When I was in 8th grade, I was on my middle school’s tennis team. This was the absolute pinnacle of my athletic career as a young man. I was probably the third or fourth best player on the team and even made it to the semifinals of one of our tournaments. I mostly joined because I had a few friends on the team and the away trips to tournaments were a lot of fun. I hated practice, however—probably the reason my career never really took off. Our tennis coach was also the English teacher, and honestly, I don’t think she really knew what she was doing.
All of us on the team, however, knew that she had a favorite player—the daughter of her close friend. So whenever we wanted anything—practice to end early, a particular post-practice or tournament meal, whatever—we would always get her to go to the coach on our behalf. If she asked, the coach almost always said yes. If we asked, the answer was invariably no.
A lot of people tend to think about prayer in a similar way. Surely, God must have some favorites that He loves to hear from—people who stand closer to Him than others, whose prayers are favored. If they ask for something, God will surely answer. In fact, if we need something from God, wouldn’t it be smarter to go to those people and ask them to pray on our behalf?
In the Catholic Church, this idea is pretty common. There’s a whole special category of people—they’re called “saints”—who, because of their great deeds of righteousness, are believed to be much closer to God than ordinary people. How does the church decide who fits in that category? Ultimately, the pope decides after people pray to that particular person once they’ve died and a miracle supposedly occurs. Frankly, the whole process is pretty absurd—and it probably goes without saying that none of it is in the Bible. God does not have two categories of people—saints and non-saints! Just look at how the letter to the Ephesians begins: “To the saints in Ephesus.” He’s talking to the whole church!
We can see that part of what Paul wants to emphasize in the book of Ephesians is that distinctions like these—people who are “closer” to God than others—don’t really exist. As he says in Ephesians 3:12, every Christian has “boldness and access with confidence.” That word access is very important—it’s repeated from the previous chapter. Paul wants the Gentiles to know that they share in an access that is greater than what the Jews of old enjoyed.
So when Paul proceeds to pray for them, as he does at the end of chapter 3, why does he do this? It’s something Paul does regularly throughout his letters. He is constantly pausing to stop and pray for his readers, laying out what he’s praying for them. Since we know Paul doesn’t enjoy a greater degree of access to God than anyone else, what point is he trying to make with these prayers? It isn’t so that they’ll say, “Oh, thank goodness Paul is praying for us—such a great man!”
We said this in the sermon this week, but I want to really drive it home: the goal of writing out his prayers is that Paul would give them a model for their prayers—something they can imitate. Paul is saying, This is what I am praying for you, so that you can pray it for yourselves. This is what God wants us to pray for and seek from Him. That’s the point of the prayer.
So if you want an application this week—spend time in this prayer. Pray it for yourself. Try praying it daily for a week, a month, or even a year! As you pray it, seek to understand it as well. What are you asking for? What would it look like if God were to say yes?
I pray that you may be strengthened with power in your inner being, that Christ may dwell in your heart through faith; and that you, being rooted and established in love, may have the power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.