Ephesians 4 — Walk Worthy: One Body Growing Up in Love

Today’s Passage: Ephesians 4

Here the letter turns. For three chapters Paul has lifted our eyes to what God has done, choosing us, raising us, seating us with Christ, reconciling us, and making of us one new humanity in Him. Now, on the strength of all that, comes the great pivot word, “I urge you to walk.” Everything from here to the end of the letter is life lived out of doctrine, a response that answers to grace. The first thing worthy walking looks like is unity, not a unity we invent but one we preserve. Then the ascended Christ equips that one body, so that the whole church, “speaking the truth in love,” grows up into Him. The chapter closes by pressing that growth down into the daily matters of speech and temper: put off the old self, put on the new, and forgive “just as in Christ God forgave you.”

As you read, hold this: Walk worthy of the calling you already have.

Ephesians 4:1–6 (BSB)

¹ As a prisoner in the Lord, then, I urge you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling you have received: ² with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, ³ and with diligence to preserve the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace. ⁴ There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called to one hope when you were called; ⁵ one Lord, one faith, one baptism; ⁶ one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all.

Paul stakes the whole of Christian conduct on a single verb, peripateō, and the calling we are to walk (περιπατέω) peripateō, pronounced peh-ree-pah-TEH-oh. Strong's G4043, to walk about; to conduct one's life. Peripateō joins peri (around) to pateō (to tread, to step), and its plain meaning is simply to walk about. But in the New Testament, and especially in Paul, it becomes a metaphor for the whole conduct of life, the sum of the countless small steps that make up how a person actually lives. This is the hinge verb of Ephesians, and it appears at the seam of the letter here in 4:1, “Walk in a manner worthy,” and again in 4:17, “No longer walk as the Gentiles do.” It will keep sounding through the chapters that follow, in “Walk in love” (5:2), “Walk as children of light” (5:8), and “Walk wisely” (5:15). To grasp Ephesians is to see that everything the first three chapters declare about who we are is meant to become a peripateō, a direction of travel taken one ordinary step at a time. Worthy walking is not a heroic leap but a steady gait in the same direction as our calling. worthy of is everything that chapters 1–3 have unfolded. What does worthy walking look like first? Not spectacular gifting but four unspectacular graces: humility, gentleness, patience, and “bearing with one another in love.” These are the muscles of life together, and they are aimed at a single goal, to “preserve the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace.” Notice the verb, which is not create but preserve. The Spirit has already made the church one, and our task is to guard that oneness. Peace is the “bond,” the belt or ligament that holds it together.

Then Paul lays the foundation beneath the whole appeal in a sevenfold hammer-blow of “one”: one body animated by one Spirit and called to one hope, under one Lord, holding one faith, marked by one baptism, and beneath it all, “one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all.” Unity (ἑνότης) henotēs, pronounced heh-NO-tace. Strong's G1775, unity, oneness. Henotēs comes straight from heis, the number one, and it means oneness. Remarkably, it appears in the entire Greek New Testament only twice, both here in Ephesians 4, at verses 3 and 13, as if this chapter were its home. The two uses frame the whole first movement of the passage. In verse 3 it is “the unity of the Spirit” we must preserve, a oneness already created by God that we are charged to guard, while in verse 13 it is the “unity in the faith” we are still growing toward, a maturity the whole body presses on to reach. So Christian unity is at once a present gift and a future goal, something we already have and something we grow up into. Its ground is the sevenfold drumbeat that follows in verses 4–6: one body, one Spirit, one hope, one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father. Seven times over Paul says one, the number of completeness. The unity of the church is not fragile sentiment; it rests on the very oneness of God. is not something we manufacture by agreement. It rests on the indivisible oneness of God Himself, and that is henotēs, the oneness we are called to keep.

Ephesians 4:7–10 (BSB)

⁷ Now to each one of us grace has been given according to the measure of the gift of Christ. ⁸ This is why it says: “When He ascended on high, He led captives away, and gave gifts to men.” ⁹ What does “He ascended” mean, except that He also descended to the lower parts of the earth? ¹⁰ He who descended is the very One who ascended above all the heavens, in order to fill all things.

