Here we are at the end of one of the several letters Paul has written from his two year imprisonment in Rome – Colossians, Ephesians, Philippians, Titus and Philemon. As we’ve said before, prison produces different effects in people. For some, they give themselves up to bitterness and resentment. For others, their lives are permanently dulled and slowly destroyed. For some, however, it produces greatness.

Victor Frankl wrote of his confinement in the German death camp during WWII:

The way in which a man accepts his fate and all the suffering it entails, the way in which he takes up his cross, gives him ample opportunity—even under the most difficult circumstances—to add a deeper meaning to his life. It may remain brave, dignified and unselfish. Or in the bitter fight for self-preservation he may forget his human dignity and become no more than an animal. Here lies the chance for a man either to make use of or to forgo the opportunities of attaining the moral values that a difficult situation may afford him. And this decides whether he is worthy of his sufferings or not.

It may be days of only brief confinement – like Martin Luther King’s stay in the Birmingham jail or Henry David Thoreau’s one night stay in jail for his refusal to pay the poll tax because it supported the Mexican-American War which was fought over the right of Texas to enter the Union as a slave-holding State. Thoreau wrote what became known as “Civil Disobedience” in his cell that night.

“I heartily accept the motto,—”That government is best which governs least;” and I should like to see it acted up to more rapidly and systematically. Carried out, it finally amounts to this, which I also believe,—”That government is best which governs not at all;” and when men are prepared for it, that will be the kind of government which they will have.”

King wrote one of the most powerful documents of the civil rights movement:

There was a time when the church was very powerful. It was during that period that the early Christians rejoiced when they were deemed worthy to suffer for what they believed. In those days the church was not merely a thermometer that recorded the ideas and principles of popular opinion; it was the thermostat that transformed the mores of society. Wherever the early Christians entered a town the power structure got disturbed and immediately sought to convict them for being “disturbers of the peace” and “outside agitators.” But they went on with the conviction that they were “a colony of heaven” and had to obey God rather than man. They were small in number but big in commitment. 

Dietrich Bonhoeffer warned the churches of the effects of power on susceptible people:

“Upon closer observation, it becomes apparent that every strong upsurge of power in the public sphere, be it of a political or a religious nature, infects a large part of humankind with stupidity. The power of the one needs the stupidity of the other. The process at work here is not that particular human capacities, for instance, the intellect, suddenly atrophy or fail. Instead, it seems that under the overwhelming impact of rising power, humans are deprived of their inner independence and, more or less consciously, give up establishing an autonomous position toward the emerging circumstances. In conversation with him, one virtually feels that one is dealing not at all with him as a person, but with slogans, catchwords, and the like that have taken possession of him. He is under a spell, blinded, misused, and abused in his very being. Having thus become a mindless tool, the stupid person will also be capable of any evil and at the same time incapable of seeing that it is evil. This is where the danger of diabolical misuse lurks, for it is this that can once and for all destroy human beings.”

Gandhi’s letter written to the British rulers from his prison palace in 1942 has been called one of the most important documents of Indian history.

Nelson Mandela was asked what he did during 27 years in prison while he was locked in his cell and he replied, “I read and wrote letters.”

Alexander Solzhenitsyn wrote of his years in the Gulag Archipelago:

“Bless you prison, bless you for being in my life. For there, lying upon the rotting prison straw, I came to realize that the object of life is not prosperity as we are made to believe, but the maturity of the human soul.” 

And so it was with Paul. While the prison in Rome was likely house arrest and not a miserable cell, the effect can be the same. One can be a victim or a martyr. One can choose cynicism or hope. One can choose to focus on the loss of liberty or the gaining of an opportunity to concentrate on what is most important in life. Think of our loss had Paul not been imprisoned in Rome. Not just the loss of the letters but look at the people living with him there. Luke, the author of the Gospel and the book of Acts – our earliest church history. Mark, the young man who ran away from hardship but became the first Coptic bishop, the patron saint of Venice and the author of the first Gospel. Onesimus, the escaped slave who later becomes the Bishop at Ephesus. The historic impact of those gathered around the prisoner Paul is like Florence in the Renaissance or the meetings of our Founding Fathers.

Paul was always a martyr – a witness –  ­but never a victim. There was never a sense of importance or longing for influence. There was never a sense of despair or loss. In whatever circumstance he found himself he was content. In these last scenes he has not closed himself off from people or bemoaned his fate. In fact, Rome may be the warmest welcome he has ever received. The brothers travel over 40 miles to greet him and others join them along the way. It’s not quite triumphal but it is clear that everyone has been looking forward to his coming. He is confident, open and unhindered in Rome. He is as productive as any time in his life. Were it not for being confined those two years in Rome we would not have the letters. His home is a magnet for every kind of person coming through ­ and he is at peace and perhaps more so than at any other time in his life. No more riots or confrontations. No threats on his life. No controversy or people being stirred up. From being a man who went from house to house breathing threats to one receiving guests and teaching.

As he closes his letter he commends them to devote themselves to prayer. Now, this does not mean they are to do nothing but pray but that they are not to neglect prayer or think of prayer as something to do when all else fails. It means we are to make prayer a habit. In fact, prayer can become such a habit that it need not be a separate activity at all. Remember what Lewis said about the man whose humility had become so ingrained in his life that he was totally unaware of his own humility. “He will not be thinking about humility: he will not be thinking about himself at all.”

I suspect prayer can be the same once we are devoted to it. There need not be special times of prayer as we are always, in one way or another, living in prayer. Oswald Chambers says about prayer, “Prayer is not an exercise, it is the life.” Prayer has become so normal that we don’t think about stopping to pray. Our lives are becoming aligned with the will of God in such a way that we are devoted not just to prayer but increasingly given over to His ownership of our lives.

