What Does a Grace-Transformed Life Look Like? (2)

Last week we began examining the fruit of the Spirit from Galatians 5:22. We basically asked the question: What does a grace-transformed person look like?

People usually think a person transformed by grace looks sinless or perfectly obedient to the Ten Commandments. But we talked about how, in our sinful bodies, we won’t be like that. A grace-transformed person is not simply marked by the absence of sin, but by the presence of a new life—the life of Christ being formed in them by the Spirit.

It seemed to me that you could divide the fruits of the Spirit into two overlapping categories: the fruits by which God heals our relationship with Him, and the fruits by which God heals our relationship with others.

In the first category—our relationship with God—we covered love and joy.
We decided that to understand love, we must understand God. Sometimes we think of love as just one of God’s attributes, but the Bible says, “God is love.” So when we accept grace and His presence comes into us, love comes in as well. And that love not only fills us—it flows out of us naturally.

Then we looked at joy. Unlike human joy, which depends on circumstances, this joy is constant and always present. One thing we noted is that Jesus says for human joy to be complete, it must be filled with the joy of Christ.

That’s where we stopped last time. Today, I want to briefly discuss the next two fruits of the Spirit: peace and faithfulness.

The world often defines peace as the absence of conflict, stress, or noise. We hear this word a lot, especially in the context of war or unrest. But in Scripture, the Hebrew word for peace is shalom, and shalom means much more. It’s not just the absence of conflict with God—it is a state of wholeness, harmony, and well-being in our relationship with Him.

Paul tells us that by accepting grace, we are no longer estranged from God. We are reconciled through Christ’s sacrifice. In Romans 5:1, he says: “Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ.” Up until that point, we were in some sort of enmity with God. But through Christ, we have peace. And this peace is not dependent on circumstances. It comes from knowing we are secure in God’s love and acceptance.

There’s something else interesting: Paul also says that this peace guards our hearts and minds in Christ. In Philippians 4:7 he writes, “The peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” So, this peace isn’t something we create—it’s a fruit of the Spirit. It’s a supernatural gift that grows as we walk in God’s grace.

I’m not going to spend too much more time on peace, because I think it’s fairly clear that the peace God gives is different from the peace we humans generate—or try to. For lack of a better word, we might call it “human peace.”

I want to spend more time on the topic of faithfulness. In the biblical list, it’s the seventh fruit, but in my grouping, it’s the fourth.

The Greek word used for faithfulness in Galatians 5:22 is pistis. This word can also be translated as “faith,” depending on the context. In this verse, it suggests faithfulness in the sense of reliability, loyalty, steadfastness, and trustworthiness.

Both “faith” and “faithfulness” spring from the same root—trust. Trust in God and commitment to God.

Whenever I think of faithfulness, the first thing I think of is God’s faithfulness. There’s that popular hymn, Great Is Thy Faithfulness, which is based on Lamentations 3:22–23: “The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; His mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning. Great is your faithfulness.”

You see this throughout Scripture. For example, Psalm 100:5 says, “For the Lord is good; His steadfast love endures forever, and His faithfulness to all generations.” Or in 2 Timothy 2:13, Paul writes, “If we are faithless, He remains faithful, for He cannot deny Himself.” Just a few verses before that, Paul had said, “If we deny Him, He will also deny us.” But then he pivots: even if we are faithless, God is still faithful. It’s who He is—He cannot be otherwise. Faithfulness is inherent in God. He is always faithful, no matter how we behave.

When it comes to our own faithfulness, what do we usually think of? I looked up what people say about it—blog posts, devotionals, all kinds of things. I read about 20 of them. Most of them talk about how we have to grow our faithfulness—”Ten steps to becoming more faithful,” “How to practice faithfulness,” and so on. But only three or four said that faithfulness is a fruit of the Spirit. That means it’s not something you produce yourself. It’s something God gives you.

As I was thinking about this, one story I couldn’t ignore is the story of Peter and his denial of Jesus. Peter had been with Jesus and the other disciples. In Luke 22:31, Jesus says to him: “Simon, Simon, Satan has asked to sift all of you as wheat. But I have prayed for you, Simon, that your faith may not fail. And when you have turned back, strengthen your brothers.”

