Last summer, my boys and I took some memorable bike rides. One path that runs alongside a local river became the boys’ favorite. There are numerous spots to stop, toss their helmets aside, and explore along the riverbank. Their most celebrated discovery was a pool of tadpoles. In contrast to my boys, I don’t like to stop while riding, and I don’t search for tadpoles. I like to travel a direct route there and back. For Wyatt and Seth, however, biking is as much about the detours as the destination.

In the opening chapters of Ephesians, Paul penned a breathless array of words and images, themes, and ideas—rich theology, gushing and overflowing. However, as chapter 3 begins, Paul slows down, pauses, and writes down a prayer: “When I think of all this, I, Paul, a prisoner of Christ Jesus for the benefit of you Gentiles . . .” (Ephesians 3:1). And that three-dot ellipsis sends us on a journey.

Paul had barely finished a line of his prayer when he headed in a different direction, a long rabbit trail. You have to trace down 13 verses to find Paul resuming his first-sentence thoughts. Most translators, aware of this disjointed shift, mark it with a dash or an ellipsis— attempts to communicate that Paul had taken a detour.

It’s interesting that as Paul veered onto this literary side road, he pointed to God’s penchant for detours. Paul recounted how God had “revealed His mysterious plan” during his blinding encounter with God on the Damascus road. This ordained diversion with Jesus had not been on Paul’s agenda (Ephesians 3:3). Paul then detailed another seeming detour—God’s merging of Jews and Gentiles had been something neither people group had expected (Ephesians 3:6). A monumental detour.

Grace often comes unexpectedly. Detours, surrendered to God, are not inconveniences—they’re gifts.

NLT 365-day reading plan passage for today: Esther 5:1-14

read›