Ephesians 2:1-10 Christ cures us from the Living Death and gifts us the living life
Have you ever planned a trip — maybe overseas, or even just a weekend away or a hike — and imagined what it would be like? Maybe you pictured the scenery, the people, or the food. At first, it was just an idea in your mind. But then the day arrived — and suddenly, you’re there, living it.
That’s what this week’s reading from Ephesians 2 is like.
In recent weeks, we’ve seen Paul outline God’s grand plan — our place in God’s story, growing in Christ through prayer, and learning to see ourselves as saints, as God sees us.
It’s big and lofty — maybe even hard to fully grasp.
But now? We’re in it. The trip has started. The resurrection life has begun.
We’re stepping into a new reality where Christ raises us from living death and gifts us real, vibrant life.
Living death in the Old World v1-3
You were dead through the trespasses and sins in which you once walked, following the course of this world,
The NIV translation puts it this way: you were dead in your transgressions and sins, in which you used to live
Though you were alive, you were, in actual fact, dead, because you were following the world’s present path.
Such contrasting and confronting language.
The world, says Paul, is busy trying to forge its own way, too busy to keep company with God.
But Paul sees another layer deeper than that. The idea of following our own path is a deception.
The illusion of the self-made person, exploitation of good looks and desire, and the need to flex our muscles to maintain position, are in reality a walk along the paths trodden down by shadowy spiritual forces of chaos.
A following the paths of the gods of money, sex and power.
Paul assumes the existence of a spiritual realm with forces that work for disorder, piling fuel on the fires of our human rebellion.
He is going to say more about this at the end of our letter.
Remembering that Paul has just called the Ephesians saints helps us see that Paul is not up on some moral high horse.
He also stands in solidarity with them by saying this same description applies to ‘all of us’. Paul is a Jew speaking to Gentiles. He is saying, “You were really dead, though it appeared you were alive, but so was he. So was everyone.
We were, by nature, children of wrath.
Wrath is not a word we like. It might conjure up images of extreme anger, someone losing the plot and going postal, perhaps even vengeful, disproportionate reactions. Something ugly and reprehensible.
These imaginings, applied to God, the supreme being over the cosmos, are a frightening prospect.
These imaginings are a good description, not of God, but of the other gods of the ancient world. One of the key differences in the character of the God of Israel was that God is slow to anger.
Wrath is not an attribute of who God is.
Patience with human brokenness is one of God’s hallmarks.
But the uncomfortable truth is, we need God to get upset at human rebellion.
We get upset, experience outrage at the injustice we see in the world.
We are justifiably angry when a starving child walks for miles for food, picks up scraps off the ground and is killed by callous occupying forces on the return home.
We are justifiably angry when a government changes or removes legislation and budget items that protect minorities and provide redress for inequality.
We are justifiably angry when someone lies, cheats, buys and bullies their way to the top.
I would say we feel strongly the need for correction of these things because God has felt it first.
In scripture, with the exception of a few specific stories, God’s wrath is a withdrawal of protection, of blessing.
If it goes against who God is, God is not going to endorse it. But if that’s what you really want. I’m not going to stop you.
If the blessing is God’s presence, the wrath of God is a giving over to the consequences of our choices.
If your heart is stubborn, cold, or in open rebellion against God, writes John Mark Comer, then the worst thing God can do is give you what you want and let all your desires come true.
That we were children of wrath is a way of saying that we were destined to stew in our juices. We were bound to lie in a bed of our own making.
We thought we were living, but we were dead. This is the living death of the old world.
God rich in Mercy and Grace v4-9
This is pretty heavy stuff for the first three verses. We may prefer to read them quickly and move on to what’s next. However, what comes next can only make sense in context with this heavy stuff.
Verse 4, is the pivot point.
Here we get the real description of who God is and what God has done.
But, but, because of his great love for us, God…
But, God. Two words that carry so much hope, that embody so much faith.
Because of God’s great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ… brought us into a new country, new life, by this lavish grace.
Rich in mercy. Mercy is another term worth expanding out for a moment.
We may think of Mercy in the context of someone pleading for mercy, for leniency, that some due consequence would not come to them, and appeal to compassion. Mercy does mean this.
Mercy also means easing pain or hardship, extending kindness or help, especially to someone in need, regardless of guilt or innocence.
For example, God has mercy on the Israelites in Egypt in hearing and responding to their cries for help.
In Montana, in America, there’s a lake 2kms across and deeper than our Port Hills are high. On the cliff above the lake, a person with a high-powered rifle sits and waits for flocks of geese and other birds, up to 60,000 of them in a season, to settle on the lake. For them the lake looks like an appealing stopover on their long migrations.
The man takes careful aim and fires. Intentionally missing, but coming close enough to scare the birds to get them to take off.
The lake is the Berkley Pit. It was once an opencast mine. After it was flooded, the chemicals from the mine leached into the water and turned it highly toxic. If the birds sit in the water for even 1 hour, they are cooked from the inside.
Scaring the birds away is an act of mercy.
Perhaps we could say Mercy holds back what is bad.