Jesus knew what was coming. The disciples didn’t. But Jesus knew Peter’s heart. He knew that even though Peter loved Him, his faithfulness wouldn’t be strong enough to withstand the coming trial. Still, Peter boldly insisted, “Even if everyone else falls away, I will never fall away.” And we sometimes give Peter a bad rap for that—but he wasn’t lying. He meant every word. He truly wanted to be loyal.

And yet Jesus immediately told him, “Before the rooster crows, you will deny me three times.” Peter was probably offended by that. But we know the story. Jesus was arrested and taken to the high priest’s house. Peter stayed nearby, warming himself by a fire. And then, in front of ordinary people—not soldiers or rulers—he denied Jesus. A servant girl, some bystanders. No one with power, no one threatening him. But three times he said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The third time, he even started cursing. And then the rooster crowed. Luke includes this devastating line in 22:61: “Then the Lord turned and looked straight at Peter.” Just imagine that look. It couldn’t have been a look of condemnation—if it had been, Peter might not have survived it. It must have been a look of deep compassion, of love.

In that moment, Peter realized what he had done. He had been warned. He had made a promise. And still, in front of ordinary people, he denied Jesus. That was the moment when Peter saw himself clearly. He broke down. He went out and wept bitterly. A grown man, weeping bitterly—because he saw his own failure. He saw how far short he had fallen, even with the best of intentions. Peter had been with Jesus for three and a half years. He had seen the miracles. He was one of the three disciples who saw Jesus transfigured, who saw Moses and Elijah. He wasn’t an ordinary believer. And yet, at the peak of his experience, he broke.

Later, after the resurrection, when the disciples were at the Sea of Galilee, Jesus came to restore Peter. But He didn’t ask Peter, “Will you promise to never fail again?” He didn’t say, “Can I trust you now?” Instead, He asked, “Do you love me?” And the third time He asked, Peter broke down. He gave an honest answer: “Lord, you know all things. You know that I love you.”

What Peter meant was: “Lord, you know me. You know I love you. But you also know that in myself, I cannot be faithful to you. If there is any faithfulness in me, you will have to bring it.” That’s exactly what Peter was saying. And that’s the experience I wish for everyone I know. It’s brutal. It’s terrible. But it’s essential.

I want that experience for myself, and I want it for others—because whenever we talk about grace, whether in this class or in Christian conversations more broadly, our natural human instinct is always to say, “But surely, I must do something.”

We reach for words like: “I have to strive. I have to discipline myself. I have to commit. I have to pray more. I have to have more faith.” But if you were Peter, after that experience, you’d never use those words again. There’s something in our human nature that resists resting fully in grace. We want to believe that with enough effort, we can be faithful and strong and steady on our own. But the truth is: even when God lovingly warns us of what’s coming… even when we truly love the Lord… even when we’ve seen His glory and walked with Him for years… in our own strength, we fall short.

Last week I talked about one definition of sin: Missing the mark, or falling short. This is sin. And the only remedy for sin is Jesus. This is why faithfulness is a fruit of the Spirit. You can’t be loyal to Jesus on your own. You need Christ. It’s not something you can generate by trying harder. It’s something God grows in you as you surrender to His grace, as you learn to trust Him.

We fail—often. But sometimes, we trust. And as we walk daily with Him, in dependence on Him, He makes us more faithful. More loyal. And that loyalty doesn’t just stay between us and God—it flows into our relationships with others.

So how do you think of this? How do you think these fruits—love, joy, peace, and faithfulness—repair our relationship with God? All of us want a better relationship with God. We think, “I have to do this or that,” and we come up with ten-step plans. But the reality is: you can’t fix your relationship with God. If you could, you wouldn’t need Christ. It is God who came after us. It is God who picked us up. And when we said yes, He became the one who is now fixing this relationship within us.

It sounds crazy, even hard to understand. If I had to explain this to a non-Christian audience, they’d probably tune out. “What is this guy talking about?” they’d think. But this is the paradox of grace. The world—even much of religious life—teaches us to try harder, to do better, to be more. But the gospel of grace teaches something very different: abide in Christ, and walk in His Spirit, and these fruits will grow naturally. The more we surrender, the more we trust, the more we remain connected to Him, the more His life flows into us—and the more the fruit begins to appear.

