There’s an old story about a small kingdom perched high on a mountain—though “mountain” may be generous. It was really a hill, just high enough to lift its people above the valley below. From that height they could see every road and river that ran through the farmland spread beneath them.
The mountain folk lived quiet, simple lives inside stone walls. But to the people in the valley, they were whispered about as rich beyond measure. “They sit on a treasure,” the rumors said, “a treasure so vast it must have been blessed by heaven itself.”
As the years passed, the story grew. The treasure became a legend. And like most legends, envy soon took root beneath it. “Why should they keep all that wealth while we break our backs in the fields?” The talk of the taverns became talk of injustice. The talk of injustice became talk of war.
Finally, the valley leaders wrote a letter to the king on the mountain. It was short, sharp, and full of fury:
“You have more than enough. We demand that you turn over the gold buried beneath your great stone. If you refuse, we will take it by force. Hear us clearly—we are prepared to kill for this treasure.”
They sealed the letter with red wax and sent a messenger up the winding road to deliver it.
When the messenger arrived, the king read the letter slowly, then handed it to his council. He sighed, dipped his quill, and wrote a reply:
“To our brothers and sisters in the valley: we would gladly share the secrets of the mountain. We would gladly share in the treasure buried here.”
He sealed it with his own ring and sent the messenger back down the same road, carrying a letter of peace in trembling hands.
But when the letter was opened in the valley, the leaders grew livid. They saw the king’s generosity not as grace but as insult. They executed the messenger on the spot—proof, they said, of their seriousness—and raised a war cry that echoed against the mountain walls.
“Mount your horses! Draw your swords! We will ascend the hill and take what is rightfully ours!”
And they did.
They came by the thousands, their armor flashing like shards of a second sunrise. They climbed, they surrounded, they struck. The shouts of battle rolled down the slopes until evening. When the smoke cleared, the mountain kingdom was silent.
The victors—bloodied, breathless, and proud—stood before the massive stone that marked the treasure. The air reeked of smoke and iron. Ash drifted like snow. The valley’s strongest men took hold of ropes and levers, heaving against the weight of the stone.
It groaned, tilted, and finally rolled aside.
And there, beneath the stone—at last—the treasure of the mountain was revealed.
What they found under that stone… we’ll uncover at the end of this message. So let’s put the Treasure Beneath the Stone in our pockets, because it’ll be important later.
Scripture Reading
For now, we’ll pick up where we left off last week and turn to Ephesians 1:7-12. I am reading—as usual—from the NRSVue.
(Ephesians 1:7-12, NRSVue) 7 In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace 8 that he lavished on us. With all wisdom and insight 9 he has made known to us the mystery of his will, according to his good pleasure that he set forth in Christ, 10 as a plan for the fullness of time, to gather up all things in him, things in heaven and things on earth. 11 In Christ we have also obtained an inheritance, having been destined according to the purpose of him who accomplishes all things according to his counsel and will, 12 so that we, who were the first to set our hope on Christ, might live for the praise of his glory.
Father, we thank You for Your Word—that living, breathing reminder of who You are and who we are in You. As we open these verses together, quiet the noise around us and tune our hearts to the sound of Your voice. Help us to see redemption not as an idea, but as a gift; not as something to hoard, but something to share. Let Your Spirit stir in us fresh wonder for what You’ve done and fresh courage to live for Your glory. In Jesus’ name, amen.
Recap of Previous Weeks
Before we dive in, let’s remember where we are in the story.
Since verse 3 we’ve been climbing through one long, unbroken sentence—202 words in the original Greek; talk about a run-on sentence! But I guess when you get praising you don’t want to stop, amen?
In week one we asked, “What Does it Mean to be a Christian?” and discovered that it begins with identity. We are saints — set apart for divine purposes — and we are faithful because Christ Himself is faithful. Everything we have flows from that opening line: “Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing.”
Then last week we asked, “Why Does God Want us to Praise Him?” and learned that His plan didn’t start with us; it started before the foundation of the world. He chose us, He adopted us, and He poured out grace not because He needed our approval but because praise realigns our hearts. Holiness shows us what’s right, adoption shows us where we belong, and praise keeps our focus fixed on Him.
That brings us to today — the next link in the chain. Let’s re-read verse 7 and the first half of 8:
(Ephesians 1:7-8a, NRSVue) 7 In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace 8 that he lavished on us.
