It was a gorgeous summer morning as a group of vacationers boarded a flight headed for Spain. The weather in England seemed to set the perfect tone for the day’s travel to the sunny beaches of the Costa del Sol.
The flight took off without incident, climbing smoothly to cruising altitude. Thirteen minutes in, at 17,300 feet, the plane levelled off. The Captain unbuckled his shoulder harness—standard procedure at cruise—and leaned back slightly in his seat and awaited a steward so he could get a cup of coffee for the journey.
Everything was fine—until it wasn’t. It happened in an instant, suddenly, and without warning: the windscreen exploded off the front of the plane—all 90 bolts holding it in place tore away from the fuselage and left it plummeting toward the English countryside.
And in the blink of an eye, the cockpit depressurized, creating a vacuum force so violent that the Captain was sucked halfway out of the window. His legs caught on the flight controls, his body was pinned against the outside of the aircraft, battered by 370-mile-per-hour winds at sub-zero temperatures.
Inside the cockpit, one of the Flight Attendants had entered just seconds before the blowout. He lunged forward and grabbed the Captain legs—the only thing keeping the Captain from being torn away completely and dropped 17,000 feet to his death or—worse—sucked into the engine, where the catastrophic damage his body might do could mean certain death to every soul onboard. The Flight Attendant held on. His arms were already going numb. The wind was deafening. The cold was unbearable. But he knew—he knew—that if he let go, the Captain was gone.
Meanwhile, the First Officer, now alone at the controls, faced an impossible situation. The cockpit was in chaos. Alarms screaming. Papers and debris flying. The noise so loud he couldn’t hear radio communications. The plane was not in immediate danger—but the flight controls were jammed by the Captain legs, essentially stuck in sludge. They were heavy and hard to operate. This first officer had to fly manually, navigate by sight, and somehow get this stricken bird on the ground while his Captain was literally hanging out the window.
Another Flight Attendant rushed into the cockpit and grabbed hold of the Captain alongside the first. They held on. But they were losing strength. Frostbite was setting in. Their muscles were cramping. And with every passing second, the force of the wind was pulling harder.
Did they hold on? Did the Captain survive? Did the First Officer manage to land the plane? What happened here? We’ll find out at the end. For now, let’s put this imperilled flight in our pockets and turn to Ephesians 4, verse 25.
Ephesians 4:25-5:2
25 So then, putting away falsehood, let each of you speak the truth with your neighbor, for we are members of one another. 26 Be angry but do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger, 27 and do not make room for the devil. 28 Those who steal must give up stealing; rather, let them labor, doing good work with their own hands, so as to have something to share with the needy. 29 Let no evil talk come out of your mouths but only what is good for building up, as there is need, so that your words may give grace to those who hear. 30 And do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, with which you were marked with a seal for the day of redemption. 31 Put away from you all bitterness and wrath and anger and wrangling and slander, together with all malice. 32 Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ has forgiven you. 5:1 Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children, 2 and walk in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.
Prayer
Father, as we open Your Word today, help us see that healthy community isn’t built on “close enough.” Show us where we’ve used the wrong materials—deception instead of truth, bitterness instead of reconciliation, selfishness instead of generosity. Give us courage to use the right bolts. In Jesus’ name, amen.
Ephesians 4:25 – Be Truth Tellers
So then, putting away falsehood, let each of you speak the truth with your neighbor, for we are members of one another.
“So then”—Paul shifts from how the new self is shaped by the Spirit within the individual to how the new self interacts with the wider body of the church. He’s already told us to maintain unity (4:3) and to grow up into Christ as the head (4:15-16). Now he shows us exactly what materials we need to build healthy community, and he starts with this: Be truth-tellers.
“Putting away falsehood.” Your translation might say “lies” or “lying,” but that’s selling this word short. Paul uses a broader term—falsehood—which includes any form of deception, whether to harm someone else or benefit yourself.
I was once told a coworker would be working from home as a concession after receiving unfortunate family news. Later I discovered that while that was a contributing factor, the real reason was a persistent attraction to another married coworker they needed to avoid. This partial truth? No better than a lie. And it was told by a pastor in some misguided attempt to protect everyone involved.
