Lenten Reflection – Day 38 of the Great Lent
The Fruit of the Spirit: Galatians 5:13-26
“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control. Against such there is no law.” (5:22–23)
Yesterday the Spirit entered the series. For the first time in thirty-seven days, we named the Person who has been sustaining the fast from the beginning. The Spirit of adoption who cries “Abba, Father.” The Spirit who intercedes with groanings too deep for words. The Spirit who has been praying in us since before we opened our mouths.
Today Paul answers the question that yesterday left open. If the Spirit has been living in us this whole time, what does a Spirit-shaped life look like? What does it produce? Not in theory. In practice. In the way we treat the person across the table from us. In the way we respond when the fast is hard and the patience is thin and the person next to us in church is irritating.
Paul gives us a list. But it is not a list of commands. It is a list of fruit. And the difference between commands and fruit is the difference between everything the fast has been about and everything the fast has been pointing toward.
Through Love Serve One Another (vv. 13–15)
“For you, brethren, have been called to liberty; only do not use liberty as an opportunity for the flesh, but through love serve one another. For all the law is fulfilled in one word, even in this: ‘You shall love your neighbour as yourself.’ But if you bite and devour one another, beware lest you be consumed by one another!” (5:13–15)
Paul begins with liberty. The same liberty he introduced yesterday. Not the spirit of bondage. Not the fear of a slave. The freedom of a child of God who has been adopted into the family of the Trinity by the Holy Spirit.
But freedom is dangerous.
Freedom without love becomes selfishness. The person who discovers he is free from the law can use that freedom to serve himself. The person who learns that grace covers everything can use grace as a license to do whatever he wants. Freedom is the most powerful gift in the universe. And the most dangerous.
Paul does not take back the freedom. He redirects it. “Through love serve one another.” Freedom is not the freedom from serving. It is the freedom to serve. The slave serves because he must. The free person serves because he loves. The action may look the same from the outside. The interior is completely different.
“If you bite and devour one another, beware lest you be consumed by one another.”
The Galatian church was in conflict. Paul was writing to a community that was tearing itself apart over questions of law and grace. The same questions, in a way, that our series has been wrestling with. Days 16, 19, 23, 25, 26, 29 all dealt with the relationship between human effort and divine grace. And the danger in every community that debates these questions intensely is the biting. The devouring. The moment when the theological argument becomes a weapon used against the brother sitting next to you.
Thirty-eight days of fasting together. In any community that fasts together for this long, tensions accumulate. The person who fasts strictly judges the person who fasts loosely. The person who has been faithful judges the person who has struggled. The person who understands the theology dismisses the person who does not. Biting. Devouring. Consuming one another.
Paul says: the law is fulfilled in one sentence. Love your neighbour as yourself. Not “out-fast your neighbour.” Not “out-pray your neighbour.” Not “out-theologise your neighbour.” Love them. And loving them means serving them. Through your freedom. Not demanding that they match your level. Meeting them at theirs.
Walk in the Spirit (vv. 16–18)
“I say then: Walk in the Spirit, and you shall not fulfil the lust of the flesh. For the flesh lusts against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh; and these are contrary to one another, so that you do not do the things that you wish. But if you are led by the Spirit, you are not under the law.” (5:16–18)
Walk. Not run. Not sprint. Not drag yourself on your hands and knees. Walk. The pace of the Spirit is a walk. Steady. Sustainable. Not the frantic sprint of the first week of the fast. Not the grinding endurance of the middle weeks. The walk of someone who knows where he is going and trusts the Guide.
“The flesh lusts against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh.”
Two forces. Two directions. One pulling you downward. The other pulling you upward. The struggle between them is real. Paul does not pretend it is over. He does not say “once you have the Spirit, the flesh stops fighting.” The flesh keeps fighting. The Spirit keeps fighting. And the battlefield is you.
But the fight is not equal. The flesh fights with desire. The Spirit fights with fruit. The flesh shouts. The Spirit grows. The flesh demands instant gratification. The Spirit produces a harvest over time. The two are not symmetrical. And the outcome is not in doubt. The Spirit wins. Not by overpowering the flesh in a single battle. By outgrowing it. The way a tree outgrows the weeds around its base. Slowly. Steadily. By putting down deeper roots.
On Day 27, Paul said “I discipline my body.” On Day 29, the potter shaped the clay. Today we learn who is doing the shaping from the inside. The Spirit. The discipline is real. The shaping is real. But the power source has been identified. It is not our willpower. It is the Spirit who lives in us.
“If you are led by the Spirit, you are not under the law.”