We are to be both watchful and thankful. I like the balance of that. Watchfulness can tip over into wariness and suspicion. It can lead us into conspiracy thinking or mistrust and fear of the future. It can make us wary of outsiders and those who are different from us. It can narrow our lives and make us anxious about everything. Left to itself watchfulness narrows our lives.

What is the balance of watchfulness? Gratitude. Gratitude opens our lives and keeps our focus on what we enjoy from God’s hand and that of others. Gratitude drives out fear in the same way love does. It keeps our minds off what we desire or feel we are missing. It lets us look at people around us and be grateful for them. It turns discontentment on its head. It was gratitude that encouraged Paul to look for open doors instead of concentrating on an uncertain future.

And then he talks about what has driven him ever since his encounter on the road to Damascus – the message of the revealing of the mystery of Christ. His prayer is always about his making the most of every opportunity to proclaim the mystery clearly. Isn’t that an interesting way of putting it? How is it possible to proclaim a mystery clearly? After all, isn’t a mystery by its very nature something that cannot be made clear?

John Kessler at Moody Bible Institute writes: “When Paul speaks of “mystery” in the book of Colossians, he means something very different. He is not speaking of a puzzle to be solved or of something that is impossible for us to understand. Instead, Paul describes mystery as a truth which was previously hidden but has now been made known by God. In the book of Colossians the mystery Paul has in mind refers to the indwelling of Christ, the believer’s hope of glory.”

The revealed mystery of Christ is what we read in chapter 1:15-23:The Son is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation. For in him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things have been created through him and for him. He is before all things, and in him all things hold together. And he is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning and the firstborn from among the dead, so that in everything he might have the supremacy. For God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in him, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether things on earth or things in heaven, by making peace through his blood, shed on the cross.

Once you were alienated from God and were enemies in your minds because of your evil behavior. But now he has reconciled you by Christ’s physical body through death to present you holy in his sight, without blemish and free from accusation— if you continue in your faith, established and firm, and do not move from the hope held out in the gospel. This is the gospel that you heard and that has been proclaimed to every creature under heaven, and of which I, Paul, have become a servant.

It is not the mysterious and secret knowledge of the elites in the church. It is not a riddle to be solved. It is not a special revelation for a few. It is the simple truth of the reconciliation of the world to God through Christ.

This was Paul’s brilliance. Paul Pastor wrote, “Brilliance” is not about intelligence, but illumination.  Don’t call a person brilliant for being smart, quick, or even clever. Call them brilliant when they bring light to what lies in shadow, clarity to what had been obscure.” Paul’s life was dedicated to bringing to light what had been hidden and obscure.

Paul has reason to ask for prayer that he could make it plain because it has not been plain in many instances. Look at his reception in several places where he has preached the mystery – it has turned cities upside down and alienated him from Jews and Gentiles alike. Look at the response of the philosophers in Athens. They were unimpressed. Read about the response of the Roman authorities when he was arrested in Jerusalem before being sent to Rome. He has conversations about Christ with Felix for two years and all Felix can wonder about is why Paul does not offer a bribe for his freedom. Festus cannot understand the message and at one point shouts that Paul is insane. King Agrippa is surprised that Paul thinks he could persuade him in such a short time. It would likely take years for the message that seems plain and simple to Paul. Yes, there have been many who have heard and believed but for multitudes the revelation remains a puzzle and obstacle. It is not so much that they will not to believe but that they cannot. They need miracles and signs. They want wisdom or special knowledge. They want convincing.

If you have had a chance to see the movie “The Most Reluctant Convert” about the early life of C.S. Lewis you may remember the scene where Lewis at his desk at Magdalen College finally relents. In “Surprised by Joy” he describes it this way:

You must picture me alone in that room in Magdalen, night after night, feeling, whenever my mind lifted even for a second from my work, the steady, unrelenting approach of Him whom I so earnestly desired not to meet. That which I greatly feared had at last come upon me. In the Trinity Term of 1929 I gave in, and admitted that God was God, and knelt and prayed: perhaps, that night, the most dejected and reluctant convert in all England. I did not then see what is now the most shining and obvious thing; the Divine humility which will accept a convert even on such terms. The Prodigal Son at least walked home on his own feet. But who can duly adore that Love which will open the high gates to a prodigal who is brought in kicking, struggling, resentful, and darting his eyes in every direction for a chance of escape? The hardness of God is kinder than the softness of men, and His compulsion is our liberation.

Later, he describe his full conversion and how the mystery is made plain:

Nine days later, Lewis is being driven to Whipsnade Zoo by his brother Warnie on a motorcycle when everything changes for good. The line has finally been crossed.

I know very well when, but hardly how, the final step was taken. I was driven to Whipsnade one sunny morning. When we set out I did not believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of God, and when we reached the zoo I did. Yet I had not exactly spent the journey in thought. Nor in great emotion. “Emotional” is perhaps the last word we can apply to some of the most important events. It was more like when a man, after a long sleep, still lying motionless in bed, becomes aware that he is now awake.”

And that is what it means for the mystery to be made plain. It is the sense of becoming awake for the first time to real life. It is the realization that God did actually send His Son into the world to reconcile the world to Himself and that a new life now and a resurrected life in the future awaits us.

But, even now, that message is not plain – even to some who think of themselves as Christians. God, for them, is not interested in reconciliation but in judgment and division. He is not willing that all would be saved but only a select few. He is not the father waiting in the road for the estranged son but the older brother resentful of grace. It’s still a mystery and a stumbling block. And for all of us we continue to pray that God’s great mystery, His great reveal would be made plain and that we, like one asleep, would awake to a new life.

Grace be with you.