Paul’s praying was born out of his own experiences. What he had so well learned through his pursuit of God became the passion of his prayer for the churches. “The one who truly prays will have keener insight, will form sounder judgment, will evolve more intelligent plans, will achieve a greater mastery of situations, will sustain more creative relationships with people, than he ever could without prayer.”1 Paul was an effective witness and preacher because he was effective in prayer.
Why Paul included his prayers in his letters might be questioned. Certainly it was not done to impress his readers with his personal devotion and spirituality; nor was it done merely to fill up space in literary epistles. But because Paul was writing to his readers rather than addressing them in person, his regular habit of praying for them would naturally accompany his admonition and encouragement. We should remember also that he wrote these letters under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit. The Spirit directed him to include these prayers as part of the instruction God wanted all believers to have. Through Paul’s example we can learn how to come into God’s very presence with confidence. Paul’s prayers also help to bring revelation of God’s will for His people, and they present a pattern of prayer worthy of emulation. When we study his prayers and enter into their spirit, it is possible to pray them meaningfully along with Paul.
Praying the recorded prayers of Paul helps us express to God the deepest part of our beings. These dynamic and beautiful prayers introduce us to a whole new world. They help us peer into the depths of eternity, and at the same time they transport us from the mundane and mediocre levels of Christian existence to the height of divine revelation. Every believer who desires an effective prayer life is wise to commit all of Paul’s prayers to memory and to make them an ongoing part of his daily devotions.2
Paul’s prayer for the Ephesian believers (Eph. 1:15–21) expresses God’s highest will for every one of His children. Both here and later in the epistle, Paul prays, with great unction, that the Ephesians might grow stronger spiritually through the help of the Holy Spirit (cf. Eph. 3:16). We all need to pray for each other—and for ourselves—that there might be a great work of the Spirit in each one of us.
For this reason, ever since I heard about your faith in the Lord Jesus and your love for all the saints, I have not stopped giving thanks for you, remembering you in my prayers. I keep asking that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the glorious Father, may give you the Spirit of wisdom and revelation, so that you may know him better. I pray also that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you, the riches of his glorious inheritance in the saints, and his incomparably great power for us who believe. That power is like the working of his mighty strength, which he exerted in Christ when he raised him from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly realms, far above all rule and authority, power and dominion, and every title that can be given, not only in the present age but also in the one to come (Eph. 1:15–21).
With the introduction “for this reason,” Paul refers to some previous verses, verses which contain three spiritual blessings that belong to believers through Christ. First, “In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God’s grace” (v. 7). Second, “In him we were also chosen, having been predestined according to the plan of him who works out everything in conformity with the purpose of his will” (v. 11). Third, “Having believed, you were marked in him with a seal, the promised Holy Spirit, who is a deposit guaranteeing our inheritance, until the redemption of those who are God’s possession” (v. 13). Redeemed, chosen to give praise to God (v. 12), and made recipients of the promised Holy Spirit—these are the truths that Paul wanted the Ephesian believers to understand and act upon.
The Ephesian believers for whom Paul was praying had likely been worshipers of the goddess Artemis (see Acts 19:23–34). No doubt as pagans they had prayed to her. But that had all changed, and what a contrast they must have seen in Paul’s petitions addressed to “the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the glorious Father” (v. 17)! We do well to identify the God we pray to by addressing Him as He is described by the inspired writers of Scripture.
Immediately we confront somewhat of a mystery: Is not Jesus himself God? Unquestionably the Scriptures declare it (see Matt. 1:23; John 20:28; Heb. 1:8). But though Jesus is indeed the Son of God and therefore God himself, He is at the same time the Son of Man, and therefore both God and man. That is, He held within himself a full set of divine qualities and a full set of human qualities in such a way that they did not interfere with each other. It was from the human perspective that Jesus prayed to God the Father. His entrance into the human level (see Phil. 2:5–8) necessitated His praying at the human level.3
Having established the identity of the One he addressed in prayer, Paul moved from identity to affirmation of character: “the glorious Father” (“all-glorious Father,” Phillips). “Glory” is more than merely brilliance, or brightness; it encompasses all that God is—His nature, His character, His being. Giving glory to God does not impart to Him something He does not already have; instead, it acknowledges the honor that is rightfully His (cf. Isa. 42:8, 12). “Glory” is the unfathomable essence of God, which makes Him worthy of all praise. When one discerns God’s glory, even to a limited degree, one’s praying enters completely new dimensions (cf. Exod. 33:18 through 34:8). To this all-glorious God, and to Him only, Paul addressed his petitions, knowing that God was unquestionably capable of responding to the profound requests he would articulate.
Paul’s prayer for the Ephesian believers can be summarized simply, “God, cause them to understand.” Paul himself expresses the burden of his heart in this prayer. There is a discernable relationship between one’s experience and one’s burden. What Paul had experienced, he desired that others also would experience. He had come to know eternal reality through “the Spirit of wisdom and revelation”; the eyes of his heart had been enlightened so that he knew the hope of God’s calling, the inheritance God envisioned for His people (including Paul), and the power available to gain these glorious ends. Paul wanted his Ephesian friends to have the same experience, praying that God would give them “the Spirit of wisdom and revelation,” so that they would know the glorious Father better.
Whether the word “spirit” is the Holy Spirit or the human spirit “of wisdom and revelation” has been debated. Whichever interpretation is followed, the human spirit when moved upon by the Holy Spirit experiences wisdom and spiritual revelation. “Wisdom” means more than judgment or intuition derived from human mental processes, no matter how brilliant it may be. This is a divine wisdom, such as Isaiah foresaw in the coming Messiah: “The Spirit of the Lord will rest on him—the Spirit of wisdom and of understanding, the Spirit of counsel and of power, the Spirit of knowledge and of the fear of the Lord” (Isa. 11:2).
Whereas wisdom issues in right judgment, revelation issues in right knowledge. Revelation has two aspects: the divine and the human. In relation to God, it is the unveiling, or uncovering, of knowledge exclusive to God’s province. In relation to the human, it is the application of the faculty of insight to such unveiled spiritual truth. Paul’s desire to introduce the Ephesians to the God of all wisdom, knowledge, and power inspired his eloquent prayer.
