Ephesians, Part 8 / Out With the Old, In With the New / Ephesians 4:17-32
When she was in college, one of our teaching pastors got a lesson from her dad she never forgot. He decided it was time for her to start paying her own phone bill and car insurance—and at that point in life, she was, by her own admission, not exactly a model of financial responsibility. Her strategy was to run a negative bank balance, shrug, and say "YOLO." Which meant she also had a habit of "forgetting" to pay her parents back.
So her dad, who'd just bought a paper perforator, made her a payment booklet. He printed it, perforated it, and handed it to her like she was a small business learning the basics. She was so offended she posted it on Instagram, fully expecting the internet to take her side. Instead the comments came back: "That's actually a great dad." "Wait—he made that himself? That's impressive."
That wasn't the reaction she was going for. But looking back, she sees what everyone else saw. Her dad wasn't being petty. He was being a parent. He was moving her from immaturity toward maturity—essentially saying, you're not a child anymore, so don't live like one.
That moment wasn't really about a payment booklet. It was about formation. And that same idea runs right through Ephesians 4. Paul writes that we're meant to grow up "until we all come to such unity in our faith and knowledge of God's Son that we will be mature in the Lord" and "no longer be immature like children" (Ephesians 4:13–14, NLT). Walking worthy of our calling requires growth, and growth requires change. You can't stay exactly the same and call it maturity.
Which raises the question Paul has been circling since the start of the chapter: What does it actually look like to live worthy of the calling we've received? His answer here is bracing—maturity in Christ isn't mainly about knowing more about Jesus. It's about becoming more like Him.
Spiritual maturity isn't knowing more about Jesus—it's becoming more like Him: daily throwing off what no longer fits, and putting on the character of Christ.
Throw Off Your Old Ways of Life
"Since you have heard about Jesus and have learned the truth that comes from him, throw off your old sinful nature and your former way of life, which is corrupted by lust and deception." (Ephesians 4:21–22, NLT)
Picture a man who's spent twenty years in prison. His sentence ends, the gates open, and he walks out free. But every morning he wakes up, puts his orange jumpsuit back on, and heads into town. People stare. Parents pull their kids a little closer. Store owners keep an eye on him. Eventually he comes to you, baffled: "I don't get it. Everyone still treats me like a prisoner. What do I do?"
You'd probably say: "We've got to get you out of those clothes, my guy." Why? Because they don't match his identity anymore. He isn't a prisoner. He's free.
That's exactly Paul's point. Think back over everything in Ephesians 1–3. We were dead in our sin—but God made us alive in Christ. We were separated from Him—but God adopted us into His family. We were living under the power of sin—but God rescued us. We've been redeemed, forgiven, sealed with the Holy Spirit, and handed a brand-new identity. So why would we keep wearing the wardrobe of the old life?
Notice that "throw off" is active. Paul doesn't say the old way eventually falls off on its own, or that one day you'll look down and it'll have vanished. He says throw it off—a daily choice. Every day we're tempted to put back on what Christ already freed us from, and every day we're called to take it off again. Then he starts naming pieces of that old wardrobe: lying, uncontrolled anger, stealing, abusive speech, bitterness, rage, harsh words, slander, every kind of evil behavior.
Some of us hear that list and immediately know which piece we've been wearing—the Holy Spirit already pointed it out, and it grates like itchy wool. But the greater danger is the pieces we've worn so long we don't notice them anymore. Bitterness becomes "that's just my personality." Harsh words become "I'm just telling it like it is." Anger becomes "that's just how my family communicates." Greed becomes "I'm just driven." We normalize what no longer matches who we are in Christ.
It's a lot like a weighted vest. One of our pastors, convinced she was strong enough, ignored the advice of her physical-therapist husband and started training with far more weight than she should have. For weeks it felt like nothing—no soreness, no strain—so she assumed it was working. Then the lower back pain started, and one day mid-workout, she blew out her back entirely. What she couldn't feel had been compressing her spine the whole time. The very thing she thought was helping was quietly hurting her.
That's how the old self works. It's rarely the dramatic, obvious kind of sin that everyone notices right away. It's a slow shaping—a weight you get used to carrying until it's affecting everything else. The small "white lies" that become so automatic you lose track of what's even true. The anger that becomes your first response to anything not going your way. The bitterness you rehearse instead of release, until it quietly reshapes how you see people. Spiritual maturity begins the moment we let the Holy Spirit point at something and say, "That doesn't belong to you anymore"—and instead of defending it or explaining it away, we throw it off.
Put On the New Ways of Christ
But here's the thing: you can't just take something off and stop there. When you remove the old without replacing it, you're left with an empty space—and something always rushes in to fill it. So Paul keeps going.