Redemption: Freedom and Belonging
Another of the spiritual blessings that comes to us in Christ is redemption.
What is redemption? The word literally means to free a slave or a captive. In Paul’s world it was used most often for prisoners of war—men taken in battle and held behind enemy lines.
Now picture that: one nation holds captives, and their comrades back home begin to negotiate for their release. Will the captors simply hand them over because someone asks nicely? Of course not. A price must be paid. There’s a debt now, a ransom demanded. And until that ransom is satisfied, the captives stay in chains.
Paul says that’s our story. We were the prisoners. Sin was the jailer. Death was the cell. And God Himself stepped forward to pay the ransom.
What price was paid? The blood of Jesus. When Jesus died, He became the payment for our sin-debt; His life in exchange for ours.
And what He did on that cross wasn’t random—it was the completion of a story that began long before Calvary. It’s a story so famous that even people who’ve never opened a Bible have heard the echoes of it. It’s the story of the Passover.
In the book of Exodus, God’s people were slaves in Egypt. God—through Moses—demanded that te Israelites be set free, sending plague after plague as punishment for disobedience. Yet Pharaoh hardened his heart again and again, until God sent the final plague: the death of every firstborn. But He made a way of escape. Each Israelite family was to sacrifice a spotless lamb and paint its blood on the doorposts of their home. That night, the angel of death swept through Egypt, and every house without the blood faced judgment. Yet every house covered by that crimson mark was spared. The angel passed over them. The next morning the cries of Egypt rose to heaven, and Pharaoh finally released God’s people.
That’s redemption. And that’s exactly what Jesus has done for us. He is the Lamb of God. When we stand behind His blood—when we confess with our mouths that Jesus is Lord and believe in our hearts that God raised Him from the dead—we are sheltered from judgment. The wrath of God passes over us, not because we are innocent, but because we are covered.
But it’s even better than that. Redemption is not just rescue; it is belonging.
Israel didn’t just escape Egypt; they were claimed by God. He said, “You will be My treasured possession.” They moved from Pharaoh’s ownership to the Lord’s. And that’s what happens to us. We have been purchased out of death’s dominion and brought under Christ’s. We have gone from belonging to the grave to belonging to the King.
Redemption doesn’t merely pull us from the lifeboat and drop us on a random shore. It takes us all the way into the palace, hands us the family name, and says, “Welcome home.”
Salvation is part of redemption, but redemption is so much more.
Redemption is belonging. Redemption is restoration. Redemption is home.
Lavish Grace
And Paul says this gift of redemption is just one more in the long list of the lavish graces of God. Grace—God’s Riches At Christ’s Expense. When Paul speaks of “the riches of His grace” and how God “lavished” them on us, he’s trying to describe generosity so overwhelming it almost embarrasses you to receive it.
I once saw a pastor illustrate this. He asked anyone in the congregation with a financial need to stand. Three or four people rose, hesitant, vulnerable. Then he turned to the rest of the church and said, “If you’re still sitting, stand up and go bless someone who’s standing. Open your wallets. Give now. Give until it’s embarassing!”
That’s what Paul means. God doesn’t give sparingly; He gives until you blush.
And I can tell you, I’ve seen that grace firsthand. If you went back to 2015 and showed me a picture of the house my family lives in now, I wouldn’t have believed it. If you’d gone back to 2011, when I was out of work, and told me about the job I have today—one I love and which fits my gifts perfectly—I wouldn’t have believed that either. And if you’d gone back even farther, to 2003, and told me about the peace and joy I’d one day have in Christ, through every circumstance, I’d have laughed and shaken my head.
But that’s the story of grace. Grace upon grace upon grace. God’s unrelenting generosity in places I never expected it.
And here’s what makes that generosity almost impossible to quantify. Paul says God gives “according to the riches of His grace.” That phrase “according to” doesn’t mean “out of,” as if God reached into His pocket and tossed us a few coins of mercy. It means in proportion to. The gift is scaled to the giver’s capacity.
So think about that. If God’s riches are infinite, then even one percent of infinite grace is still infinite grace. That’s the measure of what He’s poured over you. Not a trickle, but a torrent. Not a wage, but a windfall.
