On Fruit, Character, and Becoming

From the Journal of the Phoenix · Joel Mark

I’ve been thinking a lot about the Fruits of the Spirit lately.

Not just as words to memorize, but as something to examine.

What am I producing?

What does my life actually show?

And how do I recognize healthy fruit — or the absence of it — in myself and in the people around me?

I am not a loud follower of Christ. I have never felt called to shame someone because they believe differently than I do or to use faith as a weapon.

I would rather live in a way that reflects what I believe.

There is a saying often attributed to St. Francis of Assisi: preach the Gospel at all times, and when necessary, use words.

That has always resonated with me.

Because faith should produce something.

Love should show up in how we treat people who do not think, believe, live, or choose exactly as we do.

Joy should not depend on controlling our circumstances or the people around us.

Peace should follow us more often than chaos.

Patience should give people room to grow without becoming permission for unhealthy patterns.

Kindness should remain when there is nothing to gain from being kind.

Goodness should lead us toward what is right without convincing us that we are better than someone else.

Faithfulness should look like consistency, integrity, and conviction — not blind allegiance.

Gentleness should remind us that strength does not require cruelty.

And self-control should govern what we do when emotion tells us to react.

That one matters deeply to me.

Scripture speaks often about the power of the tongue, and I know mine can be a sword.

Sharp.

Precise.

Thorough.

Words can heal, but they can also cut deeper than we sometimes realize.

That is exactly why self-control matters.

Strength is not proving how deeply you can wound someone.

Sometimes strength is knowing exactly where the blade could land — and choosing to keep the sword sheathed.

Not every truth has to be weaponized.

Not every accusation requires a response.

Not every misunderstanding needs to be corrected publicly.

And not every battle deserves your voice.

The same is true of boundaries.

Boundaries are not hatred.

They are not punishment.

Sometimes they are simply the recognition that peace, time, relationships, purpose, and self-respect have value.

You can love someone and still create distance.

You can forgive without restoring access.

You can be generous without allowing yourself to be taken advantage of.

You can know your worth without believing you are worth more than someone else.

And you can walk away from something without needing to destroy it on the way out.

I’ve also been thinking about authenticity.

I never wanted to manufacture an image simply to be noticed.

Recognition can be a beautiful thing, but if it ever comes in a larger way, I do not want it to change the fruit.

I do not want success to make me less loving.

I do not want attention to steal my joy.

I do not want influence to cost me peace.

I do not want ambition to destroy patience.

I do not want recognition to make kindness conditional.

I do not want achievement to turn goodness into ego.

I do not want opportunity to make me unfaithful to my convictions.

I do not want power to take away gentleness.

And I never want visibility to rob me of self-control.

Jesus said, “You will know them by their fruits.”

That includes me.

So before I examine anyone else’s tree, I have to look at mine.

Some fruit is ripe.

Some is still growing.

Some becomes bitter.

Some looks perfect on the outside and is rotten underneath.

Some branches need pruning.

Some never produce what they promise.

And some simply need another season.

None of us produces perfect fruit every day.

I certainly do not.

But I want to remain willing to examine what is growing in my life and do the work when something is unhealthy.

Because faith is not about announcing how good we are.

It is about what our lives consistently produce.

Not perfection.

Not performance.

Fruit.

And when the tongue becomes a sword, may self-control always be its sheath.

You will know them by their fruits.

May mine always be worth examining.

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