The Stripping of the Old, the Clothing of the New

Only seven times does this verb, ekdýō, appear in the New Testament, yet each occurrence carries the weight of a garment being peeled away from the soul. The first time we encounter this word, the action is violent and urgent. In the Gospel of Matthew, the soldiers strip Yeshua of His garments before the crucifixion (Matthew 27:28). Here the verb is active, aorist, indicative — a completed action performed by rough hands upon the innocent. But this is only the surface. The deep truth of ekdýō is not about cloth and linen; it is about the shedding of an old nature, the casting off of a dead self, the holy violence of becoming new. The word itself comes from ek, meaning "out of," and dýō, meaning "to sink" or "to enter." To strip is to cause something to sink out of its place — to remove what has been worn so long it has become like a second skin.

The Grammar of Being Undone

The Greek language, in its precision, reveals the nature of this divine action through tense and voice. When Paul uses ekdýō in Colossians 3:9, he writes in the aorist middle voice: "Do not lie to one another, having stripped off the old self with its practices." The middle voice is crucial here, for it indicates that the subject both performs and participates in the action. You are not merely stripped by another; you are actively involved in your own undoing. The aorist tense, meanwhile, suggests a decisive, once-for-all event — a moment when the old garment is torn away and cannot be worn again. Yet the ancient sages of Israel understood that such stripping requires divine assistance. As the Psalmist cried, "Create in me a clean heart, O God" (Psalm 51:10), acknowledging that even the act of shedding sin is a gift from the One who made the heart. The early church fathers, pondering this mystery, taught that the middle voice of ekdýō points to the paradox of grace: you must choose to be stripped, but only the Spirit can loosen the threads that bind the garment to your flesh.

From Garments of Skin to Garments of Light

When the Septuagint translators rendered the Hebrew Scriptures into Greek, they chose ekdýō to convey a profound moment in the Garden. After Adam and Eve ate from the tree, the Lord God made them "garments of skin" and clothed them (Genesis 3:21). The Hebrew verb behind this act of clothing is lavash, but the implied action of stripping — of removing the fig leaves of self-justification — is captured by ekdýō in the LXX tradition. The rabbis of old observed that those garments of skin were not merely animal hides; they were the first lesson in atonement, a covering that required the shedding of blood. Every time you strip away a false covering, you are reenacting that primal moment — the exchange of your own inadequate covering for the covering God provides. The apostolic tradition sees this as a type of baptism: in the waters of immersion, you are stripped of the old Adam and clothed with the new (Romans 6:3-6). The stripping is not the end; it is the necessary prelude to a better garment.

The Stripping of the Strong Man

In the Gospel narratives, ekdýō appears in a parable that reveals the nature of spiritual warfare. Yeshua speaks of a strong man fully armed who guards his palace; his possessions are safe until a stronger one attacks, overpowers him, and strips him of his armor (Luke 11:21-22). The verb here is active, aorist, indicative — a completed conquest. The Jewish tradition of interpreting Scripture has long understood that the "strong man" represents the powers that hold humanity captive: sin, death, and the accuser. But the "stronger one" is the Messiah Himself, who enters the domain of darkness and strips it of its authority. The early church saw in this stripping the victory of the cross: when Yeshua was stripped by the soldiers, He was simultaneously stripping the principalities and powers of their hold over creation. What appears as humiliation becomes the very mechanism of liberation. The armor of the enemy is not destroyed; it is taken away, leaving him powerless.

The Apostolic Call to Strip Away

The Apostle Paul, more than any other New Testament writer, uses ekdýō to describe the inner transformation of the believer. In Colossians 3, he commands the community to "strip off the old self" — a phrase that echoes the baptismal practice of removing one's garments before entering the water. But Paul deepens this image by connecting it to the resurrection. He writes to the Ephesians that you must "put off your old self, which belongs to your former manner of life and is corrupt through deceitful desires" (Ephesians 4:22). The Greek here uses apotithēmi alongside ekdýō, creating a layered picture: you are both removing a garment and laying it aside permanently. The fathers of the faith observed that this stripping is not a single event but an ongoing rhythm. Each day you discover another layer — pride, resentment, fear — that must be shed. Yet the aorist tense of the command suggests that the decisive break has already occurred in baptism; you are now learning to live in the reality of what has been done.

The LXX Bridge: From Joseph to the Messiah

The Septuagint uses ekdýō to translate a Hebrew verb that carries profound resonances for the Messianic hope. In Genesis 37, Joseph's brothers strip him of his robe — the ornamented tunic that marked him as the favored son (Genesis 37:23). The Hebrew verb is pashat, meaning to strip or remove, and the LXX renders it with ekdýō. This act of stripping precedes Joseph's descent into the pit, his sale into slavery, and ultimately his exaltation in Egypt. The ancient Jewish interpreters saw in Joseph a type of the righteous sufferer who is stripped of honor before being clothed with authority. When you read of Yeshua being stripped by the soldiers (Matthew 27:28), you are witnessing the same pattern: the stripping precedes the glorification. The LXX bridge reveals that every act of unjust stripping in Israel's history points toward the moment when the Messiah would be stripped so that His people might be clothed with righteousness. The garments removed from Joseph became the means by which he discerned the dreams of Pharaoh; the garments stripped from Yeshua became the veil torn open for all humanity.

The Messiah Stripped and Stripping

No passage captures the Messianic significance of ekdýō more powerfully than the cross itself. In the Gospel of John, the soldiers take His garments and divide them among themselves (John 19:23-24). The verb is a form of ekdýō — they stripped Him completely. Yet even as they strip Him, a deeper stripping is taking place. The apostolic tradition teaches that on the cross, Yeshua was stripped of His glory, stripped of His honor, stripped even of the Father's presence as He cried out in the words of Psalm 22. This was the ultimate ekdýō: the Son of God, who had been clothed in the radiance of heaven from before the foundation of the world, allowed Himself to be stripped down to nakedness and shame. But in that very act, He was stripping the power of sin and death. The early church understood that when Yeshua rose from the dead, He did not reclaim the garments the soldiers had taken; He was clothed in a glory that surpassed all earthly covering. The stripping of the Messiah became the clothing of the world.

Your Garment Awaits

And now, beloved, the call comes to you. The verb ekdýō is not merely a word from ancient scrolls; it is an action that must take place in your own life. What are you wearing that must be removed? The garment of self-righteousness, woven from your own good works? The cloak of resentment, stitched together from old wounds? The robe of fear, heavy with the weight of what might come? The rabbis of old taught that when a person stands before the Holy One, they must be stripped of everything that is not truly them. Only then can they receive the garment of light prepared for them from the foundation of the world. You cannot wear the old and the new at the same time. The aorist command stands: strip off the old self, here and now, decisively. Let the hands of the Spirit loosen every thread that binds you to death. The stripping will feel like a loss, but it is the only way to be clothed in the righteousness of the Messiah. Go now, and let the old garment fall to the ground. Your true covering awaits.