Few things shape a child more deeply than a father. Whether by birth or by adoption, a father’s presence—or absence—leaves an imprint that often lasts a lifetime. Some of us were blessed with godly fathers to imitate; others carry wounds from fathers who failed us. But whatever our earthly experience may be, the Christian faith confronts us with a greater and more determinative reality: In Christ, God Himself is our Father.
As J. I. Packer once wrote, “You sum up the whole of New Testament religion if you describe it as the knowledge of God as one’s holy Father.” Christianity is not first a system of moral improvement or private spiritual insight. It is life in the household of God. A Christian is someone who has been claimed, named, and loved by the Father in His Son.
And here is the astonishing truth: the gospel does not merely tell us that we may call God our Father (though that is beautiful). It tells us that God calls us His children. In Christ—and this matters—in baptism, God publicly places His name upon us and brings us into His family. We do not drift into this identity. We are given it. We are not pretending to be children of God. We are not waiting to become children of God. In Christ, we are His beloved children.
That identity changes everything.
Becoming Who We Already Are
In Ephesians 5:1, Paul writes, “Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children.” That “therefore” is doing a great deal of work. It gathers up everything Paul has already said about God’s gracious action in Christ—His eternal purpose, His redeeming love, His resurrection power, His gift of the Spirit, His creation of a new humanity—and draws a clear conclusion: Live like God’s children, because that is what you are.
Paul reminds us earlier that we were once “children of wrath.” We were dead in sin, alienated from God, and bent in on ourselves. But God did not leave us there. In love, He acted. He made us alive together with Christ, brought us near by His blood, and made us members of His household. We were strangers, but now we belong. We were rebels, but now we are sons and daughters.
This matters because Paul does not motivate obedience with fear, guilt, or insecurity. He motivates obedience with belovedness. The command to imitate God does not float free from the gospel—it flows out of it. Because our identity has changed, our lives must change.
In other words, Paul is saying: become who you already are in Christ.
Imitating God Without Playing God
At first glance, the call to imitate God can feel overwhelming. God is infinite, eternal, all-powerful, all-knowing, and utterly holy. How can sinful, finite creatures imitate such a God?
Paul is not calling us to become divine or to place ourselves in God’s position. Children resemble their father without becoming their father. They share family traits. They reflect his character. In the same way, we are called to imitate God in His communicable attributes—His love, mercy, kindness, generosity, patience, and faithfulness.
The word Paul uses for “imitate” is the word from which we get mimic. God is our pattern. His character is our model. And because we are united to Christ, this imitation is not pretend or merely external. It is real growth, real obedience, real transformation.
In and through the gospel God does not merely forgive us, He transforms us.
Walking in Love Like the True Son
Paul immediately clarifies what this imitation looks like: “And walk in love, as Christ loved us and gave Himself up for us” (Ephesians 5:2).
If God is our Father, Jesus is the true Son—the Beloved One who perfectly reveals the Father. To imitate God, then, is to pattern our lives after Christ’s love.
And how does Christ love? He gives Himself. He sacrifices Himself. He brings us to God.
Jesus did not love us because we were attractive, useful, or deserving. He loved us because He is love. He took on flesh, lived the obedient life we failed to live, and offered Himself as a sacrifice for us. His death was substitutionary, covenantal, and effective. He bore our sin, satisfied God’s wrath, and rose again in triumph. And now—this is crucial—we are united to Him. His life is our life. His standing before the Father is ours. His Spirit is at work in us, conforming us to His image.
Paul describes Christ’s self-giving love as “a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.” This language reaches back to the Old Testament sacrifices, all of which find their fulfillment in Christ. Christ’s love pleased the Father. And now, astonishingly, our lives—lived in union with Christ—are called to share that same aroma.
Gospel Love Is Not Earned—It Creates What It Requires
Our culture tends to define love in terms of attraction and payoff. We love people because of what they offer us, how they make us feel, or how well they perform. But gospel love is fundamentally different.
God did not love us because we were lovely. He loved us because of who He is, and in order to bring us into the glory of His loving kindness… in order to bring us into His goodness and grace.
As Martin Luther famously said, “The love of God does not find, but creates, that which is pleasing to it.”
God’s love does not respond to worth; it creates worth. His love does not mirror our obedience; it produces obedience. And that is precisely the pattern Paul calls us to imitate.
What This Looks Like at Home
This becomes painfully practical in the home—especially for husbands and fathers (Ephesians 5:25 lays this responsibility must fundamentally on the man).
Consider a father who comes home tired and frustrated. His wife says something that feels disrespectful. His children disobey—again. In that moment, the temptation is strong to respond reactively: irritation turns to anger, anger to harshness, harshness to bitterness. Love becomes conditional. Patience evaporates. Authority hardens. But this is exactly where the gospel confronts us.
If we are to imitate our God and Father, and if we are to love as the true Son has loved us, then we must face this truth: God does not love us in proportion to our behavior. He does not love us because we earned it, maintained it, or deserved it. He loves us in order to change us.
Christian fathers are not called to love their families in response to obedience. They are called to love sacrificially, covenantally, and steadfastly, even and especially when that love is costly and undeserved. This does not mean ignoring sin or abandoning discipline—God does neither with us. But it does mean that love must lead. Love must set the tone. Love must be the atmosphere in which correction takes place.
A father who is slow to anger reflects his Father in heaven. A father who refuses bitterness images the mercy of God. A father who keeps loving when it is hard embodies the love of Christ.
This kind of love does not excuse sin; it overcomes it. It does not follow the emotional temperature of the household; it sets it. And over time, by God’s grace, it creates what it calls for.
Gospel Transformation, Not Behavior Modification
Of course, none of this happens by sheer willpower. We do not change because we are clever, disciplined, or particularly sincere. We do not even change merely because we agree with the gospel. We change by God’s grace, as the gospel is pressed deeper and deeper into our hearts through the ordinary means of grace—the Word of God read, studied, preached, taught, and sung… the sacraments, prayer, and the fellowship of the saints/life together in the church.
This is why Paul does not merely say, “Obey the Law.” The Law is good and holy, and it does indeed call us to love God and love our neighbor. But Paul knows that bare commands cannot transform hearts. So he does something else: he reminds us how much we have been loved, and then calls us to go and do likewise.
As Paul says, “The love of Christ controls us… that those who live might no longer live for themselves but for Him who for their sake died and was raised” (2 Corinthians 5:14–15). And as John puts it, “We love because He first loved us” (1 John 4:19).
This is gospel transformation—not behavior modification. The gospel does not merely inform us; it compels us. It does not merely instruct us; it reshapes, reforms, and transforms us. As we receive God’s love again and again—in Word and Table, in confession and forgiveness, in the shared life of the covenant community—we are slowly, truly, and deeply transformed.
A Call to Walk as God’s Children
If you are baptized into Christ, you belong to the Father’s household. You are named, claimed, and loved. And because that is true, you are called to live like it.
Walk in love. Imitate your Father. Love like the Son. Live for God’s glory, the good of God’s people, and the life of God’s world.
And if you are not yet walking in that reality—if you are clinging to sin, living for yourself, or resisting repentance—the call of the gospel still stands: turn and live. God delights to welcome prodigals home.
The love of God in Christ is both our foundation and our fuel. It tells us who we are—and it sends us out to live accordingly.
So beloved, be who you are. And walk in the love of your Father… For that is how we, and this world, are transformed.
In Christ’s service and yours,
Nick Esch