letter continues to unfold, we discover that the purpose of this blessing and this inclusion is to bring unity and to offer praise to God. The praise is evident here, clearly, but the unity is yet to come. And yet it is woven through this text in the consistent use of the second person plural. You all are blessed; we are adopted; all y’all give praise to God. To individualize the faith is to misuse the essence of what is offered here: presence, community, relationship. Yes, of course, the individual matters; yes, each is called and valued and lifted up. But the true impact of the faith is when we participate in the life of the community, when we offer to God even our relationships as the means of witness and praise, as we engage with a hurting world with the balm of blessing and bring healing and wholeness and peace.

The author (or for shorthand’s sake, we might say Paul) says all this is the result of the choice we made of setting our hope on Christ. This hope is not a thin wish with fingers crossed that we make with our eyes mostly closed. Instead, it is the purpose behind our living. It is the driving force that moves us out of despair into joy, out of self into relationship, out of the church walls into the world to live that hope out loud. We set our hope on Christ; now let us live that hope each day.