Living out the fruits of the Spirit
Let's dig deeper into agapé LOVE, because it’s so central to what it means to be a follower of Christ. We often hear people talk about love in the context of warm feelings or romantic notions, but when the Bible speaks of love—especially the kind of love that is rooted in the Holy Spirit—it’s so much more than that. The Greek word agapé (ἀγάπη) is a love that is not merely about a fleeting emotion or an attraction based on how someone makes you feel. It’s not based on chemistry or circumstances. It’s a choice, a decision to care for someone deeply, regardless of how they respond or treat you.
Now, if we take a step back and think about the implications of this kind of love, it’s not easy. It’s much deeper and more challenging than what we might first imagine. Agapé is the kind of love that Jesus demonstrated when He laid down His life for us. He didn’t love because we were so lovable or deserving, but because of His character—His love is unconditional. This is a love that is not earned. It’s not given because of someone’s merit, but because of the choice of the giver.
When Jesus tells His disciples in John 13:34-35 to love one another as He has loved them, it’s a radical command. He doesn’t say, “Love each other when it’s easy” or “Love when they love you back.” No, He says, “Love as I have loved you,” and His love wasn’t based on the world’s standard of love. His love didn’t come with conditions or timelines. It wasn’t reserved for people who “deserved” it or who had their act together. Jesus’ love was sacrificial, and sacrificial love often requires us to lay down our rights and desires for the sake of someone else. This is agapé—a love that persists even when it’s not reciprocated, even when it’s not appreciated, even when it’s difficult or painful.
When you think about a parent’s love for a child, you start to see how this kind of love plays out in real life. A child doesn’t always behave in a way that makes them easy to love. In fact, they can be messy, disobedient, and demanding. A parent might be exhausted from work, frustrated by the constant noise or mess, and at the end of their rope, yet love still demands they respond. The love that a parent is called to give their child is agapé love. It's a decision to care for the child’s well-being, even when the child’s actions might make them unlovable in that moment.
Consider this: a child misbehaves, and instead of reacting with frustration or anger, a parent stops to ask themselves, "Why is this happening? What is going on beneath the surface?" Maybe the child is acting out because they are scared or frustrated themselves. Maybe they need more attention or discipline, or maybe they simply don’t have the emotional vocabulary to express what they’re feeling. Agapé love chooses to pause, to understand, and to act in a way that seeks to meet the child’s deeper needs, even if the child’s behavior isn’t “deserving” of that response.
This kind of love is active; it doesn’t just sit there, feeling warm and fuzzy inside. It doesn’t just feel affection when the child is well-behaved and sweet. No, it is engaged. It gets up, it moves, it serves, and it sacrifices. It might look like a parent offering gentle correction instead of harsh punishment. It might look like a parent staying calm and composed when the child is having a tantrum or throwing a fit, instead of being swept away by frustration or yelling back. It’s the choice to love through actions that are driven by compassion, not by the emotional pull of the moment.
Agapé love is also patient. It doesn’t rush to judge or to give up. In a world that often expects quick fixes, agapé teaches us to be okay with the long haul. A parent who loves with agapé understands that real change in a child’s behavior doesn’t happen overnight. It takes time, patience, and continual sacrifice. This is where agapé love shows itself in its true form—it’s not just a flash of emotion; it’s a constant, steady commitment to the well-being of the other person, even when it’s not immediately rewarding or visible.
Let’s also not forget that agapé love is a choice to act with compassion even when it’s hard. Jesus, throughout His ministry, exemplified this love. He could have chosen a comfortable, painless life, but He didn’t. He chose to love the unlovable, to walk among the sick, the outcasts, and the sinners, and to lay down His life for all of them. His love was sacrificial to the highest degree, and He calls us to love others in that same way. That means loving those who might hurt us, misunderstand us, or challenge us in ways that are uncomfortable. It’s easy to love someone who makes us feel good, but what about the person who isn’t easy to love?
Think about the days when you’re at your lowest, when you’re running on empty, and you have to keep showing up. Those are the moments when agapé love is the most powerful. It’s when you’re exhausted and feeling like you can’t give any more, yet you find yourself making the choice to continue giving. You choose to be kind when you’re angry, to listen when you’re frustrated, to serve when you’re worn out. That’s the kind of love that Jesus modeled for us. It’s not about what we feel like doing. It’s about making the decision to act in a way that reflects the heart of God, even when it costs us something.
And here’s the kicker: the more we choose to love in this way, the more we’re transformed into the image of Christ. This isn’t about us just being “better people” or trying to make ourselves feel good about our actions. This love—this agapé—is the work of the Holy Spirit within us. It’s what He produces in us as we surrender to Him. As we begin to love the way Christ loves, we start to reflect Him more and more, and people begin to see the love of God in us. And that’s the point, isn’t it? To be so full of His love that it pours out onto others, not because we’re perfect, but because we’ve been so deeply loved by Him that we can’t help but share that love with the world.
So when we love like this, it isn’t just about making it through the day as a parent or a spouse, it’s about being a living example of Christ’s sacrificial love in the world. This is love that doesn’t quit. It loves in the hard moments, in the messy moments, in the moments when the world would expect us to walk away. It’s the kind of love that shows the world that we belong to Jesus, and that kind of love changes everything.
Let’s talk about JOY now, because it’s one of those fruits of the Spirit that can easily get really misunderstood. When we hear the word "joy," we might think of a fleeting feeling of happiness, something that comes when everything is going well, when the sun is shining and the day is perfect. But joy, as the Bible talks about it, especially in simchah (שִׂמְחָה)—the Hebrew word for joy—isn’t tied to our circumstances or external events. It’s not contingent on whether life is going according to our plan or if we’re in a season of success or comfort. In fact, the joy that comes from God is often most visible when circumstances aren’t ideal at all.
