Sacred Texts: words to live by
So that Christ may dwell in your hearts
Readings: Ephesians 3:14-21, Luke 10:38-42
Preacher: Rev Phil Swain
This sermon we begin a new worship series exploring some of the “sacred texts” that people in our church identified as especially meaningful to them. We begin with a beautiful prayer from Ephesians 3, where Paul prays that Christ may dwell in our hearts and that we might know the love of Christ that goes beyond knowledge. It is possible to know a great deal about Jesus without always making space simply to be with Jesus. Through the story of Mary and Martha, we will reflect on the importance of both serving and stopping, doing and being, and allowing our spirits to settle in the presence of Christ.
Reflection Questions
Exploring the Passage (Eph 3:14-21)
- In Ephesians 3:14–21, what are the main things Paul prays for the church? Which part of the prayer stands out to you most?
- Paul prays that Christ may “dwell in your hearts through faith.” What do you think the word dwell adds to the meaning of this prayer?
- What do you make of the phrase, “to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge”? How can we know something that is beyond knowledge?
Pondering the Sermon Themes
- The sermon suggested that there is a difference between knowing about Jesus and knowing the presence and love of Jesus through experience. Does that distinction make sense to you? What might that look like in real life?
- In the story of Mary and Martha, Martha is serving while Mary sits and listens to Jesus. What do you think Jesus is challenging in Martha, and what is he affirming in Mary?
- The sermon suggested that we need both the serving spirit of Martha and the attentiveness of Mary. Which side do you naturally lean towards, and where do you find it hardest to make space simply to be with Jesus?
Going Deeper
- Jesus says in John 15, “I am the vine; you are the branches,” and Psalm 42 says, “My soul thirsts for God, for the living God.” How do these images deepen the idea of Christ dwelling within us?
- Are there particular Bible passages that have become sacred texts for you — words that have shaped you, carried you through a difficult time, brought you peace, challenged you, or repeatedly drawn you back to God? What makes them significant?
- If Ephesians 3:14–21 were to become one of the sacred texts of TUC, what might it mean for Christ to truly dwell among us as a church? How could that shape our worship, relationships, serving, decisions and priorities?
Sermon Text
Most of us, I think, have particular words from the Bible that have stayed with us. Sometimes they are verses we learnt when we were young. Sometimes they are words that seemed to find us at just the right moment in life. And sometimes they are passages we have returned to so often that they have almost become part of the furniture of our faith.
For me, one of those passages is Proverbs 3:5–6:
“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not rely on your own insight. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths.”
My parents wrote those words inside the front cover of my very first Bible. I am not sure how much I really understood them at the time, but they were there from the beginning, quietly shaping the way I thought about faith and trust.
Later, as a teenager, there were other verses that grabbed hold of me. One of them was Acts 2:21: “Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved.”
I loved the simplicity of that. Faith did not need to be complicated. You could call out to God, and God would hear.
And then there were passages that helped me make sense of what I believed, like these words from Colossians 1:21–22 (which I first learnt in the Good News Translation):
“At one time you were far away from God and were his enemies because of the evil things you did and thought. But now, by means of the physical death of his Son, God has made you his friends, in order to bring you, holy, pure, and faultless, into his presence.”
For some people, a sacred text is a passage like that—one that has helped shape their faith over many years.
For others, it might be a verse that carried them through a difficult season: “I lift up my eyes to the hills—from where will my help come?”
For others, it might be a passage they keep coming back to because it brings peace, or offers hope, or somehow gives words to something deep within them that they have never quite been able to put into words themselves.
That is what I mean when I talk about a sacred text.
Not necessarily the most important verse in the Bible. Not necessarily the verse everyone else should choose. But a passage through which God has spoken to us, and which somehow continues to speak.
Of course, there is also a danger with familiar words like these.
We can know them so well that we stop really listening to them.
We can quote them, underline them, put them on a wall, remember exactly where they sit on the page, and yet no longer allow them to surprise us, question us, comfort us, or draw us deeper.
As part of the recent Growth and Mission consultation, Church Council was asked to think about what some of the sacred texts of our church might be. What passages seem to capture something of who we are? What matters to us? Where might God be leading us?
At the combined service, I spoke about one of those passages from John 15, where Jesus says, “I am the vine; you are the branches.” It is such a beautiful image of connection, dependence and fruitfulness.
Today, and over the next few weeks, we are going to sit with another passage that was named—Paul’s prayer in Ephesians 3—and we will also touch on a few of the other texts that different members of Church Council put forward.
