When our son Dan entered into early adolescence, those well-known growth spurts enveloped him in cycles.  Often, some parts of Dan grew while other parts remained stubbornly boyish, untouched by the growth spurts happening in various parts of his body.  At one point, his feet were of adult size while his arms and legs were still short and plump with the roundness of toddlerhood. His waist would grow, but his legs didn’t… and vice versa.  A downy mustache grew on one side of his upper lip but not the other.  His voice would sometimes resound impressively with the bass tones of a mature man; at other times, his childlike treble would soar, birdlike and pristine.

Growth happens to us in uneven ways.  We might be well-matured in our life of prayer, but just babies in our commitment to actions of justice and mercy.  We might be well-grounded in our study of Scripture, but young in our understanding of our own church’s history.  We might be faithful worshippers and liturgically expert, but just beginning to take baby-steps into the discipline of sacrificial stewardship.  This is how it is when we grow…including when we grow into Christ.  Any top thing we grab off the laundry pile might be too tight in the neck and too long in the sleeves.  We are not always comfortable in the uneven maturing of our own beings.  Sometimes our voice flows out deep and solid and richly mature.  Other times we simply squeak. How unsettling this all can be.  One day we are grown-ups in the faith…the next day we are babbling infants.

The Word of God reassures us.  Gasp! We are able, the Word tells us, to grow into the full stature of Christ!  How does this happen?  Once again, the Word directs us, as the Word always will.  Speaking the truth in love, that’s one mark of our growth.  Dadgum it, it is so easy to speak the truth in the parking lot but not at the table of decision-making, directly to someone we disagree with.  We are thrown back on Grace…God give us the grace to speak the truth in the love which directly addresses the other.  The Word reminds us that Christian maturity is about being a “part” which seeks to work as it should, as the whole body grows.  As a wise and mature believer once said to me:  “I am just one instrument in the whole symphony…and God is the conductor, not me.  My job is to play my part as devotedly as I can.”

The Word pointedly mentions the distraction posed by people’s trickery, alerting us to the craftiness of people around us.  How tempting it is to cast our lot with them – those spokespersons of doctrinal certainty, those people who wrap deceit in theological language. We must cling to the essential Creeds of our faith, as handed down to us over the ages.  This text from Ephesians calls us to discernment; to the clear-eyed scrutiny of every wind that blows around us, in light of the foundational Creeds. 

And, ah, there is that mention in the Word of the power of love, by which the body is built up. I fail so often at loving, genuine sincere loving.  Our loving is so very conditional, so fragile as to fade away when it becomes tough going.  Once again, we lean on Grace as Christ has lavishly gifted us in his death and resurrection.  Christ does for us what we cannot do for ourselves, and pours love into our hearts so that we may, of this fullness, love others with the love which passes all understanding.

In every moment of growing up, spiritually or physically, we may find ourselves in that awkward circumstance by which we are both mature and juvenile all at once.  In fact, growing up into Christ is always uneven, always bumpy, always awkward.  We simply cannot do this on our own.  But thanks be to God, with whom all is possible.  Day by day, we MAY grow into the fullness of Christ, as we receive Grace to get up every time we fall down.  Let it be so, dear God.  Let it be so.