If you take a moment to really think about this, it’s kind of radical, isn’t it? In the Hebrew, simchah conveys a kind of gladness that isn’t about what’s happening around you, but what’s happening within you. It’s about knowing something deep within your soul: that God is good, that He is with you, and that He is in control. This joy doesn’t depend on external factors. It isn’t a superficial happiness that fades when things go wrong. It’s a joy that flows from an inner peace that comes from knowing that no matter what happens, God has you. When Paul talks about joy in Galatians 5:22-23 as a fruit of the Spirit, that’s exactly what he’s referring to—this joy that isn’t swayed by the ups and downs of life.
Now, don’t get me wrong—joy doesn’t mean we ignore the pain or pretend everything is fine when it's not. Joy doesn’t ask us to gloss over our struggles. It’s not about ignoring hardship or pretending like everything is okay when it’s not. That’s not what joy in the Bible is about. Joy in the midst of hardship is about seeing beyond the immediate pain and remembering that God is in control, that He’s with you in the struggle. It’s a peace that comes with the understanding that no matter how chaotic or difficult life may be, there’s a deeper reality at play—that God is faithful and will sustain us through it all.
Think about the story of Paul and Silas in Acts 16. They were thrown in prison for preaching the gospel—beaten, shackled, and locked away in a cold, dark cell. Now, if there was ever a moment where they had every right to feel overwhelmed by their circumstances, that was it. Yet, what do we find them doing in that moment? They were praying and singing hymns to God. Can you imagine? They weren’t celebrating that they were in prison—they were finding joy in God’s presence, in knowing that He was still sovereign, even when their situation seemed hopeless. They had this deep-rooted confidence in God's goodness that enabled them to sing despite their suffering. That’s the kind of joy we’re talking about here. It doesn’t mean ignoring the hard stuff. It means finding something greater than the hard stuff to hold onto.
So, let’s bring this into a real-life scenario. Imagine a family going through financial struggles. They’re not sure where their next meal is coming from, or how they’ll pay their bills, but instead of giving in to despair or hopelessness, they still find joy in the little things. They might sit down to a modest meal, and instead of focusing on what they don’t have, they share a moment of laughter, of togetherness, of gratitude for the provision that’s come in unexpected ways. Their joy isn’t tied to their bank account balance. It’s rooted in the security they have in God. They know, deep down, that He’s faithful. They know that God sees them, loves them, and will provide for their needs. That’s joy that transcends circumstances. Then the miracles come!
The children in that family are learning something incredibly valuable. They’re seeing that joy isn’t about how much stuff you have or whether everything is going according to your plan. It’s about having a peace that comes from the knowledge that God is your provider and sustainer. Joy in the midst of difficulty doesn’t make the difficulty go away, but it makes it bearable. It’s a reminder that we are never alone, that God’s presence is with us in every season, and that He will carry us through.
This is also why joy is one of the key fruits of the Spirit. It’s not something we manufacture or try to force. It’s something that the Spirit produces in us when we are deeply rooted in our relationship with God. It’s a joy that comes from knowing who God is and what He’s done for us. It’s a joy that flows out of a heart that is surrendered to God’s will, even when we don’t understand the circumstances around us.
The truth is, we don’t always have control over what happens in our lives. Things can get tough. Life doesn’t always go as we expect or hope. But joy, as a fruit of the Spirit, reminds us that our ultimate hope isn’t in our circumstances, but in our unshakeable identity in Christ. Our joy is rooted in the reality that we belong to Him, and He is always with us, no matter what. Even in the hard times, even when we’re in the middle of the storm, we can find joy in knowing that God’s presence is constant. This is the kind of joy that becomes a witness to the world around us. People notice when you’re able to stay calm, stay grounded, and even find reasons to rejoice in the midst of difficulty. It’s a testimony that the world doesn’t always understand, but it’s one that points to the truth of the gospel.
In the end, this joy isn’t about pretending everything is okay when it’s not. It’s about remembering that no matter what’s going on around you, God’s love and faithfulness are bigger than any challenge you face. It’s about choosing to trust in Him, to remember His promises, and to lean into His presence. And when we live in that joy, it shines through. It becomes a light to those around us, showing them the unshakable peace that comes from knowing we are secure in Christ, no matter what.
Shalom (שָׁלוֹם), is a word we often translate simply as "PEACE," but it’s so much richer than we might initially realize. In the Hebrew scriptures, shalom doesn’t just mean the absence of conflict, as we might think in our modern world. It’s not simply a lack of fighting or quarrels. Shalom encompasses a profound sense of well-being, completeness, and wholeness. It’s the fullness of peace, a peace that’s deep and wide, reaching into every corner of life. It’s a peace that comes not from the outside world being calm, but from the deep, inner confidence that God is in control, regardless of what is happening around us.
When we talk about peace as a fruit of the Spirit, we’re referring to this kind of shalom—a peace that transcends understanding, that can hold us steady even when everything else feels like it’s falling apart. It’s the peace that Jesus promised His disciples in John 14:27: “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.” Jesus’ peace isn’t a fleeting feeling that comes and goes with the weather or with the ups and downs of life. It’s something much deeper. It’s a peace that stands firm, even in the storm.
Now, let’s bring this into a practical, everyday scenario. Imagine a parent who has just lost their job. The situation is real and difficult, and they are facing an uncertain future. The world around them might shout fear, panic, and doubt. People might say, “What are you going to do now? How are you going to make it through?” And in those moments, the temptation to be overwhelmed by anxiety is real. But instead of giving in to the panic, the parent—rooted in shalom—chooses a different response. They choose to trust God in the midst of the uncertainty.