So for today’s discussion, I want to ask two questions:

1. What is the difference between trying to be more loving, joyful, peaceful, and faithful through self-effort, and letting these qualities grow as fruit from abiding in Christ?
2. In your own spiritual life—or in mine—where do you most often slip back into self-effort? And how might the Spirit be inviting you to walk instead into grace-based growth?

Don: I think the question is a good one: Is it possible to live by grace and possess the kind of faithfulness that Kiran described, and yet not measure ourselves by metrics that are obvious and external? Are grace and measurable faithfulness mutually exclusive, or could the effort to “do the right thing” be part of how God builds faithfulness in us?

And if they can coexist, how do they? How can we embrace grace while acknowledging our effort in becoming faithful? I think that’s the central question this morning, and Kiran has given us a very provocative and thoughtful presentation.

Reinhard: On the topic of the fruit of the Spirit: I believe that’s the grace God gives us. The word “grace” doesn’t appear in that list, but all those fruits are, to me, grace in action. In our Christian journey, we can look at the disciples. Even after the resurrection, they still lacked full faith. They went back to fishing—Peter and the others—even though they’d seen the risen Jesus. I think they were still expecting a worldly Messiah, someone to deliver Israel from Roman rule. They didn’t yet fully understand Jesus as Savior.

But after Jesus ascended and the Holy Spirit came upon them, they were transformed. They became bold, even in the face of authorities. That transformation is key. It’s something we can learn from. Even though the disciples walked with Jesus, they didn’t fully “get it” until later.

We also have the Bible—more complete guidance than they had. They had the Old Testament and Jesus’ teachings, but we have it all, plus reflection and community. This gives us the tools to live a Christian life, to understand how to apply the fruit of the Spirit, and how to accept God’s grace in our walk. It’s a journey—growing stronger and more grounded in our practice of grace.

C-J: Religion has always co-opted societies and politics. You need a common thread, and that’s usually a belief system. There are so many examples of how religion has been used to isolate people—by denying access, preventing literacy, using storytelling to control. It’s dangerous. The relationship we’re talking about today is different.

I think Kiran did a really clear job describing that. My faith, my discipline, and then this grace that God gives me—grace that was so clearly demonstrated in what Christ did for Peter. Jesus didn’t say, “I told you you’d betray me; you’re nothing to me now.” Instead, He said, “On you, this rock.” Because Peter’s failure was exactly what needed to be shown among people who didn’t understand this new way of being.

They all had faith of some kind. They all had political overlays. But Jesus—this relationship with God—transcends all of that. It transforms our choices. Not by our own efforts, but through an intuitive, yielded relationship with God. And yet, we’re not just sheep to the slaughter. It’s a profound relationship. God gives us discernment. He gives us peace. But He also gives us the heart of a lion to go into places where others say, “You’re going to do what?”

You go where you might die. You don’t understand why. But you do what God asked you to do. That’s remarkable. It’s not for everyone—whether it’s going against the faith you were raised in or working in a hostile environment. It takes great courage to surrender the “I” for the “Thy,” and to do it daily. We humans aren’t good at it. We don’t know how to do it. But that’s where God’s grace comes in.

Don: If we look at the contrast between Peter and Thomas, we see different kinds of faith. Thomas wanted something measurable—literally, something palpable—to confirm his belief. And Jesus didn’t scold him. He gave Thomas the evidence he needed.

Yes, Jesus did say, “Blessed are those who believe without seeing.” But it’s not presented as an either/or. Some people operate with a faith that doesn’t need metrics. Others, like Thomas, need something tangible. It’s not necessarily wrong—it’s just different.

Carolyn: I kind of wonder about when the Holy Spirit was given. I think back to Abraham and Moses. “Great is Thy faithfulness” was true for them, too. They must have had the Holy Spirit in some way, to make those kinds of journeys. Think of Abraham, moving away from his homeland. Or his willingness to sacrifice his son. That kind of faithfulness and commitment to God had to come from somewhere. So when Scripture talks about the Spirit being poured out, does that mean we received more? Was it different? I’m grateful, but the question fogs my brain a little.

C-J: Here’s the problem with that narrative. Abraham was faithful to Isaac—but what about Ishmael? We’re human, and our narratives are often shaped by culture. The kind of relationship Kiran described this morning—so intimate and so grace-filled—takes time to learn. It takes time to hear God’s voice and yield to it.

