Ephesians 5:14

Paul wrote the letter to the Ephesians to a Christian community in Ephesus, a major city in what is now western Turkey. In chapter 5, he is urging the community to live as 'children of light' — people whose lives are shaped by truth and goodness rather than the hidden things of darkness. He then quotes what appears to be an early Christian hymn, possibly sung during baptism ceremonies when new believers publicly marked their passage from spiritual death to new life in Christ: 'Wake up, O sleeper, rise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you.' Light in this context does double duty — it reveals what was always there, and it gives life. The call to wake up is both urgent and full of promise.

Christ, I've been half-awake — going through motions, keeping you at a comfortable distance. Shine into the parts of my life I've let grow dim. I don't want to sleepwalk anymore. Wake me up to what is real, and true, and yours. Amen.

There's a particular kind of sleep that has nothing to do with being tired — the kind where you're going through the motions, days blurring into weeks, doing everything right on the outside while something inside has gone quiet and dim. You know what it feels like. Alarm goes off, coffee made, inbox opened. Present in body, somewhere else in spirit. This verse isn't soft poetry. It's a shout across a dark room: Wake up. Rise. It carries something almost startling — that spiritual sleepwalking is entirely possible for people who call themselves believers, who show up, who check all the boxes. But notice the shout comes wrapped in a promise, not a threat. Christ will shine on you. The light isn't coming to expose you for shame. It's coming so you can finally see clearly. Where have you been half-awake lately? What might look completely different if you asked Christ to bring his light into that specific, still-unlit corner of your life today?