The Wall Came Down: Ephesians 2:11-22

Therefore, remember that formerly you who are Gentiles by birth and called "uncircumcised" by those who call themselves "the circumcision"—remember that at that time you were separate from Christ.

Demetrius remembered.

He had been a silversmith in Ephesus, crafting images of Artemis for pilgrims. He had grown up knowing exactly who he was: Greek, not Jewish. Free, not slave. Pagan, not belonging to the God of Israel.

Excluded from citizenship in Israel and foreigners to the covenants of promise, without hope and without God in the world.

Without hope. He remembered that too. The festivals to Artemis had been loud and festive, but empty. The mystery religions promised secrets but delivered nothing. The philosophers debated but never arrived.

Without God. The gods of Olympus were stories, and everyone knew it. The emperor was divine, and everyone pretended. He had lived in a city of 250,000 people, and he had been utterly alone with the universe.

But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far away have been brought near by the blood of Christ.

But now. The words marked his life in half. Before Christ. After Christ.

He had been far away—not geographically but spiritually. Far from God, far from hope, far from the promises made to Israel.

Brought near. The blood of Christ had done it. The sacrifice he had heard about from the strange Jewish tentmaker who had come to Ephesus. The death and resurrection that made no sense until suddenly it made all the sense in the world.

For he himself is our peace, who has made the two groups one and has destroyed the barrier, the dividing wall of hostility.

He himself. Not his teaching only. Not his example only. Jesus himself was peace. Was unity. Was the end of hostility.

The two groups. Jew and Gentile. The oldest division in religion. The wall that separated synagogue from street, covenant from chaos, chosen from unchosen.

Destroyed. The wall was gone. Not climbed over, not tunneled under—destroyed. The barrier that had stood for a thousand years, demolished in an afternoon on a Roman cross.

By setting aside in his flesh the law with its commands and regulations.

The law had been the wall. The commands that marked Israel as separate. The regulations that kept Gentiles at arm's length. Holy laws, good laws—but laws that divided.

In his flesh. On the cross. In his body, Jesus absorbed the law's demands and set them aside. Not by ignoring them but by fulfilling them. The wall fell because the law was satisfied.

His purpose was to create in himself one new humanity out of the two, thus making peace.

One new humanity. Not Jews becoming Gentiles. Not Gentiles becoming Jews. Something new. A third thing. A new humanity that included both but was defined by neither.

In himself. Christ was the location of this new humanity. In him, the two became one. In him, former enemies became family.

And in one body to reconcile both of them to God through the cross, by which he put to death their hostility.

One body. The church. The place where Jew and Gentile sat at the same table, sang the same songs, served the same Lord.

Reconciled to God. The horizontal reconciliation flowed from the vertical. They were at peace with each other because they were both at peace with God. The cross accomplished both.

He came and preached peace to you who were far away and peace to those who were near.

Peace preached. Demetrius had heard it—not from Jesus directly but from his apostle. Peace to the far away. Peace to the near. The same peace, the same gospel, the same Christ.

For through him we both have access to the Father by one Spirit.

Access. The temple in Jerusalem had courts—Court of Gentiles, Court of Women, Court of Israel, Court of Priests. Barriers within barriers. Access restricted.

But now, through Christ, both have access. Jew and Gentile. Male and female. Near and far. One Spirit giving access to one Father.

Consequently, you are no longer foreigners and strangers, but fellow citizens with God's people and also members of his household.

No longer foreigners. The word had stung once. Foreigner. Outsider. Uncircumcised dog.

Now: fellow citizens. Same rights. Same privileges. Same belonging.

Members of his household. Not just citizens of a nation but members of a family. God's household. The Father's home.

Built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the chief cornerstone.

The household was being built. Foundation laid by apostles and prophets. Cornerstone—Christ Jesus himself. The stone that determined the shape of the whole building.

In him the whole building is joined together and rises to become a holy temple in the Lord.

Joined together. Fitted. Each stone in its place. Jew and Gentile, slave and free, male and female—each a living stone in a living temple.

Rising. The temple was not complete. Still being built. Still rising. And Demetrius was part of it.

And in him you too are being built together to become a dwelling in which God lives by his Spirit.

A dwelling. God's home. Not made of marble like the temple of Artemis. Not made of gold like the temple in Jerusalem. Made of people. Made of former enemies. Made of those once far away now brought near.

God lives there. By his Spirit. The Creator of the universe dwelling in a community of forgiven sinners.

Demetrius sat in the gathering that evening—the church that met in someone's home. Beside him sat a Jewish man named Nathan. A year ago, neither would have spoken to the other. Now they were brothers. Fellow citizens. Living stones in the same temple.

The wall had come down. And they were being built together into something new.