On Day 23, Christ said He was Lord of the Sabbath. On Day 28, He healed on the Sabbath despite the ruler’s objection. On Day 34, He asked “is it lawful to do good or to do evil?” Today Paul says: the whole question is transcended. If we are led by the Spirit, the law is not our master. Not because the law is bad. Because the Spirit produces something the law could never produce. Not obedience from the outside. Transformation from the inside.
The Works of the Flesh (vv. 19–21)
“Now the works of the flesh are evident, which are: adultery, fornication, uncleanness, lewdness, idolatry, sorcery, hatred, contentions, jealousies, outbursts of wrath, selfish ambitions, dissensions, heresies, envy, murders, drunkenness, revelries, and the like; of which I tell you beforehand, just as I also told you in time past, that those who practice such things will not inherit the kingdom of God.” (5:19–21)
Paul lists the works of the flesh. The word is “works.” Erga. The flesh produces works. Things we do. Actions we take. Choices we make. The flesh works. It labours. It generates output.
The list is striking in its range. It begins where we might expect: sexual immorality. But it moves quickly to where we might not: hatred, contentions, jealousies, outbursts of wrath, selfish ambitions, dissensions. These are the sins of religious communities. These are the sins of Lent. Not the dramatic sins that make headlines. The relational sins that destroy churches.
Jealousy during the fast. “Why does her prayer life seem so effortless when mine is agony?” Contention. “You are not fasting properly.” Outbursts of wrath. The irritability that comes from hunger and self-denial and the pride that says “I have been fasting for thirty-eight days and I deserve more patience from you.” Selfish ambition. The secret desire to be seen as the most devout person in the parish. Dissensions. The arguments about theology that become arguments about people.
Paul calls these “works.” They are things the flesh produces. We do not drift into hatred. We work at it. We do not stumble into jealousy. We cultivate it. The flesh is productive. It generates output constantly. But the output is destruction.
The fast can intensify the works of the flesh rather than diminishing them. A hungry person is an irritable person. A tired person is a short-tempered person. A person who has been denying himself for thirty-eight days can be the most self-righteous person in the room. The fast strips away the comfortable buffers that normally keep the flesh’s works hidden. And what emerges is not always beautiful.
This is honest. And it is necessary on Day 38. Because some of us have been better people during the fast. And some of us have been worse. Some of us have discovered that the fasting has produced patience and gentleness. And some of us have discovered that the fasting has produced irritability and pride. The works of the flesh do not take a holiday during Lent. They work overtime.
The Fruit of the Spirit (vv. 22–23)
“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control. Against such there is no law.” (5:22–23)
Now the contrast. And the contrast is not just in the content of the lists. It is in the grammar.
The works of the flesh. Plural. Works. Many outputs from many efforts.
The fruit of the Spirit. Singular. Fruit. One output from one source.
Paul does not say “the fruits of the Spirit.” He says “the fruit.” Singular. Because what follows is not nine separate things. It is one thing with nine dimensions. One fruit. One life. One organic, growing, living reality that manifests in nine observable qualities. We do not pick and choose. We do not cultivate patience without love. We do not develop self-control without joy. The fruit grows whole. All nine at once. Like a single fruit on a single branch connected to a single vine.
And the fruit is not produced by effort. It is produced by the Spirit. The flesh works. The Spirit grows. The difference is everything.
A work is something we manufacture. We go to a factory. We apply energy. We follow a process. We produce an output. The output is a product of our effort.
A fruit is something that grows. We do not manufacture an apple. We plant a tree. We water it. We give it sunlight. We wait. And the tree produces the fruit. Not because we forced it. Because the life in the tree produced it. Our job was not to make the fruit. Our job was to tend the tree. The fruit came from the life inside.
This is the most important distinction in the entire Lenten series.
For thirty-seven days, we have been working. Fasting. Praying. Confessing. Giving. Running. Stretching. Climbing. Walking. Disciplining. All of it good. All of it necessary. But if the result of all that work is that we have manufactured a product called “holiness” by our own effort, we have been working like the flesh. Producing works. Even spiritual works are still works if they come from the flesh.
The Spirit does not produce works. The Spirit produces fruit. And fruit is not manufactured. It grows. From the inside. From the life that is already there. The Spirit of adoption. The Spirit who cries “Abba.” The Spirit who intercedes with groanings. That Spirit is the life in the tree. And the fruit that grows from that life is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control.