"Instead, let the Spirit renew your thoughts and attitudes. Put on your new nature, created to be like God—truly righteous and holy." (Ephesians 4:23–24, NLT)
Paul doesn't just say "be righteous" and move on. He points us to a Person. The whole Christian life is learning to look more and more like Jesus—because Jesus didn't only come to forgive us; He came to show us what a human life fully surrendered to the Father actually looks like. So the qualities Paul lists next aren't just commands. They're invitations to become like Jesus, because He modeled every one of them perfectly.
Speak the truth in love. Jesus never traded truth for popularity, but He never used truth as a weapon either. To the woman caught in adultery He said, "Neither do I condemn you"—that's grace—and then, "Go and sin no more"—that's truth. He never chose one without the other.
Refuse to let anger control you. Anger will come; the question is who's in control when it does. Jesus felt anger too—at hard hearts, at death itself, at a temple turned into a marketplace. But His anger never lashed out. It healed a man, raised Lazarus, restored what was corrupted. So often our anger asks, "How can I make them feel what I'm feeling?" Jesus' anger asked, "How can I make this right?" One seeks retaliation; the other seeks restoration. Maybe the better question isn't have you been angry lately? but what does your anger produce—healing or hurt?
Choose honest work and generosity. Long before He preached a sermon, Jesus worked with His hands as a carpenter. He came, as He said, "not to be served, but to serve." His life was never about what He could get from others; it was about what He could give.
Speak words that build others up. Everywhere Jesus went, His words brought life. He spoke dignity to the woman at the well, hope to Zacchaeus, restoration to Peter after he'd denied Him three times. Words carry the power of life and death, and there's real freedom on the other side of putting gossip and cutting words down—no more replaying conversations, no more wondering if what you said will come back around.
Be kind and forgiving. For the clearest picture of kindness and forgiveness, look at the cross. With nails holding Him to the wood and the very people He came to save mocking Him, Jesus prayed, "Father, forgive them." If anyone had the right to hold onto bitterness, it was Him. Instead He chose forgiveness—and because He forgave us, we're given the power to forgive one another.
The Invitation
Think back to that payment booklet. When her dad handed it over, he wasn't trying to punish his daughter or make her life harder. He was inviting her into maturity. He saw someone she couldn't yet see—the adult she was becoming.
Isn't that exactly what our Heavenly Father does? When He says "throw off the old life," He isn't taking something good away; He's inviting us into something better. When He says "put on the new self," He isn't making life restrictive; He's making us look more like His Son. The Christian life isn't God saying, "Stop being so bad." It's God saying, "Come become who I created you to be."
So two questions are worth sitting with. First: What piece of your old wardrobe are you still wearing? Maybe something came to mind already—anger, bitterness, unforgiveness, gossip. Maybe it's something no one else even knows you're carrying. The Holy Spirit never points these things out to shame you; He points them out to free you, because they don't belong to you anymore.
And second: What part of the character of Christ is He inviting you to put on? Truth, forgiveness, generosity, self-control, words that give life instead of death. Imagine what our homes, our marriages, our workplaces, and our church would look like if every day we woke up and asked, "Holy Spirit, what doesn't belong anymore, and what do You want me to put on today?"
That's what it means to walk worthy of the calling we've received.
Share this with someone this week.
Paul's picture of the old wardrobe is one almost everyone recognizes—we've all worn something so long we stopped noticing it was there. So pass this along. Send it to a friend who's been beating themselves up over a pattern they can't seem to shake, and remind them the Holy Spirit points those things out to free us, never to shame us. Or share it with someone who's ready to grow but stuck on the idea that faith is mostly about knowing more—help them see it's about becoming more like Jesus. Sometimes the kindest thing you can do is remind someone that the old life doesn't belong to them anymore.
What are you going to do about it?
Read Ephesians 4:17–32 slowly this week — once a day if you can. Each time, let the two questions from the passage do their work. First: What piece of my old wardrobe am I still wearing? Don't rush past it or explain it away—name the anger, bitterness, unforgiveness, or gossip the Spirit puts His finger on, and actively throw it off. Second: What part of the character of Christ is He inviting me to put on in its place? Pick one—truth, generosity, self-control, forgiveness, or life-giving words—and choose one concrete way to put it on this week, in your home, your workplace, or your church.
About the Ephesians Series
God has always had a plan. The book of Ephesians reveals the incredible story of God’s plan to bring salvation to all people through Jesus Christ and unite them into one family. In this 13-week series, we’ll discover what it means to live with purpose as people who have been chosen, redeemed, and called by God. Along the way, we’ll explore how the Holy Spirit transforms our everyday relationships—with family, friends, the Church, and the world around us. Ephesians is an invitation to step into God’s greater story and live the kind of life we were created for.