Faith is Rooted in the Fathers Love (Ephesians 3:14-21)

Key Texts: Ephesians 3:14-21, Ephesians 3:14-15, Ephesians 3:16, Ephesians 3:17, Ephesians 3:18-19, Ephesians 3:20-21, John 14:16-18, Romans 8:9, Galatians 2:20, Hebrews 11:31, James 2:25, 1 Samuel 25 (Abigail), Hebrews 11:7, Genesis 38 (Onan), Psalm 127:3-5, Genesis 18:14, Genesis 25:21, Genesis 30:22, 1 Samuel 1 (Hannah), 2 Kings 4 (Shunammite), Luke 1 (Elizabeth), Psalm 127:1-2

Introduction

Church family, we did not rush through the closing verses of Ephesians 3 last Lord’s Day. There is simply too much weight, too much glory, and far too much that our weak reading comprehension tends to glide right over. These verses are not light devotional material to be quickly consumed and forgotten. They are a deep well of divine truth that demands we slow down, breathe in Scripture, and drink deeply. We have grown far too accustomed to treating the Bible like a mere training manual or a quick reference tool to silence opponents. Instead, let us linger here together and allow the Word to do its piercing, nourishing work in our souls. Last week we took a firm stand on the doctrine of Fatherhood, and for good reason. Paul does not pray casually to God in general; he bows his knees before the Father, from whom every patria—every fatherhood and every family—in heaven and on earth derives its name. The Greek word is rooted in pater, pointing us directly to paternity and the heart of God as Father. This is why we must regain a robust vision of the Father and not stop short at Jesus as if He were the final destination. Jesus is the way to the Father, and Paul’s kneeling posture models the reverence and humility we so desperately need in our day. Far too often we approach God with flippant familiarity rather than holy fear. Yet here the apostle shows us the right posture: on our knees before the One from whom all true fatherhood takes its meaning. The petition Paul offers is breathtaking in its focus. He does not ask for health, wealth, comfort, or deliverance from trials—the temporary blessings that vanish like morning mist. Instead, he prays according to the riches of God’s glory that we would be strengthened with power through the Holy Spirit in our inner being. What are these riches? They are not the paltry treasures of earth like gold from mines or timber from forests. No, they are the infinite perfections of God—His holiness, justice, mercy, wisdom, and sovereign love—all shining in radiant splendor. From this inexhaustible storehouse, the Holy Spirit Himself penetrates the depths of our soul, fortifying us against every assault of the enemy and the weakness of our flesh. This is eternal strength for the inner man, not fleeting external relief. Church, this should reshape how we pray for one another.

Christ Dwelling in our Hearts

The entire purpose of this inner strengthening is singular and profound: “so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith.” This is far more than a historical fact that Christ died for us two thousand years ago. It is the living reality that He takes up permanent residence in our hearts, ruling as King and communing as Friend. This dwelling is not a temporary visit like a traveler stopping at an inn for the night. It is full habitation by the Holy Spirit, who applies all the benefits of redemption to us day by day. As Jesus promised in John 14, the Spirit dwells with us and will be in us, and in this way Christ Himself comes to us so we are not left as orphans. Without this indwelling we are mere professors of faith—whitewashed tombs full of dead men’s bones. But when Christ dwells in us by His Spirit, Galatians 2:20 explodes into reality: “It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me.” This is the vital, mystical union every true believer must pursue and cherish.

Faith Without Hedging

This indwelling of Christ happens only through faith, but we must be honest about what biblical faith actually is. Most of what passes for faith in our day is passive sentiment, intellectual nodding to doctrine, or carefully hedged bets that protect us from disappointment. True biblical faith is active, expectant, and willing to stake everything on the promises of God without calculating risks or protecting personal comfort. It does not wait for visible signs or perfect conditions before obeying. Instead, it acts boldly, fully expecting God to do exactly what He has sworn. Consider Rahab the prostitute in Jericho—she heard of Israel’s God, confessed His supremacy, hid the spies, and hung the scarlet cord, risking her life and family in expectant obedience. Abigail, married to the fool Nabal, did not hesitate or consult her husband when danger loomed; she rode out to meet David, took blame upon herself, and expected God to restrain David’s hand from sin. Noah built a massive ark over decades in a world that had never seen rain, preaching righteousness while staking his entire reputation and family on God’s word. These saints did not hedge—they acted in full obedience, expecting God to honor His promises. Yet how often do we do the opposite, endlessly discerning, calculating, and protecting our plans instead of stepping out in faith?

