One Pastor’s Prayer – A Sermon preached at First Presbyterian Church, Clarks Summit, PA on July 25, 2021 by the Rev. James E. Thyren 

You know someone like the writer of Ephesians. You know someone who gets so excited about something that when they attempt to tell you about it the words come in a mad rush like water from a fire hose. You know someone whose verbal barrages leave you responding: “Slow down, take a breath.”

            Our reading from the Letter to the Ephesians is made up of two sentences in the Greek.  It isn’t the first time in the letter that Paul has strung a whole lot of words into a single sentence.  Religious Studies Professor Scott Shouf describes how translators have helped us out by slowing things down:

            “Like the letter’s opening blessing, (our text) consists of a single sentence in Greek. Most modern English translations break the passage into several sentences to make it easier to follow for modern readers. The New Revised Standard version adds ‘I pray’ at the beginning of the new sentences (in verses 16 and 18) so that the sense of the continuing prayer is not lost on the reader. The closing doxology (verses 20 and 21 is also a single sentence.”[i]

            You can’t blame Paul for being so excited.  He is a pastor locked away in prison and separated from his people. He’s got a lot on his mind and plenty of time on his hands, so he puts it to good use. His occasional avalanche of words is caused by a pent up desire to tell his readers

what he would teach them if he could be with them. According to N.T. Wright, interpreters of Ephesians “sometimes say that in a letter like Ephesians the first half  is ‘doctrine’ and the second half is ‘ethics’- half of the letter on what to believe and half of the letter  on how to behave.”  Wright adds that a closer look at Ephesians reveals chapters 1-3 not teaching so much as prayer.”[ii]  

            Theology professor, George Stroup, describes the pastor’s prayer “as a hinge between the first three chapters of Ephesians—its descriptions of what God has done gathering up all things in Christ, breaking down the dividing wall of hostility, and creating in Christ ‘one new humanity’—and the last three chapters of the epistle, which instruct readers about what they are to do in response. They are ‘to lead a life worthy of the calling to which (they) have been called.’ Prayer stands at the intersection of reflection on what God has done and obedient discipleship in God’s world.”[iii]

            The author of Ephesians, says Stroup, “tells us there is a reason why he kneels before the Father, presumably the same reason mentioned at the beginning of the chap-ter. What brings the writer to his knees is the mystery to which he has several times alluded—the mystery of  God’s will, the mystery that in Christ Jesus  there is now peace between God and those previously estranged from God and peace between those previously hostile to one another, the mystery of the wisdom of God made known in the boundless riches of Christ.  The writer does not believe this mystery that evokes prayer and worship can be discovered or known; it can only be received (that is, made known) by revelation.”[iv]

            So the author prays that those who hear his words as they gather in community to worship may receive such a revelation. Revelation is the “aha” moment when something suddenly becomes clear to us, when something that the mind cannot comprehend bursts into blossom in the heart.  The mind may be able to describe why the sky is a brilliant mix of reds, yellows and orange as the sun sets.  The heart knows in that moment to “thank God” for the gift of being in the right place at the right time to take in such a breathtaking sight.

            Writing of the pastor’s prayer found in Ephesians, Eugene Peterson says: “Paul’s prayer for his congregation is nothing if not exuberant. There is nothing cautious or re-strained in his prayer.  As he prays for the Ephesians, the intercessions exude generosity: ‘riches of his glory…power through his Spirit…rooted and grounded in love…power to comprehend…breadth and length and height and depth…the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge…filled with all the fullness…abundantly far more that we can ask or imagine… We pray,’ says Peterson, ‘in a household of extravagance.”[v]

            Peterson notes that the pastor’s prayer is based on the abundance provided by God rather than the neediness of humanity.  In contrast to the prayers of intercession which we pray, asking for help or guidance or healing on behalf of someone in need, Peterson says the prayer we are hearing this morning “flow out of the plenitude of God.”[vi]

            Such a posture of prayer, rooted in the “boundless riches” of God differs greatly from the fear-mongering that feeds on images of scarcity.  Instead of taking a lesson from the birds of the air who trust God’s provision even as they do their part to receive it, the voices of our age en-courage us to make sure we have more than enough. In today’s Gospel reading, Andrew is the spokesman for the fear of not having enough when he says of the five loaves and two fish, “…what are they among so many people?”[vii]

            What might it take to help us know that God will take care of us?  It takes a revelation.