Having grounded unity in the one, Paul now turns to diversity and shows that the two are friends, not rivals. The one body is not uniform, for “to each one of us grace has been given according to the measure of the gift of Christ.” Every believer receives a portion, distributed by Christ Himself. To explain how the ascended Lord distributes such gifts, Paul reaches back to Psalm 68, a psalm of God’s triumphant ascent to His holy hill after victory: “When He ascended on high, He led captives away, and gave gifts to men.” The conqueror, having subdued His enemies, lavishes the spoil on His people.

Paul then pauses over the word ascended and draws out its hidden logic, that one cannot ascend without first having descended. The Christ who now stands “above all the heavens” is the very same One who first came down, descending to the depths in His incarnation and death before rising in triumph. And the reason for the whole grand arc, from the depths to the heights, is stunning in its scope, “in order to fill all things.” The gifts He gives His church are the overflow of a cosmic victory, for the same Lord who fills the universe fills His people with grace.

Ephesians 4:11–16 (BSB)

¹¹ And it was He who gave some to be apostles, some to be prophets, some to be evangelists, and some to be pastors and teachers, ¹² to equip the saints for works of ministry and to build up the body of Christ, ¹³ until we all reach unity in the faith and in the knowledge of the Son of God, as we mature to the full measure of the stature of Christ. ¹⁴ Then we will no longer be infants, tossed about by the waves and carried around by every wind of teaching and by the clever cunning of men in their deceitful scheming. ¹⁵ Instead, speaking the truth in love, we will in all things grow up into Christ Himself, who is the head. ¹⁶ From Him the whole body, fitted and held together by every supporting ligament, grows and builds itself up in love through the work of each individual part.

Now Paul names the gifts Christ gave, and they are not first abilities but people: “apostles, prophets, evangelists, pastors and teachers.” The apostles and prophets belong to the once-for-all foundation already laid (2:20), their work being to give the church its original witness and the New Testament Scriptures, and that foundation is not being relaid. Evangelists, pastors, and teachers continue the work of equipping in every generation, and their purpose reorders everything we might assume about church. They exist “ to equip (καταρτισμός) katartismos, pronounced kah-tar-tis-MOS. Strong's G2677, equipping, complete fitting for use, restoration to proper working order. This noun appears only here in the entire New Testament, and its background makes it glow. Its verb, katartizō, was used for mending nets, so that the fishermen of Matthew 4:21 were katartizō-ing their nets, and it was used as well for setting a broken bone and for fitting out or restoring something to its proper working order, putting a thing fully in place so that it can do what it was made to do. So when Paul says the gifted leaders are given “to equip the saints for works of ministry,” the picture is of leaders whose task is to make the whole body fit and functional. Note the revolution buried in the grammar. The apostles, prophets, evangelists, pastors and teachers are not hired to do the ministry for the congregation; they are given to equip the saints so that the saints themselves do “works of ministry.” Every believer is a minister, and the leaders are the trainers and menders who fit each part for its work. A church where only the professionals serve is a body with its ligaments detached. the saints for works of ministry,” which is katartismos, the mending, fitting, and setting-in-place of every member, “and to build up the body of Christ.” The leaders are not the performers while the congregation watches; they are the trainers who fit each believer for his own work of ministry.

And this equipping has a horizon, for it continues “until we all reach unity in the faith… as we mature to the full measure of the stature of Christ.” The goal is a grown-up church, no longer “infants, tossed about by the waves and carried around by every wind of teaching,” easy prey for every clever deceiver, but a body come of age. How does such growth happen? By “speaking the truth in love.” The Greek is alētheuō, which means not merely telling the truth but truthing, dealing truly, living and speaking in accordance with what is real. Truth without love turns brutal, and love without truth turns sentimental and cowardly; only truth held inside love actually grows people. And notice the goal, which is not merely correct opinions but growth, that we would “grow up into Christ Himself, who is the head.”

Paul’s closing image (4:16) is one of the most beautiful in Scripture. The whole body, drawing its life “from Him,” the Head, and “fitted and held together by every supporting ligament,” “grows and builds itself up in love through the work of each individual part.” Every joint matters, for the body grows only as each member does its share, and only ever in love.