Christ yearns to inspire His Church like He inspired Paul, giving it the same passionate desire for a more complete knowledge of God. We cannot have more confidence that we are praying in God’s will than when we petition with Paul for a greater understanding and knowledge of Almighty God for ourselves and our fellow believers. This knowledge is entirely outside the grasp of human nature. “The man without the Spirit does not accept the things that come from the Spirit of God, for they are foolishness to him, and he cannot understand them, because they are spiritually discerned” (1 Cor. 2:14). Yet this divine revelation can be received by everyone willing to acknowledge the existence of a communicating God. “We have not received the spirit of the world but the Spirit who is from God, that we may understand what God has freely given us” (1 Cor. 2:12). Only God can give us the eyes of a seer. “ ‘No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love him,’—but God has revealed it to us by his Spirit” (1 Cor. 2:9–10).
In other words, obtaining this knowledge of God is not a matter of hard mental toil; as A. W. Tozer observed: “The teaching of the New Testament is that God and spiritual things can be known finally only by a direct work of God within the soul. However theological knowledge may be aided by figures and analogies, the pure understanding of God must be by personal spiritual awareness. The Holy Spirit is indispensable.”4
The term “revelation” has suffered violence in the house of its friends. Consequently, its use frequently provokes suspicion and distrust. What divisions, what grief, what anguish, what heartache, what contentions, what ruin, have come to the church by those who abuse this divine gift! But shall we reject revelation because charlatans employ a counterfeit for their own ends? Certainly not! Instead it should intensify our efforts to experience what is trying to be imitated.
So what are we to understand as Paul’s intent when he petitioned God as he did? He meant coming to revealed knowledge other than by ordinary means. He meant coming to revealed knowledge through an act of God, by His Spirit. He meant having our spiritual perception sharpened by the Spirit so we can recognize the genuine from the counterfeit. How great is our need for genuine revelation! Without it we see only an outline in the shadows; with it we see almost face to face. Without it we know about Him; with it we truly know Him. Without it He seems far removed; with it we perceive that He is gloriously near. Revelation spells the difference between cold, lifeless orthodoxy and warm, living spirituality.
The qualifying phrase “that you may know him better” leaves no room for the strange or the spurious. Definite boundaries are set within which revelation knowledge is valid: (1) that you may know “the hope to which he has called you,” (2) that you may know “the riches of his glorious inheritance in the saints,” and (3) that you may know “his incomparably great power for us who believe.”
Paul carries his petition yet a step further: “that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened.” The heart, in the Hebrew language, included the inner mind and understanding. Our natural understanding cannot discern or comprehend spiritual truth by itself. But enlightened eyes of the heart, awakened by the Holy Spirit, bring genuine divine revelation. This is not some mysterious occultic unveiling of the previously unknown; it is an energizing of truth already revealed in the Word but not yet grasped by one’s spiritual consciousness. All of us, for one reason or another and to one degree or another, are much like Israel, of whom it was said, “Even to this day when Moses is read, a veil covers their hearts” (2 Cor. 3:15). Or we are like the Emmaus disciples who “were kept from recognizing him [Jesus]” (Luke 24:16).
In none of these lofty petitions is there a hint of concern or desire for anything to gratify the human senses. Yet we get the sense of someone so enraptured with a God-given perception of the believer’s ultimate end that he longs to share the revealed promise of blessings to come. Paul had seen the other world as mortals have seldom seen it (see 2 Cor. 12:1–4), and he strongly desired that others might, by the Spirit, glimpse the glorious prospect. How we need to pray with Paul to these ends!
What an inspiration to compare Paul’s physical circumstances with the content of his prayer! While writing the Book of Ephesians, he was a prisoner in Rome (see Eph. 3:1, 13). Even with the privilege of receiving visitors and moving about with some freedom, he was constantly under guard. We would not fault him for voicing prayer for his complete freedom. Yet he is more concerned about freeing people from sin and helping them grow spiritually. His own physical restraints were nothing compared with the bondage of those without Christ.
For this reason I kneel before the Father, from whom his whole family in heaven and on earth derives its name. I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have 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 to the measure of all the fullness of God (Eph. 3:14–19).
In this second of Paul’s prayers for the Ephesians, we observe an upward progression, leading step by step to the ultimate state of being “filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.” Paul’s passion for the church’s spiritual progress is never more clearly evident than in this passage. His petitions indicate not only his cherished objectives, but also his unquestioned conviction that only through divine enablement could they be obtained. Until we pray with similar conviction, seeking the same divine enablement, we come short of the glorious heights that God has intended for us.
“I kneel” (v. 14) can be understood in either of two ways: (1) Paul was speaking of his physical posture when praying; (2) he was describing his heart attitude toward God. In some cultures, people show respect for those of higher rank by standing in their presence rather than being seated. In other cultures, bowing or kneeling is the proper body position in the presence of highly esteemed persons. Should God be treated with any less respect than a fellow mortal? It may be, however, that Paul was not as concerned about the posture of his body as he was about the attitude of his heart. Whatever the case, kneeling in the presence of the Lord suggests deliberate and serious prayer, approaching God with reverence and holy fear.
Whereas Paul identified God as “the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the glorious Father” in his earlier prayer (Eph. 1:17), his identification here simply says, “I kneel before the Father, from whom his whole family in heaven and on earth derives its name” (3:14–15). Paul here emphasizes the whole community of dedicated believers, whether already in heaven or still on earth, as making up one family, deriving its name from God and looking to Him as the supplier of all its needs.
All four of the petitions in this prayer are interrelated and each enhances the one preceding. While we might hope to progress through the four petitions in one mighty ascent, that is no more possible than advancing from infancy to adulthood in a single day. “The child must still grow up by degrees, and there is no ‘chair lift’ to yonder glorious elevation.… Each step is introduced with a ‘that’ [KJV], and each ‘that’ points back to the conditions which make possible the next step in the ascent. There is no bypassing and no starting halfway up the stairs. Every step is necessary to the one above it and dependent on the one below it.”5
Paul’s first petition is verse 16: “That out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being.” “Out of” (Gk. kata), a term appearing at least fifteen times in Ephesians alone, here suggests a means of measuring. That is, God’s ability to provide for the need of the inner person is measured by the vastness of His own resources, His own glorious riches. This heavenly medium of exchange cannot be compared with any earthly medium of exchange, nor can the currency of earth ever afford the resource necessary to the inner person. The riches of the Almighty are not measured in terms of gold, but of glory. Gold may meet the need of the temporal, perishing body, but only glory will satisfy the needs of the eternity-bound soul. All that the inner person needs is available “according to his [unlimited] glorious riches.” So Paul makes his claim for everything his inner being may need; his assurance that he will receive more than enough is the existence of the inexhaustible glorious riches of God. We have the privilege of making the same claim.