Instead of allowing their heart to be ruled by fear, they turn to prayer. They might say something like, “God, I don’t know what the future holds, but I know You’re in control. I trust that You will provide for us, just as You’ve always been faithful. I’m choosing to trust You, even when things feel shaky.” Their words aren’t just a form of denial about the situation—they’re a declaration of faith. They’re actively choosing to remember that the God who holds the world also holds them. That, my friend, is the shalom peace we’re talking about. It’s not ignoring the reality of the storm; it’s choosing to believe in God’s presence and sovereignty in the storm.
And here’s where it gets powerful: the children in that home will notice. They see their parent’s response not just in what they say, but in how they carry themselves through the crisis. The parent isn’t pretending that everything is okay or minimizing the difficulty. But they’re not letting the situation control them either. They’re walking in peace, not because the situation has changed, but because they know that God is with them and will sustain them.
As the children witness this kind of peace, they learn something invaluable. They begin to understand that peace doesn’t depend on everything going according to plan or everything being perfect. It doesn’t hinge on circumstances aligning the way we want them to. True peace, the shalom peace of God, is rooted in the unshakable confidence that God is present, even when things are tough. When the storm rages, God’s peace is still steady, still unmovable. This kind of peace teaches them that peace isn’t about a smooth life—it’s about trusting in the One who is bigger than the chaos around us.
Let’s also consider how this shalom affects our relationships. Peace doesn’t just mean keeping quiet when there’s a conflict, avoiding confrontation, or putting on a calm face when there’s inner turmoil. No, true shalom is about a holistic sense of well-being that affects how we interact with others, even when tensions run high. It’s a peace that comes from knowing we are at peace with God, which then spills over into our relationships with others. If we’re at peace with God, we can offer peace to others, even when the world around us is anything but peaceful.
Imagine two people at work, caught in a tense situation. Maybe they disagree on something important, or there’s a misunderstanding. If one of them is walking in the peace of God, that peace will influence how they handle the situation. Instead of reacting with anger or frustration, they’ll respond with calmness, with a gentle word, with an understanding heart. This doesn’t mean they avoid addressing the problem—it means they approach the situation with a spirit of reconciliation, not of division. It means they seek the resolution of the issue with peace in their hearts, trusting that God can work through the tension.
Shalom doesn’t just give us peace in the midst of hardship—it also empowers us to be peacemakers in the world. Jesus calls us to be peacemakers in Matthew 5:9, saying, “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.” When we walk in God’s peace, we are able to bring peace to others. That doesn’t mean we avoid conflict, but it means that we approach it from a place of security in God’s sovereignty and love. We can approach disagreements, misunderstandings, and struggles with the mindset that peace is possible, because we know the God of peace.
The peace that God gives us is more than just the absence of conflict—it’s the presence of God Himself in the midst of it all. It’s the shalom that anchors us when life gets chaotic. It’s a peace that we don’t manufacture by our own effort or willpower—it’s a gift from the Spirit, something He produces in us as we trust in God’s promises. As we surrender our worries and anxieties to Him, He replaces them with the peace that only He can give, a peace that surpasses understanding.
And as we live in that peace, it becomes a testimony to the world around us. People notice when we’re calm in the midst of turmoil. They see a different kind of peace in us—a peace that doesn’t depend on external conditions, but on an internal trust in God’s goodness and faithfulness. This kind of peace isn’t just for us—it’s for the world, to show them that in the midst of all the noise, there’s a God who gives us a peace that holds us steady, no matter what.
In the end, shalom is the kind of peace that isn’t just about quieting the storms outside—it’s about calming the storm inside, knowing that we are secure in God’s love and control. And as we live in that peace, we get to share it with others, pointing them to the God who is the source of all true peace.
PATIENCE, makrothumia (μακροθυμία) in Greek, is one of those words that carries more weight than we often give it credit for. It's not just about waiting your turn or biting your tongue when you’re frustrated. Makrothumia speaks to something deeper—endurance, long-suffering, the ability to hold on, to bear with others and with life, especially when it’s hard. It’s not a patience that just kicks in when things are going smoothly; it’s the kind of patience that shows up when life is stretching us, when we’re tested beyond what we feel we can bear.
You know how easy it is to be patient when everything is going according to plan, right? When things are moving fast, when your goals are in sight, when life is moving in the direction you expect. But that’s not the kind of patience we’re talking about here. The makrothumia Paul mentions as a fruit of the Spirit doesn’t just shine in the easy moments; it’s the kind of patience that is cultivated when life feels slow, frustrating, or even out of control.
Take the example of a parent helping a child with their homework. We’ve all been there, right? Your child is struggling, asking the same question for the tenth time, and you can feel your patience being stretched thin. You’ve explained it once, twice, three times, but they still don’t get it. Every fiber of your being is screaming to rush through it, to get it over with, to move on to something else. And yet, makrothumia doesn’t rush. It takes a deep breath, remains calm, and perseveres. In that moment, patience isn’t just about sitting there in silence, biding your time. It’s active. It’s a choice to slow down, to endure with calmness, and to continue walking alongside that child, even when the process is frustrating.
This kind of patience shows the child something powerful. It teaches them that growth takes time. In a world where we want everything instant, where we expect to solve problems at the speed of a click, patience is the antidote. Real growth—whether in a child, in ourselves, or in relationships—doesn’t happen overnight. It’s messy, it’s slow, and it’s not linear. The child learning to read, the teenager struggling with math, the person working through emotional wounds—these things take time. And patience says, "It’s okay to struggle. It’s okay to move slowly. You don’t have to have it all together in an instant."
Patience also teaches trust—trust in God’s timing. Sometimes, the hardest part of patience is the waiting. We want things fixed now. We want to see the results of our efforts immediately. But patience requires us to trust that God is at work, even when we can’t see the results right away. It’s about believing that even in the process, even in the tension, God is shaping us, refining us, and working in ways we can’t fully understand.
