Ephesians 2: A Prison Letter

And in him you too are being built together to become a dwelling in which God lives by his Spirit.

Some of the world’s most famous literature originated in, of all places, a prison cell. John Bunyan wrote his Pilgrim’s Progress there. Alexander Solzhenitsyn’s vast output had its conception behind barbed wire, as did Dostoyevsky’s. Parts of the Bible were written in prison as well, including Ephesians, Philippians, Colossians, and Philemon.

Perhaps surprisingly, these books represent some of the brightest, most hopeful books of the Bible. There’s a good reason: Prison offers Paul the precious commodity of time. He is no longer journeying from town to town, stamping out fires set by his enemies. He can devote attention to lofty thoughts about the meaning of life.

The letter to the Ephesians gives a hint as to what the apostle Paul “sees” when he lets his mind wander beyond the monotony of his place of confinement. First, he visualizes the spiritual growth in the churches he has left behind. Most of his prison letters begin with a burst of thanksgiving for the vitality of the church he is addressing. Then, as he spells out in Ephesians, he seeks to open the eyes of their hearts (1:18) to even more exalted sights.

Ephesians is full of sensational good news. Unlike Paul’s other letters, Ephesians does not address any urgent problems. With a sigh of relief, the apostle turns to the grandest question of all: What is God’s overall purpose for this world? Paul answers the question this way: “to bring all things in heaven and on Earth together under one head, even Christ” (1:10) He raises the sights far above his own circumstances to bigger issues, cosmic issues.

Ironically, it takes a stint in prison to free Paul up for this happy endeavor. The book of Ephesians can hardly introduce a new thought without bursting into a song or a prayer. It is no wonder the poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge would later call the book ‘the divinest composition of man.”

Reflection
Throughout his writings, Paul insisted on one fact of the gospel: Eternal life comes not by any ritual of rule-keeping (good works), but by the grace of God. Yet in this paragraph he notes that God intends for us to do “good works.” Conflicting message? Not really. Paul makes a clear distinction that good works do nothing to help us obtain God's favor, but they should follow naturally in our lives as we experience the love of Christ.