Over the past two weeks, we’ve been exploring a powerful question: What does a grace-transformed life actually look like? To answer that, we turned to Galatians 5:22,23, where Paul describes the fruits of the Spirit that begin to grow in the life of someone walking in step with the Spirit. We began by dividing these fruits into two broad categories:
- Fruits with which God heals our relationship with Him
- Fruits with which God heals our relationships with others
Of course, this isn’t a rigid division. Many of these qualities overlap and touch both spheres. But this structure gave us a helpful lens to understand how grace works both vertically (toward God) and horizontally (toward others).
In the first part, we focused on four fruits that shape our relationship with God:
- Love – because God is love, and when He dwells in us, love flows from us
- Joy – a joy that is not rooted in circumstance but in Christ
- Peace – not just the absence of conflict, but a deep wholeness with God
- Faithfulness – not human grit, but the Spirit-enabled loyalty that Peter learned after his own failure
We talked about how trying to force these traits through our own strength, discipline, striving, or “trying harder” often ends in frustration. We saw this clearly in Peter, who, despite walking with Jesus for three years, still denied Him three times when the pressure came.
But we also saw hope that these fruits are not products of our effort, but gifts the Spirit grows within us. The more we abide in Christ, the more His character is formed in us, and the more our relationship with God matures, deepens, and stabilizes.
Today’s Focus: 2. Fruits with which God heals our relationships with others
Today, we turn to the second group of fruits, those that shape how we relate to the people around us:
- Patience
- Kindness
- Goodness
- Gentleness
- Self-control
These are the traits that naturally make for stronger families, deeper friendships, healthier communities, and more compassionate churches. They are how the life of Christ in us begins to bless those around us.
Most of us have been taught what these gifts mean. We know we should be more patient, kinder, and gentle. We’ve heard many sermons encouraging us to practice these virtues in our marriages, parenting, workplaces, and friendships. But today… I want to invite us to take a slightly different direction.
This lesson might feel a little uncomfortable for some. And that’s okay. I believe that with your insight, questions, and honesty, we can gently uncover some blind spots and create space for grace to work more deeply.
Many of us who grew up in well-meaning but legalistic religious environments learned early on to be deeply critical of ourselves. We were taught to strive hard to keep the Ten Commandments, to overcome sin, and to live lives that pleased God. And yet, many of us found ourselves falling short, again and again. We tried harder. We fasted, we prayed, we repented. But the cycle often continued: failure followed by guilt, followed by renewed effort, followed again by failure.
Over time, this spiritual loop doesn’t just leave us exhausted; it begins to shape how we see ourselves. And this isn’t simply self-pity. Self-pity is feeling sorry for oneself, dwelling on how hard life has been. What many of us experience goes deeper. It begins to resemble self-hatred or at least a persistent, painful self-dislike, a quiet contempt for our own character, our perceived weakness, and our inability to live up to what we believe God expects.
Why does this happen?
Because we fail to fully accept what the Bible teaches about human nature: that we are fallen, bent, and broken, and that no amount of striving can fix that on our own. We intellectually know that we are saved by grace, but emotionally, we still feel like we should be better than this. We hold ourselves to a standard of perfection that God Himself never placed on us this side of eternity.
Why is this a problem?
When we are caught in a cycle of self-hatred or harsh self-judgment, love rarely flows naturally from us to others. The well runs dry before it can overflow.
You may have heard the critique, sometimes spoken jokingly, sometimes seriously, that conservative Adventists can be harsh, even mean-spirited. I’m not here to judge how true that is in general, but I can say this personally. There was a time in my life when I fit that description. I was deeply committed to the faith, zealous for the truth, passionate about doing what was right. But I lacked tenderness. I couldn’t show true kindness or patience, especially toward my family members, new believers, or non-believers. I meant well, but grace didn’t flow gently from me. Why? Because I hadn’t yet learned to receive it fully for myself.
There is a principle echoed in both Scripture and psychology.
“Do unto others as you would have them do unto you”.