I think Peter finally understood that, and that’s why he wept so bitterly. I’ve had moments like that—where I realized I had deeply harmed a relationship, and I cried for days. On my knees. Not because of punishment, but because I had disappointed myself so deeply. That’s when I realized: it’s not about what I think I need to say or do. It’s about loving God, and letting everything else follow.

That moment taught me: when I want to blurt something out in anger or frustration, I remember. I think Peter felt that too. He loved Jesus. He had that divine revelation—“You are the Son of the living God”—but he was still human. Maybe it wasn’t fear for his life that made him deny Jesus. Maybe it was doubt: “What if I’m wrong? What if we lose this man?”

He had only known Jesus for three years. That’s a short time in a lifetime of being a fisherman. And we do the same. We wander in our own wilderness. We’re blind to our own limitations. It’s only the Holy Spirit who transforms us, who lifts us up—not for our sake, but for others to see God’s will at work. That’s the daily struggle. But in grace, it flows. It doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t echo in your head with regret. It’s just… letting go, and letting God.

When you experience it, you know. Instantly. Only God could’ve done that.

Donald: I’d like to go back to something Reinhard said that I think is worth pondering. He said it in passing, but I think it’s central: “To live a good Christian life.” What does that really mean? What does it look like? Does it look like the fruits of the Spirit? And if so, what does that look like?

We’ve seen contemporary depictions of Christ, like in The Chosen, that present Him in a more relatable, loving way—perhaps even modern. But I think this is where we trip up. Each of us has our own idea of what a good Christian life should look like. And then we judge others by that idea.

Don: If you look at the “Hall of Faith” in Hebrews 11, you’ll find some pretty shady characters there—people like Gideon, who was violent, a murderer, a man of war. And yet he ends up in the Hall of Faith. That suggests that our ideas of what it means to live a good Christian life may be quite different from God’s perspective.

Sharon: Kiran, for me, I just think you summarized the great controversy. First of all, I believe that living the Christian life is about abiding—abiding in Jesus. And that’s not easy. It’s deeply personal.

How I abide in the grace and faith of Jesus is probably very different from how others abide. I was thinking about my laptop—without being plugged into power, it’s pretty much useless. That’s how I think of our connection to the Holy Spirit. Faithfulness is about yielding, hour by hour, and abiding in His power.

Each of us needs to abide in our own way. That’s why I appreciated today so much. You reminded me that grace is always available. But I have to say yes. I have to stay connected. And my natural instinct is to disconnect—to take the reins and run my own show.

I focus on behavior, which is superficial. But the challenge for me is to stay connected to that power source. Because if I relinquish control, if I surrender to His transformation, then something amazing can happen in my life.

Don: I think what Sharon highlighted: that abiding is a deeply personal thing, bears emphasis. Even in our own class, we see different ways that people abide. Some responses overlap; others are quite distinct. But we all seem to want to conform in some way.

As Donald has pointed out, it’s our natural tendency to measure ourselves against others. And we’re often quick to define for each other how we should abide—what your faith should look like, or mine. But the only safe thing is to keep our eyes on the Holy Spirit and on Christ, rather than on each other.

Donald: If we step back and look at humanity, we’d say, “Well, everyone has two eyes, two ears, a nose, and a mouth,” and assume that we all must look similar. But we know that’s not true. The variety is astonishing. No two people look exactly alike.

So why would we expect two people to live out the Christian life in exactly the same way? Everyone has a different personality. Yes, we categorize them, but they’re still unique.

And when it comes to faithfulness or spiritual experience—again, we want to say, “Here’s what it looks like. You’re either in or out.” We draw tight boundaries. And that’s unfortunate. Because you can be judged for just one word, or one perceived disloyalty, and suddenly everything changes.

C-J: Life is messy, and we are its echo. Wherever we go, we’re always echoing—good, bad, or confused. What just happened there?

Kiran: You know, it sounds like you just described Hinduism. At least, not modern-day Hinduism, but the traditional version. The original concept is that you can’t define God, but in daily life, you can choose an aspect of God that you relate to—and follow that. That’s why we have 300 million gods for 1.4 billion people in Hinduism.

It boils down to this: you can relate to God in whatever way makes sense to you, because God is bigger than any one person. I wish we had that kind of humility in Christianity—and in Islam, too. Because we tend to demand uniformity. And I was one of those people. I wanted everyone to be uniform. I wanted to conform. I wanted others to conform too.