            Eugene Peterson and his wife, Jan, have two friends named Fred and Cheryl.  Thirty some years ago Fred and Cheryl traveled to Haiti to adopt a five-year-old girl named Addie, whose parents had been killed in an automobile accident.  At the airport, as they walked toward the plane that would bring her to her new home, the little girl “reached up and slipped her hands into the hands of her new parents whom she had just met.” Looking back on that moment, Fred and Cheryl described it to their friends as “a ‘birth’ moment, (and told) how the  innocent, fear-less trust expressed in that physical act of grasping their hands seemed almost as miraculous as the times their two sons slipped out of the birth canal 15 and 13 years earlier.”[viii]

             The story goes on, so I’ll let Peterson tell it from here: “That evening, back home in Ari-zona, they sat down to their first supper together with their new daughter. There was a platter of pork chops and a bowl of mashed potatoes on the table. After the first serving, the two teenage boys kept refilling their plates. Soon the pork chops had disappeared and the potatoes were gone. Addie had never seen so much food on one table in her whole life.  And she had never seen so much food disappear so fast. Her eyes were big as she watched her new brothers, Thatcher and Graham, satisfy their ravenous teenage appetites.”

            “Fred and Cheryl noticed that Addie had become very quiet and realized that something was wrong—agitation…bewilderment…insecurity?  Cheryl guessed that it was the disappearing food. She suspected that because Addie had grown up hungry, when food was gone from the table she might be thinking that it would be a day or more before there was more to eat. Cheryl had guessed right.  She took Addie’s hand and led her to the bread drawer and pulled it out, showing her a back-up of three loaves.  She took her to the refrigerator, opened the door, and showed her the bottles of milk and orange juice, the fresh vegetables, jars of jelly and jam and peanut butter, a carton of eggs, and a package of bacon. She took her to the pantry with its bins of potatoes, onions, and squash, and the shelves of canned goods—tomatoes and peaches and pickles. She opened the freezer and showed Addie three or four chickens, a few packages of fish, and two cartons of ice cream. All the time she was reassuring Addie that there was lots of food in the house, that no matter how much Thatcher and Graham ate and how fast they ate it, there would be a lot more where that came from. She would never go hungry again.”

            “Cheryl didn’t just tell her she would never go hungry again. She showed her what was in those drawers and behind those doors, named the meats and vegetables, placed them in her hands. It was enough. Food was there, whether she could see it or not. Her brothers were no longer rivals at the table. She was home.  She would never go hungry again.”

            Peterson concludes: “Whenever I read and pray this prayer of Paul’s I think of Cheryl, gently leading Addie by the hand through a food tour of  the kitchen and pantry, reassuring her of  the ‘boundless riches’ and ‘all the full-ness’ inherent in the household in which she now lives.”[ix]

            It was a moment of revelation.  George Stroup says: “In revelation I am not the one who knows, but the one who is known, and what I know is the experience of being known by some-one other than myself…this knowledge is a gift and not a discovery…the Spirit and not the in-dividual is the primary agent in this disclosure.”[x] The Spirit moved the little girl to place her hand in the hands of her parents. The Spirit led Cheryl to take the little girl by the hand to  dispel her fears.  Paul prays that we all might experience such moments.

            Paul’s perception of what we need is revealed in his prayer:  He tells us: “ I pray that, according to the riches of his glory, he may grant that you be strengthened in your inner being with power through the Spirit, and that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith as you are being rooted and grounded in his love. I pray that you may have the power to comprehend, with all the saints, what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, so that you may be filled with the fullness of God.”

            This is what Paul believes we need:  Inner strength provided by God. Christ, dwelling in the heart. Being rooted and grounded in love—not just any form of love, mind you, the love of Christ. And what does that get you? “Filled with the fullness of God.

            Of all the New Testament writers, no one knew the need for God-provided inner strength more than Paul. He it was who wrote of doing the very thing he didn’t want to do,  and being unable to live on his own the standards he held dear. Rather than give up and fall into despair, he knew where the power to overcome human weakness is to be found: in Christ, dwelling in the heart. It was Paul who penned those encouraging words, “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” Temptation, discouragement, challenges, disappointments can all be dealt with when Christ dwells in our hearts.