But perhaps just as true is its lesser-quoted reflection:
“We treat others the way we treat ourselves.”
If we are harsh and unforgiving toward ourselves, that same posture often spills over into how we treat others. If we constantly see ourselves as falling short, we begin to expect failure in others, too, and judge them quickly for it.
Theologian Henri Nouwen insightfully said it this way,
“Compassion for others begins with compassion for ourselves.”
What if you speak to yourself in words you’d never use on someone else? How then can love flow out of a heart that hasn’t yet been healed? This isn’t about self-centeredness or turning inward in a narcissistic way. It’s about something much deeper and far more healing called self-compassion.
The word compassion comes from the Latin com- (with) and passio (suffering). So, to have compassion means “to suffer with.” And when we speak of self-compassion, we’re talking about the ability to be present with our own pain, not to ignore it, not to dramatize it, but to see it clearly and respond to it gently.
Dr. Kristin Neff, a researcher at the University of Texas at Austin, explains that self-compassion involves understanding that human experience is universally flawed and imperfect. We all make mistakes, and no one lives a perfect life. According to her, self-compassion helps us see our shortcomings as part of the shared human condition, not as personal failures. Over time, this mindset quiets the inner critic and begins to heal the wounds inflicted by harsh self-judgment, which often manifests as self-hatred.
Theologically speaking, Dr. Neff is describing the fallen nature of humanity, and recognizing this truth helps us understand why we fail. But the Bible goes even further. It doesn’t just ask us to acknowledge our brokenness, but also invites us to receive healing through grace.
That’s why the fruit of the Spirit, especially patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, and self-control, must grow inward before they can grow outward. These aren’t just ways of relating to others; they are how the Spirit gently teaches us to relate to the most wounded parts of ourselves.
In my spiritual journey, I often wanted fast results. I had a list of things I desperately wanted God to take away, like my bad habits, thoughts, and struggles. I prayed, fasted, and followed every piece of advice I could find. And some things did disappear, almost like magic. But others lingered… and still do. That’s when the frustration sets in. But over time, the Holy Spirit began to teach me something deeper: God is not just interested in treating symptoms; He wants to heal the root cause.
Many of our emotional and spiritual battles are rooted far deeper than we realize. They can stem from childhood wounds, family patterns, unspoken trauma, or simply from the brokenness we inherit as part of our fallen nature. These are not things we can fix with sheer willpower, nor can we rush God’s process. We need Jesus to gently shine His light into those dark, buried places, into memories and experiences we may have never fully acknowledged, and give us the courage to face them with Him.
And here’s the good news. God doesn’t rush us. He meets us with patience, gentleness, and kindness. These are not just qualities we’re meant to show others; they are fruits the Spirit first applies to our own healing. One by one, like peeling back the layers of an onion, God begins to reveal and restore what was broken. And as He does, we slowly become free, free from what tormented us, free to love God more fully, free to love ourselves without shame, and free to love others with genuine compassion.
We often hear that the fruit of the Spirit helps us treat others better, and that’s absolutely true. We need more patience in our families, more kindness in our churches, more gentleness in our workplaces, and more self-control in our daily lives. But today we’ve seen that these fruits were never meant to be applied outwardly alone. The Spirit also cultivates them inwardly, so that we learn to treat ourselves with the same patience, kindness, gentleness, and care that we try to extend to others.
Healing doesn’t begin when we try harder; it begins when we let God do His deeper work in us. Only the Holy Spirit can produce these qualities in a lasting, genuine way. And only when we receive them inwardly, in the wounded places of our own hearts, can they overflow outwardly into our relationships with others. Grace always works from the inside out.
- How would your relationship with God change if you believed He was patient, kind, and gentle, not just with your sins, but with your wounds?
- In what areas of your life are you still trying to “fix yourself” instead of letting the Holy Spirit gently heal and grow you? What would surrender look like in those areas?
- How does recognizing our brokenness create space in our hearts to receive the healing grace of God?
