God’s Open Secret

We are looking at one of the greatest letters ever written by the Apostle Paul, the letter to the Ephesians, and today we come to chapter three. Before we can explore it, let me set the stage. If you have your Bibles, open them and lay chapters one, two and three out in front of you. In the first two chapters Paul has been speaking about two things: the supremacy of Jesus and the privileged position of the children of God. Especially from chapter one, verse seventeen onwards, Paul explains the resurrection of Jesus. He goes on to say that Jesus is seated far above all powers and all dominions; there is no power left that is not under his feet. Everything is beneath him. That is the supremacy of Jesus. And on the other side, we the children of God are now in a privileged state, because the Father has chosen us to serve him, the Son has redeemed us, and the Holy Spirit has placed on us a seal of ownership.

This is what Paul is saying to the Ephesian congregation — and most probably not to one congregation alone. This is likely a circular letter; several churches across Asia Minor needed to hear this truth. They had taken a step to follow Jesus, but things were going wrong, not at all the way they had expected. They believed Jesus was supreme, that he was King, and yet in daily life they were faced with every kind of challenge. So Paul reminds them: the truth has not changed. Jesus is still seated on the throne, and you are the chosen, the elect. In chapter two Paul speaks of our lostness — we were once under the dominion of the flesh, the world and the devil — but from chapter two, verse four onwards he says, because of his great love, because he is rich in mercy, it is not only Jesus who is raised and seated in the heavenly realms; we too, he says in verse six, are seated with Christ in the heavenly realms. And from chapter two, verse eleven onwards, he describes the amazing new family of God in Jesus: a new humanity has been created, and there is now no distinction between Jew and Gentile, no distinction based on ethnicity, race, rank, caste, colour or creed. We are all one in Christ.

Now we come to chapter three. Notice how it begins. In verse one Paul writes, "For this reason, I, Paul…" — and then he stops. He starts a sentence and digresses, as Paul so often does. He begins a prayer in verse one, but he does not pick it up again until verse fourteen. Between verses one and thirteen there is a deviation, a digression, in which Paul unfolds what we might call God's open secret. Why does he turn aside? He has already said so much about the supremacy of Jesus and the privileged state of believers, and he wants to pray for them — yet he breaks off. Most probably it is because of verse thirteen: "I ask you, therefore, not to be discouraged." The first two chapters lay out lofty theological truths; from chapter four onwards everything becomes practical — keep unity, do not lie, do not murder, husbands love your wives, and so on. Before he prays, Paul wants to lay something before them: this is what it means to be someone who has received the mystery of Jesus. What do you do with that secret? Where does it take you? What is the nature of discipleship; what does it mean to be a follower of Jesus? That is what we should expect here.

Let me read chapter three, verse one: "For this reason I, Paul, the prisoner of Christ Jesus for the sake of you Gentiles." What caught my attention is that Paul does not say he is a prisoner for Jesus; he says he is a prisoner of Jesus. There is a world of difference between the two. Literally, of course, he is Caesar's prisoner, locked up for the sake of Jesus — but he reckons himself first of all Christ's prisoner. Sometimes we carry a very distorted understanding of what it means to follow Jesus. Reading the first two chapters — we are seated with Christ in the heavenly realms, Christ is supreme over all powers, nothing will go wrong — and then we reach chapter three, verse one: prisoner of Jesus. The call of Christ is first of all to become his prisoner, to let his will and his way come into our lives. Yes, it is a paradox: on one side Jesus is high and lifted up, and we are seated with him in the heavenly realms; yet the man who writes this is sitting in a Roman prison, a prisoner of Jesus Christ. His physical imprisonment can be seen simply as the consequence of his spiritual captivity to Christ. He is a captive of Jesus.