Living Redeemed
And what do we do with a grace like that? We let it shape us. We let it make us people of generosity and mercy.
When you have been redeemed, you start living like someone who knows they’re owned by grace. You start forgiving people who don’t deserve it—because you didn’t deserve it either. You start giving when it costs you—because that’s the language of the kingdom. You start serving with joy even when nobody sees—because your identity isn’t in being noticed anymore. You start speaking kindness into places that drip with criticism. You start worshiping freely, because you know you didn’t buy a ticket into God’s presence—you were bought for it.
That’s what redemption looks like when it breathes: a people who belong to Christ, living as though the debt has been paid—because it has.
The Mystery Revealed
Paul continues in v8b and 9:
(Ephesians 1:8b-9, NRSVue) With all wisdom and insight 9 he has made known to us the mystery of his will, according to his good pleasure that he set forth in Christ,
For those of you who like to take notes, that little word “all” is worth circling.
It doesn’t mean “a lot.” It means complete, full, perfect. Paul is saying God executes His flawless plan with an all-encompassing—literally perfect—wisdom.
And this phrase, “wisdom and insight,” isn’t just about sharp perception or clever understanding. It carries the sense of thoughtful planning and prudence—the kind of wisdom that thinks ahead, that acts with careful intention.
In fact, the same pair of ideas shows up in Proverbs 3:19:
“The Lord by wisdom founded the earth; by understanding He established the heavens.”
The very deliberateness that shaped creation itself is the same deliberateness behind God’s redemptive plan. The same wisdom that spoke galaxies into being is now at work revealing His purpose to us—making known the mystery of His will.
So the natural question is: what is this “mystery”?
When we hear the word mystery, we think of a whodunnit—a secret waiting to be solved by clever deduction. But in Paul’s world, a mystery was secret knowledge reserved for those on the inside—initiation rites, hidden truths, things outsiders could never know.
The Gospel—as usual—takes this familir word and completely turns it upside-down. It takes the hidden and broadcasts it to the world. What was once concealed is now proclaimed from rooftops. This isn’t a secret being kept; it’s a secret being shared.
So when Paul says God made known the mystery of His will, he means that God threw the doors wide open and said, “Come and see what I’ve been planning since before time began.”
And He didn’t do it reluctantly. Paul adds that this was “according to His good pleasure.” God wanted to do this. He delighted to do this. He wasn’t cornered into revealing His plan; He reveled in it.
Since the dawn of creation, God knew exactly how redemption would unfold.
Before He spoke light into existence, before He separated sea from sky, He already foresaw the cross, the empty tomb, and the redeemed people who would carry His name. He wove hints of it into the Law, whispered it through the prophets, foreshadowed it in every sacrifice, every covenant, every promise.
And when the moment was right—at the fullness of time (we’ll talk more about that in the next verse)—He set His perfect plan in motion. You can almost feel His anticipation.
It’s that thrill you get when you’ve bought someone the perfect gift and you’re watching them open it. You can hardly sit still. You don’t want the surprise spoiled, but you can’t wait for the reveal. That’s the sense here: the joy of a Father watching His children unwrap the greatest gift the world has ever known. The joy of seeing our joy.
This is what Paul wants us to grasp: The mystery of God’s will is not a riddle to solve; it’s a revelation to receive. It’s not God hiding in the shadows; it’s God stepping into the light. It’s not information for the elite; it’s salvation for everyone willing to listen.
The Fullness of Time
So, we understand what the word mystery means. The only question left is: what exactly is that mystery? What is this revelation that had God so eager to unveil it?
Let’s find out by reading verse 10:
(Ephesians 1:10, NRSVue) 10 as a plan for the fullness of time, to gather up all things in him, things in heaven and things on earth.
So what exactly was this mystery that God was so eager to reveal? Paul tells us: it was a plan, and that plan would unfold in “the fullness of time.”
Now, we hear that phrase and think “the right time” — but it’s stronger than that. It means the most perfect, most complete, most mature moment imaginable. It’s the word you’d use for harvest, when the fruit is finally ripe and ready to be gathered. When the moment has reached its absolute peak, God acts.
And when you look at history, you can see His fingerprints all over that timing.
The Roman Empire had drawn much of the world under one government, one legal system, one language. Roads crisscrossed the empire; trade routes and communication lines were open like never before. It was the first age in which news could travel fast enough to reach every corner of the known world.