Don: What comes to my mind right away is personality. There are some people—and Donald points this out frequently—who are just kind and gentle and sweet people. There are also people who are just plain ornery. And I’m wondering to what extent these fruits of the Spirit—gentleness, kindness, self-control, etc.—have to do with personality. Can people who are ornery and cantankerous also be, at the same time, gentle and sweet, depending on how we define those words?
My mother was one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met, and those of you who knew her would agree. But I’ve also encountered people in my church family who are just completely cantankerous. Every time I interact with them, we get into some kind of discussion or disagreement. I’m wondering to what extent personality and our innate responses influence this topic Kiran has outlined so well today.
Carolyn: Going along with what Don just said: When we’re witnessing to people who might not yet love the Lord, or who aren’t at the level we expect, or who are dealing with emotional struggles deeper than we know how to help, what do we do?
Of course, only through the help of the Holy Spirit. But there are so many degrees to kindness, love, and patience. Donald spoke of his mother’s sweetness, and then there are others who seem to be on the emotional edge. I think we must be careful not to let our expectations become judgments. And with ourselves too—we need to be open, to let things go, and not take everything personally. I’m already trying to shift this away from myself onto others, but I really needed this message.
C-J: I think personality has two components: genetics, in terms of temperament, and modeling—what we see and internalize growing up. The more cantankerous people are, often, the more pain they carry. If I can look at someone and say, “That’s a lot of pain,” it helps. Then I can ask God to help me not be angry, and to risk getting hurt again by responding with kindness.
People don’t learn when you push back—it only reinforces their belief that the world is unsafe. But like a wounded dog, if I return with “How can I help you?” or a kind word, it makes headway. Even if I’m not always consistent, I’ve had people later tell me, “I’m sorry—I misjudged you. I didn’t know.”
Sharon: I think it’s a lot easier to talk about other people than to talk about ourselves. Kiran: what you said was powerful—if my cup is empty, how can it overflow with Christ’s love to a hurting world? What Don mentioned reminds me of that age-old nature-versus-nurture conversation. What part of us is personality? What part is genetics, mental health, brokenness? We all have to deal with that question. But we’ve got to be kind to ourselves.
If we understand what grace does for others, the real challenge is: what is grace actually doing for me? Is it helping me have peace, a sense of fulfillment, a self-appreciation of who I am in relationship to others?
You know, I’m not as smart or talented as my amazing brother. So how do I deal with that, growing up in a family of overachievers? I’ve come to appreciate that I was born for a unique purpose—one my brother wasn’t meant to fulfill. And if I don’t do what I’m here to do, maybe it won’t get done. I’ve learned to stop measuring myself by others’ expectations and to appreciate the person Jesus made me to be—even with all my quirks, like my OCD. Loving myself, like you said, Kiran: is a critical part of learning to love others.
C-J: I never really learned to love myself until I realized that God loved me. As a young adult, I just didn’t have the capacity. But grace—falling down and getting back up—has shaped me. God surrounded me with people and mentors who molded me into who I am today. Even now, when I drift or neglect my faith, God reminds me. Sometimes it’s Scripture. Sometimes it’s a song. God is so faithful.
Reinhard: I think sometimes we are too hard on ourselves. We want to live up to a moral standard. We want to follow the Bible. But sometimes we just can’t reach that level, and it becomes a burden.
I believe our genetic makeup and our behavior are both important. Coming from an Asian culture and now living here, I notice differences. But I also see how behavior can change—through education, through imitation of others, and especially through spirituality.
We grow. We mature. A salesman learns to be nice. A pastor becomes more gentle. The more spiritual we become, the more mellow we become. The fruit of the Spirit—especially self-control—is very hard. But we have to keep learning. Paul says we must value others above ourselves. That’s key to good relationships.
Humility is essential. If we’re humble, we can accept others as they are, listen when someone needs to share, and offer guidance. Loving others as ourselves means wanting a good life for them, just as we want one for ourselves. To be a good Christian, we must start with humility and learn to accept others as they are.