From verse two to verse six, Paul speaks of the mystery disclosed. Why is he a prisoner of Jesus, sitting now in a Roman cell? Because a mystery has been disclosed to him by the Lord Jesus Christ. There are a few things to notice: to whom is it disclosed, through what agency is it disclosed, and what are you to do with what has been disclosed to you? First, to whom is it disclosed? We live in a day and age where, if someone receives an open secret, a revelation, you do not find them in prison — you find them in high places. They will say, because of that vision I rose from being nothing to where I am now; and mostly it is a social or economic climbing of ladders. But to whom is this mystery revealed? To a prisoner. To the one who was once hostile towards Jesus. These verses beautifully capture the paradoxical nature of Christian life and ministry, because God's triumph and power — the very things we saw in chapter one — are seen most clearly when they work through human agents who occupy positions of weakness and shame.

That is the paradox: God's triumph and power are seen most clearly through people who stand in shame and humility. This is not what we usually hear from popular preachers or television preachers, because it is not what people like to hear. But if you want to see clearly the power and wisdom of God, you zoom in and look at this man in his weakness — feeble, frail, a prisoner — and there you see the mystery disclosed, the majestic mystery shining through a weak person. Paul's captivity reflects the experience of all God's people; that is why in verse thirteen he tells the believers not to be discouraged, because they too will go through such things. Forget the Ephesian congregation for a moment and think about yourself. The mystery has been disclosed to us: that Jesus is supreme, that there is no distinction between the nations, that all may come to Christ through faith. Some of us took the step to follow Jesus alone, the only ones in our families to do so. I have heard many testimonies of people who say that because of the mystery disclosed to them they ended up in prison-like situations. Do not be disheartened by that. That is the way of the cross; that is the call of Christ — to display his wisdom and his mystery through the way we live.

What amazes me is chapter three, verse twelve. On one side the mystery is disclosed, yet the man is in prison — paradox. And in that verse Paul emphasises two words: in him, and through faith in him, "we may approach God with freedom and confidence." Who is saying this? A prisoner. Does he have freedom? Does he have confidence? By every physical measure, no — he is weak and chained. But Paul looks past his reality to the spiritual reality. Physical eyes see only a prisoner, a weak man in a Roman jail; but Paul says the mystery has been disclosed to me, my present situation does not matter, and though there are chains on my hands I can approach God in freedom and with confidence. The unveiling of the mystery will take us to places we do not like, sometimes to unexpected places. Life takes different turns. Perhaps some of you have come here in just that way — you took a step to follow Jesus and now find yourself in the midst of severe opposition and weakness. This is how God does his work. Just as he used David, the unlikely, the weak one, to fight the giant, the Lord goes on using agents utterly unqualified in the eyes of the world to accomplish his purpose.

The cross of Christ demands of each of us — preacher and congregation alike — not admiration but identification. It is of no use to us unless we make it our own and enter into his death and resurrection. That is exactly what Paul is doing: "I am a prisoner of Jesus, I am here for you." He is imitating Christ, who gave himself up on the cross for us, and in verse thirteen he tells the believers not to be afraid because he is imprisoned, and not to hang their heads in shame: "I ask you, therefore, not to be discouraged because of my sufferings for you, which are your glory." They are your glory, he says, because your pastor is following Jesus, walking in the footsteps of Jesus, giving up his rights and privileges, identifying with the cross of Christ.

There is a word that keeps recurring as Paul speaks of the mystery disclosed: grace. Look at verse two, then verse seven — "God's grace given" — and verse eight, "this grace was given to me." All of us seated here are able to see the mystery, the secret plan of God; that is why we are here on a Sunday morning. And what we must admit before the Lord is this: I did not gain a view of your plan because of my own intention, nor because of my intellectual ability, nor my educational background, nor because my parents took me to youth meetings. It is grace. Chapter two, verse five speaks of grace embodied in the gospel; chapter three, verse two of grace in revealing the mystery; and chapter three, verse seven of grace for apostleship. The mystery is revealed because of grace.