It reminds me of that old Randy Travis song, “Is It Still Over?”:
That lie that I tried to slip by you was told with good intentions
It was just another way to say I love you and protect you from the truth
The idea of “lying to care” is as toxic as it is dangerous. We convince ourselves we’re protecting people when we’re really just protecting ourselves from uncomfortable conversations.
Paul’s command is clear: “Let each of you speak the truth with your neighbor.”
In this context, our “neighbor” is our fellow Christian, our church family. And yes, sometimes the truth will hurt. But it’s a good hurt—like iodine in a wound. Nothing fun about it, but we won’t see real healing unless we address the facts. We might feel like we’re lying for some noble purpose, but that’s only justification. There is nothing true or redemptive in it.
Why? “For we are members of one another.”
We’re not merely neighbors—we’re members of the same body. And the idea of body parts betraying each other is terrifying. Imagine your hand suddenly smacking you across the face, thrusting itself onto a hot stove, or letting go of your infant child without your consent. If you want to see this nightmare in action, look up “Alien Hand Syndrome.”
We rightly recognize that a healthy body is fully coordinated, working together—never with parts going rogue. And if the church is the body of Christ, we have some nerve thinking we can deceive each other and still function properly!
What about it: Where are you telling partial truths? Where are you withholding information “for someone’s own good”? That is a question each of us must ask ourselves individually. And praise the Lord when someone is willing to call you on it.
Speaking of which, let’s continue on to verses 26 & 27.
Ephesians 4:26-27 – Be Reconcilers
Be angry but do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger, and do not make room for the devil.
Someone here just heard Paul say “be angry” and immediately thought, “Way ahead of you there, Paul!”
But Paul isn’t granting license to freely “be angry,” so what’s he getting at?
In the last section Paul called us to be truth-tellers. Now he calls us to be reconcilers.
There are times when we will be angry. Sometimes that anger is righteous—a proper response to sin, injustice, or harm. Other times it’s fueled by fear, pride, or self-protection. These need to be evaluated so that we don’t sin.
Remember earlier in Ephesians we learned that gentleness doesn’t mean passivity—it means rightly bridled anger. Not the total absence of anger, but appropriate restraint. This allows us to feel our anger, then assess it: Is this righteous? Or is this sinful?
Then Paul calls us explicitly to deal with it:
Do not let the sun go down on your anger.
If you’ve been around the church for any amount of time, you’ve likely heard this verse cited as an absolute—particularly in marriage. “Deal with it today. This minute.” And I’m going to tell you why I think that’s often bad advice and not what Paul means.
If you’re angry about something, is it best to sit down and hash it out while you’re upset and emotions are high? I don’t think so, and neither does modern psychology. Studies show that confronting someone while emotionally flooded—heart racing, adrenaline pumping—reduces rational thinking and increases the likelihood you’ll say something destructive. But letting days and weeks pass allows resentment to harden into bitterness.
Paul isn’t giving us a legalistic 24-hour rule. He’s warning us not to let anger set up camp in our hearts. Sometimes the most loving thing is to wait until you can speak with the gentleness and patience he just taught us in verse 2. Take time to pray. Seek the Lord. Even seek godly counsel from a trusted advisor—though be careful here. If you’re talking about someone with no intention of addressing it with them, you’re not seeking counsel—you’re gossiping. Stop that. But if you’re genuinely asking, “How do I approach this well?” or “Am I even right to be upset?”—then bless you.
So take the time you need to cool down and think clearly. But do have that conversation. Don’t let it drift into next week, next month, next year.
Why?
“Do not make room for the devil.”
Church, hear this: truth delayed becomes bitterness. Anger deferred becomes malice. And bitterness and malice are a rot that will destroy you personally and damage the church—the Bride of Christ. When we refuse to reconcile, when we nurse our wounds and rehearse our grievances, we are rolling out the welcome mat for Satan. We are giving him space to work, to whisper lies, to divide what God has joined together.
Don’t give him the satisfaction! Ask yourself, even now: Is there an unresolved conflict I’ve been avoiding? Someone I’m angry with but haven’t addressed? If so, make sure that’s no longer the case by this time next week. Amen?
Ephesians 4:28 – Be Contributors
Those who steal must give up stealing; rather, let them labor, doing good work with their own hands, so as to have something to share with the needy.
Whiplash moment. Where did stealing come from?
