“Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children. And walk in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.” (Eph. 5:1-2)
When I was a kid, I used to sneak into my dad’s closet and try on his suits and shoes. The sleeves swallowed my hands. The shoes clomped when I walked. I looked ridiculous, but that was beside the point. I wasn’t playing dress up for laughs. I wanted to be like my father. I wanted to move through the world the way he did.
That is the picture Paul gives us: be imitators of God, as beloved children. Not admirers. Not critics. Not observers standing at a safe distance. Children imitate because they live close enough to watch. They see patterns repeated, habits embodied, character worn day after day. Imitation grows out of proximity.
In Christ, God makes that proximity possible. He leaves the closet door open. God does not merely describe Himself from a distance or issue instructions from the clouds. In Jesus, He shows us His life from the inside. He hangs His garments within reach. We see how divine love walks into suffering, how it speaks truth without cruelty, how it gives itself away without holding back. Christ is not simply an example to analyze. He is a life to be put on.
Paul anchors this call where it belongs: as beloved children. Belonging comes first. We do not imitate in order to earn a place in the family. We imitate because we already have one. We dress ourselves in our Father’s ways because we want to resemble Him.
And what are the clothes we are given? Love shaped like the cross. Christ loved us and gave himself up for us. His life rose to God as a fragrant offering, received and welcomed. Not admired from afar, but worn.
Paul leaves us with this vision: when the church puts on Christ, ordinary faithfulness takes on the scent of worship. Patience, forgiveness, generosity, and fidelity become offerings. To imitate God is to wear what He has already worn. To walk in love is to learn, over time, how that life fits.
Maranatha,
Jordy