And the invitation is not simply to hear why these verses matter to someone else. It is to let them speak again.
To listen slowly enough that familiar words might become living words again, and that through them, God might meet us here.
So let’s turn to Ephesians 3:14–21.
Here we find Paul praying for a church that is still learning what it means to belong together in Christ. They are people from different backgrounds, with different stories, trying to work out how to live together as one community.
Earlier in the letter, Paul has spoken about walls being broken down, strangers becoming family, and people who were once far away being brought near.
And now he prays for them.
What I find interesting is what he actually prays for.
He does not pray that they will become more successful or more impressive. He does not even pray that they will become more knowledgeable.
He prays that they will be strengthened deep within themselves.
He prays that Christ may dwell in their hearts.
He prays that they might be rooted and grounded in love.
And then comes this wonderful line: “That you may know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge.”
It almost sounds like a contradiction.
How can we know something that is beyond knowledge?
But I wonder whether Paul is pointing us towards the difference between knowing something in our heads, and knowing it through experience.
We can know a great deal about love without always feeling loved. We can understand the idea of grace without really allowing ourselves to receive it. We can know the stories of Jesus, repeat the words of Jesus, believe the right things about Jesus, and still keep Jesus at a safe distance.
You can read about friendship, but that is not the same as having someone sit beside you when life is hard.
You can talk about forgiveness, but that is not the same as hearing someone say, “I forgive you,” and feeling the weight begin to lift.
And in the same way, we can say that God loves us, but Paul is praying for something deeper than simply agreeing with that statement.
He is praying that we might know this love from the inside.
That it might become real enough to hold us, shape us, and change us.
This is not simply a prayer that we would know more about Jesus. It is a prayer that we might experience the presence and love of Christ for ourselves.
And one of the reasons this passage resonated as a possible sacred text for TUC was that one word: dwell.
So perhaps we should dwell with that word for a moment.
Paul prays that Christ may dwell in our hearts through faith.
To dwell is more than to visit.
A visitor comes for a while. We welcome them in, spend some time together, and then they leave.
But to dwell somewhere is to make it home.
It is to settle in.
It is to belong there.
And when someone really makes a home somewhere, you know it. Their presence becomes part of the place. Their habits, their voice, their rhythms, their life begin to shape the household.
And I wonder whether, at times, we can treat Jesus more like a visitor than someone who dwells with us.
We welcome Jesus into particular parts of our lives. We meet with Jesus in worship. We turn to Jesus when we need help, when life becomes difficult, or when we are facing a decision.
But Paul is praying for something deeper than an occasional visit. He is praying that Christ might make a home within us.
His prayer is not that Christ might stand politely at the doorway of our lives. It is that Christ may dwell in our hearts.
That the love and presence of Christ might reach into every part of us and begin shaping us from the inside out.
But because Paul is praying for a church, perhaps we also need to hear these words as a prayer for us together.
What would it mean for Christ to dwell at the heart of Turramurra Uniting Church?
Christ-centredness is one of the core pillars of our vision. We say that we want Jesus to be at the centre of who we are and all that we do. But surely that has to mean more than putting the name of Jesus in our purpose statement, or beginning our meetings with prayer.
For Christ to dwell among us means allowing the way of Jesus to shape our priorities, our relationships, our decisions, and the way we respond to the world around us.
Because when someone truly dwells in a home, their presence changes the place. They become woven into the life of everyone else.
So perhaps Paul’s prayer is both personal and communal.
May Christ dwell in you and me.
And may Christ dwell among us.
May the presence of Jesus become so deeply woven into the life of this church that people do not simply hear us talk about Jesus, but encounter something of the love and presence of Jesus among us.
Another passage suggested as a possible sacred text for our church was the story of Mary and Martha in Luke 10. I think Jane was the one who put this forward, and I can understand why.
In many ways, these two sisters reflect two important parts of who we are as a church.
Martha is serving. She is preparing the meal, offering hospitality, making sure everything is ready. Her work matters.
Jesus and the disciples need to be welcomed and fed. Someone has to notice what needs doing and then get on with it.
And that serving spirit is very much part of the life of TUC.
We are a church filled with people who are willing to help. Hospitable people. People who set up rooms, welcome newcomers, visit those who are unwell, lead groups, arrange flowers, operate sound desks, prepare worship, care for children, serve the wider community, and do countless other things that are often barely noticed.
That is something worth celebrating. Our willingness to serve is one of the great strengths of this church.