Donald: As a teacher for 20 years, I think of how a test might look. It could be fill-in-the-blank or an open-ended question. These words Kiran has given us today—faithfulness, goodness, gentleness, joy, kindness, self-control—feel like fill-in-the-blank answers. A template we’re supposed to measure ourselves against. But people are complicated.
Each of us is shaped by our personality and our environment. Yes, there are aspects of ourselves we want to change, and people we wish would change. But the reality is, the world doesn’t fit into fill-in-the-blank templates. Open-ended questions get us closer to the truth. They allow context. They allow story. They allow grace.
So while these words are beautiful, they’re also narrow. And my sense is, God doesn’t assess us by a standardized test. He sees the whole picture—our DNA, our childhood, our wounds. So maybe we should too.
C-J: I think cultural bias plays a big role, too. Reinhard talked about how in his culture, everyone knows the “rules of the road” and largely follows them. In the U.S., we exalt individualism. And education varies—not just across countries, but even regionally or within families. That complicates things.
We have to learn the art of compromise, negotiation, and understanding others’ realities—“You don’t live in my part of the city,” that kind of thing. It stretches us. And as Kiran said, each of us is unique, and God meets each of us in that uniqueness. It’s not just cognitive—it’s spiritual, even visceral. I can teach you what to say, but grace? I can’t manifest that on my own. That’s God’s work.
Carolyn: I’ve been talking with some folks about autism in schools. When I look back on my own school days, I don’t even remember hearing the word “autism.” Now my children’s schools are dealing with it regularly. Teachers today have classrooms of 10 or 20 students—and two might be autistic. And then they’re also trying to teach their own children and manage their own emotions.
What I’ve been reflecting on is the gentleness that’s needed—not just with others, but with ourselves. How do we accept someone who is autistic? Do they even want that affection? Can they receive it? That gentleness, I think, is vital. We need to hold space for difference, and not just assume we know what love looks like for everyone.
Donald: That’s such a good point. How many kids are in the classroom? Is 20 a good number? Is 30 too many? At 60, you don’t even know who you have anymore. And then there’s this: almost all of us can name a teacher who had a major impact on us. They keyed into who we were. They became the best teacher we ever had—even if they weren’t the best teacher for someone else.
Those relationships—like a parent’s or a teacher’s—can shape us in ways we don’t always understand. I still hear from my 7th-grade teacher, who’s now 84. He called me last week when his wife went into the hospital. That’s the impact of care. It lasts.
Don: I think this is God’s fault. He messed up by making us all ornery, or gay, or autistic. He could have made us all really sweet and kind. He could have made everyone like my mother. Just think how the world would be if everyone were like her.
C-J: Not very interesting.
Don: Unless… unless you want to blame the devil. The devil made me do it! But seriously, there’s a sense in which we are who we are because of who we are. And we don’t have much control over that.
Donald: Why was your mother so sweet? What’s in her background that made her that way? Did she have siblings who weren’t as sweet?
Sharon: Her husband made her sweet. He was a bit cantankerous. She was the one who was sweet to everyone—including our dad. He was born to be forthright and say exactly what was on his mind. So she became his alter ego.
C-J: Going back to autistic children and the spectrum, it’s about how their brains are wired—how they perceive through their senses and how they assign meaning to what they experience. Some children can be trained to adapt. Some can’t speak. Some are overstimulated. But what I’ve learned from being around autistic kids—both in my personal life and in the classroom—is that, for a long time, they weren’t diagnosed. They were called emotionally disturbed or learning-disabled. They were placed in small classrooms or given one-on-one support.
Now we’re getting better as a culture. It’s not shameful anymore to say, “I need help.” And kids will tell us what they need—if we’re listening. Some autistic adults were never given that label, but they were still seen as different. They worked alone. They needed structure. But they were brilliant—at math, science, or other things. And the same is true for autistic children. They can be incredibly loving, gentle with animals, intuitive, always present. It’s partly genetic, partly about adapting to a world they perceive differently.
