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Ephesians 4 — Unity, spiritual gifts, and becoming who you already are
7 min read
For three chapters, has been painting this massive theological picture — who God is, what he's done, how he's brought Jews and together into one family nobody saw coming. It's been sweeping and cosmic and deeply personal all at once. Now the letter shifts. Paul moves from "here's what's true" to "here's how you live because it's true."
And he does it from a prison cell in . That detail matters. The man telling them how to walk worthy of their calling is literally in chains for the same calling. When Paul says "I urge you," he's not theorizing. He's bleeding.
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opened this section with something that sounds simple but has the weight of the entire letter behind it:
"So here's my appeal — and I'm making it as a prisoner for the Lord. Live in a way that matches the calling you've received. Be humble. Be gentle. Be patient with each other. Keep bearing with one another in love. Do everything you can to protect the unity the Holy Spirit has already created — held together by peace."
Then he laid down a rhythm that's hard to miss:
"One body. One Spirit. One hope. One Lord. One Faith. One Baptism. One God and Father of all — who is over everything, through everything, and in everything."
Seven "ones." Paul wasn't just listing theological facts — he was building a case. In a world that fragments people by background, status, and opinion, Paul said the has one center. Not one opinion on everything. Not one personality type. One Lord. That's the unity he's talking about — not uniformity, but a shared center of gravity. When a church starts splitting over preferences and egos, it's usually because they've forgotten which "one" actually holds them together.
Now shifted from what we share to what makes each person distinct:
"Each one of us has been given Grace — measured out by Christ himself as a gift. That's why Scripture says, 'When he ascended to the heights, he led captives in his train and gave gifts to people.'"
Then Paul did a quick theological aside — and it's a fascinating one:
"When it says 'he ascended,' what does that imply? That he also descended — into the lower regions of the earth. The one who went all the way down is the same one who went all the way up, far above every heaven, so that he could fill absolutely everything."
The picture is stunning. didn't just show up at the top. He went to the very bottom first — , suffering, — and then ascended above everything. And from that position, he distributes gifts. Paul listed them:
"He gave some to be Apostles, some to be Prophets, some to be Evangelists, some to be shepherds and teachers — to equip God's people for the work of ministry, to build up the Body of Christ. The goal? That we all arrive at a unified faith and a deep knowledge of the Son of God. Full maturity. The complete measure of the fullness of Christ."
Here's what's easy to miss: the gifted people aren't the point. They're the equippers. An doesn't exist to do all the ministry while everyone else watches. A teacher doesn't exist to be the only one who understands the text. They exist to get everyone else ready to do the work. Think of it like a coach — the coach's success isn't measured by how well the coach plays. It's measured by how well the team plays.
explained the stakes — what it looks like when a community doesn't mature:
"The point is that we won't be like children anymore — tossed around by waves, blown in whatever direction the latest teaching pushes us, manipulated by people who are clever enough to make bad ideas sound convincing."
Think about how that lands today. Every week there's a new voice with a confident take, a persuasive thread, a theology that sounds progressive or edgy or comforting — and without roots, people just drift from one to the next. Paul wasn't describing the first century. He was describing every century.
Then he gave the alternative:
"Instead, we speak the truth in love and grow up in every way into Christ, who is the head. He's the one holding the whole body together. Every joint, every connection, every part doing its work — that's how the body grows. That's how it builds itself up in love."
Two things hold a healthy community together: truth and . Truth without love becomes harsh. Love without truth becomes soft. You need both — at the same time, all the time. And notice: every part matters. Not just the visible ones. Not just the ones on stage. When each part is working, the whole body grows. When it's not, everyone feels it.
Here got more direct. He stopped building arguments and started drawing a line:
"Here's what I'm saying — and I'm saying it with the full weight of the Lord behind it: you can't live the way the Gentiles around you live anymore. Their thinking has gone empty. Their understanding has gone dark. They've been cut off from the life of God because of the ignorance that comes from hardened hearts. They've become numb to it. They've handed themselves over to every kind of sensuality, always craving more."
That's a progression worth noticing. It starts with thinking — "futility of their minds." Then understanding goes dark. Then the heart hardens. Then they go numb. Then they give themselves over. It's not an overnight collapse. It's a slow slide, one degree at a time, until you can't feel the temperature change anymore. And that pattern hasn't changed in two thousand years.
But then Paul pivoted hard:
"But that is NOT what you learned when you learned about Christ — if you really heard him, if you were really taught the truth as it is in Jesus. You were taught to take off your old self — the one shaped by your former way of living, rotting from the inside out because of desires that kept lying to you. You were taught to be made new in the way you think. And to put on the new self — the one created to look like God, made for true righteousness and holiness."
Paul used the image of changing clothes. The old self isn't something you negotiate with or gradually improve — you take it off. The new self isn't something you earn — you put it on. It's already been made. Created in God's likeness. Your job isn't to manufacture a new identity. Your job is to wear the one already gave you.
Now got specific. He moved from the big picture — old self off, new self on — to the everyday details of what that looks like in practice. And every instruction follows the same pattern: stop this, start that.
Paul wrote:
"Stop lying. Speak the truth to each other — you're connected to one another like parts of the same body.
If you get angry, don't let it turn into Sin. Don't carry it overnight. Don't let the sun set while you're still fuming — that's giving the devil an open door.
If you've been stealing, stop. Work honestly with your own hands — not just to provide for yourself, but so you have something to share with someone who needs it.
Don't let anything toxic come out of your mouth. Only say what actually helps someone — what builds them up, what fits the moment, what gives Grace to the people hearing it."
Then he said something that should stop you in your tracks:
"Don't grieve the Holy Spirit of God — the one who sealed you for the day of Redemption."
Think about that word. Grieve. Not "anger" or "offend." Grieve. The Spirit isn't a force you can disrupt. He's a person you can hurt. And the things that grieve him? Paul listed them next:
"Get rid of all bitterness. All rage. All anger. All harsh words. All slander. All malice — every bit of it. Instead, be kind to one another. Be tenderhearted. Forgive each other the way God in Christ forgave you."
That last line is the foundation for everything else. Why speak truth? Because you're one body. Why deal with anger quickly? Because unresolved bitterness gives the enemy a foothold. Why share instead of hoard? Because generosity is what the new self looks like. And why forgive? Not because the other person earned it. Because you didn't earn yours either. The standard for how you treat people isn't "what they deserve." It's what already gave you when you deserved nothing.