The problem in the story is not that Martha is serving.
The concern is that she has become “worried and distracted by many things.”
Martha is doing something for Jesus, but she is finding it difficult simply to be with Jesus.
Mary, meanwhile, sits at Jesus’ feet and listens.
She is not being lazy or uncaring. She has recognised that, in this moment, there is something more important than keeping everything moving.
She makes space to be present.
To listen. To receive.
And perhaps that is why this story speaks so powerfully to us as a church.
We want to be a church that serves. We want to be active, generous and outward-looking. We want to respond when people are hurting and contribute something good to our community.
But we also want to be a church that helps people draw close to Jesus. To dwell in the presence of Jesus, and for Jesus to dwell in their hearts. Because it is possible for a church to become very busy doing good things and still lose touch with the One at the centre of it all.
It is possible to fill the calendar, run the programs, meet the needs and keep everything functioning, while our own spirits become tired, hurried and distracted.
Mary reminds us that before we are workers, leaders, organisers or volunteers, we are disciples.
We are people invited to sit at the feet of Jesus, to listen, to receive, and to allow Christ to dwell among us and within us.
Perhaps the challenge is not to choose between Mary and Martha, as though serving and listening were opposites.
We need both.
We need the willingness of Martha to notice what needs to be done, and the attentiveness of Mary to remain close to Jesus.
But the relationship between the two matters.
Our service is healthiest when it grows out of us dwelling with Jesus, and Jesus dwelling in us.
And didn’t we say something very similar at our combined service when we reflected on the vine banner and that other sacred text we have already begun exploring as a church?
John 15: “I am the vine; you are the branches.”
A branch does not bear fruit by trying harder.
It bears fruit by remaining connected to the vine.
That does not make the fruit unimportant. Quite the opposite. Jesus talks about bearing much fruit.
But the fruit comes from abiding.
From remaining.
From staying connected.
Again, there is that same sense of dwelling.
Christ dwelling in us, and we abiding in Christ.
Jesus reminds us that the life of faith cannot be sustained simply by effort.
If our serving is going to remain life-giving, compassionate and Christ-shaped, then it needs to keep growing out of that deeper connection with him.
Psalm 42 was another suggestion for our church’s sacred text:
“As a deer longs for flowing streams, so my soul longs for you, O God. My soul thirsts for God, for the living God.”
I love the honesty of that. There is something within us that longs for God, but sometimes that longing gets buried beneath everything else that fills our days.
And perhaps somewhere beneath all of that activity, there is still a thirst within us that all our doing cannot satisfy.
And notice that the psalmist does not say, “My soul thirsts for more information about God.”
It says, “My soul thirsts for God.”
For the living God.
And perhaps that brings us back to where we began.
Sacred texts matter not simply because they give us good ideas to think about.
At their best, they awaken something within us.
They help us notice that deeper longing.
They invite us again into relationship.
To sit with Jesus.
To abide in Christ.
To allow Christ to dwell within us.
And perhaps sometimes simply to recognise that beneath all our doing, our souls are still thirsty for the living God.
So where does all of this leave us?
I think the invitation for us this morning is actually very simple.
We are invited to make some space so that we can dwell with Jesus, and Jesus can dwell in us.
That might mean taking one of these sacred texts, or another passage that has been significant for you, and reading it slowly.
Sit with it for a while.
Notice what draws your attention.
What words seem to stay with you?
What do they stir in you?
Is there something there that comforts you, challenges you, unsettles you, or simply reminds you again that God is present?
Or maybe the invitation is even simpler than that. Maybe it is to be like Mary and simply stop for a few moments, put aside the next task, quieten some of the noise, and allow ourselves to be with Jesus.
The reality is that Christ is already among us.
The invitation is to become more attentive to that presence, more open to it, and more willing to let it shape us.
Because Paul’s prayer in Ephesians 3 is not simply that we would know more about Christ. His prayer is that Christ would dwell in our hearts, and that somehow we might come to know a love that is deeper than knowledge.
So perhaps there are two questions worth carrying with us this week.
What space am I making in my own life for Christ to dwell more deeply within me?
And, because this passage has been suggested as a sacred text not only for us as individuals but for us as a church, what space are we making for Christ to dwell among us as a church?
My hope for this series is that these sacred texts do not simply become familiar words that we recognise and then move past.
My hope is that we allow them to speak again, and that through them we find ourselves drawn a little closer to Jesus, a little more rooted in love, and a little more aware of the Christ who is already dwelling within us and among us.
Amen.