Prayer, for Paul, was the single means of joining the supply—God’s glorious riches—with the overwhelming need of the inner person. He was especially mindful of a particular facet of those glorious riches that would address the need: His power. The believer is strengthened by miraculous power conveyed by God’s Spirit.
The second petition is the first part of verse 17: “That Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith.” The preceding petition lifts us to this next step in the stairway toward God’s ultimate. “Dwell” (Gk. katoikeō) means “to make a home,” “settle down to stay,” or “live permanently.” Until Christ makes His permanent home in our hearts, there is little progress toward love in the measure of “all the fullness of God.” “Through faith” is not included here by accident. “All the relationships between man and God rest on this bedrock. By his own faith Abraham dwelt in tabernacles; by our faith Christ dwells in our hearts.”6 The reality of Christ dwelling in our hearts is attainable not by human might and determination but only as the Holy Spirit accomplishes it in response to our praying.
The third petition is the latter half of verse 17 and continues through verse 19: “That you, being rooted and established in love, may have 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.” While we may not yet perceive it, we are listening here to the praying of a great apostle who, in his own pursuit of God, had left far behind the lowlands of spiritual mediocrity and had climbed the mount of spiritual insight and revelation; from the mountaintop, removed from the world below, he was awed by the almost indescribable sight of his magnificent God. No longer was Paul’s view restricted. He had seen God in all His ineffable glory and beauty. Never again could he be satisfied with resting at the foot of the mountain. Nor could he selfishly revel in his present state, for with his whole being he desired the same for all believers. And so he prayed with passion.
This third step flows naturally out of the second, for where Christ is at home within, there also His love abides, opening to us unlimited horizons. Love is at once the fertile soil of the soul and the ground of our spiritual attainment.
“Grasp” (Gk. katalambanō) means “to take eagerly,” “to seize,” “to make one’s own,” “to possess.” Love is the enabling and qualifying force. Apart from it our spiritual limbs are paralyzed; we cannot ascend to the heights where God’s fullness is experienced. We may view those heights in the distance with longing eyes, but like the elusive end of the rainbow, they are beyond our grasp. Our limited view of God is our chief handicap. God’s greatness may loom before us, like a majestic but distant mountain peak, but we have hardly set foot in its vicinity Yet, both God and Paul beckon us to make the climb.
What then is this thing of four dimensions (width, length, height, and depth) that attracts us? Most assuredly it is something hidden from the natural eye. It is far beyond the grasp of anyone who does not know God through Christ in a personal way. Some have thought that divine love is the unmeasurable aspect of God that the Spirit wants us to comprehend. That is no doubt part of the consideration, and though the very next statement singles out love by itself (“… and to know this [extraordinary] love [of Christ] that surpasses knowledge”), the context hardly allows this conclusion. Although there can be no question that God desires His children to grow in love, for God is love, we err when we think we understand God if we know about love. “Beyond God’s love but encompassing it is His fullness—the breadth, the length, the depth and the height of Him—all that He is.”7 This is what Paul had discovered when he prayed; and this was his prayer concern for the family of God.
The last petition in Paul’s prayer is the latter half of verse 19: “That you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.” Here is the summit! After our inner being has been strengthened with His might by the Spirit, after Christ has become at home in our hearts, and after we have begun to possess God’s glorious fullness, only then is the highest peak in Christian experience our possession. The lowlands, with their subtle downward pull, are far behind; a final step will transport us to the coveted goal: to be filled with the fullness of God. That is something unlimited. That is the brilliant mountain peak—being above the clouds—the loftiest height of all. A person cannot pursue a more precious treasure. How utterly insignificant are earth’s treasures by comparison.
However, note that just as in the case of the light that God shines in our hearts, “we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us” (2 Cor. 4:7).
What is this fullness upon which we are to fix our sights and to which we are to direct our most earnest prayer? It is conformity to the image of the Son of God. For of Him it is written, “God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in him [Christ]” (Col. 1:19); and “in Christ all the fullness of the Deity lives in bodily form, and you have been given fullness in Christ, who is the head over every power and authority” (Col. 2:9). Nothing more of God’s fullness and nature could have been wrapped in human form, nor could God have been more fully revealed to His creatures, for Jesus was the “the exact representation of [God’s] being,” the very expression of His substance (Heb. 1:3).
As certainly as the ocean tides are influenced by the moon, so are our behavior and practices influenced by our praying. Prayer is immeasurably more than a form of spiritual therapy. Its purpose is far loftier than a mere sense of well-being. In its purest form it is the will of a person rising to a level with the will of God; in that union we can perform the will of God. The will of God for all believers could not be set forth more clearly than it is in this prayer.
This is my prayer: that your love may abound more and more in knowledge and depth of insight, so that you may be able to discern what is best and may be pure and blameless until the day of Christ, filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ—to the glory and praise of God (Phil. 1:9–11).
God’s will for the Philippian believers, and for us today, is agapē love—love in its highest and purest form, though still in its infancy and consequently unperfected. Unlike philos love (affection or fondness and sometimes shallow), agapē love is poured “into our hearts by the Holy Spirit” (Rom. 5:5) and draws its nourishment from Him alone. Truth is its tutor; wisdom its guide. Satan’s temptations cannot destroy it, nor can the enticing words of the false lover make it waver. It has unimagined potential. Agapē love prompted Paul’s prayer, just as it should motivate our prayer. Paul’s impassioned heart desired its superabundant and continual increase, knowing that where love abounds, there is every good work.
The words “in knowledge and depth of insight” should be treated as a unit, since together they represent a compound quality of love. To seek to separate knowledge and insight is like separating Siamese twins, for they are so nearly identical. “Knowledge,” that is, epignōsis, is a strengthened form of gnōsis and indicates a full knowledge, a greater participation by the knower in the object known, which influences him the more powerfully. Paul seems to have in mind a spiritual sensitivity, a spiritual sixth sense. The Greek word aisthēsis, translated “insight,” is found only here in the New Testament. It means “perception,” “discernment,” “moral experience.” It involves moral understanding that intuitively perceives what is right and unconsciously shrinks from what is wrong. Through it a person becomes rich in every moral experience. Spiritual sensitivity and discernment are the supreme needs. Without them, we are too easily found among those “who call evil good and good evil, who put darkness for light and light for darkness, who put bitter for sweet and sweet for bitter. Woe to those who are wise in their own eyes and clever in their own sight!” (Isa. 5:20–21). But with that spiritual sense and discernment we join the ranks of those “who by constant use have trained themselves to distinguish good from evil” (Heb. 5:14).