When a parent demonstrates makrothumia in moments of frustration, they’re not just helping their child with homework—they’re teaching them about the bigger picture of life. They’re showing them that not everything is fast-paced and immediate, but that God is faithful, even in the waiting. The child learns that patience isn’t passive—it’s an active choice to trust that things are unfolding according to God’s timing, not their own. That lesson is invaluable as they grow up in a world that’s all about the "next thing," the immediate fix, the instant result.
This doesn’t mean that patience is easy. Far from it. It’s one of the hardest fruits to practice, because it’s about enduring through discomfort, through the slow and the difficult. It’s easy to snap when we’re impatient, to take shortcuts, to try to bypass the waiting process. But when we choose patience, we’re saying that we trust God’s plans more than our own immediate desires. We’re saying that His work in us and through us is more important than rushing to get to the end of the story.
Think about this: Jesus Himself demonstrated makrothumia in His ministry. There were so many times when people doubted Him, misunderstood Him, or even rejected Him. And yet He didn’t rush to correct them or force them to change. He patiently walked with them, teaching, guiding, and waiting for them to understand. The way He endured the mocking, the rejection, the physical pain of the cross—makrothumia wasn’t just something He demonstrated when it was convenient. He embodied it fully, showing us that true patience isn’t just about waiting for the easy stuff; it’s about enduring with a heart full of love, even when it’s costly.
And just like with love, patience isn’t about waiting with a grudge or an attitude of annoyance. It’s about enduring with a heart full of grace, knowing that God is working through the process. So, as we live out makrothumia in our own lives, especially when we’re stretched and tested, we’re not only reflecting Christ’s love and endurance, we’re also teaching others that God’s timing is worth trusting. We’re showing them that while things may take time, God is faithful in the waiting. And that, my friend, is patience in action—an enduring, long-suffering, Christ-like patience that points others to the One who patiently walks with us through every season.
KINDNESS, chrestotes (χρηστότης) in Greek, often gets overlooked because it doesn’t show up in the loud, grand moments. It’s not the big heroic gestures that steal the spotlight, but the quiet, simple actions we take in everyday life that reveal the depth of this fruit of the Spirit. Chrestotes is something that emerges when we notice the small, often unnoticed needs around us and respond with genuine care. It’s not about performing random acts of kindness for show or because we feel compelled to; it’s about the everyday ways we choose to make someone’s life a little easier, a little more seen, a little more loved.
Think about the kind of kindness you don’t have to think too hard about. It’s the way you might stop and offer help when you see a neighbor struggling with groceries. You don’t wait for them to ask—you just see the need and respond. Or maybe it’s taking a moment to listen to someone who’s having a tough time at work, offering a word of encouragement or just being present for them in their moment of difficulty. Kindness shows up in these small moments, in the quiet acts that don’t have to be celebrated or even acknowledged to be valuable. That’s the heart of chrestotes—it’s an overflow of care that doesn’t expect anything in return and doesn’t need recognition. It’s not flashy. It’s humble. It’s real.
In a world that often values speed, efficiency, and getting things done quickly, kindness can be a rare commodity. It takes time to notice the little things, to pause in the middle of our busy lives and ask, "How can I help here?" But this is exactly what chrestotes calls us to do—to slow down and pay attention to the people around us, to see their needs, and to act on them with compassion. It’s easy to get caught up in our own world, our own concerns, and ignore the struggles of others. But kindness asks us to step out of that bubble, to open our eyes to those around us, and to be the hands and feet of Christ in their lives.
And here’s the thing: children pick up on this. They’re constantly observing how we act, especially when they think we’re not paying attention. When they see their parents being kind, even in the most mundane situations, they learn that kindness isn’t just something we do on special occasions or when we’re in a good mood. It’s a way of life. Kindness is a part of how we live out our faith. It’s not just a value we teach with words; it’s something we embody in the way we treat others, day in and day out.
Think about the impact of kindness in the home. Imagine a mother who, after a long day at work, still takes the time to ask her child about their day and listens with genuine interest. Or a father who, when his child is upset, chooses to patiently comfort them instead of dismissing their feelings. These moments may seem small, but they carry weight. They show the child that kindness is about meeting people where they are, especially when they’re vulnerable or in need. It’s not about performing or putting on a mask. It’s about showing up with an open heart and a willingness to be there for someone, no matter how small or big their need might seem.
What makes chrestotes even more powerful is that it doesn’t require us to have everything together. It doesn’t require perfection. Kindness doesn’t come from a place of feeling good or having a perfect day. It comes from recognizing the humanity of others and choosing, in that moment, to respond with care. The beauty of chrestotes is that it’s something we can all practice, no matter where we are in life or how much we have to give. It’s not about how grand the gesture is; it’s about the heart behind it. It’s about seeing another person, truly seeing them, and responding in a way that reflects God’s love and compassion.
When we practice kindness, especially when no one is watching, we teach our children that kindness is a way of life, not just a random act. We show them that kindness is not conditional on how we feel or what we stand to gain, but rather a reflection of the love we’ve received from Christ. It teaches them to be aware of others, to see the pain and struggles of those around them, and to be willing to step in and make a difference, even in the smallest of ways.
And let’s not forget: when we choose kindness, we’re also reflecting God’s character. Think about how often the Bible speaks of God’s kindness. In Romans 2:4, Paul says that it’s God’s kindness that leads us to repentance. God doesn’t force us into change; He gently draws us in with His goodness, His compassion, His kindness. This is the same chrestotes that we are called to live out—a kindness that doesn’t demand change from others but invites them into a space of love, grace, and understanding. It’s a kindness that doesn’t judge, that doesn’t seek to change others immediately, but simply offers a heart of care and compassion.
Kindness in the day-to-day moments isn’t just a nice thing to do; it’s a testament to God’s love and care for the world. When we live out chrestotes, we are embodying the fruit of the Spirit in a way that’s tangible, relatable, and transformative. It’s in the small, often unnoticed actions that we reveal to the world that the love of Christ is alive in us.