I think that’s also how God relates to us—according to our wiring. We each express and receive His love in our own way. He gives us people to help fulfill His purpose in us. Once we learn the “alphabet,” we start to read. Then we gain new skills. Some become teachers, some gardeners, some musicians. Each of us has an intentional purpose in this thing called life. If we can see through those eyes, and let our hands and hearts do that work—amazing things happen.
Kiran: I want to respond to the question of what a grace-transformed person looks like. The fruits of the Spirit are a narrow definition. And if we tried to judge others by them too rigidly, we’d make a mess of it. That judgment belongs to God alone. That was a blind spot I hadn’t seen clearly until now.
I’ve also been thinking about personality. Take Moses. When he was in Egypt, he was short-tempered. Even after leading the Israelites out of bondage, when they made the golden calf, he told them to kill each other! Yet the Bible calls him the meekest man of all. How did he get there? Or David—when Saul was hunting him, David had the chance to kill him, but he didn’t. He cut his robe and walked away. Why? He was a warrior, a fierce one, yet he exercised restraint and self-control.
So I think these fruits of the Spirit manifest differently in different people. Not everyone is sweet and soft, but even a warrior can be loving—toward his enemy. I saw a documentary where young lions began eating a deer before it died, but the older lions killed it first. Even animals seem to develop a kind of compassion with maturity.
So maybe these qualities—gentleness, patience—can take many forms. A warrior and a mother can both be loving, but in different ways.
Don: I think that’s the power of grace. The genius of grace is that it doesn’t matter if you’re a warrior or sweet, gay or straight. God’s grace is available to everyone—regardless of personality, behavior, or mental condition. That’s the majesty of grace. It doesn’t matter whether you were born in Palestine or in the Saudi royal family. You need grace, and grace is there for you.
So in this life, personality might matter—it’s nicer to have a sweet neighbor than a grumpy one. But in God’s kingdom, it doesn’t matter. His grace is sufficient for everyone—if they can accept it.
C-J: I think higher-order thinking comes into play here. Like consequences. Honestly, I don’t think David was all that nice. If I were him, I’d probably have wanted to kill Saul—but maybe he realized it would create bigger problems. There was political cost, and Jonathan was his friend. Same with Moses. Forty years wandering in the wilderness tempered him. It takes time to see God’s work in our lives. You have to learn to walk before you can run. You have to learn to rest—or you’ll collapse in the race.
In our youth—20s, 30s, 40s—we push, push, push. Education, career, achievement. But if we could just relax a little, we’d make things easier on ourselves and others. God’s timing is perfect. When we allow things to unfold in His time, not ours, we grow in peace. A child may walk later than expected, but gain other gifts in the meantime. We need to learn to trust that process.
Rimon: I wonder how all this applies to people of other faiths. It sounds to me like people who don’t believe in the Trinity are excluded from this whole plan of grace and the fruits of the Spirit. And that exclusion comes through no fault of their own. Someone could be born Muslim, and never have the Bible preached to them. Are they just left out? Dr. Weaver has said that grace is for everyone. But still, it feels like there’s a condition: you must believe in the Trinity. Without that, it’s like you’re excluded.
When I was a kid, I believed only in the Bible. But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve been exposed to other beliefs—spiritual teachings that are very similar to the Bible. Yet they don’t include the Trinity. And that’s hard for me. Personally, I’m struggling to settle that. It seems like to even follow anything in the Bible, you first have to accept the Trinity—and that’s not easy for everyone. Almost everything we talk about here assumes that belief.
So I wonder—how does God fit people of other faiths into His plan? How do they receive grace and learn to trust Him?
Donald: That’s a really important point for us to consider in this conversation. It shows what can happen when people stay in a single lane. I’ve talked before about “guardrails.” And I’m lucky to have both conservative and liberal friends. When I’m with them, I know which lane I need to stay in—not to be deceitful, but to avoid unnecessary conflict. And I think your question points to something essential: God. That’s the common ground. When we define things too strictly—like with the Trinity—it starts to narrow into “my lane.”