Apart from Spirit-quickened spiritual sensitivity and discernment, we are unable to “discern what is best.” Therefore, Paul’s prayer “that your love may abound … in knowledge and depth of insight” precedes his prayer “that you may be able to discern what is best.” “Discern” (Gk. dokimazō) indicates something more than mere understanding. It is to discover the best of something and accept it with approval after it has been tested (like metal) and found superior.
However, it is one thing to judge right from wrong, but quite another to act on that judgment: Approval of the best is most loudly proclaimed by performance, and approval also charts the course for performance; in other words, approval of the best prompts performance of the best. Apart from the ability to discern or discover what is best, there is no ability to perform excellence. Agapē love, Paul perceived, was far superior to any excellence approved by the Law (cf. Rom. 2:18). It enabled its possessor to sense and discern what would please the object of its love, and then to perform the action (as the Law could not do). The Law shouted, “This is it; do it or die!” Love whispers, “This is it. I would rather die than not do it.”
Spiritual excellence consists of many virtues, the first of them being purity. “Purity” (Gk. eilikrinēs), according to some linguists, literally means “tested by the sunlight.” In other words, we have a moral and ethical purity that can be examined in the strongest light without displaying a single flaw, or imperfection. It also means “unmixed,” “free from impurities.” It was also used of a sincerity that was free from wrong, selfish, or underhanded motives. The world has a way of detecting impurity and insincerity. So does God. Nothing has such a discordant voice as insincerity, and nothing provokes more disdain. Purity combined with sincerity, however, is the queen of virtues, the mother of all respect. Its fountainhead is love. Let purity and sincerity reign, and both God and people will esteem and honor the person who shows them.
Purity has a noble twin: blamelessness. “Blameless” (Gk. aproskopos) describes an ideal relationship that does not cause offense, a relationship primarily between us and God. Agapē love, abounding in spiritual sense and discernment, removes all barriers and keeps one from causing offense; where love is, offense is as hurtful to the offender as it is to the offended. To avoid causing offense by being blameless is to be righteous indeed.
Impurity, insincerity, and offense cannot produce the fruit of righteousness; but combine purity and sincerity with a blameless spirit and you have a heart that can yield no evil fruit. This prayer reaches its glorious climax with a pronouncement of the end toward which the whole prayer is aimed: “filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ—to the glory and praise of God” (v. 11). Fruit denotes character rather than service:
There is an almost uniform distinction made in the New Testament between works and fruit; the former pointing to service, and fruit to character. Therefore, … fruit refers not to what we do but to what we are; not to Christian activity, but to our likeness to Christ; not to our relation to men, but to our condition of soul.8
We may be inclined to plead, “Such high goals, how can I reach them? How can I have agapē love? How can I discern what is best? How can I be morally and ethically pure in a way that does not give offense? How can I be filled with the fruit of righteousness?” There is but a single answer. Begin to pray as Paul prayed:
I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them rubbish, that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ—the righteousness that comes from God and is by faith. I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead (Phil. 3:8–11).
At first glance, this passage may not be perceived as a prayer; yet it echoes the sweet music of life’s highest purpose. To express the desire to know the power of Christ’s resurrection and the fellowship of His sufferings is prayer indeed. The soul that fully grasps Paul’s meaning here may be shaken by a sense of being subjected to the keenest scrutiny. Nothing exposes one’s imperfections like the perfections of another. No one provokes emulation like the person who excels.
On review is the exemplary Paul. The spotlight is focused on the recesses of his being. Whoever dares step into that light is at once aware of his own spiritual poverty. What soul ever voiced such searching expression of desire and at the same time such obvious distrust of past attainment? Here is a scene almost too sacred for our faint hearts: a mighty soul on the stretch, but mingling such provocative confessions that we wince in shame and wonder at our own complacency. Feel the intensity of his cry: “And so, somehow, to attain …” (v. 11); “Not that I have already attained all this …” (v. 13).
In an instant we spot our own deficiency. We may have been so completely absorbed with past experiences and attainments that we had not given a second thought to the possibility that we really had not yet arrived. Now upon second thought, not only do we recognize that we have been acting as though we had arrived—we find that we disembarked from the wrong port. Yet in full view is the chief of the apostles (2 Cor. 11:5; 12:11), the mightiest of the saints, and he is completely aware of overwhelming personal shortcoming (cf. 1 Tim. 1:15). No doubt this is the identifying mark of greatness, for we unveil our spiritual stature by our attitudes toward the past and our hopes for the future.
For Paul there was always something beyond. There was something beyond the revolutionizing experience on the Damascus Road and even something more than the earnest of Straight Street. Not long before was an Arabian desert of revelation, and after that a straight path that rose ever upward toward the unsearchable knowledge of Christ’s resurrection power. Nevertheless, when he contemplated his Master, Paul knew there was still more. He had suffered, but not as His Master had. He knew a measure of dying, but he was not yet like Him in His death. Nor would he feel he had attained until he had gone the entire course. One lap of the race was no victory. He would reserve his boasting until the final lap was run.
Unlike Paul, most of us victimize ourselves with a dream world. The song of our soul is, “If I am dreaming, let me dream on.” And until something drastic happens, we are content to dream. We must be shocked back into reality lest we continue to dream our fantastic and fatal dreams. To feel we have attained is to preclude the possibility of further attainment.
The fact is—and it can be stated without fear of convincing exception—not one of us has yet “attained.” Beyond us there is more, more than eye has seen or ear heard, more than any sage has ever told. In Paul’s spiritually enlightened mind, knowing Christ “and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings” (v. 10) was predicated on the most vital of all spiritual relationships. We make knowing Him altogether too casual a thing, and thereby admit to our own inferior knowledge of Him. We mistake a mere introduction to Him for the full knowledge of Him. We have become the unwitting victims of a deplorable ignorance. But there is a way out. It is to pray with Paul’s absolute and unflinching purpose of heart: “That I may gain Christ and be found in Him.”