Ephesians 4:17–24 (BSB)

¹⁷ So I tell you this, and insist on it in the Lord, that you must no longer walk as the Gentiles do, in the futility of their thinking. ¹⁸ They are darkened in their understanding and alienated from the life of God because of the ignorance that is in them due to the hardness of their hearts. ¹⁹ Having lost all sense of shame, they have given themselves over to sensuality for the practice of every kind of impurity, with a craving for more. ²⁰ But this is not the way you came to know Christ. ²¹ Surely you heard of Him and were taught in Him—in keeping with the truth that is in Jesus— ²² to put off your former way of life, your old self, which is being corrupted by its deceitful desires; ²³ to be renewed in the spirit of your minds; ²⁴ and to put on the new self, created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness.

From growth Paul turns to the great change that makes growth possible, and the walk metaphor returns with force: “You must no longer walk as the Gentiles do, in the futility of their thinking.” Notice where the old way begins, not in the body but in the mind. It starts with “the futility of their thinking,” a “darkened” understanding, and hearts grown hard, and only then does it work outward into a life that has “lost all sense of shame,” given over to “impurity, with a craving for more.” The craving is telling, for sin never satisfies; it always wants more.

But then comes the sharp turn: “But this is not the way you came to know Christ.” To learn Christ is to be re-educated at the root, and Paul frames the whole Christian change as three movements. First, put off the old self, the former way of life “being corrupted by its deceitful desires,” desires that lie to us, promising life and delivering decay. Then, be renewed in the spirit of your minds, for the mind is the hinge, and transformation is inside-out, not merely behavioral. And finally, put on the new self, created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness. This new self is not the old one patched up but a fresh creation, made in God’s own likeness, the image of God being restored in redeemed men and women. What was defaced in Eden is being remade in Christ.

Ephesians 4:25–29 (BSB)

²⁵ Therefore each of you must put off falsehood and speak truthfully to his neighbor, for we are all members of one another. ²⁶ “Be angry, yet do not sin.” Do not let the sun set upon your anger, ²⁷ and do not give the devil a foothold. ²⁸ He who has been stealing must steal no longer, but must work, doing good with his own hands, that he may have something to share with the one in need. ²⁹ Let no unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building up the one in need and bringing grace to those who listen.

Now the new wardrobe gets specific, and Paul’s method is consistent, never merely to stop the old but to replace it with the new. Put off falsehood, and “speak truthfully to his neighbor,” for a lie is a wound to a body of which we are all “members of one another.” Be angry, yet do not sin. Scripture does not forbid all anger, for there is a righteous anger, but it fences it: “Do not let the sun set upon your anger.” Deal with it the same day, before it hardens into bitterness, because unresolved anger becomes “a foothold,” a beachhead for the devil.

Stop stealing, and work honestly “with his own hands.” Here Paul turns the whole thing inside out, for the former thief becomes a giver, working precisely “that he may have something to share with the one in need.” Grace transforms a taker into a provider. Then he comes to the tongue. “Let no unwholesome talk,” literally rotten, putrid speech, “come out of your mouths,” but only words that build up and bring “grace to those who listen.” Every sentence is either construction or demolition, and the remade person weighs his words by a single question: does this build the body up, or tear it down?

Ephesians 4:30–32 (BSB)

³⁰ And do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, in whom you were sealed for the day of redemption. ³¹ Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, outcry and slander, along with every form of malice. ³² Be kind and tenderhearted to one another, forgiving each other just as in Christ God forgave you.

The chapter ends on its tenderest and most searching note: “Do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God.” Grieve is a word of love, not of law, for the Spirit is not a force but a Person who can be saddened, and our harsh, corrupting speech grieves the very One “in whom you were sealed for the day of redemption.” That reminder is also a comfort, since the sealing holds even while our conduct pains Him.

Then Paul gathers up the whole ugly family of relational sins to be stripped off, “bitterness, rage and anger, outcry and slander… every form of malice,” a portrait of a soul at war with its neighbor. And over against it he sets the new clothing in three luminous words, “be kind and tenderhearted to one another, forgiving each other.” But the deepest ground is saved for last, and it is the gospel itself: forgive “just as in Christ God forgave you.” Our forgiving is never the origin of grace but its echo. We do not forgive to earn God’s mercy; we forgive because we have already received a mercy so vast that to withhold it now would deny the very grace we live on. The chapter that opened with “walk worthy” closes at the foot of the cross, the fountain from which every worthy step flows.