GOODNESS, or agathosune (ἀγαθωσύνη) in Greek, carries with it a depth that goes beyond the occasional good deed. It’s about moral integrity—a kind of goodness that’s not tied to external rewards or the approval of others. It’s the quality of doing what’s right simply because it reflects God’s heart, because it pleases Him, and because it aligns with His character. Agathosune isn’t something that shines only when people are watching; it’s what we do when no one else is around. It’s not about being recognized for our actions—it’s about living in such a way that reflects the integrity and purity of Christ, even in the unseen moments.
Imagine a scenario: a child finds something that belongs to someone else, maybe a toy or a wallet left behind at the park. The temptation might be to keep it, especially if no one would know. But a parent who embodies agathosune will take the opportunity to teach the child the value of honesty and integrity. They’ll encourage the child to return it to its rightful owner, not because it will be noticed, but because it’s the right thing to do. It’s a small action, but it carries enormous weight. The child learns that goodness isn’t just about following rules or getting rewarded—it’s about doing the right thing, no matter what.
This kind of goodness doesn’t depend on outward circumstances or the likelihood of recognition. It’s not about getting praise for our actions, or even about making sure that others see how good we are. It’s about living in a way that honors God, and it’s this kind of goodness that reflects the very heart of God. God’s goodness doesn’t depend on His circumstances—He is always good, even when it’s not convenient, even when it’s not celebrated. And as His followers, we are called to live out that same kind of goodness in our everyday actions.
When parents model agathosune for their children, they’re teaching them a crucial life lesson: that doing the right thing is always worth it, even when it seems like no one will notice. It’s about internalizing a sense of moral integrity that isn’t swayed by the crowd or by personal gain. It teaches children that our actions should reflect our values, and that those values come from a heart that is aligned with God’s.
The integrity that agathosune calls us to is not always easy. In a world that often rewards shortcuts, dishonesty, or taking the easy path, the decision to do what’s right can feel like a lonely one. But the fruit of goodness isn’t about instant gratification; it’s about cultivating a character that seeks to honor God in everything, even when it’s difficult. It’s choosing what’s right when no one is watching, even when there’s no external reward in sight. It’s choosing honesty, fairness, kindness, and truth simply because they align with who God is.
A parent who demonstrates agathosune helps their child understand that moral integrity isn’t a matter of appearance; it’s about living authentically and consistently, in all circumstances. Whether they’re interacting with strangers, coworkers, or their own family, they’ll know that the right thing to do is always the right thing to do, no matter who sees it or who doesn’t. It’s about developing a lifestyle of integrity, where our actions align with our beliefs, and where doing the right thing becomes second nature.
As children watch their parents choose goodness in these everyday moments, they begin to internalize that moral integrity is more important than popularity, success, or recognition. They learn that their character is what defines them, not the praise of others. This is how integrity becomes ingrained in them: through the small, consistent choices their parents make to do what’s right, regardless of the outcome.
Goodness, then, becomes something that’s lived out in our daily lives. It’s not just a once-in-a-while decision; it’s a way of life, a habit, a choice to always reflect God’s heart in our actions. When we do what’s right because it pleases God, regardless of external circumstances, we’re showing the world what it looks like to live in alignment with God’s will. In the same way, children learn from watching their parents. They learn that living with integrity is about a relationship with God, not about gaining something from others.
And as they grow older, they begin to see that the goodness their parents modeled has far-reaching effects. It creates trust, it builds strong relationships, and it honors God. In a world where doing the right thing often feels hard or unrewarded, agathosune invites us to choose goodness every day, in every action, no matter how small. And in doing so, we reflect the character of the One who is always good, and we teach our children to do the same.
FAITHFULNESS, or pistis (πίστις) in Greek, is a quality that goes far beyond just belief. It’s about trust and reliability—being someone who keeps their word, stays committed, and can be counted on, no matter what. It’s easy to say we are faithful when things are going well, but true faithfulness is revealed when the challenges of life arise. It’s the choice to remain true to our promises, our commitments, and our relationships, even when the going gets tough.
Think about how this plays out in a parent-child relationship. Let’s say a parent promises to spend time with their child—maybe it’s something as simple as going for a walk or sitting down for a game. Faithfulness is not about making that promise in the easy moments, when life is calm and there’s time to spare. It’s about showing up, even when life is hectic, even when the day has been long and exhausting, and keeping that promise because it matters. A parent who is faithful demonstrates to their child that their word holds weight. They don’t just say things they don’t mean. If they say, "I will be there," they are there, regardless of the circumstances. The child learns that faithfulness isn’t just about making promises, but about following through and being someone others can depend on.
In the Bible, pistis is often tied to the idea of trust. When Paul talks about faithfulness, he’s not just talking about doing what we say we will do. He’s talking about a deep trust that we have in God and that we demonstrate to others. When we are faithful, we are showing that we trust God to provide, even when we can’t see how He’s working. Faithfulness is about sticking with something for the long haul, not giving up when things are hard, and relying on God’s faithfulness to sustain us through it.
God’s faithfulness is a powerful example for us. He keeps His promises, no matter what. His love is constant, His presence is unwavering, and His word is true. Pistis reflects that same constancy in us. A parent who embodies faithfulness can show their children what it means to trust in God’s promises. They might not always have the answers, but they can trust that God is working, even when things don’t look like they will work out. When a parent stands firm in faithfulness, their children learn that faith isn’t just about believing in something we can’t see; it’s about trusting God’s character and His ability to keep His word, even when it feels like things are falling apart.
Let’s think about how this works in the everyday moments of life. Faithfulness might look like a parent who has been going through a tough season—maybe financially or emotionally—but still shows up for their family. They might not have all the answers, and they might not know how they’ll provide, but they remain present, faithful in their relationships, and trust that God will meet them where they are. When children witness this kind of faithfulness, they learn that being reliable is not about having all the solutions or having everything in place. It’s about trusting God, even when the way forward is unclear.