I remember visiting a Muslim community in Arusha, Tanzania, with a group of students. We weren’t there to convert anyone. The goal was simply to exchange ideas and understand someone else’s lane. And I think that’s a very important thing for us to practice.
David I share Rimon’s concerns. In fact, that’s why I’ve never fully adopted a religion. I have Daoist leanings, but I believe that God exists for everyone—and within everyone. I agree also with Don: We are who we are, and I am who I am. I put my trust in grace. It just so happens I’ve learned a lot about grace in this class, but even if I had never heard the word “grace,” I believe it would still be working in me. So what is there to worry about?
Yes, I strive to be better. I say the Lord’s Prayer often, and it reminds me that I do trespass, that I sin. But I also believe God is inside me, reminding me—and that’s enough. Now, I understand others might need more structure or a different path. But I don’t think I can heal anyone else’s spirit, because my experience is based on my personality, and I can’t just transfer that to someone else.
Reinhard: For Christians, one part of the Trinity is the Holy Spirit. And when people don’t talk about grace, I think it’s because they don’t recognize the Holy Spirit. I have many Muslim friends. I see how they live. Other religions—Muslims, Hindus—live by the Golden Rule. They give to the needy, they help others. Their spiritual goal is also to be saved someday. But for Christians, we learn more about grace through the Holy Spirit. That’s what helps us know how to respond to grace and how to live it out.
I think God works through the Holy Spirit—even in people who don’t realize it. That’s a key difference. And in terms of salvation and judgment, that’s up to God. We can only live by what we’ve learned from Scripture and follow Jesus the best we can. Other people may be doing good works in pursuit of salvation. We also seek eternal life—but through grace, through the Spirit, and through Jesus. That’s what we’ve learned in this class.
Rimon: I think Christians believe the Holy Spirit isn’t in everyone, only in those who accept the Holy Trinity. Is that right?
Kiran: That’s one view, yes. But let me share what Jesus said in John 10, verses 14–16. He says, “I am the good shepherd; I know my sheep and my sheep know me—just as the Father knows me and I know the Father—and I lay down my life for the sheep.” Then He adds something critical: “I have other sheep that are not of this fold. I must bring them also. They too will listen to my voice, and there shall be one flock and one shepherd.”
That means there are people outside the fold—outside the Christian tradition—who still know His voice. And if we turn to Revelation 7:9, it says: “I looked, and behold, a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, tribe, people, and language, standing before the throne and before the Lamb.”
These verses are uncomfortable for some Christians, especially those focused on evangelizing the whole world. But clearly, God is reaching people we’ve never reached. Maybe in countries where Christianity is banned. Maybe among people who’ve never heard the name of Jesus. And yet—they’re there in that great multitude.
When I didn’t understand grace, I used to think my God was only for those who believed a certain way. But now I realize my God is so much bigger. He gives sunshine and rain to everyone. He comes after the lost coin, the lost sheep, the lost son. In Christianity—especially Protestant Christianity—what’s different is that God is the one pursuing us, not the other way around. So who am I to say someone won’t be rescued? That’s up to God. My job is to love them, to be kind, to be gentle.
I’ve watched so many debates between Muslims and Christians. They always focus on two points: the Trinity and whether Jesus is God. But we get so caught up in these details that we miss the bigger picture. God is bigger than all of us. His thoughts are beyond our thoughts. His grace can reach into every religion, every culture, every personality.
I believe the Holy Spirit is in everyone. We might call it conscience. When we respond to that inner voice, it can grow—like a seed or a tree. That’s what I believe now.
Reinhard: In Christianity, God comes to embrace us. He seeks us. In other religions, people must seek their god or truth. They must work their way there. But in our belief, God takes the first step. That’s grace.
Kiran: That’s controversial, too. Look at Paul—he was fighting against God until God knocked him down and turned him around. He didn’t accept God until God intervened.
The week after next I will talk about general grace versus specific grace—and how different denominations view who will be saved. It connects to what Rimon brought up today.
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