St. John Chrysostom, in his Commentary on Galatians, teaches that the singular “fruit” is Paul’s deliberate correction of the tendency to treat the spiritual life as a checklist. The flesh produces a checklist. Sins to avoid. Rules to keep. Boxes to tick. The Spirit produces a life. And the life is unified. You cannot separate the patience from the love because they grow from the same root. You cannot isolate the self-control from the joy because they are dimensions of the same fruit. Chrysostom says: stop trying to produce the virtues one by one. Tend the tree. Let the Spirit grow the fruit. Your job is the tending. The growing is His.1
Let us look at each dimension. Not as a checklist. As a description of the life that is growing in us right now. Whether we can see it or not.
Love. Agapē. The first dimension. The root of the root. Not emotion. Not affection. The deliberate, costly, self-giving love that the Father showed in giving the Son (Day 24) and that Zacchaeus showed in giving half his goods (Day 36). The love that serves through freedom (v. 13).
Joy. Chara. The dimension that has been entirely absent from the series. Thirty-seven days of sober, serious, penitential reflection. And the Spirit’s fruit includes joy. Not happiness. Not the absence of suffering. Joy. The deep, unshakeable, subterranean gladness that comes from knowing you are a child of God and the Spirit is living in you. The joy that Zacchaeus felt when he received Christ at his table. The joy that the bent woman felt when she stood straight and glorified God. The joy that the blind man felt when he saw the sky for the first time. It has been in the series all along. We just did not name it.
Peace. Eirēnē. Not the absence of conflict. The presence of wholeness. Shalom. The deep integration of a life that is no longer at war with itself. The flesh and the Spirit are still fighting. But the person in whom the Spirit dwells has access to a peace that is deeper than the fight. The peace Christ spoke over the storm: “Peace, be still.” The same peace the Spirit produces in the storm of the fast.
Longsuffering. Makrothumia. Patience. The capacity to endure without retaliating. The capacity to wait without giving up. The capacity to suffer long. Not because you are a doormat. Because the Spirit has given you a longer timeline than the flesh operates on. The flesh wants results now. The Spirit is working across a lifetime.
Kindness. Chrēstotēs. Practical goodness. Not theoretical love. The kind word at the right moment. The small act that costs nothing but changes everything. Christ calling the bent woman “daughter.” Christ saying “Zacchaeus, I must stay at your house.” Kindness is love made specific. Made practical. Made available.
Goodness. Agathōsunē. A rarer word. Moral goodness that is generous rather than rigid. The goodness that does not merely avoid evil but actively pursues the welfare of others. The goodness that answers Christ’s question on Day 34: is it lawful to do good? The answer is always yes. And the Spirit produces the goodness that makes the answer automatic.
Faithfulness. Pistis. Trustworthiness. Reliability. The quality that makes you the person others can depend on. The person who does not abandon the fast on Day 38 because he promised he would finish. The person who keeps his word to God and to the community. The faithfulness of the shepherd who does not abandon the flock (Day 31). The faithfulness of Christ who walked to the Cross despite the disciples understanding nothing (Day 36).
Gentleness. Prautēs. Meekness. Not weakness. Strength under control. The restraint of the person who has power and chooses not to use it destructively. Christ standing before Pilate. Christ being mocked and not retaliating. The gentleness of a potter’s hands on clay (Day 29). Power held gently.
Self-control. Egkrateia. The last dimension. The same word Paul used on Day 27 for the athlete’s discipline. Everyone who competes is temperate. But here the self-control is not manufactured by athletic training. It is grown by the Spirit. The discipline is still real. The running is still necessary. But the power behind the discipline is not willpower. It is the Spirit producing the self-control as fruit. Not as a product of striving. As a harvest from abiding.
“Against such there is no law.”
The most liberating sentence in Galatians. There is no law against love. No regulation that prohibits joy. No Sabbath rule that forbids kindness. The person who bears the fruit of the Spirit is beyond the law. Not above it. Beyond it. The law exists to restrain the works of the flesh. It has nothing to say to the fruit of the Spirit because the fruit fulfills everything the law was trying to achieve.
Those Who Are Christ’s (vv. 24–26)
“And those who are Christ’s have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. If we live in the Spirit, let us also walk in the Spirit. Let us not become conceited, provoking one another, envying one another.” (5:24–26)
“Those who are Christ’s have crucified the flesh.”
Past tense. Have crucified. It is done. At baptism, the old self was nailed to the cross with Christ. The flesh was put to death. Not annihilated. Crucified. A crucified thing is still visible. It is still hanging there. But it is dying. It no longer has authority. It still screams. It still demands. But its power has been broken.
The fast is a participation in this crucifixion. Every day of self-denial is a day of saying to the flesh: you are crucified. You do not rule here. Your demands are noted and denied. Not because the body is evil. Because the flesh (the old pattern of self-centered living) has been nailed to the cross and the Spirit now rules.