I don’t think Paul’s talking primarily about pickpockets or burglars. Paul doesn’t mince words, and when he says “those who steal,” he’s pointing at the consumers in the church—those who take at every opportunity but never give. They don’t tithe, don’t serve, don’t help—but show up whenever there’s something to be gained. Paul says that’s stealing. Full stop.
So Paul tells us to be truth tellers, reconcilers, and no contributors.
Years ago, a skilled member helped with a church project—then complained until we paid him. Later I overheard him tell someone he didn’t believe in tithing and refused to practice it. His small group? Just a complaining session about the church. He was a thief. Hand out to receive, never extended to give.
That is a toxic posture. Don’t be that guy.
Paul says: Labor. Work hard. And share what you earn. Did you catch the purpose clause? Work so that you have something to share with the needy. This is more than merely a call to support ourselves. This is not Paul simply saying, ‘Provide for yourself! Don’t be a leech!’ Rather, Paul is saying work so that you can become a generous giver. Let me contrast the previous taker with one of a generous giver:
Years ago at Metro Kids Society, we hired a local band for our no-charge anniversary celebration. Hundreds showed up. The band played for an hour, arrived early to help set up, and stayed until the last chair was put away. When we gave them their honorarium, they stuck it in the offering box. Wow. Humbling and inspiring.
This is what Paul is pushing us toward: Not “How can I be blessed?” but “How can I be a blessing?”
Ephesians 4:29 – Be Encouragers
Let no evil talk come out of your mouths but only what is good for building up, as there is need, so that your words may give grace to those who hear.
Paul told us to be truth-tellers, then reconcilers, then contributors, and now encouragers.
So, what is “evil talk”? A lot of times we reduce this to language policing and the appearance of moralism. Basically, “Don’t swear!” Now, I’m not advocating for swearing because I think there are better words we can use for communication, but I also don’t gasp and faint when someone uses “salty” language. I think it’s contextual. Let me explain.
If someone walks up to me after the service and says, “Eff you, you suck!”—yeah, I’ll probably be offended by that. So far I have managed to avoid that particular interaction. But on the flip side—another story from my time with Metro Kids—I remember this one kid who got saved in our youth outreach and wanted to get baptized. So we had a baptism service. And while talking about how Jesus turned his life upside down and changed his outlook on everything, he must have dropped at least four F-bombs! But we dunked him anyway and we celebrated with him! Why? Because his heart was right—he was building people up with his testimony, even if his vocabulary needed some sanctification.
Evil talk isn’t just a moralistic checklist—didn’t say the s-word, the b-word, the f-word, so I’m good! No, evil talk is harsh criticism, gaslighting, gossip, slander, name-calling, lying, boasting… and yeah, sometimes swearing. The real question isn’t “Did I avoid certain words?” but “Are my words rotten or life-giving?”
Because it’s not enough to stop doing the bad thing—we have to also do the good thing. Paul tells us that our words should “build up, as there is need.” Sometimes that means words of encouragement or affirmation. Sometimes it means words of admonition or rebuke. But how do we know which one is “needed”?
Paul’s implication is clear: we should be in community. We should be in a place where we know what type of building up is needed in the life of the person we’re addressing. Get to know each other, church. Learn each other’s stories.
But I will say this: if you’re not deeply invested in someone, you should probably stick with words of affirmation and encouragement. Words of rebuke and admonishment from a distance are probably ill-informed and more likely to hurt than help.
Because Paul finishes this verse with the idea that our words give grace to those who hear. Did you hear that, church? Our speech should be a GIFT to the hearer. It’s not for the speaker—it’s for the listener. Even in rebuke, your heart should be: Will this build up my brother or sister who hears this? Is what I am about to say a good gift?
Whether it’s a tasty treat or bitter medicine, is it my goal to bring a blessing into their life? If you can’t answer that with a definitive “yes,” then just keep your mouth shut.
Ephesians 4:30 – Warning Against a Love Grown Cold
And do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, with which you were marked with a seal for the day of redemption.
Before Paul actually states his next point, he first sets it up with this warning about grieving the Holy Spirit. What does it mean to grieve the Holy Spirit, and why does it matter if we do?