The time was perfect — and you can tell because when the Gospel came, it spread like wildfire.
Within a single generation it leapt continents. Despite persecution, imprisonment, and death, it flourished until it reshaped civilization itself. All of human history turns on this hinge. God waited until the harvest was ripe, and then He sent His Son.
Gathering All Things in Christ
And what was the content of that plan? Paul says it was “to gather up all things in Him, things in heaven and things on earth.”
That phrase “to gather up” means to bring together under one head, to unify, to sum up. God’s purpose is nothing less than the restoration of creation — the world as it was meant to be before sin fractured it.
Think of creation like a perfect mirror made to reflect God’s glory. In Eden that mirror shone clear and bright. But when sin entered, it was as though a hammer struck the glass. Shards flew in every direction — relationships splintered, nature groaned, nations turned on one another. And ever since, humanity has tried to piece that mirror back together. We patch, polish, glue, and grind, but it never quite looks the same.
That’s why redemption needs more than human effort. Only God can gather the fragments. Only Christ can restore the reflection. And one day He will — everything gathered, everything renewed, everything functioning once again in harmony with its Creator’s design.
Now, that raises a serious question:
If God is gathering all things, does that mean everyone is ultimately restored? Am I preaching universalism — that in the end all are saved?
No. Jesus Himself tells us otherwise. He said the wheat and the weeds grow together until the harvest. Then they are separated — the wheat brought into the barn, the weeds cast into the fire. The gathering is universal in scope but divisive in outcome. Those who reject the King cannot share the kingdom.
But for those who belong to Jesus — for those who have been redeemed and sealed by His Spirit — that gathering will be glory. The curse undone. The ground healed. The heavens and the earth singing the same song again. Every creature, every atom, every heart aligned beneath the headship of Christ. That’s the end toward which all history is rushing.
And Church, we already know how the story ends! We have the playbook. So this isn’t a time for waiting idly at the station; it’s time to start living as citizens of the coming kingdom. We get to rehearse the finale now — to build, to bless, to serve, to invite. This is the dress rehearsal for the wedding feast of the Lamb.
I don’t just think we can do that — I believe we must. Because that work of gathering and restoring is not an optional extra; it’s part of our inheritance. It’s the mission we’ve inherited from Christ Himself. And that’s exactly where Paul takes us next.
Our Inheritance in Christ
Let’s keep reading — verses 11 and 12.
(Ephesians 1:11-12, NRSVue) 11 In Christ we have also obtained an inheritance, having been destined according to the purpose of him who accomplishes all things according to his counsel and will, 12 so that we, who were the first to set our hope on Christ, might live for the praise of his glory.
“In Christ we have also obtained an inheritance.” One clause in and we’re already swimming in rich possibility. What does that even mean?
I see three options here:
- By way of Christ, we’ve received an inheritance from God.
- Because of Christ, we’ve become God’s inheritance.
- In the person of Christ, we receive our inheritance from God.
So which is right? Answer: all of them! That’s why Paul is such a master writer. You could paraphrase his meaning like this:
“Because of the work of Christ, we’ve received an inheritance from God—which is Christ Himself—and we’ve also been received by God as His inheritance.”
Okay! Great! But I can almost hear someone say, “Pastor, what does it actually mean to have Christ as our inheritance?” Excellent question—but Paul wants us to catch something first.
Our English translations can hide a nuance here. In Greek, the words translated “purpose,” “counsel,” and “will” all mean essentially the same thing—plan. So Paul is saying we were destined according to the plan, and God accomplishes all things according to that planny plan.
Don’t miss this, Church! Paul is hammering home that God is not winging it. Every atom, every second, every salvation happens on purpose and on time. It’s as if the Father, Son, and Spirit agreed before the dawn of creation, “Here’s the plan.”
God’s plan cannot be thwarted, His purposes cannot be frustrated, and His good, pleasing, and perfect will accomplishes everything it intends. So when we read in Romans 8:28 that “all things work together for good for those who love God,” we can finally exhale. You don’t have to earn your salvation. If you’ve accepted Jesus as Lord and Savior—you’re good. You’re secure. Let that peace settle in your bones.