I want to correct a popular misunderstanding about grace. Often, when we achieve something we did not deserve — we climb, we arrive — we say, "All by grace. I don't deserve this. I never thought I would get this promotion; it's all grace." For us, grace has come to mean accomplishing some success here and now in this temporal world. But do you know what Paul means? In Paul's writings grace normally denotes the amazing, redeeming love of God, manifest above all in the inclusion of the Gentiles, and it is not simply for personal enhancement. Grace is given for others. Think of it that way. Grace is not given to me so that I can accomplish something for myself. This morning I freely acknowledge that it is grace that makes me stand behind this pulpit — and it is not for me, it is for you, so that you may hear the word of God. If grace is at work in a person, it is for others; it is never for personal enhancement. The mystery is disclosed to an unlikely person, and it is by grace, and it does not stop with him — it is to flow through him.

Throughout this passage God himself is the subject; do not miss it. In verse three the mystery was made known; in verse five it was not made known in earlier generations but now has been revealed — and God is the one who revealed it. In verse seven Paul says, "I was made a minister" — not, I became a minister by my hard work or because I had a dream. In verse eight, "this grace was given." In verse ten, "that it might be made known." God is the subject. The open secret takes us to unlikely places; to understand it at all we need grace; and that grace does not stop with us but flows through us to another. And notice the agency: verse five says it is revealed through the Spirit. Ephesians speaks a great deal about the Spirit. In chapter one, from verse seventeen onwards, Paul prays that we would know the incomparable power of God. Why do we need the Spirit's power — merely to feel good on a Sunday morning? No. It is through the Spirit that you come to understand the spiritual power of God.

Consider the word "mystery" itself. It occurs six times in Ephesians, and three times in this chapter alone — in verse three, verse four and verse nine. The English word and the Greek word are worlds apart. When we hear "mystery" in English, we think of something abstract, dark, obscure, puzzling. But the Greek word does not mean something puzzling and obscure; it means a reality that was hidden in the past — something nobody knew, that even the prophets did not know — but which is now revealed, and revealed not to a few individuals but to all. This mystery has several facets in the letter. In chapter one, verse nine it is the "mystery of his will." Here in chapter three, verse four it is the "mystery of Christ." In chapter six, verse nineteen it is the "mystery of the gospel." One word — something hidden, now revealed. The will of God was not fully proclaimed or made visible in the old covenant; now the mystery of his will is revealed. The mystery of Christ, the gospel, was concealed, but now it is made known.

John Stott puts it this way: the mystery, or open secret, of Christ is the complete union of Jews and Gentiles with each other through the union of both with Christ. In other words, Paul, why are you in prison? Because of this open secret, which was hidden in the old covenant: that anyone, from any nation, from any part of the world, may come to Jesus through faith and approach him with confidence. We are seated here today shouting hallelujah because of this gospel reality. The mystery is revealed; we can come to Jesus in confidence. How many of you are excited that you and I can come to Christ and face God with confidence — not because of anything we have done, not because of any external markers of identity, but by faith — and that his love, mercy and forgiveness are ushering us to the altar?

In chapter three, verse six, Paul uses three words to explain this mystery. The moment we say "Gentiles" we may feel distant from it, but put ourselves there — none of us seated here are Jewish; everyone outside the Jewish nation is a Gentile. And the mystery is this: the Gentiles are fellow heirs, members together of one body, and sharers together in the promise in Christ Jesus. If you have studied chapter two you will immediately recall the same expressions: in chapter two, verse nineteen we are fellow citizens; in verse twenty-one we are joined and fitted together; in verse twenty-two we are built together. In the Greek these are the "syn" words — together, together, together. Built together, fitted together, fellow citizens — no distinction; from every nation, God has his one people.

From prisoner Paul now turns to servant. The prisoner who has received the mystery, the grace and the Spirit, who knows what God is doing, says in verse seven that he became a minister of the gospel. And immediately he stresses who that minister is. In verse eight he says, "Although I am less than the least of all the Lord's people, this grace was given me to preach to the Gentiles." I am less than the least of all the Lord's people. Again it strikes me — Paul, you are reflecting on your own life, on the nature of discipleship. The mystery has taken you to prison, yet you glory in God, in grace, in the Spirit; and now, from prisoner, you call yourself a servant of the gospel. "Servant of the gospel" is a glamorous title, used left and right — here comes the servant of God. But Paul says: yes, I am a servant of the gospel, although I am less than the least.