The Holy Spirit is a person, not a force—and He can be grieved. He’s working to coordinate all the members of the capital-C Church, transforming us from the inside out. So a selfish individualism that places me above Christ and His Bride is a rejection of that leading. It’s like a teenager screaming “I hate you!” at parents who set boundaries designed to protect them. Just as that rebellion hurts parents who have invested so much, this rebellion grieves the Holy Spirit who has also invested so much in us.
And here’s what makes this so serious: if we’re going to look to the Holy Spirit to mark us as saved on the day of redemption, how are we seriously going to spend our time between now and then picking and choosing whether or not to obey? Church, this is like sitting in God’s lap while slapping Him across the face!
Now, we talked about this seal a few months ago when we looked at Ephesians 1:13-14. The seal is secure—God will never break covenant with us. But when we persistently resist the Spirit’s leading, when we continually choose sin over surrender, we’re training ourselves not to hear His voice. We’re hardening our hearts. And a heart that has grown cold to the Spirit is in a dangerous place.
That’s the danger Paul is warning against here. When we choose not to be truth-tellers, not to be reconcilers, not to be contributors, not to be encouragers—and especially not to be forgivers, which is where Paul goes next—we’re allowing our hearts to be hardened by the very things that grieve the Spirit.
Don’t let your love grow cold, church. Don’t train yourself to tune out the Spirit’s voice. He’s not restricting you—He’s redeeming you.
Ephesians 4:31-32 – Be Extravagant Forgivers
31 Put away from you all bitterness and wrath and anger and wrangling and slander, together with all malice. 32 Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ has forgiven you.
And so we come to being forgivers. What does that look like? Let’s study through this together.
Put away all bitterness—animosity and spite. An unrestrained, ruminating anger that grows and consumes, forming a gravity well of discontent that devours all your joy.
Put away all wrath—rage. An uncontrolled outburst of temper demanding satisfaction, with no regard for who gets caught in the explosion.
Put away all anger—wait, wasn’t anger good just a couple verses ago? These are different beasts. The anger in verse 26 is directed toward transparency and restoration. This anger exists purely for our own enjoyment—tucked in each night, awakened each morning to be played with. This is anger as a habit.
Put away all wrangling—shouting, yelling, brawling. Jockeying for position, asserting dominance. This anger seeks only self-vindication and wants nothing less than “you are right.”
Put away all slander—speech whose only goal is to harm reputation. The irony? It ultimately destroys yours, too.
Put away all malice—desiring ill for another. If you’re eager to delight in someone’s downfall—even if they “deserve it”—you’re calling evil “good.”
These things are monsters that will consume whoever keeps them as pets. But it’s not enough to be against something—we must be for something.
Be kind—literally, “good.”
Be tenderhearted—compassionate. Recognize that people have different perspectives and experiences, so be gracious enough to assume the best and offer the benefit of the doubt.
Forgive as Christ forgave—but this word doesn’t just mean letting hard feelings go. It carries the idea of extravagant generosity. Lavishing undeserved riches of forgiveness.
But what about the person who abused you and never apologized, never sought forgiveness? Surely they don’t deserve your forgiveness!
No, they don’t. But you know who does?
You. Because unforgiveness doesn’t hurt your abuser—they obviously don’t care or they would have apologized when you confronted them. So instead of hurting your abuser, it hurts you, and that hurt will rub off on others and become a hurt to the community. Not forgiving invites yesterday’s pain to keep doing tomorrow’s damage. Don’t give them that power. And let me be clear: forgiving them doesn’t mean trusting them or letting them back into your life. It means releasing the debt so you can be free.
That said, most of the time it’s nothing quite so life-altering. So let’s live lives of extravagant forgiveness, church! Because, frankly, even aside from the benefits we receive, we are commanded to forgive not because they deserve it, or because it benefits us, or because it benefits the community—but because Christ has already forgiven us.
Ephesians 5:1-2 – Be Imitators of God
5:1 Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children, 2 and walk in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.
One of my favourite verses is all of scripture is Leviticus 19:2, “Be holy as I, the Lord your God, am holy”. And Paul echos that here when he tells us to be imitators of Christ as beloved children. I have two children, Jonas (12) and Teddy (10). And I have heard over and over and over again how Jonas is a mini me. I was told by kids ministry director at my last church—who was a dear friend of Kelly and I—that she had never met a kid who was so much like one of their parents.
Because, as Proverbs 22:6 tells us, “Train up a child in the right way and when they are old they will not stray”.