But what does it mean to “gain Christ”? “Gain” (Gk. kerdainō) is the same word translated “gain” in Matthew 16:26: “What good will it be for a man if he gains the whole world, yet forfeits his soul?” As a person gains Christ, one so completely appropriates or receives Christ that the gentle Master becomes the pre-eminent power in and over the whole being and its circumstances.
One thing, and only one, was counted as gain by Paul. All else was loss, rubbish (v. 8). True value for him had nothing whatsoever to do with his proud lineage, his noble religious background, his education under the famous Gamaliel, his superior knowledge, his unparalleled zeal and deeds, or his seemingly flawless outward righteousness. All this was mere tinsel, fool’s gold, compared to the greater riches he had found: “the surpassing greatness [absolute superiority] of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord” (v. 8). Gaining Christ, in Paul’s own inspired words, meant to “be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ—the righteousness that comes from God and is by faith” (v. 9).
To use other biblical comparisons for this relationship, gaining Christ means being joined to Him as the Head (Eph. 4:15), wed to Him as the Husband (John 3:29), and built upon Him as the sure Foundation (1 Cor. 3:11). There can be no intimate knowledge of Christ while there is the least bit of dependence on any other thing. Paul knew this, but we do not. This is the perpetual battleground and the glaring reason for our snail-paced spiritual growth. We struggle constantly with a human tendency to take pleasure in our own righteousness; we try to gain Christ by offering the worthless coupons of our self-righteousness, rather than the legal tender of heaven’s treasury, the righteousness of Christ.
“Gaining Christ” is not a once-for-all act. It is so easy to revert to the well-worn paths of the past, to begin right and end wrong, to begin in the Spirit but try to finish in the flesh (Gal. 3:3). With Paul, we must also constantly practice accurate “considering.” “I consider everything a loss … and consider them rubbish” (Phil. 3:8). To consider otherwise is to court disaster and to alienate ourselves from Him. The moment we begin considering our own right living, our church faithfulness, our benevolent acts, our avoidance of certain evils—at that moment a wedge is driven between us and Him, until we repent and our “considering” is corrected. Gaining Christ is the absolute prerequisite to knowing Him.
The second petition in this great prayer is strictly contingent upon the first. “I want to know Christ” can never happen until we make Him Master of our lives. The “knowing” of which Paul spoke and toward which he was striving went far beyond ordinary mental comprehension. It was more than recounting Christ’s highest acts and noblest deeds, more than acquaintance with the facts of His life, more than intellectual conviction of His reality, more than knowledge gained by hearing or reading. It was complete identification with Him. It was identification with the same power that raised Christ from the dead. It was identification with the same sufferings that He suffered. It was identification even to the point of becoming like him in His death.
At first glance there is a rather strange order in Paul’s expressed desire to know Christ: “I want to know … the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings … and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead.”
However, there is a logic in this sequence. This is the path Christ walked. We discern His footprints at each stage, and having made the journey with Paul, we find ourselves standing with the impassioned Apostle gazing upon the One whose face was set toward Gethsemane, a judgment hall, a whipping post, a cursed tree, a garden tomb, and finally Easter morning! Consequently, we cry with Paul, “I want to know Christ.” Resurrection was the capstone of Christ’s ministry. But before He arose, He died. And before He died, He suffered. And before He suffered, He had lived and ministered by resurrection power. Did He not say, “The reason my Father loves me is that I lay down my life—only to take it up again. No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have authority to lay it down and authority to take it up again” (John 10:17–18)?
“I want to know him” is really the essence of all of Paul’s prayers. All other petitions are but facets of this greater petition. Ignorance is the direct opposite of knowledge. It is the ignorance in all of us that alienates us from the life of God. The person who knows Him not at all is the greatest loser of all. Paul describes such people as “darkened in their understanding and separated from the life of God because of the ignorance that is in them due to the hardening of their hearts” (Eph. 4:18). Paul wanted no part of this spiritual ignorance; he wanted to know Christ. He understood that to know Christ is to partake of the very life of God; to know the power of His resurrection is to partake of life more abundantly.
It seems that too many believers have stopped far short of God’s highest and best. We seem content with the faintest spiritual pulse. How many of us know the power of His resurrection? We hardly know that such a thing exists, to say nothing of knowing it in actual operation.
“The power of his resurrection” is the mightiest manifestation of omnipotence, for at its base is the principle of life itself. This power finds its most fertile soil in the valley of death. In fact, it cannot be demonstrated or fully experienced apart from death. But to be dead without it is to be dead eternally. Paul desired to walk the same path his Lord had walked; yet he realized that to do so he had to have the same power. Without it he could not know the fellowship of His suffering, nor conform to His dying, nor attain to His rising. Neither can we! From “the power of his resurrection” we advance to “the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings.”
What a prayer this is! Humanly, we make every effort to avoid and escape suffering; we think him masochistic who invites suffering. Yet Paul was no masochist. He knew that suffering was necessary to resurrection—but not all suffering, only the suffering exemplified by the Savior.
It is commendable if a man bears up under the pain of unjust suffering because he is conscious of God. But how is it to your credit if you receive a beating for doing wrong and endure it? But if you suffer for doing good and you endure it, this is commendable before God. To this you were called, because Christ suffered for you, leaving you an example, that you should follow in his steps. “He committed no sin, and no deceit was found in his mouth.” When they hurled their insults at him, he did not retaliate; when he suffered, he made no threats. Instead, he entrusted himself to him who judges justly (1 Pet. 2:19–23).
The Savior’s sufferings are easily identified, for they were always on behalf of others and never because of His own faults or sins. They were always according to the will of God; they were always vicarious; they were always redemptive. The fellowship of sharing in His suffering then necessarily involves suffering according to the same pattern and toward the same end. Can we drink of this cup? Are we ready to be baptized with this baptism? (Cf. Matt. 20:22–23 and Mark 10:38–39.) Dare we align ourselves with Paul in his prayer? Only when by the spirit of wisdom and revelation the eyes of our minds are enlightened to see with Paul, and with Christ himself, the grand finale of it all.
