That’s why Paul prays in Ephesians 1:15–23. After delivering a breathtaking litany of gospel blessings in verses 3–14—chosen before the foundation of the world, adopted as sons and daughters, redeemed by the blood of Christ, and sealed with the Spirit—Paul doesn’t move on to action steps.
By Dr. Tim Orr
There’s a peculiar kind of sorrow many sincere Christians carry quietly: the ache of spiritual disconnect. We say, “I know God loves me,” but deep down, we live like orphans. We affirm that Christ was raised from the dead, yet our faith limps rather than soars. We talk about the Holy Spirit’s power, but our inner lives often feel more like flickering candles than blazing torches. The problem isn’t that we lack truth—it’s that the truth hasn’t taken hold of us. We’re like people standing in the sun with our eyes closed.
That’s why Paul prays in Ephesians 1:15–23. After delivering a breathtaking litany of gospel blessings in verses 3–14—chosen before the foundation of the world, adopted as sons and daughters, redeemed by the blood of Christ, and sealed with the Spirit—Paul doesn’t move on to action steps. He kneels and prays. Why? Because he knows the Ephesians don’t need more content; they need sight. They need the “eyes of [their] hearts” to be enlightened (v. 18), so that doctrine becomes delight and truth becomes treasure.
In his sermons on Ephesians, Martin Lloyd-Jones once said that “the greatest need of the hour is not for better methods but for deeper spiritual perception” (Lloyd-Jones, 1972). He likened Paul’s prayer to a man who has inherited a mansion but still lives in a small, dark corner of it, afraid or unaware that the rest belongs to him. So Paul prays, not for God to give more, but for the Spirit to help them see what they already have.
It’s like receiving a handwritten letter informing you that a relative has left you a vast inheritance. Still, you continue living paycheck to paycheck because you never open the envelope. Spiritually speaking, many of us are rich in Christ but live like beggars. Paul wants the Ephesians to tear open the envelope and walk into the mansion—to live as those who know they are treasured by God, empowered by His Spirit, and destined for glory.
One of the striking features of Ephesians 1 is its deeply Trinitarian shape. In verses 3–14, Paul praises the Father who planned salvation, the Son who accomplished it, and the Spirit who applies it. And now, in his prayer, he asks the Father of glory (v. 17) to give the Spirit of wisdom and revelation so that they might know Christ more deeply. Sinclair Ferguson captures this beautifully: “True Christian spirituality is Trinitarian in its structure, Christ-centered in its focus, and Spirit-empowered in its experience” (Ferguson, 1996, p. 75).
Paul isn’t praying for mystical visions or esoteric insights. He’s praying for an unveiling of the glory already there—a revelation of what it means to belong to God in Christ. As J.I. Packer wrote, “The Holy Spirit’s task is not to teach us new truths, but to shed light on the truths already revealed in Christ” (Packer, 1993, p. 58). The Spirit doesn’t innovate—He illuminates.
The first thing Paul prays the Ephesians would know is “the hope to which [God] has called [them]” (v. 18). This is not wishful thinking or vague positivity. It’s the unshakable hope grounded in God’s eternal purpose. Piper describes it as “a hope that outlasts cancer, unemployment, betrayal, and even death, because it is anchored in the God who called you before time began” (Piper, 2014, p. 51).
I once sat with a woman battling terminal illness who had Ephesians 1 taped to her bathroom mirror. She wasn’t clinging to clichés or sentimental faith—she was clinging to a calling. “God chose me before the foundation of the world,” she said. “Whatever comes next, He’s already there.” Paul wants us to see that our lives aren’t adrift in chaos; they’re secured by divine design. The hope of God’s calling turns panic into peace.
Next, Paul prays that we would grasp “the riches of [God’s] glorious inheritance in the saints.” At first glance, we think this means our inheritance. But Paul is saying that we are God’s inheritance. That’s how deeply the Father values His people. Imagine that—the God who owns the galaxies looks at His church and says, “Mine.”
Tim Keller often illustrated this by comparing human love to divine love. “To be loved but not known is comforting but shallow,” he wrote. “To be known and not loved is our greatest fear. But to be fully known and truly loved is, well, a lot like being loved by God” (Keller, 2016, p. 106). The Father doesn’t just tolerate you; He rejoices over you with singing (Zeph. 3:17). That truth dismantles both shame and pride. The Spirit whispers, “You are the Father’s joy.” Everything changes.
One young man I discipled had grown up in a home where affirmation was earned, not given. When he finally grasped this verse, he broke down. “You mean God wants me?” he asked. The Holy Spirit had engraved an abstract concept on his soul.
Finally, Paul prays that we would know “the immeasurable greatness of [God’s] power toward us who believe,” the same power that raised Jesus from the dead and seated Him above every authority. This is not a motivational slogan. This is God's raw, resurrection power unleashed into the believer’s life.
Sinclair Ferguson notes that many Christians live “as though they are spiritual orphans with no power for holiness, no strength for service, no comfort in suffering” (Ferguson, 1996, p. 148). But Paul says the power that raised Christ is now toward us—energizing, sanctifying, emboldening us. This doesn’t mean we’ll always feel it, but it means it’s always there.
Think of an electric car plugged into a high-voltage power source. The energy is flowing, but nothing moves until the ignition is engaged. Paul’s prayer is that we would spiritually ignite and step into the reality of the Spirit’s power already flowing into our lives.
I once counseled a young woman battling deep anxiety. She had memorized Bible verses and journaled her prayers, but felt powerless. We read Ephesians 1 together. She paused at verse 19, tears welling up. “I’ve been asking for strength as if I don’t already have it,” she said. That was her turning point. She didn’t become fearless overnight, but she began facing her fears with a new awareness: resurrection power was already at work within her.
This prayer is not a one-time request—it’s a lifelong posture. Paul shows us how to pray when theology grows cold, when hope dims, when power feels distant. He’s teaching us to fight forgetfulness with Spirit-empowered remembering. As Lloyd-Jones so memorably said, “Our supreme need is to realize who we are in Christ. That’s the key to the Christian life” (Lloyd-Jones, 1972, p. 134).
If you are dry, distracted, or discouraged, pray this prayer. Pray it slowly. Linger over every phrase. Personalize it. “Lord, open the eyes of my heart. Let me know the hope of your calling. Help me see that I am your inheritance. Awaken me to Your power.” And don’t stop until the truth sings again.
Ferguson, S. B. (1996). The Holy Spirit. InterVarsity Press.
Keller, T. (2016). Prayer: Experiencing Awe and Intimacy with God. Penguin Books.
Lloyd-Jones, M. (1972). God’s Ultimate Purpose: An Exposition of Ephesians 1. Baker Book House.
Packer, J. I. (1993). Knowing God. InterVarsity Press.
Piper, J. (2014). Seeing and Savoring Jesus Christ. Crossway.
Tim serves full-time with Crescent Project as the assistant director of the internship program and area coordinator, where he is also deeply involved in outreach across the UK. A scholar of Islam, Evangelical minister, conference speaker, and interfaith consultant, Tim brings over 30 years of experience in cross-cultural ministry. He holds six academic degrees, including a Doctor of Ministry from Liberty University and a Master’s in Islamic Studies from the Islamic College in London.
In addition to his ministry work, Tim is a research associate with the Congregations and Polarization Project at the Center for the Study of Religion and American Culture at Indiana University Indianapolis. His research interests include Islamic antisemitism, American Evangelicalism, and Islamic feminism. He has spoken at leading universities and mosques throughout the UK—including Oxford University, Imperial College London, and the University of Tehran—and has published widely in peer-reviewed Islamic academic journals. Tim is also the author of four books.