Dredge the Harbor: Living as Children of Light

Your parents probably gave a lot of advice growing up. Some of it held up, some of it didn't. Waiting 30 minutes after eating before swimming? Busted. Sitting too close to the TV ruining your eyesight? Also busted. "You are who you hang out with"? Confirmed. Studies back it up: your personality is largely the sum of your five closest relationships.

But one piece of parental wisdom I keep coming back to is this: you can't get the toothpaste back in the tube.

Some things cannot be undone. Words cannot be unsaid. Jokes cannot be untold. Time cannot be unwasted. That principle sits right at the heart of what Paul is doing in Ephesians 5, where he lays out two very different ways to live and invites us to choose.

Sons of Disobedience vs. Children of Light

Paul draws a sharp contrast in this passage. On one side, he describes what he calls "sons of disobedience" (5:6, see also 2:3), people marked by sexual immorality, impurity, and greed. Not just greed for money, but greed for people – a consuming desire to possess others for themselves. He also calls out the way they use their words: obscenity, foolish talk that makes light of sacred things, and crude joking designed to build themselves up by tearing others down.

On the other side, he calls believers "children of light" (5:8-10), producing fruit that consists of goodness, righteousness, and truth.

The contrast isn't subtle. Paul even says of those living in darkness, "they are darkness," not just that they walk in it. And one of the counselors at a summer camp I attended as a teenager put it in terms I never forgot. He told us about a childhood friend who eventually got arrested. When he spoke with the officers involved and said, "I knew that guy, he was a good person who just hung out with the wrong crowd." One of them replied: "He didn't just hang out with the wrong crowd. He became the wrong crowd."

That's Paul's point. You don't stay who you are if you're immersed in what you're not supposed to be.

A Harbor Full of Silt

Here's something fascinating about the city Paul was writing to. Ephesus was once a thriving port city, a gateway to Asia and the Roman Empire, right on the coast of the Mediterranean. Ships from across the known world came and went. But the harbor had a problem: the tides constantly washed in silt, sediment, and debris. To keep the port functional, the city had to regularly dredge it out.

Artist rendition, ancient harbor of Ephesus ca. 1st Century AD

When they stopped, the harbor filled in. Ships could no longer reach the city. Trade dried up. People left. Ephesus, one of the most important cities in the ancient world, became a ruin. Today it sits three miles from the coastline.

Ephesian Harbor today, about 3 miles away from the coastline

Sometimes we have to dredge our harbors. We have to look honestly at what has accumulated in our lives – the habits, the patterns, the content we consume, the company we keep – and clear it out. Because when we stop doing that, the port fills in, and eventually, so does something vital in us.

Don't Even Get Close to the Line

Paul's instruction isn't "find the line and don't cross it." It's closer to "turn around and walk the other direction."

This is especially pointed in the context of Ephesus. The city was saturated with idol worship. Artemis had her famous temple there. Dionysus, the god of wine, and Bacchus, his reckless companion, were widely celebrated. The Bacchanalia festivals that rolled through town were essentially city-wide endorsements of everything Paul has been warning against: drunkenness, sexual immorality, crude humor, the works. And participation wasn't optional if you wanted to be considered a good citizen.

Paul's response isn't "be careful at the festival." It's "don't even go there."

This isn't about being afraid of the world or retreating from it entirely. It's about not attaching your name to what darkness produces. "Don't become their partners," Paul writes (5:7). Don't sign off on it. Don't condone it through your presence and participation.

Be Filled with the Spirit

In place of the drunken inspiration that Ephesians attributed to their gods, Paul offers something better. "Don't get drunk with wine, which leads to reckless living, but be filled by the Spirit" (5:18).

The parallel is deliberate. The Ephesians believed that intoxication was a sign of divine inspiration, that when someone was drunk, the gods were speaking through them. Paul reframes the whole thing: you want to be genuinely inspired, genuinely moved, genuinely alive? Be filled with the Spirit. Speak to one another in psalms and hymns. Sing and make music. Give thanks always (5:18-20).

Go from bar songs to worship songs. That's the real turnaround.

You Are the Light

One of the most striking images in this passage is also one of the simplest. Paul doesn't say "you walk in the light." He says "you are light in the Lord" (5:8).

Think about how moonlight works. The moon produces no light of its own. It reflects the sun. And on a dark night, that reflected light is enough to illuminate an entire landscape.

Earth at night, illuminated with moonlight - from the Artemis II mission

Mark Roberts, in his commentary on Ephesians, puts it this way: "We shine with the light of Christ, and all of our light is reflected light."

Jesus said in John 8, "I am the light of the world." Then in Matthew 5, he told his followers, "You are the light of the world." Both are true. He is the source, and we are the reflection.

So live as children of light. Not because the world needs you to be perfect, but because it desperately needs the contrast. When people see a community that has genuine joy, real relationships, and something worth celebrating, all without the things the world insists you need to have fun, that's exposure. That's the light doing what light does.

Wake up, sleeper. Rise from the dead. Christ will shine on you. (5:14)

And then go shine on everyone else.