Suffering introduces its victims to death; it even helps prepare one for death. “Although he [Jesus] was a son,” the writer of Hebrews says, “he learned obedience from what he suffered” (Heb. 5:8). Paul says, “Christ Jesus … ‘became obedient to death—even death on a cross’ [‘the death of a common criminal,’ Phillips]” (Phil. 2:8). Suffering as Christ suffered makes dying as Christ died possible. Before we can even faintly probe the meaning of Paul’s prayer for becoming like the Savior in His death, we must examine that death. Surely the dying that Paul envisioned was something more than merely physical. Physical death is hardly a worthy goal, and death by crucifixion is a lesser one. But “His death” was a different death. Many a person has died, and not a few by crucifixion; yet no one has died as Jesus died. Physical death was the least (although important) part of His dying. It was only a visible demonstration of something profoundly spiritual and invisible. Here was love at its ultimate purpose.
How can we explain it? How can we comprehend it? Listen to Moses pleading for his guilt-laden people and you get some notion of this dying: “ ‘Oh, what a great sin these people have committed! They have made themselves gods of gold. But now, please forgive their sin—but if not, then blot me out of the book you have written’ ” (Exod. 32:31–32). Paul’s prayer for becoming like Jesus in His death must have been at least in part his experience already when he wrote concerning Jews who had rejected Christ. “I could wish that I myself were cursed and cut off from Christ for the sake of my brothers, those of my own race” (Rom. 9:3). That is, he would have been willing to give up his own salvation and spend eternity in the lake of fire if that would have guaranteed the salvation of those Christ-rejecting Jews. He knew that was impossible; nothing he could do would save them. But that is how much he loved them.
Paul’s desire for death was not morbid. Instead, it reflected his perfect understanding of the pathway to resurrection and to the matchless glory he saw in resurrection. Not unlike his Lord, “who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame” (Heb. 12:2), Paul, also enraptured by visions of what lay ahead, was not only willing to walk the same path, but make it his chief pursuit.
The resurrection, viewed with such desire by Paul, can hardly be limited to the final resurrection of the righteous dead. Several translations echo the sense of the Amplified New Testament: “That if possible I may attain to the [spiritual and moral] resurrection [that lifts me] out from among the dead [even while in the body]” (Phil. 3:11).
What mountaintops of spiritual splendor and revelation have we missed by our failure to recognize the present attainable aspects of the resurrection? That there are such aspects, even though we may have only a few slight clues, should provoke the most vigorous pursuit. Our inability to conceive of them should be no deterrent. Our lack of knowledge is simply an indication that God has veiled them in obscurity for the good pleasure of our discovery. But we do not want to be like the prospector in Robert Service’s poem “The Spell of the Yukon,” preferring the thrill of the search to the object of the search:
There’s gold and it’s haunting and haunting;
It’s luring me on as of old.
Yet it isn’t the gold I am wanting
So much as just finding the gold.9
“It is the glory of God to conceal a matter,” wrote the wisest of men, adding, “to search out a matter is the glory of kings” (Prov. 25:2). And we, as spiritual “kings and priests,” search best when by persistent prayer we say with Paul, “I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead” (Phil. 3:10–11).
Praying to Understand God’s Will
As has been observed, prayer to be effective must be in agreement with God’s will. Until the divine will is determined, there can be little expectation of receiving positive answers to our prayers. God’s children struggle when they misunderstand this point. For them the knowledge of God’s will is a riddle, the solution being so difficult that they almost give up hope of discovering it.
Yet we dare not accuse God of making His will beyond discovery. Why would He who desires that we perform His will subtly conceal it from us? Has it ever broken upon our hearts that while finding the will of God is often a puzzle to us, capturing our will is the chief pursuit of God? Once we begin to perceive this, we are ready for the breakthrough of a lifetime.
Paul knew the importance of understanding God’s will and what He was doing in the world. Paul commended the Colossian believers for the fruit of the gospel that had been produced in them since the day they had heard it. He also took note of their love in the Spirit, which is a prerequisite to knowing the will of God. “For this reason” (Col. 1:9), since the day he had heard about them, he hadn’t stopped praying for them.
We have not stopped praying for you and asking God to fill you with the knowledge of his will through all spiritual wisdom and understanding. And we pray this in order that you may live a life worthy of the Lord and may please him in every way: bearing fruit in every good work, growing in the knowledge of God, being strengthened with all power according to his glorious might so that you may have great endurance and patience, and joyfully giving thanks to the Father, who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of the saints in the kingdom of light (Col. 1:9–12).
Love is an activity of the will. “Whoever has my commands and obeys them, he is the one who loves me” (John 14:21), said the Master. Just as faith without works is dead, being by itself, so love without works is dead, also being by itself. The evidence of love in the Spirit is the complete dedication of the will. Love for God knows no greater demonstration than abandonment to His will. When we commit ourselves to the full performance of God’s will, without self-protecting reservations or specific knowledge of that will, we are readied for a revelation of that divine will. To demand that we know before deciding to act is to admit distrust; and distrust obstructs revelation.
In God’s design and method, there is a fixed order: willing, knowing, doing. “ ‘If anyone chooses to do God’s will, he will find out whether my teaching comes from God’ ” (John 7:17). People are prone to tamper with this order. We wish to know before we commit ourselves to do. Like Jacob, we wrestle fiercely through the night, unwilling to yield, while at the same time God wrestles for complete submission. “It is God who works in you to will and to act according to his good purpose” (Phil. 2:13). Let the problem of “willing” be settled and the problem of knowing will fade into insignificance.
God’s most coveted treasure is a person with a committed will. David was such a person. Why did God set aside protocol and instead of choosing the eldest of Jesse’s sons to succeed Saul as king of Israel, choose the youngest? We acknowledge the indisputable right of the sovereign God to do this, but we believe that His sovereignty is always compatible with His just and reasonable nature. Though we mortals with our finite limitations may not comprehend His reasons, we must insist that He was them. Anything less would deprecate His character.
Samuel the prophet had gone down to the house of Jesse under divine orders to anoint a new king. When the eldest son, Eliab, appeared, the prophet’s immediate reaction was, “ ‘Surely the LORD’S anointed stands here before the LORD’ ” (Sam. 16:6). But Samuel was looking through human eyes. He saw height of stature and a kingly countenance. No doubt he saw also a well-groomed, well-trained man of war possessing distinctive leadership abilities. But God spoke clearly and to the point, “ ‘I have rejected him.’ ” Why? “ ‘The LORD does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart’ ” (1 Sam. 16:7). There was a quality missing in Eliab, and it was the major determining factor. The same quality was missing in seven of Jesse’s sons, despite the fact that all of them were men of ability and renown. Samuel could anoint none of them, for God had rejected them. Yet when David, the most unlikely prospect because of his youth, was brought in from the shepherd’s fields and presented to Samuel, there was no shadow of uncertainty. Instantly the voice of heaven instructed, “ ‘Rise and anoint him; he is the one’ ” (1 Sam. 16:12).