There’s something powerful in teaching our children that faithfulness isn’t contingent on everything going perfectly. It’s easy to be faithful when things are easy, but it’s in the midst of difficulty that faithfulness is tested. It’s when life challenges us, when work becomes overwhelming, when relationships are strained, that we have the opportunity to show the depth of our faithfulness. A faithful parent teaches their child that we don’t abandon commitments when it’s hard. We don’t leave just because things aren’t going the way we expect. We stay the course, we trust in God’s timing, and we work through the tough moments because that’s what faithfulness looks like.
Faithfulness also shows up in the small things. It’s about being consistent. Maybe it’s saying you’ll be at a school play or sporting event, and you follow through, even if it means rearranging your schedule. Or perhaps it’s being there for a friend, a spouse, or a colleague in the little moments. Every time we choose to honor our commitments, we’re demonstrating pistis. Every time we show up, when we said we would, we are reflecting the faithfulness of God, whose mercies are new every morning, and whose love never fails.
Children who see this kind of faithfulness modeled by their parents are more likely to understand that their actions matter. They learn that faithfulness is not just a matter of making promises but about being people whose words are trustworthy. They see that when we say we’re going to do something, we follow through, even when it’s inconvenient. They begin to understand that their faithfulness to God and to others isn’t something that only shows up in the big moments, but in the small, everyday choices they make. They learn that being trustworthy, keeping their word, and staying committed is a reflection of God’s heart—a heart that never falters, never breaks a promise, and is always there, even when we don’t deserve it.
In essence, faithfulness is about being someone others can rely on—because we are reflecting the very character of God. It’s about sticking to our word, trusting in God’s provision, and modeling to the next generation what it means to stay true to the commitments we’ve made. It’s the steady, consistent trust that God is in control, even when circumstances change, and it’s the firm conviction that our relationship with Him—and with others—can withstand the challenges life throws our way.
Faithfulness is a fruit that grows when we stay rooted in God’s promises and choose to live out our trust in Him, day in and day out. It’s seen in the way we walk out our commitments with love and reliability, and it’s witnessed most clearly when life is hard. When our children see this kind of unwavering faithfulness in their parents, they learn that faith isn’t just about believing in God’s word—it’s about living in a way that reflects His truth, no matter what.
GENTLENESS, or prautes (πραΰτης) in Greek, is often misunderstood in our world today. In a culture that often equates strength with harshness or forcefulness, gentleness might seem like weakness. But in God’s kingdom, gentleness is not a sign of fragility—it’s a mark of true strength, the kind of strength that comes from a spirit that is controlled and humble, not reactive or harsh. It’s a characteristic that reflects the heart of God. In fact, Jesus Himself described His own character as being prautes in Matthew 11:29, where He says, “Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.” This isn’t the gentleness of a passive person, but the gentleness of someone who possesses power but chooses to use it in love and humility.
To fully grasp gentleness, we need to understand it not just as a trait we practice, but as a reflection of Christ’s very nature. In Greek, prautes refers to a tempering of one’s strength—choosing to respond with calmness and understanding, even in difficult situations. This doesn’t mean avoiding confrontation or letting people walk all over us. Rather, it’s about responding to others with care, tenderness, and humility, especially when they are difficult to deal with. It’s a strength that says, “I will not retaliate or react with anger. I will not let my emotions control me, but I will respond in a way that reflects God’s love and grace.”
Think about a parent who is dealing with a child who is upset or frustrated. Maybe the child is having a hard time at school, or they’re going through a phase of rebellious behavior. The parent has every right to be upset, to react with frustration or anger. But instead of reacting harshly, a gentle parent stops, takes a breath, and approaches the situation with calmness. They don’t just dismiss the child’s feelings, but they listen. They create space for the child to express their emotions, without immediately jumping to discipline or correction. This is gentleness in action. It’s the choice to respond in love, not because it’s easy, but because it’s a reflection of Christ’s heart.
In the Old Testament, we see gentleness in the character of God Himself. One of the most profound examples of this is in the book of Isaiah. In Isaiah 40:11, God is described as a shepherd who gently leads His flock, “He tends His flock like a shepherd: He gathers the lambs in His arms and carries them close to His heart; He gently leads those that have young.” God, who is all-powerful, uses His strength not to dominate, but to gently guide and care for His people. This is the model of gentleness that we are called to reflect. Gentleness doesn’t mean weakness; it means knowing when and how to use our strength for the benefit of others, in a way that shows care and compassion.
In the New Testament, gentleness is closely tied to the fruit of the Spirit, as Paul mentions in Galatians 5:23. He lists gentleness right alongside qualities like love, joy, and peace—traits that are meant to define how we live as followers of Christ. Paul also emphasizes gentleness in his letters to the early churches. In Ephesians 4:2, he encourages believers to “be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love.” Similarly, in Colossians 3:12, Paul writes, “Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.” These verses remind us that gentleness is not optional for Christians; it’s a characteristic that should define how we treat others, no matter the circumstances.
Gentleness is especially important in how we approach conflict. It’s easy to be harsh when someone wrongs us or when things aren’t going the way we expect. But gentleness allows us to take a step back, to let go of our desire to control the situation, and instead trust that God is in control. It’s a fruit of the Spirit because it’s only by the Holy Spirit’s work in us that we can respond with gentleness rather than anger or frustration.
A parent who embodies gentleness with their children teaches them the importance of responding with care, especially when emotions run high. Imagine a situation where a child is upset over something that seems minor to the parent. The parent, rather than dismissing the child’s feelings or responding with impatience, listens with understanding. They say something like, “I understand you’re upset. It’s okay to feel that way. Let’s talk about it.” This gentle approach teaches the child that their feelings are valid, and that the way we respond to others matters.