God is Rich in Mercy.
Great Love, Rich in Mercy, incomparable Grace.
Grace, that’s another word.
It’s closely related to Mercy. They can almost be used interchangeably. But we can say that mercy holds back what is bad, then Grace gives what is good.
Grace is giving blessings, help, or a relationship that one has not earned.
The incomparable Grace is expressed in the saving, transforming and costly gift of Jesus.
In his best-selling Book, What’s so amazing Grace means there is nothing we can do to make God love us more… and nothing we can do to make God love us less.”
In that same book, Yancey reflects on the Danish short story Babette’s Feast. Set in a remote 16th-century Danish village marked by strict Lutheran self-denial, the story follows two elderly sisters, Martine and Philippa, who sacrificed love and opportunity to serve their small religious community.
One day, Babette Hersant, a refugee from the French civil war, arrives seeking shelter and offers to work as their unpaid cook. For 14 years, she quietly serves, preparing plain meals in keeping with the community’s ascetic values.
When Babette wins 10,000 francs in a lottery, she chooses not to return to France but instead offers to cook a lavish meal for the villagers as a gesture of thanks. Suspicious of the rich ingredients she brings in — quails, champagne, truffles — the villagers agree to eat but vow not to speak of the food.
Yet as the meal unfolds, hearts soften. Old grievances are healed, and a spirit of joy and reconciliation fills the room. A guest, a former general, recognises the food as the work of a legendary Parisian chef. Only after the feast do the sisters learn that Babette was the legendary chef at the Café Anglais in Paris, — and that she spent her entire fortune on the meal.
Babette’s gift is a portrait of grace: extravagant, undeserved, freely given, and profoundly transformative.
In the hands of Babette, even food becomes sacred. The meal she prepares is not just delicious — it becomes a kind of sacrament, through which people experience joy, communion, and transformation.
So it parallels Jesus last supper. A meal of grace, a sign of a gift extravagant, undeserved, freely giving and profoundly transformative. The gift of Jesus, Jesus who welcomes and eats this supper with the person he knows will betray him.
The story of the Bible is one of a God who won’t give up in trying to reconcile with a humanity that is self-centred, and hurting. Because of God’s great love, God gives us the best of who God is. God’s very self in Jesus.
God stands at the door, gift in outstretched arms.
We don’t have to do anything, other than to receive it.
We are invited to the feast. Don’t bring anything, we can’t bring anything. Just come with an appetite. Hungry for healing and transformation,
And so find ourselves in this new country of the Resurrection Life.
True life in the new land. v8b-10
Just for completeness, Paul reminds the Ephesians, “this was not from yourselves”. Its not by works, merit, or achievement, so one can say they were more deserving than the other. It is the gift of God.
For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared for us in advance to do.
We are God’s special creation. You are God’s image. When we make something, and it’s good, as God called us, then you are proud of it. You cherish it. And God did everything to make sure it was not lost.
This gift of grace, of new resurrection life of growing up in Jesus, is not something we have earned. But something is required of us.
We often talk of “free gifts”, by which we mean – there are no strings attached. But this is a relatively modern phenomenon.
In the ancient world, gifts were part of maintaining the fabric of society. A gift between parties signified and built a relationship. If someone gave you a gift and you did nothing in return, it was a dishonour. You would be saying: “This relationship doesn’t mean anything to me”.
I would argue this still holds today in varying ways between friends and even families. We give gifts, particularly extravagant gifts, carefully. We hope that by doing so we are communicating something of our love for the person and we hope that they love us or give their friendship in return.
But while God’s Grace is unconditioned, superabundant and incongruous, God is not careful who God gives gifts to.
It is not unconditional. There is some response needed. Not Repayment. Not an indebtedness. But an honouring of the relationship.
A response to this gift of grace is called for. A response that recognises this extravagant gift and says: This is a relationship I will honour.
Eugene Peterson points out that “the generous sacrificial self-giving of Jesus makes it possible for us to participate in this resurrection life. It’s not what we do, it is what we participate in.
To use language similar to Paul’s, it’s not by works, but for works.
God’s Good Works. We participate in the work of God, not our own work.
This Good Work that God has for us to do is like a watering can for refreshing water of God’s grace. It’s just the receptacle by which God drenches the parched ground with blessing.
These works we do are not just the big things we do, the groups we are involved in, the committees we serve on. They are also the smallest things, perhaps the smallest things are the most important.
Small things done with Great Love, as Mother Teresa of Calcutta would say.
Small things done with a posture open toward God. Like peeling potatoes, washing the dishes, as Brother Lawrence would say.
God’s grace, longs to fill all and be in all. From the big to the small – to the praise of God’s Glory.
Though we were alive, we were dead, trapped in a hellish existence of our own making.
But God. But God’s love, mercy and grace would not settle for that. God desired a relationship with us more
We’ve received a gift of unimaginable extravagance of Jesus,
Good people, created for the good works of God. Participating with the Spirit, in carrying the gift of Jesus through our lives and the world.
What a life for us to live. What a life to grow into.
Amen.