What made the difference? It was something God saw in David’s heart. Was it that David had a more complete knowledge of God’s will? Certainly not. What then about this unpretentious lad attracted heaven’s attention? One thing—a will wholly committed to his Maker. Paul erased all doubt forever when under the Spirit’s inspiration he said, “After removing Saul, he made David their king. He testified concerning him: ‘I have found David Son of Jesse a man after my own heart; he will do everything I want him to do’ ” (Acts 13:22).
There is only one obstacle that keeps God from doing through us all that He desires—our will. Combine a dedicated will with a sincere seeking after a knowledge of God’s will, and no force in heaven or earth can hinder God. We do not have to persuade God to make His will known. All we need do is make it possible. “We have not received the spirit of the world,” wrote Paul to the Corinthians, “but the Spirit who is from God, that we may understand what God has freely given us” (1 Cor. 2:12).
God has “freely given.” We need only avail ourselves of the proper means for receiving. “The man without the Spirit does not accept the things that come from the Spirit of God, for they are foolishness to him, and he cannot understand them, because they are spiritually discerned” (1 Cor. 2:14). The Colossians by their love in the Spirit had made the revelation of God’s will possible; Paul’s prayer to the Colossians was a part of the process by which it was made known. The knowledge of His will is realized when the human will submits in the love of the Spirit.
But His will is not actually entered into until it is done “through all spiritual wisdom and understanding” (Phil. 1:9). “Spiritual wisdom and spiritual understanding” here are almost identical with “the Spirit of wisdom and revelation” that makes it possible to know God better ((Eph. 1:17). It becomes evident immediately that we can be filled with the knowledge of His will only by a spiritual operation.
Knowledge is the fruit of the learning process. And an aspect of learning is the process of comparison. How often did the Master Teacher say, “The kingdom of heaven is like …”? That which we already know is a stepping stone toward that which we do not know. Knowledge, we may say, is the key to greater knowledge. The knowledge of basic arithmetic is necessary to the knowledge of algebra, and the knowledge of algebra is necessary to the knowledge of the higher mathematics of differential and integral calculus. So it is in the things of God. The person who has no starting point can make no progress. The person who is not born again by the Holy Spirit has not learned the ABCs of spiritual knowledge. Therefore, the language of the Spirit is as meaningless to such a person as sign language is to one who cannot see.
The Holy Spirit is our teacher in the knowledge of God’s will; and His teaching process is very similar to the natural learning process. Only the raw material is different: “words taught by the Spirit, expressing spiritual truths in spiritual words” (1 Cor. 2:13). So spiritual experience is an absolute requirement. Until there is a spiritual eye, there is no spiritual sight. Jesus’ word to Nicodemus establishes this beyond all doubt: “No one can see the kingdom of God unless he is born again” (John 3:3). The groundwork had been laid with the Colossian Christians; spiritual life and knowledge were already present. Now it was but a matter of moving from relative emptiness to the place of fullness—Paul “asking God to fill [them] with the knowledge of his will.”
For us today, it is no different. The will of God is that we be filled with the knowledge of His will. However, we must pray and desire with Paul that it will be so, for only then do we permit the Spirit to teach us, expressing spiritual truths in spiritual words until we are filled with that supreme knowledge: “That you may live a life worthy of the Lord and may please him in every way: bearing fruit in every good work, growing in the knowledge of God” (Col. 1:10). Life and knowledge have much in common. Christ’s life reflected His knowledge. Our knowledge is reflected in our life. On one occasion, Jesus “had to go through Samaria” (John 4:4); He would be meeting a woman there to tell her he was the Messiah. On another occasion the Jews “plotted to take his life” (John 11:53), but Jesus had knowledge of this and “therefore … no longer moved about publicly among the Jews” (11:54). On yet another occasion Jesus said, “ ‘In any case [whatever the opposition], I must keep going today and tomorrow, and the next day—for surely no prophet can die outside Jerusalem’ ” (Luke 13:33). His knowledge motivated His life.
Paul’s prayer that the Colossian believers be filled with the knowledge of God’s will was plainly predicated on the premise that this knowledge would result in a worthy life. Notice the relationship between the two petitions: (1) “to fill you with the knowledge of his will” (2) “that you may live a life worthy of the Lord.” We are to be filled with the knowledge of God’s will in order that we may live worthy of the Lord. “All true action must spring from knowledge: worthy conduct from sound creed: Christian ethics from Christian doctrine: right doing from right thinking: morality from theology.”10 “That you may live a life worthy of the Lord” is the crux of the entire prayer. In it is reflected the consuming passion of the Apostle’s heart and the burden of all his labors. All that follows is but elucidation and the means of fulfilling that goal.
“That you please him in every way” would be taken grossly out of context if it were construed to mean the Christian is also to please everyone. Indeed, quite the opposite is true; the Christian’s objective is to please only One. The Twentieth Century New Testament renders the phrase, “and so please God in every way.” To walk worthy of Christ is to please God, even as Christ described His daily life on earth: “ ‘I always do what please him’ ” (John 8:29).
The starting point in a worthy life is “bearing fruit in every good work [or activity].” In fact, a worthy life and good works are almost identical. Good work or activity requires careful examination, for the biblical meaning has been all but lost in a maze of human interpretations. Bearing fruit in every good work is not the product of mere human wisdom and understanding. We think in terms of bread for the hungry, water for the thirsty, shelter for the homeless, clothing for the naked, and healing for the sick. We cannot envision anything more.
However, when “the knowledge of his will through all spiritual wisdom and understanding” begins to unfold, our vision suddenly begins to take in new horizons. We begin to see that the goodness of a work or effort is measured by the source from which it springs and the end toward which it aims. Acts of human kindness performed for a merely temporal objective may reflect the lingering image of the benevolent, compassionate God; but they are hardly worthy of the designation “good work” as set forth in this prayer. Good, in the absolute sense, is God. Jesus said, “ ‘There is only One who is good,’ ” that is, God (Matt. 19:17). Thus good work must be in line with God’s nature and God’s will.
