Raspberry Iced M

Love. Joy. Peace. Patience. Kindness. Goodness. Faithfulness. Gentleness. Self-control.

Matthew 7 and Luke 6 emphasize that a person’s actions – their “fruit” – reveal true character, just like a tree’s fruit identifies the tree.

And when we consider “fruit,” we typically think about tangible, seeable things.

A degree. A promotion. Weight loss. Debt paid off. A published book. A bigger house.

And those are wonderful things. But lately I’ve wondered if the most important fruit in my life is the kind no one else can measure.

No one can count the number of times I interrupted a destructive thought before it took root. Or how many conversations I chose not to have because they wouldn’t produce peace. No one sees the prayers whispered before my feet ever hit the floor in the morning. No one notices the moments I pause before responding instead of reacting.

Those types of victories do not come with trophies, and they don’t earn applause.

But I think He notices.

There are fruits that never make the highlight reel. The decision to tell the truth when a lie would’ve been easier. Choosing patience with someone who is having a hard day. Keeping my word when no one would even know if you didn’t. Admitting I’m wrong. Remaining faithful on a week that I don’t “feel” like it. Getting back up – recovering – after I’ve made a mistake. Forgiving someone who may never ask for it.

Those things aren’t impressive. But they quietly change us.

I used to think growth would feel dramatic. Like fireworks. Like reaching a finish line.

And instead, it has felt more like…taking root. Like something invisible is planted to first grow underground. It is slow. But it is steady.

And there are days that I don’t feel like I’m changing at all. My triggers are the same. My impulses are the same.

But then I look back to this time last year and I realize…

I don’t react the same way I used to. I don’t chase the same thing or panic as quickly. I don’t need everyone’s approval. I tell the truth faster. I’m quicker to apologize. Pray. Pause.

And I wouldn’t put any of those things on a resume, but they are fruit.

Jesus never promised that we’d be recognized by our achievements. He said we’d be recognized by our fruit. Not by how impressive we appeared or how successful we became…but by what our lives consistently produced, none of which fit neatly into a spreadsheet.

Peace cannot be weighed. Kindness can’t be set against a ruler. And we cannot calculate faithfulness on a graph. But those are the very things God calls fruit.

Sometimes I wonder how often I miss celebrating what He is actually growing because I am too busy measuring what the world notices. Maybe the greatest victory this year wasn’t something anyone else noticed.

Maybe it was the argument I didn’t start. The text I didn’t send. The temptation I resisted. The thought I wouldn’t entertain. The apology I offered. The promise I kept.

Maybe that’s the harvest

I’ve spent a lot of my life keeping track of things are not easy to count. This season, I’m trying to pay more attention to things that are not.

Am I becoming more patient? Honest? Dependable? Peaceful? Compassionate? More like Jesus?

Because if the answer is yes, then something beautiful is growing…even if no one else ever measures it.

The sweetest fruit often grows where no one is looking first – not because it is hidden from the Lord, but because He’s more interested in changing our hearts than impressing the crowd.

I think that’s been one of the biggest lessons of my last year. I have spent less time asking if everyone else sees said change and more time asking if I am actually becoming different. The latter is a quieter question – but it’s the one that bears lasting fruit.