Gentleness, as we see in Scripture, is also linked with humility. In James 1:21, we are told to “get rid of all moral filth and the evil that is so prevalent and humbly accept the word planted in you, which can save you.” Humility goes hand in hand with gentleness because it’s only when we humble ourselves that we can genuinely approach others with care. Gentleness isn’t about asserting power or control; it’s about knowing when to step back, to listen, and to allow others to express themselves without fear of judgment or harshness.
Another key aspect of gentleness is that it helps create an environment of peace and reconciliation. Think about a relationship where conflict arises—whether it’s between friends, coworkers, or family members. If both parties respond in anger or defensiveness, the situation escalates. But if one person responds with gentleness, it creates space for dialogue, understanding, and resolution. Proverbs 15:1 beautifully says, “A gentle answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger.” Gentleness diffuses conflict, calms the storm, and opens the door for healing.
When we think about gentleness, it’s important to remember that it’s not passive or weak; it’s an active choice to respond to others with love and care, even when we are tempted to react with anger or frustration. Gentleness is power under control, the strength to restrain our impulses and respond with compassion. And just like all the other fruits of the Spirit, it’s a mark of our relationship with God. As we grow in our understanding of His gentleness toward us, we are empowered to reflect that gentleness to those around us.
Gentleness is a beautiful reflection of Christ, and when we choose to live this out in our daily lives, we are showing the world a glimpse of His love. As parents, as friends, as coworkers, as strangers—gentleness in action is a powerful testimony to the love and grace of God. When we choose gentleness, we choose to mirror the heart of God, showing others the love and patience He’s shown to us.
SELF-CONTROL, or enkrateia (ἐγκράτεια) in Greek, or temperance as in the KJV… is often considered one of the most challenging fruits of the Spirit to cultivate, especially in a world where instant reactions are often celebrated, and impulse control seems like an afterthought. But true self-control is so much more than just holding back or suppressing a reaction—it’s about the deliberate choice to govern our impulses, emotions, and actions in a way that aligns with God's will. It’s about wisdom, restraint, and the ability to choose the right response, especially in moments when we might feel overwhelmed, angry, or frustrated.
In the Greek, enkrateia is derived from the root word kratos (κράτος), meaning "strength" or "power." So, self-control isn’t about weakness—it’s about strength. It’s the power to choose not to let our emotions or impulses rule us, but to submit ourselves to God's guidance and wisdom in those moments. In a sense, enkrateia is the strength of mind and spirit to resist whatever is pulling us away from God’s best for us. It is a disciplined response rather than an emotional reaction, which is why it’s a clear mark of spiritual maturity.
In Scripture, we find multiple references to the need for self-control. In 1 Corinthians 9:25, Paul writes about the discipline of athletes, saying, “Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last, but we do it to get a crown that will last forever.” Just as athletes train to develop control over their bodies and focus on their goal, so too are we called to exercise self-control in our spiritual lives, recognizing that the rewards of our discipline are far more lasting than anything the world can offer. Self-control is about setting our hearts on eternal things and making choices that reflect God’s kingdom values, even when the immediate moment seems to be urging us to do otherwise.
One of the most powerful demonstrations of self-control in Scripture comes from Jesus Himself. In the Garden of Gethsemane, on the night He was betrayed, Jesus prayed fervently, asking His Father to take away the cup of suffering if it were possible. But even though His soul was troubled, and He knew the agony that awaited Him, He chose self-control, submitting to the will of His Father. In Matthew 26:39, He says, “My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will.” Jesus’ choice in that moment was not just about enduring suffering—it was about exercising the greatest form of self-control: yielding to God’s plan even when it was incredibly hard.
When we think of self-control, it’s also helpful to remember that it’s not just about avoiding wrong actions—it’s also about choosing to do what is right. In Galatians 5:24-25, Paul makes this connection clear: “Those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit.” Self-control is not about trying harder to manage our desires on our own. Instead, it’s about yielding to the Holy Spirit’s power to govern our responses, resist temptation, and choose actions that are pleasing to God. It’s about saying “no” to our fleshly desires and saying “yes” to the will of the Spirit.
But self-control is not just about resisting temptation. It’s also about how we handle our emotions. Think about a situation where a parent is facing a frustrating moment with their child. The child may be acting out, or a disagreement might be escalating. It would be easy for the parent to lose their temper, to react impulsively out of frustration. But self-control means pausing, taking a deep breath, and then choosing to respond with wisdom and grace. This doesn’t mean being passive or avoiding confrontation—it means responding thoughtfully, rather than reacting impulsively. It might mean taking a moment to collect your thoughts before speaking, or it might mean giving a calm but firm response instead of shouting or giving in to anger. In moments like these, self-control is a reflection of the Holy Spirit’s work in us, helping us to act in ways that honor God, even when it’s hard.
This ability to control our emotions is especially important for parents, because children are like sponges—they absorb everything they see and hear. When children witness their parents practicing self-control, they learn how to manage their own emotions and reactions. A parent who doesn’t lash out in anger, even when frustrated, models for their child how to handle disappointment or stress in a healthy way. It teaches the child that it’s okay to feel strong emotions, but it’s how we respond to those emotions that matters.
Proverbs 25:28 gives us a vivid picture of the power of self-control, saying, “Like a city whose walls are broken through is a person who lacks self-control.” This illustrates how vulnerability and chaos enter our lives when we lose control over our impulses. Without self-control, our emotions and desires can easily "break through the walls" of our character, leading to destructive behavior and broken relationships. But when we exercise self-control, we build up walls of protection around our hearts, keeping us grounded in God’s peace and wisdom.