Consider the work of Him who “went around doing good and healing all who were under the power of the devil, because God was with him” (Acts 10:38). It cannot be denied, nor should it be overlooked, that Jesus ministered to various temporal needs. He healed the sick on every hand. When the throngs that followed Him were hungry, He fed them, for He realized that they might collapse (Matt. 15:32).
On the other hand, when they wanted to make Him their king because He appeared to be the solution to their temporal needs, He turned upon them with a passion and said, “ ‘I tell you the truth, you are looking for me, not because you saw miraculous signs but because you ate the loaves and had your fill. Do not work for food that spoils, but for food that endures to eternal life’ ” (John 6:26–27).
God’s work always has an eternal end in view. It concerns itself more with the Bread of Life though it does not neglect bread for the hungry, more with the Water of Life though it does not neglect water for the thirsty, more with a city whose Builder and Maker is God though it does not neglect shelter for the homeless, more with robes of righteousness though it does not neglect clothing for the naked. Nor should we, in our zeal to bring Christ into human lives, neglect these things (cf. Matt. 25:34–46).
But there is a vast difference between good works of faith and good works without faith. Yet the difference is seldom discerned. The good works of faith are always pleasing to God, for they spring from the God-life within. Good works without faith may spring from human aspiration alone. The good works of faith spring from the knowledge of His will. Eternal good work is always performed unto the Lord, though it may enrich the lives of people. It is labor of the highest kind. It is the devotion of Mary as contrasted with the devotion of Martha. It is the sacrifice of Abel as opposed to the sacrifice of Cain. It is the praying of the Savior as compared with the praying of the Pharisee. It is the wisdom Paul preached over against the wisdom of this world.
There is a blessed compensation for fruitfulness in every good work: “growing in the knowledge of God” (Col. 1:10). Knowledge of God’s will leads to good work; good work, in turn, leads to a growing knowledge of God. In the first instance, knowledge is the seed; in the second, knowledge is the fruit. God’s knowledge is complete and absolute; our knowledge (of Him especially) is incomplete and gained by degrees. God’s knowledge knows no increase, but our knowledge must. Otherwise our spiritual growth will be stunted.
An older Texas couple had spent all their years in poverty on their ranch. Then one day oil was discovered on their land and their income shot up from around the poverty line to well-off. The rancher learned that $500,000 was on deposit for him in the local bank. Upon returning home, he announced to his wife, “Ma, we’re rich! We’ve got half a million dollars in the bank! What would you like to have most of all? You just name it and I’ll go get it.”
The wife, looking around, pondered for a moment and then declared her greatest wish. “That old ax is killing me,” she said. “What I want most of all is a new one for choppin’ wood for the kitchen stove.”
The woman could have drawn on great riches. She could have had a new stove and a new kitchen and done away with the ax altogether. But her knowledge, limited by her poverty-stricken life, kept her from realizing what was available to her. Similarly, the knowledge of God’s will determines our spiritual progress and opportunity.
We have seen that the knowledge of God comes by revelation. Now we observe it comes also by participation. This is no conflict of truth, but simply additional light on the first truth. While knowledge of God’s will launches us into a worthy walk evidenced by fruitfulness in every good work, the same worthy walk and fruitfulness become a booster rocket to speed our spiritual progress and perfect our knowledge of Him. Furthermore, this knowledge is inward and absolute, rather than outward and questionable. It is the knowledge of the heart, the treasure most coveted by saint and sage. No object of earth is a worthy stumbling block to our utmost pursuit.
With increased knowledge of God comes the practical demonstration of that knowledge. We know Him as the God of glorious power only as that power expresses itself in us. Paul says we are “strengthened with all power” (Col. 1:11), or we are, as the phrase has been otherwise translated, “with all power being empowered” (J. B. Rotherham). We do the receiving; God does the empowering. In us the power is displayed, but God is its source. Power has little meaning until it is translated into expression. Jesus announced to the Early Church, “You will receive power … and you will be my witnesses” (Acts 1:8). Being witnesses gives expression and meaning to the enduement of power. Wherever the power is, there will also be a demonstration of the power. Make way for the knowledge of God, and His glorious might will express itself.
We are prone to think of God’s glorious might only in terms of powerful preaching, mighty miracles, supernatural deliverance, and the like. Yet the Apostle sets forth an altogether different concept. To his enlightened understanding, the inward manifestation of power was as important as the outward, perhaps more so. He understood (and may God enlighten us to understand with him) that it takes more glorious power to be patient than to preach, more might to be longsuffering with joyfulness than to perform immediate miracles, and more divine energy to give thanks than to prophesy. This is not to diminish preaching, miracles, or prophecy, but great preaching without great patience exposes humanity and conceals divinity. Great miracles of deliverance without great longsuffering with joyfulness unveils fleshly weakness and hides His glorious power. Great prophesying without great thanksgiving betrays ignorance and casts a shadow on the knowledge of God.
The knowledge of God’s will in all spiritual wisdom and understanding issues in a worthy life and fruitfulness in every good work. From this blessed fountain flows an ever-increasing stream of the knowledge of God that gives practical evidence of itself in great endurance and patience, joyfully giving thanks to the Father. Therefore, with understanding and earnest desire let us pray day by day that we might live a life worthy of the Lord and be pleasing to Him in every way, bearing fruit in every good work, growing in the knowledge of God, being strengthened with all power according to His glorious might so that we will have great endurance and patience, joyfully giving thanks to the Father, who has qualified us to share in the inheritance of the saints in the kingdom of light.
1. What does Paul’s addressing God as “the glorious Father” show about this concept of God?
2. What was the relationship between the heart and the mind in Hebrew thinking? In what sense does the heart have eyes?
3. How did Paul’s circumstances as a prisoner in Rome affect the content of his recorded prayers?
4. What did Paul expect “God’s glorious riches” to supply?
5. How can we gain the spiritual sensitivity and discernment that are such supreme needs?
6. What does it mean to “gain Christ” and how are we to do so?
7. Why does a person who has been a Christian many years still need to pray “I want to know Christ”? What does knowing Christ involve?
8. How can we become like the Savior in His death?
9. Why is it so important to will to do God’s will even before we pray to know what that will is?
10. What does it mean to live a life worthy of the Lord?