“Let us not become conceited, provoking one another, envying one another.”
Paul ends where he began. The community. The people around you. The Lenten fast is not a solo sport. We are fasting alongside other people. And the final test of whether the Spirit’s fruit is growing in us is not how well we pray alone on the mountain. It is how we treat the person sitting next to us in church. Are we conceited? Provoking? Envying?
St. Ephrem the Syrian, in his Hymns on Faith, writes that the fruit of the Spirit is tested in community. A hermit on a mountain can claim patience. But patience is proved when we have been fasting for thirty-eight days and the person in the pew next to us coughs through the entire prayer. A monk in a cell can claim self-control. But self-control is proved when we are hungry and irritable and someone criticizes our fasting discipline. Ephrem says: the fruit that grows in solitude is untested fruit. The fruit that survives community is ripe.2
St. Basil the Great, in his Longer Rules, makes the same point from the monastic tradition. He chose communal monasticism over hermit life precisely because the virtues cannot be practiced or tested in isolation. We cannot practice patience without someone to try our patience. We cannot practice gentleness without someone who provokes us. We cannot practice love without someone to love. Basil says: the community is the orchard. The individual is the tree. And the fruit ripens on the tree only because it is growing among other trees.3
What This Means for Day 38
The most important distinction in the series. Works versus fruit. The flesh works. The Spirit grows.
For thirty-seven days, we have been doing. And the doing has been good. The fasting, praying, confessing, giving, running, stretching, all of it mattered. None of it was wasted.
But the doing was never the destination. The doing was the tending. The soil work. The watering. The standing in the field with the tools in our hands day after day. And while we were tending, the Spirit was growing. The fruit was forming. Not because of our effort. Through our effort. The effort created the conditions. The Spirit produced the fruit.
Can you see it? After thirty-eight days? Is there more love in us than there was on Day 1? More patience? More gentleness? More self-control? Not manufactured. Not forced. Grown. Emerging. Like an apple on a branch. Slowly. Quietly. Without announcement. Just there one morning when we look.
And joy. The dimension the series forgot. It is there too. Under the seriousness of the fast. Under the penitence and the self-examination and the soberness. The subterranean gladness that comes from knowing: I am a child of God. The Spirit lives in me. The Father hears the Spirit’s groan. And the fruit is growing.
Joy does not contradict the fast. Joy is the fruit of the fast. Not the happiness that comes from eating well. The deep, unshakable gladness that comes from having been tended by the Spirit for thirty-eight days. Watered by Scripture. Pruned by discipline. Rooted in the community that fasts together. And now, quietly, bearing fruit.
For Our Journey Today
Look for the fruit. Not the works. The fruit. Not what you have accomplished during the fast. What has grown. Has patience increased? Has kindness become more natural? Has the self-control that was forced in Week 1 become easier in Week 5? If yes, that is fruit. We did not manufacture it. The Spirit grew it. In us. Through the fast. Thank the grower.
Name the joy. It is there. We may have forgotten to notice it. But the child of God who has been fasting for thirty-eight days with the Spirit of adoption in his heart has access to a joy that is deeper than the discipline. Today, name it. Find one specific thing from the fast that brought us gladness. Not relief. Not satisfaction. Gladness. That is the fruit. And naming it is how we know it is real.
Tend the tree. Stop manufacturing the fruit. If the fast has felt like factory work, producing spiritual products by sheer effort, today is the day to change the metaphor. We are not a factory. We are a tree. Our job is not to produce. Our job is to abide. Stay connected to the vine. Stay rooted in the Spirit. Stay watered by the Word. And let the fruit grow. We cannot force it. We can only tend the conditions. The growing is the Spirit’s work.
Holy Spirit, who grows what we cannot manufacture, grow Your fruit in us today. We have been working. For thirty-eight days we have been working. Fasting. Praying. Confessing. Running. And we confess that some of the output has been the works of the flesh disguised as spiritual achievement. The irritability. The pride. The jealousy. The self-righteousness. These are works. We produced them. Forgive us. Now grow what we cannot produce. Love that costs us something. Joy that survives the fast. Peace that is deeper than the fight. Patience that does not count the days. Kindness that extends to the person who irritates us most. Goodness that acts before it is asked. Faithfulness that finishes what it started. Gentleness that holds power without using it destructively. Self-control that comes from the inside rather than the outside. One fruit. Nine dimensions. All growing from the life You have planted in us since our baptism. Against such there is no law. And no fast. And no limit. By the prayers of the Most Holy Theotokos, the holy Apostle Paul, and all the saints, have mercy on us and save us. Amen.