Another important aspect of self-control is resisting the temptations that can easily sidetrack us from God’s purposes. This can involve resisting the urge to overeat, to be greedy, to give in to lust, or to indulge in unhealthy habits. In Titus 2:11-12, Paul writes, “For the grace of God has appeared that offers salvation to all people. It teaches us to say ‘No’ to ungodliness and worldly passions, and to live self-controlled, upright and godly lives in this present age.” Here, self-control is directly tied to grace. It’s not about white-knuckling our way through life but allowing God’s grace to teach us to live in a way that reflects His holiness. Self-control is a response to grace—it’s the way we actively choose to live out the freedom we have in Christ, by saying no to sin and yes to godly living.
As parents, demonstrating self-control helps children understand that they, too, can make wise choices, even in difficult situations. They learn that self-control isn’t just about following rules—it’s about understanding the bigger picture, and making decisions that align with their values and with God’s heart. A parent who responds calmly when things go wrong teaches their children that they can have a steady, unwavering foundation in the midst of chaos.
Self-control requires us to constantly submit ourselves to God’s will, asking for His help in moments when our own strength runs out. It’s the ability to choose wisely in the heat of the moment, and to remain calm and steady, no matter what life throws our way. It’s not about perfection, but about progression—growing more and more like Christ in how we govern our actions, emotions, and decisions.
When we practice self-control, we not only reflect Christ’s character, but we also bring glory to God. We show the world that, through the power of the Holy Spirit, we can resist the temptations and impulses that come our way, and instead, live in a way that honors Him. This kind of self-control isn’t a burden—it’s a fruit, a gift from the Spirit that frees us to live with integrity, wisdom, and peace.
Each of these fruits—the love, the joy, the peace, the patience, the kindness, the goodness, the faithfulness, the gentleness, and the self-control—are not just for our own benefit. They are not mere personal traits that make us feel better about ourselves or help us navigate the day-to-day. These fruits are far more significant. They are a testimony, a witness to the world of the transformative power of God working within us. When we live out the fruits of the Spirit, we are not simply following rules for the sake of moral behavior or personal growth. We are showcasing the radical, life-altering influence of the Holy Spirit on our hearts and minds, and in turn, our actions.
In Galatians 5:24-25, Paul writes, "Those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit." The evidence that we live by the Spirit is seen through the visible manifestation of these fruits in our lives. And it’s not just about personal transformation; it’s about what these changes reveal to others about the nature of God. Jesus himself said in Matthew 5:16, “Let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.” Our lives, marked by these fruits, shine as a reflection of God’s work within us, offering the world a glimpse of His love, grace, and goodness.
As parents, our responsibility goes beyond teaching doctrine or imparting knowledge of the Scriptures. Our lives are the living curriculum through which our children learn to understand what it means to follow Christ. When we embody the fruits of the Spirit, we are modeling for them how to love, how to find joy even in hardship, how to have peace in the midst of turmoil, and how to respond with patience when faced with frustration. We are showing them that the Christian life isn’t about being perfect—it’s about being transformed. It’s about surrendering our will to God’s, and in doing so, allowing Him to produce these divine attributes in us. In this way, we become both teachers and witnesses to the very nature of Christ Himself.
Think about the impact this can have on a child. When they see you, as a parent, consistently choosing patience when they’re difficult, joy in the face of hardship, or kindness to a stranger, they are not only learning the importance of these values but also the source of them. They begin to see that these aren’t just abstract moral ideals but the very essence of what it means to live a life surrendered to the Spirit. In that moment, they aren’t just being taught the what of Christianity—they are experiencing the how of Christianity. They are seeing the gospel played out in real time, in their own home.
This is what makes the fruits of the Spirit so powerful. They are the living proof that God’s grace doesn’t just save us—it changes us. It transforms us into His image, so that others might see Christ through us. And as parents, our role is to cultivate these fruits not just for our own benefit but as a witness to our children, our families, and the world around us. In a world that is hungry for authenticity, compassion, and truth, the fruits of the Spirit stand as a compelling witness to the reality of God’s love and power.
In John 13:35, Jesus said, "By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another." This love, of course, is not just an internal emotion but is expressed through our actions—the way we love others, the way we interact with our families, our neighbors, and even strangers. And it is this love, paired with the other fruits of the Spirit, that is the marker of a true disciple. When the world sees us living out these qualities—when they witness our kindness, our patience, our self-control, our peace—they don’t just see us; they see a reflection of Christ in us. And it’s that reflection that points them back to God. It’s that example that becomes the greatest form of evangelism we can offer.
Furthermore, the fruits of the Spirit are not just virtues for our personal growth; they also function as a counter-cultural witness. In a world marked by division, impatience, selfishness, and fear, the fruits of the Spirit are a radical statement of who we are in Christ. They show that we are not governed by the world’s values but by the kingdom of God. They are a living testimony that, despite the chaos, the uncertainty, and the pain of this world, we have hope. And that hope is seen in how we live, in how we treat one another, and in how we trust God’s sovereignty.
As parents, this is our calling: to live out the fruits of the Spirit not just for our own benefit, but for the sake of the next generation, and for the witness of the world. We are called to be agents of transformation, not through our strength, but through God’s Spirit working in us. As we embody these fruits, we become a reflection of God’s character—a beacon of light in a world desperately in need of truth, love, and hope.
So, when we live these out—when we choose love over anger, joy over despair, peace over anxiety, patience over frustration, kindness over indifference, goodness over selfishness, faithfulness over wavering, gentleness over harshness, and self-control over impulsiveness—what we’re really doing is showing the world what the Kingdom of God looks like, here and now. We’re inviting others to experience the same transformative power of the Spirit that we’ve experienced. And in doing so, we’re raising up the next generation of believers who will carry the torch of Christ-likeness into the world.
In the end, the fruits of the Spirit are not just personal qualities; they are the heart of the gospel in action. They are the evidence that we have been truly transformed by the love of God, and they are the tool by which God continues His work in the world. By living them out, we not only become more like Christ, but we also help to make Christ known to a world that desperately needs to see His light.
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