We see this same unbelief tragically displayed in the marriage bed through the sin of Onan in Genesis 38. Commanded to raise up offspring for his deceased brother, Onan went in to Tamar but withdrew and spilled his seed on the ground, using her for pleasure while refusing the fruit God designed marriage to produce. This was wickedness in the Lord’s sight, and He slew him. Brothers, how often do we act the same—entering the marriage bed with hearts closed to life, using artificial means, withdrawal, or timing tricks not out of grave necessity but out of fear, selfishness, or love of ease? We treat our wives as means to pleasure alone while withholding the full gift of ourselves and the children God intends as blessings. Sisters, the world has lied to you as well, convincing many that children are burdens that will ruin your body, your dreams, and your freedom. Both attitudes are forms of hedging—betting against God’s goodness and provision. Biblical faith opens the hand and trusts the Father to lead in both fatherhood and motherhood. It believes that children are a heritage from the Lord and that He who commands fruitfulness will supply what is needed. Look to the barren women of Scripture—Sarah, Rebekah, Rachel, Hannah, the Shunammite, and Elizabeth—who cried out to God in faith and saw Him open the womb in impossible circumstances, displaying His power and advancing His purposes. When we walk in this kind of expectant faith, refusing to bet against God, Christ dwells richly in us and the love of the Father becomes real.

Rooted and Grounded in Love

Paul presses even deeper when he prays that we, “being rooted and grounded in love,” would comprehend the vast dimensions of Christ’s love. The images are vivid and powerful: rooted like a tree sinking tendrils deep into fertile soil for unseen nourishment, and grounded like a building fixed on unshakeable rock so it stands firm against storm and flood. This is not an optional extra for the spiritually mature; it is essential for all true spiritual life and growth. Without it we remain rootless and foundationless, tossed about by every wind of doctrine or wave of trial. And the love Paul speaks of is not our weak, inconstant love for God that withers under affliction. No, this is the Father’s own electing, sovereign, free love—the love that chose us before the foundation of the world according to the good pleasure of His will, sent the Son to die for us while we were still sinners, and sustains us moment by moment. Only when we are anchored in this divine love do we begin to taste its sweetness and power. If we continue hedging, calculating risks, and withdrawing our hand from God out of unbelief, our hearts grow cold and we remain strangers to the depths of His affection. But when we repent of that unbelief and step out in obedient faith, the dimensions of Christ’s love break open before us—breadth wide enough for every tribe and tongue, length stretching from eternity past to glory future, height lifting us to heavenly places, and depth plunging into the abyss of our sin to rescue us. This is not mere theory; it is living, experiential knowledge tasted in repentance, forgiveness, and daily dependence on God.

Filled with all the Fullness of God

When we are strengthened in the inner man, indwelt by Christ through faith, and rooted and grounded in the Father’s love, the glorious result is that we “may be filled with all the fullness of God.” These are staggering words that should leave us trembling. We do not become God—may that blasphemous thought perish immediately—but we are saturated, overflowing with the very life and character of the triune God. His holiness begins to shape our thoughts, His joy bubbles up even in sorrow, His peace guards our hearts amid chaos, and His wisdom directs our steps when human counsel fails. This filling is not reserved for a few super-spiritual saints; it is the birthright of every believer who dares to trust God without hedging. In a home marked by this kind of faith, husband and wife open their hands to the blessing of children instead of fearing the cost. They praise God through sleepless nights and mounting bills, discovering patience, provision, and love they could never manufacture on their own. A weary mother sings psalms to a fussy infant, a father labors longer yet returns home with gratitude instead of complaint, and children are raised in the fear of the Lord who one day confess Christ themselves. The fullness of God spills out in ordinary, gritty, beautiful ways that display His glory in the most common places. The more we know the surpassing love of Christ—not by intellect alone but by obedient faith—the more we are transformed into His likeness from one degree of glory to another.

To Him be Glory

After unfolding the eternal purposes of God across three magnificent chapters—election in Christ, redemption by His blood, sealing by the Spirit, resurrection with Him, and seating in heavenly places—Paul can no longer contain himself. He erupts in doxology: “To him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen.” This is the fitting climax and the whole point of everything. All the strengthening, indwelling, rooting in love, and filling with divine fullness leads here—to worship. God has done all this staggering, undeserved grace for us—not for angels, not for the worthy or impressive, but for the dead in sins, the children of wrath, the disobedient, the ones who were far off and without hope. He chose the weak, the foolish, the base, and the despised so that no flesh could boast. He loved us while we were still sinners and poured His power into our weakness. When we truly see that the God of the universe has done all this for sinners like us—the ones who have hedged, withdrawn, and bet against Him—worship rises unbidden. It flows from awe at His sovereign love, gratitude for His mercy, and adoration of His worth. Church, if your knowledge of Christ’s love still feels thin or distant, ask yourself where you have withdrawn your hand in unbelief. Repent in those places. Open your hand again. Cling to Christ without reserve, embrace expectant faith, and watch worship explode in your life, your marriage, your home, and our church body. To Him be glory—now and throughout all generations, forever and ever.