            Presbyterian minister Karen Chakoian suggests that “having Christ dwell in our hearts is akin to having a new person move into your household.  If they’re just visiting, it is all rather easy; you simply offer hospitality and try to practice good manners. But if someone moves in to stay, everything changes.  At first you try to hold on to your familiar patterns and routines, and the new member may work hard to accommodate you and stay out of your way. But eventually they make their mark. Conversations change. Relationships realign.  Household tasks increase and responsibilities shift. So it is when Christ moves into the hearts of Christians. This isn’t merely tweaking old patterns; everything changes.”[xi]  

            The nature of those changes is hinted at by some of the other images piled up by Paul in his prayer.  When he prays that we might “be rooted and grounded in love,” be borrows two images, one from botany and the other from building.  To be rooted speaks of two benefits observed in the world of gardens and forests.  To be rooted means having the means to draw moisture and nutrients from the soil in order to grow and mature. To be rooted is also to have stability thanks to a network of anchoring fibers large and small, which hold fast against the blowing wind.

            That stability is behind the architectural image used by Paul. To be grounded is to have a proper foundation. For every inch to be built above ground, there is a formula to determine how deep and wide one must dig below the surface in order to provide a suitable foundation.  What the root system of a plant and the foundation of a building share is the fiber by fiber, brick by brick process that comes together over time.  It doesn’t happen overnight.

            We are not born with the ways of God’s love encoded in our genes, ready to be released when the moment is right.  The fibers of the root system and the bricks of the foundation are put in place a little at a time.  We need help if those roots are to grow or those bricks are to be  lined up correctly. Society does not necessarily provide what we need. The faith community is charged with the task of passing on what needs to be known.  That is why Paul is praying that you and I will have someone to nourish our roots and hand us the bricks.

That is why the Psalm today spoke of passing know-ledge from generation to generation.  That is why it is important for us to continue to model for one another what it looks like to be filled with the fullness of God. You don’t have to be able to spout doctrine or defend denominational differences. All you have to do is let Christ dwell in your heart so the Spirit can guide what you do.  What that looks like is the neighbor who is willing to lend a hand; the volunteer who could be weeding his garden but carves out a morning a week to touch the lives of people who are lonely; the wise one who listens to the problem poured out and asks a simple question that brings to light a possible solution. 

These are not earth shattering events, but they are life-changing. Those rooted and grounded in love, those in whom Christ dwells, are the ones who set aside the task in order to care for the people beside them; who are able to get beyond pointing out what is wrong in order to show what is right; who are able to take the best of what was or what is and use it to build toward what can and will be.

            Don’t get the idea that such folks have gifts you have missed out on…because the people described a moment ago are among us every week. You see them in the mirror every day, and between Sundays you are doing and saying things that show your roots are deep and your foundation  strong.  As Jesus did with five barley loaves and two fish, the Spirit takes what we offer and does marvelous things.

The wonder of it all, led the apostle and pastor writing the Ephesians to bubble over in praise. From his prison cell Paul celebrated what happens when God takes our acts of faithful-ness and multiplies our efforts.  

            “Now to him who by the power at work in us is able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine, to him be glory in the church, and in Christ Jesus to all generations, forever and ever. Amen.”

[i] Scott Shauf, Working Preacher.com, Tenth Sunday after Pentecost, Commentary on Ephesians 3. 14-21), p. 1
[ii] N.T. Wright, Paul for Everyone, The Prison Letters, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2002, 2004), p. 38, 39
[iii][iii] George w. Stroup, Feasting on the Word, Year B, Vol. 3, “Theological Perspective,” (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), p. 280
[iv] ibid
[v] Eugene H. Peterson, Practice Resurrection- a conversation on growing up in Christ, (Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 2010), p. 157
[vi] ibid., p. 158
[vii] John 6. 9
[viii] ibid., Peterson, p. 159
[ix] ibid., p. 159-160
[x] ibid., Stroup
[xi] Karen Chakoian, Feasting on the Word, Year B, Vol. 3, “Theological Perspective,” (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), p. 280