Whom is God looking for to defend this mystery in this generation? Not the glamorous, not those who lean on their own accomplishments and achievements. Paul says, I am less than the least — perhaps with First Corinthians fifteen, verse nine in his mind, where he calls himself the least of the apostles, not even deserving to be called an apostle because he persecuted the church of God; and First Timothy chapter one, verse thirteen onwards, where he calls himself the foremost of sinners. If anyone here is listening to this message about the mystery disclosed and the mystery proclaimed, and thinking, "Never me — not with my background, not after I went so far from God; I can never do this" — then you are exactly the right candidate. God does not call the qualified; he qualifies the called. No sinner under the sun is outside the reach of the loving arms of God.

When I stand here today, this is my testimony: I am less than the least of all the Lord's people, and I want to identify myself that way, especially in standing up to preach. I was not the obvious one. There were several places where people rejected me — you cannot stand, you cannot preach. But now, when I stand here, it is by the grace given to preach the gospel for others, and I can only say, with Paul, that the mystery is defended not through the powerful but through the weak, through the vulnerable. When grace comes, when the Spirit comes, lives are transformed. That encounter is what we need today. I do not deserve to do this, to defend the mystery — but I am doing it. I love how the Message renders Paul's words here. This is my life work, Paul says, helping people understand and respond to this message; it came as a sheer gift to me, a real surprise. How many of you are surprised at the way God has done something in your life — not material prosperity, not some accomplishment, but the very way he surprised you and is now using you? When it came to presenting the message to people who had no background — the Gentiles — I was the least qualified of any of the available Christians. God saw to it that I was equipped, but you can be sure it had nothing to do with my natural abilities. The grace, the commission, the empowering — it is a sheer surprise to me that God could pick up someone like me and make him a messenger of the gospel.

There is one word in the second part of verse eight that I do not want you to miss. What is Paul, the preacher, proclaiming? His message is the boundless riches of Christ. Have we seen it? We claim and we worship; yes, the mystery is disclosed; I can see something my neighbours cannot see — I can see the plan of God. But have we gone out to defend it, to preach and share the boundless riches of Christ? Have we even appreciated them? The Greek word translated "boundless" or "unsearchable" is built on a word-picture of a footprint — of someone pursuing another by tracing their footprints. But the idea here is that these riches cannot be tracked. You try to grasp God's wisdom, the boundless riches of Christ, and it is beyond you; it cannot be traced, it is undetectable, unsearchable, incomprehensible, fathomless — beyond man's ability to investigate and know. That is why Paul can say, I am a joyful man in this prison; I am happy though I am in chains, because I have seen in Christ One whom I cannot fully understand, and my words are not enough to appreciate what God has done for me.

The same word appears in Romans eleven, verse thirty-three: "Oh, the depth of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable his judgments, and his paths beyond tracing out." What are these boundless, incomprehensible riches? His kindness, his forbearance, his patience, his wisdom, his knowledge, his mercy, his love. As you sit here and as I stand here, I cannot fully explain the boundless, unfathomable riches of Christ, because his love, his grace, his forgiveness, his forbearance and his mercy are too much for my mind to take in. Every time we come into God's presence our hearts should be filled with gratitude. Let us not take anything for granted — not even a church like this, where we can come and listen to the unadulterated word of God every Sunday. This too is part of the incomprehensible riches of Christ; he extends those riches even through gifts like these — ministers, the church, and all that belongs to our salvation.

