Ephesians 3:1-13
1 For this reason I, Paul, the prisoner of Christ Jesus for the sake of you Gentiles—
2 Surely you have heard about the administration of God’s grace that was given to me for you, 3 that is, the mystery made known to me by revelation, as I have already written briefly. 4 In reading this, then, you will be able to understand my insight into the mystery of Christ, 5 which was not made known to people in other generations as it has now been revealed by the Spirit to God’s holy apostles and prophets. 6 This mystery is that through the gospel the Gentiles are heirs together with Israel, members together of one body, and sharers together in the promise in Christ Jesus.
7 I became a servant of this gospel by the gift of God’s grace given me through the working of his power. 8 Although I am less than the least of all the Lord’s people, this grace was given me: to preach to the Gentiles the boundless riches of Christ, 9 and to make plain to everyone the administration of this mystery, which for ages past was kept hidden in God, who created all things. 10 His intent was that now, through the church, the manifold wisdom of God should be made known to the rulers and authorities in the heavenly realms, 11 according to his eternal purpose that he accomplished in Christ Jesus our Lord. 12 In him and through faith in him we may approach God with freedom and confidence. 13 I ask you, therefore, not to be discouraged because of my sufferings for you, which are your glory.
Paul’s words in Ephesians 3:1–13 form a kind of personal window into how he understood his calling. He identifies himself as a prisoner for the Gentiles, not because he happened to be caught up in political trouble, but because the entire weight of his mission—his teaching, his suffering, his persistence—was aimed toward people who had long stood outside Israel’s covenant story. He was entrusted with a revelation that overturned old boundaries: the Gentiles were not second-class spectators but full participants in the promises of God. This was the “mystery” he insisted God had now unveiled.
Paul describes writing “briefly” about this revelation. He does not say this because the subject was small or because he planned a longer book elsewhere. His point is that he is offering a concise doorway—an entry point—into a truth meant to be grasped and lived. Brevity here is purposeful. He wants the community to read, to comprehend, and to recognize their place in God’s expansive plan. His confidence lies not in the length or literary polish of his words but in the power of the message itself.
This intent stands in sharp contrast to the belief sometimes called Verbal Plenary Preservation, the idea that God’s purpose requires every single word of the biblical texts to be perfectly preserved in one language or one manuscript tradition. Paul shows no hint of such a view. His concern is not the survival of a flawless Greek text; it is the spread of an unveiled mystery. His letters function as vessels, not relics—useful because they point beyond themselves to the unity of Jews and Gentiles in Christ. If the words were to be frozen, guarded, and revered more than understood, Paul’s mission would collapse under the weight of its own documents.
Verse 10 intensifies this. Paul says that through the church—not a manuscript archive, but a living community—the manifold wisdom of God becomes visible to the world. The church acts as a theatre in which God’s plan is displayed. In that vision, the Scriptures are living tools shaped by their purpose. They guide, illuminate, and correct, but they do this precisely by being read across cultures, languages, and generations.
Modern translation serves that same impulse. If Paul labored so that Gentile audiences could understand the mystery, then translation is not a compromise but a continuation of his mission. More translations mean more entry points. A speaker of Swahili, Korean, Portuguese, or Tagalog does not need to master Greek syntax to encounter the heart of the gospel. Instead, the gospel comes to them, clothed in their own rhythms of speech. This is not dilution; it is incarnation—the message inhabiting the world’s languages so that the world may hear.
The very reality Paul fought for—the inclusion of peoples formerly excluded—demands that Scripture move outward, not stay tethered to a single linguistic form. If the divine plan is for all nations to see the wisdom of God through the church, then the Scriptures must travel freely, gathering new interpreters, new readers, and new communities. Paul’s brief writing becomes an open door, and translations become bridges built from that doorway to every corner of the human family.
Paul did not envision a gospel guarded behind the glass of perfect Greek. He envisioned a gospel embodied in communities who understand God’s plan and live it. That plan, by its nature, pushes the word of God outward into the many languages of the world—just as the mission to the Gentiles once pushed Paul beyond the borders of his own world.
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