It also means there’s purpose behind what you’re going through. We won’t always see how our story fits into God’s grand design, but small choices can have unimaginable impact. It’s like the baseball scene in Men in Black III—the one set in 1969 at Shea Stadium. I coudl try to describe it, but it’s better to see it. [show clip] That’s how God works through us. Tiny acts ripple forward in ways we could never predict.
That’s why we have to live every moment for Christ—focused and on-mission—because we have no idea how God will cause our obedience to echo through eternity. You can’t possibly know what improbable sequence of events might lead to the next Greg Laurie or Billy Graham.
Living for His Glory
And that thought leads us right into Paul’s final point here: our inheritance.
What does it mean to have Jesus as our inheritance? To be God’s inheritance? To receive those through Jesus?
Verse 12 begins, “We who were the first to set our hope on Christ.” Paul, a Jew, is referring to his own people—the first to believe—yet his next words widen the scope: “so that we might live for the praise of His glory.”
This isn’t just worship language; it’s calling language. It’s a purpose statement. It’s the baton being passed from one generation of believers to the next: Live in such a way that your life brings as much praise, as much glory, as many worshipers as possible to God.
When we hear the word “inheritance,” our instinct is to think about me—what I get. But in Paul’s world, inheritance wasn’t just a payout; it was a calling. To inherit was to assume responsibility for the family legacy. That’s what God expects of us: to steward His mission.
Scripture makes it plain:
(Romans 8:17, NRSVue) and if children, then heirs: heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ, if we in fact suffer with him so that we may also be glorified with him.
(2 Corinthians 5:18-20, NRSVue) 18 All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ and has given us the ministry of reconciliation; 19 that is, in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting the message of reconciliation to us. 20 So we are ambassadors for Christ, since God is making his appeal through us; we entreat you on behalf of Christ: be reconciled to God.
(Philippians 3:14, NRSVue) I press on toward the goal, toward the prize of the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus.
(1 Thessalonians 2:19-20, NRSVue) 19 For what is our hope or joy or crown of boasting before our Lord Jesus at his coming? Is it not you? 20 Yes, you are our glory and joy!
Our inheritance isn’t pearly gates, golden streets, or a mansion in heaven. Our inheritance is mission. Just as God lavished grace on us out of His inexhaustible riches, we’re called to show others where to find their own supply—God’s Riches At Christ’s Expense.
Honestly, I’ve never understood the “mansion in heaven” idea. What happens to the guy who meets Jesus on his deathbed—does he get a cardboard box in heaven’s alley? In the words of Kevin McCallister: “I don’t think so!” And even if I did live in a box but I was in the presence of my Savior, who cares?
God’s not breaking us free from materialism on earth just to reward us with more materialism in heaven. That’s not His game.
The True Treasure
Which brings us neatly back to the Treasure Beneath the Stone we tucked into our pockets earlier. Remember? The valley people, convinced the mountain kingdom hoarded a vast treasure, waged war to seize it—slaughtering the king’s people and rolling away the great stone to claim what they thought was theirs.
If you’re of a certain age—or just an “old soul” like me, someone who finds joy in our history as well as our present—that story might have rung a bell. It’s adapted from a 1969 song called “One Tin Soldier” by The Original Caste.
Anyone remember it? [hands] Here is the final verse of the original song:
Now the valley cried with anger\
“Mount your horses, draw your sword!”\
And they killed the mountain people\
So they won their just reward\
Now they stood beside the treasure\
On the mountain, darkened red\
Turned the stone and looked beneath it\
“Peace on earth” was all it said
When we fix our eyes on materialism, it turns us inward and makes everything about us. That’s a mistake. Our inheritance isn’t about what we can collect—it’s about who we can reach. That’s what it means to store up treasures in heaven. We’re not going to be swimming through a Scrooge McDuck money bin; our treasure will be the souls we helped introduce to Jesus.
Our inheritance is most effective when we give it away!
Just imagine the joy of seeing that guy from 7-Eleven, your neighbor, your coworker, your friend, your sister, your dad—standing beside you in heaven because you aggressively pursued your inheritance with the same zeal that God pursued you. Imagine sharing in the Lord’s own joy as someone unwraps the greatest gift ever given: redemption. Someone whose life God intersected with yours—right now—for such a time as this.
Let’s not waste it, church. Let’s get in there and chase down our inheritance. Amen. Let’s worship our Lord together.