While preparing this, I came across the life of a man who, to me, embodied this admiration for the boundless riches of Christ. He was born into an aristocratic family; his father was a prominent neurologist and professor of psychiatry at the University of Berlin. At the age of fourteen he announced that he wanted to become a minister — though his family had expected him to become a pianist, for he had such skilful fingers that everyone thought he would be a musician. At twenty-one he graduated from the University of Berlin, and then spent some months in Spain as an assistant pastor to a German congregation. At thirty-nine he was killed for his conviction and his unwavering faith. Ten years afterward, the camp doctor who had witnessed his execution wrote this account. The prisoners were taken from their cells and the verdicts of the court-martial were read out to them. Through the half-open door of one of the huts the doctor saw the pastor, before taking off his prison garb, kneeling on the floor and praying fervently to his God. "I was most deeply moved," he wrote, "by the way this lovable man prayed, so devout and so certain that God heard his prayer." At the place of execution he said another prayer, then climbed the steps to the gallows, brave and composed; his death followed in a few seconds. "In the fifty years of my career," the doctor wrote, "I have hardly ever seen a man die so entirely submissive to the will of God." Eight years before his death, at the age of thirty-one, he had written the book some of you have read — The Cost of Discipleship. His name was Dietrich Bonhoeffer.

Why would such a man make these choices — coming from an aristocratic, well-to-do family, his father a doctor, he himself a graduate of the University of Berlin — and at thirty-nine kneel down to pray before his execution and face it with such composure? There is only one reason: he had seen the unfathomable, indescribable riches of Christ. There is nothing greater than gaining Christ and standing for Christ in this generation. My dear people of God, the mystery is given to us not merely to keep to ourselves; we are to defend it — in the marketplace, in the place where you are, on the university campus, in the school, in the workplace. Never shy away from defending the message of the gospel, the boundless riches of Christ. Take it as a challenge this week: to at least one person, witness about the incomprehensible grace we have received through Christ.

We come to the last part of this sermon. The mystery has been disclosed; the mystery is to be defended; and finally, the mystery is to be displayed. What does that mean? In verse eight the word was "preach" — to preach to the Gentiles. But in verse nine Paul uses another word: to make plain to everyone, to bring to light, to give enlightenment. It is more than preaching; it is to put a torch in hand and show others, to make the mystery visible — and how? Through the lifestyle, through a sacrificial, selfless life. There is a three-layered progression here. The mystery was first revealed through revelation, according to verse three. Then it is revealed through Paul — through his preaching and through his living. And now, in verse ten, a further element appears: it is not through revelation alone, nor through the apostle Paul alone. His intent was "that through the church the manifold wisdom of God should be made known to the rulers and authorities" — to the hostile powers of this cosmic order.

Our call, then, is to display the wisdom and power of God. How do we do it? The smallest unit of the church is the family, and we are to display the manifold wisdom of God through our families — Paul describes this from chapter five, verse twenty-one onwards — and in the workplace, from chapter six. Not merely to defend but to display the manifold, the many-sided, wisdom of God. To the world it looks like foolishness rather than wisdom. A submissive wife is not reckoned wise in our day and age; people say you must have your own voice, you must stand your ground. But this is precisely where the many-sided wisdom of God appears — to be generous, to be selfless, to accommodate, to give up oneself. That is the wisdom of God, seen in the life of the Apostle Paul, and it must be seen through our families and through the church at large, where there is no social barrier and no ethnic barrier, where all are one in Christ. So the manifold wisdom is displayed through the church to the hostile powers.

What, then, are we to do with this message? I want to leave you with three applications, and then we will pray. First, God is in control of history. The phrase in chapter three, verse two — "the administration of God's grace" — literally means the plan of God revealed to me. Ephesians is all about the plan of God. Something was hidden in the past and now is revealed, all according to his plan. He is in control of your life; find your assurance in his master plan. Second, God is sovereign. As we saw with the manifold wisdom of God, what seems wrong to us is, for God, his power and his wisdom. The cross itself, to the people of the world, was foolishness. Sovereignty means God has the right to do whatever he wills; so find your security in his manifold wisdom, even when it does not match our own thinking. Third, God is ever present. The man in prison says, let us approach God in confidence and freedom — from his cell he draws near to God. So find your confidence in his presence. Whatever situation you are in today, know that God is in control, that God is sovereign, and that God is ever present; find your assurance in his master plan, your security in his wisdom, and your confidence in his presence. Having seen the open secret, let us not grow weary in doing good, but go out to defend and display the boundless riches of Christ.