“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 for God” (Ephesians 5:1-2).
“Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery,” goes the proverb. Sons imitate their fathers. If dad yells at mom when he’s angry, the son learns to disrespect and dishonour his mother (and other women). If dad treats her as his most precious jewel, the son learns to cherish her dearly (and his future wife). When he sees dad engaging in particular activities, he wants to join him, such as working on the car, fixing the house, going to work (I loved “take your kid to work day” with my dad growing up), and other things.
When I was a child, I watched my father play the piano and the saxophone at church and in Christian rock bands growing up. It was mostly the saxophone that attracted me. The way it shimmers in the lights, its versatility in rock and jazz and classical music, its curved and complex shape and intricacies, its powerful yet mellow voice that resounds from the bell, and a side of my father I had never seen before but later understood to be in every musician—all these things attracted me to the sax. I wanted to be just like dad. So, I asked him if he could teach me to play the sax.
At this point, I was in 4th grade, and at school we were playing on cheap plastic recorders, so I had already known all the fingerings and knew how to read music (mostly). He showed me how to put his old alto sax together, the purpose of wetting the reed, and how to blow into the instrument (two years later, I would learn how to articulate with my tongue instead of my throat so that I no longer sounded like a dying goose when I played; my parents’ patience must’ve been truly astounding). Years later, I would play professionally in the Army Bands for three years. And now, anytime I go without playing music for a significant amount of time, I feel incomplete.
Sons imitate their fathers, and if we are all sons of God by virtue of our Baptism (Galatians 3:26-27), then we are to imitate God our Father. But how do we imitate Him if we cannot see Him? God’s only-begotten Son, being “the image of the invisible God” (Colossians 1:15), is our perfect example. Let us imitate our Brother Christ (Romans 8:29). Therefore, writes St. Paul, we walk in love as Christ has loved us. Just as Christ gave Himself up for us, so we give of ourselves for others. Mother and father sacrifice career for family. We sacrifice watching Sunday’s football game to attend church on Sunday with our kids (or without if you’re single/childless). A student helps his teacher or professor with technology in class. A student stands up for another student when they’re being bullied.
In context of Ephesians 5 above, all of us abstain from sexual immorality, impurity, and covetousness (Ephesians 5:3). While people of the world fornicate with whatever they desire, we remain chaste (a chaste single person is abstinent, and a chaste married person is faithful to their spouse). We do not occupy ourselves with impure thoughts; neither do we become greedy. We also abstain from filthiness, foolish talk, and crude joking (v. 4). If ever we think of words that do not build up another person, we refrain from speaking those words (difficult, I know). We do not engage in crude joking, like sex jokes, or commenting on a person’s body. Rather, our words are also chaste. And so on.
Why? “For at one time you were darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Walk as children of light” (vv. 8-9a). As children of light—as children of God—all sin is exposed. Sin cannot live in the light; it thrives in the dark, which is why it prefers to remain hidden. Sin is like a troglobitic worm that when it is exposed to the light, it squirms and burns away from Christ’s sheer purity and holiness. Therefore, the sight of sin—whether in ourselves or in our brother—disgusts us. It causes us, too, to squirm and we must expose it lest it completely kills its host. We expose it with the Light of Christ, who shines it upon the sinner not that they might die completely (for we love our sin so much that we cannot live without it), but that they might die to sin and instead live to Him for all eternity (Romans 6:1-11).
The Lutheran Column 