What happens when you get really tired or stressed?

How do you react?

 

Me—

the first thing that happens is, I lose things.

I’ll wander through the house going from room to room…

trying to find my keys…

when they’re sitting in plain sight on the kitchen table.

The other thing that happens is that I get clumsy.

I’ll trip over things, like:

the dog…

or the dog’s bed;

or a pile of books on the floor;

even my own feet.

When I get tired or stressed it affects my spatial perception…

and my physical judgment.

But, left unchecked, it broadens and worsens.

It begins to affect my personal perception and judgment.

It begins to affect how I perceive myself.

When I’m really tired or stressed,

my self-image gets all out of wack.

Suddenly…

I’m overwhelmed with thoughts of how stupid and useless I am.

Small mistakes become major faults.

Everything gets blown way out of proportion.

Nothing that I do is right. 

Nothing that I do is good enough.

 

Of course, what happens to each of us when we get tired—

and how we react to stress—

will differ.

Maybe, like me, you lose your sense of perception or 

judgment.

Some people do quite illogical things…

like putting a load of washing on late at night;

or putting the milk in the pantry… 

and the cornflakes in the fridge.

But for many of us…

when we get extremely tired or stressed…

we take it out on others—

especially those close to us:

snapping and biting off heads;

over-reacting to the slightest thing;

saying things that we don’t really mean and that we’ll regret later.

Or becoming difficult, picky, and demanding—

not content, unless we… 

and our needs… 

are the centre of everyone’s attention.

Or, conversely, we may bottle it all up—

trying to pretend that nothing’s wrong—

and turn the stress and frustration back on ourselves… 

until we make ourselves sick.

When we’re really stressed or tired…

in some way or another…

we often turn in on ourselves…

become self-absorbed…

distort things or blow them out of proportion,

lose touch with reality and the things that really matter.

 

Most scholars now believe that Ephesians was not written by Paul—

because of fundamental differences in its language, style, ethos, and concepts.

Rather, it was written late in the first century—

a generation or more after Paul’s death…

when all of the apostles— 

who had known Jesus during his earthly life— 

were long gone.

It was written at a time when some of the things that they had been led to expect— 

like the return of Jesus—

hadn’t eventuated.

As a result, some of them were struggling with disillusionment and doubt.

It was also written at a time when most churches were still quite small and localised…

and they faced increasing hostility from their neighbours and the local authorities. 

As a result, some of them would have been struggling with anxiety, apprehension, frustration and fear.

In response to that stress, some of them no doubt became increasingly insular. 

They began to think of the whole world as being against them…

that everyone and everything outside the church was threatening… 

evil…

even demonic.

In their stress, they turned in on themselves…

becoming self-absorbed and self-focussed. 

 

It was in this context that our author wrote this letter—

which he sent to several small churches in modern-day Turkey…

not just to the one in Ephesus.

Now the logic of what we heard read this morning is difficult to follow.

In the Greek, it’s all one sentence!

And it’s really a hotch-potch of images— 

a stringing together or piling up of traditional phrases…

not unlike some of those hideous, modern “choruses” or worship songs.

As such, the author doesn’t seem to be aiming at logical clarity.

Rather, he’s trying to create an impression.

He’s trying to instil a sense of awe.

First and foremost, he’s trying to remind them of who God is…

and of what God has done.

He’s trying to remind them that God is in control…

and that God has a plan—

a plan that’s been in existence since before the world began;

a plan that’s being fulfilled through Christ;

a plan to deal with the brokenness of the world;

a plan in which we would discover that we are loved…

forgiven…

and treated not just as creatures that God had created—

like plasticine figures sculpted by a pre-schooler—

but as God’s children.

Indeed, the author speaks of the recipients as adopted children…

and, back then— 

in the Graeco-Roman world—

adoption usually involved former slaves.

The act of adoption conferred identity and status. 

It granted privilege and entitlement…

turning a nobody into a somebody.

It was an act of sheer, unmitigated grace…

because those who were adopted had no right or claim otherwise.

 

And yet, according to the author, God’s plan wasn’t just about us humans.

It was about the restoration of the whole cosmos.

It was a plan in which everything would be put right—

in which the whole of creation would finally be as God had always intended it to be.

And, in seeing this plan being worked out…

in knowing that it was coming to fruition…

and in participating in its fulfilment…

the author’s expectation is that they would offer the only appropriate response—

namely, praise.

 

So, amid their frustration and fear…

their disillusionment and doubt…

the author reminds them, powerfully, of who God is…

of what God has done…

and of what God is doing;

not just for them, personally—

because that would only feed their self-centredness and self-absorption…

their insularity…

and their inward-focus.

Rather, the author tries to lift their focus—

above and beyond their own concerns.

He tries to put everything back into its right perspective.

 

Of course, today, in our more enlightened and more sophisticated world…

the image of a God who is in control…

and who has a “plan” for us, and for creation…

sits more than a little awkwardly.

And yet, if we think in terms of God’s intention for creation—

God’s desire for its fulfilment and completeness—

perhaps the author of Ephesians still makes a point that speaks to us today.

In our complex, stressful, ever-changing world—

where the church is seemingly caught in a downward spiral of decline and irrelevance—

it’s hard not to become despondent.

And it can be easy to become self-centred and self-absorbed…

to focus on ourselves and our problems…

to demonise others…

or societal forces that are beyond our control.

And, perhaps, we too need to be reminded to look beyond ourselves—

beyond our fears and our worries—

and to see a bigger picture.

Perhaps we too need to focus upon God…

and upon God’s intention for creation…

and work for its fulfilment and completion.

Perhaps we need to see our lives—

our concerns and worries—

and even the future of the church…

in the context of that bigger picture.

 

We are called to be God’s children.

We are the ones who incarnate God’s transforming love and inclusivity.

We are the means by which God will fulfil God’s intention for the whole creation.

 

Praise be to God!