Children become living mirrors of their parents—they imitate what they see. And Paul says that’s exactly how we’re supposed to relate to God. We are His beloved children, and we imitate Him by walking in love—a truth-telling, reconciling, contributing, encouraging, extravagantly forgiving kind of love. The kind of sacrificial love that led Jesus to the cross.
The cross where Jesus took on the punishment for our sin and paid the price for our iniquity and was wounded for our transgressions. Where Jesus died the death we deserved so we could have the life He deserved, then defeated death once and for all by rising from the grave on the third day.
Now, while Paul certainly has martyrdom in mind in his ancient context, and it is also the context for some modern Christians today—I think of our brothers and sisters in Nigeria—I think that our call here in Canada is not to lay down our lives to death, but by living in a way that elevates those we are called to love above ourselves. Because when we put ourselves above Jesus or above His Bride we are actually sabotaging both the church and ourselves, which brings us back around to our imperilled flight from the beginning.
Out of the Pocket
Remember the windscreen that blew out at 17,000 feet? The captain nearly sucked out of the plane, Flight Attendants holding his legs while the First Officer tried to get his crippled bird back to earth? Did they make it?
This is the true story of British Airways Flight 5390, June 10th, 1990. And you’ll be happy to know the flight made it safely back to earth thanks to First Officer Alastair Aitchison. Captain Tim Lancaster made a full recovery—and even returned to piloting.
But that still doesn’t explain what happened.
Investigators traced it back to the maintenance hangar. The night before the flight, a mechanic replaced the windscreen—a routine job he’d done dozens of times. But this time, he cut a corner. Instead of looking up the correct bolt specification, he thought it would be faster to just eyeball it. He went to the parts bin and grabbed bolts that looked right. They seemed identical to the ones he’d pulled out.
But they weren’t. They were slightly too small—just a fraction of a millimeter off.
And you know what? For 13 minutes, it held. The plane took off, climbed, leveled off. Everything looked fine. The passengers didn’t know. The pilots didn’t know. The mechanic probably thought he’d done good work and shaved some time off his evening.
But it wasn’t one bad bolt—it was one too many bad bolts. 84 out of 90 were the wrong size. And suddenly: explosive decompression. Catastrophic failure. Lives hanging in the balance.
Church, that’s what Paul is warning us about.
Every time we choose deception over truth? Bad bolt.
Bitterness over reconciliation? Bad bolt.
Consuming instead of contributing? Bad bolt.
Tearing down instead of building up? Bad bolt.
Nursing grudges instead of forgiving? Bad bolt.
And for a while, it might seem fine. The community keeps functioning. People keep showing up. Worship happens. Small groups meet. From the outside, everything looks okay.
But underneath, the pressure is building.
And one day—maybe not today, maybe not next week—but one day, there will be one lie too many, one unresolved conflict too many, one selfish act too many, one destructive word too many, one unforgiven wound too many.
And the community will experience explosive decompression.
People will be sucked out. Leaders will be battered and broken. Those trying to hold things together will exhaust themselves. The whole body will be in crisis—all because we thought “close enough” was good enough.
But here’s the good news, church: we’re not being asked to fly the plane. We’re being asked to stop sabotaging it.
Paul doesn’t say, “Create unity.” He says, maintain it. The Spirit has already done the heavy lifting. Christ has already sealed us. The structure is sound.
Our call is simpler—and harder: Use the right bolts. Tell the truth. Deal with the anger quickly. Give instead of take. Speak words that build up. Forgive extravagantly.
Not because disaster is inevitable—but because love is worth the care.
So before pressure exposes what’s loose, let’s bring it into the light. Let’s stop calling “close enough” obedience. And let’s ask the Spirit to show us—gently, specifically—where we need to tighten a bolt today.
Let’s pray.
Closing Prayer
Lord Jesus, You gave Yourself up for us as a fragrant offering. Now teach us to live the same way—speaking truth, reconciling quickly, giving generously, building each other up, and forgiving extravagantly. Forgive us for the times we’ve sabotaged Your church with bad bolts. This week, show us specifically where we need to tighten something loose before pressure exposes it. Help us stop calling “close enough” obedience. Make us imitators of You, to the praise of Your glory. Amen.
Benedictory Verse: Ephesians 5:1-2