But now I realize that to be a good Christian is to be insignificant. You don’t matter. You’re just one of the tools in God’s toolbox. Let Him use you however He wants. When I first came into the church, I had spiritual ambition. I wanted to be like Paul or Peter. But now I see that the real calling is to surrender. And let’s be honest—that’s not a message you can sell. No one wants that pill. If you market it, your church will probably be empty.

That’s the paradox. The Book of Job makes it clear: sometimes faithfulness means staying loyal even when God appears to curse you. That’s hard for most people to accept.

And something else I’ve struggled with: Abraham. Even after God spoke to him, even while God was with him, he still lied about Sarah being his sister. Why? That’s part of it, too.

Michael: I share Kiran’s frustration. Even when you’ve experienced grace, it’s easy to fall back into old patterns—achievement-based thinking, performance, effort. It’s frustrating. But maybe that’s the point. Maybe the cycle of discovering grace, losing track of it, and rediscovering it again is part of the journey. As Kiran said, it’s human to want to achieve. And then we realize—again and again—that we can’t do it ourselves. And then we rediscover grace. I don’t know if there’s another way.

C-J: My friends and I often repeat stories—and laugh about it—because we’re always growing, maturing, slipping back, and seeing things differently. Storytelling shows our evolution. How you remember something at age seven versus how you see it now—it changes. When I read the blog, I’m amazed at how much we’ve grown, both collectively and individually.

Donald: Look at what happens when you drive past a cluster of churches—Christian churches, mostly. Isn’t it something? All these communities, divided. And that’s fine, it’s a blessing to have diversity. But when it becomes “my church, my way,” then we hit trouble.

We’ve talked about evangelism before. And the question becomes: Is evangelism about sharing faith? Or about convincing others to think like me? That’s where it gets complicated. Do we allow people to have their own spiritual journey, or are we trying to pull them into ours?

C-J: The Universalist Church has a book they give to new members called A Chosen Faith. It’s built on the premise you just described, Donald. Everyone comes from a different background, and your relationship with your belief system is personal. In that community, the focus is on being a servant to each other and the community. They don’t get into the weeds about doctrine or ritual.

That’s what I wanted at the time—an open community to learn from. I was there for a year. But in the end, it wasn’t the right fit. I’m just too deeply rooted in Christianity and my relationship with my God—our God.

Carolyn: I have a question. If someone says, “We must stay close to the Holy Spirit and stay within grace,” and then they fall from grace—is that a sin?

C-J: It wasn’t a sin for Peter. When God looked at him, He understood that Peter was flesh and blood, that Peter truly believed and had a revelation—but he was human. He fell short. And yet, God understood his devotion.

It’s the Holy Spirit who allows us to be devoted in the first place. I can want to love God. I can want to be a good person. But it’s only the Holy Spirit in me that allows that relationship to be real, to grow, to thrive. That relationship becomes the arena in which we grow—in good soil, hopefully, with good mentors.

Don: Carolyn, Paul answers your question in Galatians 5:4. He defines falling from grace as trying to be justified by the law. He says, “You have been severed from Christ, you who are seeking to be justified by the law; you have fallen from grace.”

So falling from grace doesn’t mean committing some specific behavior. It means rejecting God’s gift—trying to earn your way through works instead. It’s not about behavior; it’s about whether you’re abiding in grace, as Sharon was saying earlier.

Carolyn: So, it’s about staying connected.

C-J: Some people call that the “unpardonable sin”—saying, “I no longer believe, I no longer care.” But we see in Peter’s story and many others that God was still with them. God was there, always willing to reenter the relationship.

I can’t get my head around how loving God must be—how deeply woven into us His DNA is. Not just our parents’ DNA—God’s. You can’t separate us from that. I just want to believe that God says, “I will never leave you or forsake you.”

Don: In the end, it seems like there are only two options: you either try to be justified by the law, or you accept God’s grace. And it’s amazing how many people, even Christians, still try to go the law route.

It’s the problem with the elder brother in the Prodigal Son story. He did everything right. He was faithful. He followed the rules. But in the end, he excluded himself from the party. He wanted the law to justify him, and that made him blind to grace.

That’s the risk we take when we try to earn what God wants to give freely.

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