Today is the first in our series on the Fruit of the Spirit. I’m excited to begin, and our agenda has three stops on it. First, I’ll talk about virtues and how they relate to the fruit of the Spirit. Then I’ll explore the mystery of love. And finally, we’ll look at how to cultivate more love in your life.

Fruits and Virtues

Paul writes about the Fruit of the Spirit to the church in Galatia. He’s trying to give them the marks of the Christian life. This is before creeds, doctrines, and other such markers of identity. The early church was a motley crew of Jews and Gentiles, men and women, people from every tribe. The question becomes: how shall they live together? It’s a political question.

Paul, trained in Greek and Roman rhetoric, points to timeless virtues. A virtue isn’t just a rule on paper, it’s who you’re becoming. It’s the steady habit of choosing what’s right, even when it costs you something. Think of it less as perfection and more as practiced goodness, the kind that shows up as honesty, courage, patience, and all the quiet decisions in between.

At its root, virtus is about strength, not softness. The kind of strength that helps people flourish, not just individually but together. Virtue shapes a life that bears good fruit, not because it has to, but because that’s what it’s been formed to do.

Virtues are like fruit. Fruit takes time to develop. It isn’t made in a factory or a lab. It isn’t government cheese. First, you plant a tree. You cultivate it. Fertilize it. Wait for it to bloom. Then, in time, the fruit comes.

We’re in the season of apple blossoms right now. We won’t see fruit until fall. Virtues are the same way. They take time. It’s why so few people bother with them at all.

My brain wants to rabbit trail and get into the nature versus nurture conversation. Maybe some of us are born with seeds that make us naturally more patient or joyful than others. But we can also cultivate these things through nurturing, through spiritual practices, through intention.

The hard part about virtues is that they can’t really be measured. And yet, like fruit, you know them when you taste them. I can describe an apple, but words fall short. It’s better to experience one. There is also a lot of counterfeits out there. Can we really enjoy the sweetness of an apple after 32 oz of Mountain Dew? Yet which satisfies and is better for our health?

In our data-driven culture, talk of virtue can sound a bit far-fetched. In our fast-paced, results-driven world, talk of morals can feel slow and old-fashioned. We have to learn how to move slowly in a fast time. That’s the hope of this series. We also must be okay with a little mystery.

The Mystery of Love

Take love, for example. The first fruit of the Spirit. What is love? (baby don’t hurt me…)

Love is a mystery. It’s the highest of the virtues. The first of the fruits. We have reams and reams of writing on it: romance novels, poems, songs, movies. Rom-coms, The Bachelor, Love on the Spectrum, an entire Hallmark channel devoted to it. We love love.

And yet it remains a mystery. Not because we know nothing about it, but because we know so much that no single definition can hold it.

For some, Romeo and Juliet is the most romantic story ever told, a love that defies family and lays down its life. For others, it’s two impulsive teenagers making preventable decisions. Not romantic at all.

Same with music. Some swear by Taylor Swift’s storytelling about finding and losing love. As for me and my house, we are a pro-Taylor operation. Others will tell you Stevie Wonder or Motown sang it best. Love keeps inspiring because it refuses to be reduced to one form.

Not even in the Bible do we get just one version. There are many love stories. One of my favorites is Isaac and Rebekah, a deep, bonded love. We also see love go wrong, like David and Bathsheba, tangled up with power and poor choices.

Most of all, we see God’s love for Israel. As Jeremiah puts it: “I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with unfailing kindness.”

And then these words from 1 John, which shape my understanding of God more than almost anything else: “Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God… Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love.”

After the bread is broken, the disciples on the road to Emmaus say, “Did not our hearts burn within us?” Love is known by its effect on us.

We can’t fully define it. No matter how much we write or sing or film, we can’t get to the bottom of it. But we know it when we experience it. And I think we all want more of it in our lives. How do we cultivate more of the virtue of love?

Cultivation Of Love

First, a story. Then five suggestions.

We were in Target when the kids were little. On the way out, they spotted their favorite snack. We told them we had some at home. That was not acceptable. They let us know with full-volume protest all the way to the car.

We were embarrassed. Exhausted. Feeling like failures. But instead of judgment, people in the parking lot offered encouragement. “Been there. Keep going.” “You’re doing great.” And my favorite: “The days are long, but the years are short.”

We experienced love in that moment. And it gave us enough space to love our kids through it. They didn’t understand “later.” They didn’t have the capacity yet. But we could breathe, get them home, get them fed, and get them down for naps.

Out of that story, five takeaways:

First, love yourself. You can’t draw from an empty well. Airlines say to put your own oxygen mask on first. Same idea. This isn’t ego. It’s healthy grounding. If we’re harsh with ourselves, we’ll be harsh with others. If we extend grace inward, it flows outward.

Second, celebrate others. I learned this from my grandmother, and from people like Stacie Yates and Cheri Ingraham. They delight in others, noticing everything good and naming it. I’m more reserved, but I try to practice that posture. It changes how you see people.

Third, remember: there is no one you will meet whom God does not love. Even the hardest people. Even those who’ve done harm. This doesn’t excuse behavior, but it invites us to ask, “What’s the most generous interpretation?” As my therapist says, that question softens the heart. Sometimes love looks like compassion. Sometimes it looks like boundaries. Sometimes it looks like distance. But it is still love.

Fourth, you can’t control other people’s behavior. You can only control your own. That insight goes all the way back to Epictetus the ancient Stoic philosopher. When you’re provoked, pause. Breathe. Count to ten. Step away if needed. Prayer is a pause. Breath is a pause. These moments interrupt the spiral.

If you need a longer pause, find practices that sustain you. Worship. Prayer. Exercise where breath and body reconnect. These are not luxuries. They are lifelines. Maybe check out a yoga class tomorrow at 6 p.m. in Fellowship Hall with the wise and loving Jennifer Smith.

Finally, daily spiritual disciplines. God is love. To know love is to know God. So practice noticing it. Reflect on moments of love. Give thanks for people who have loved you into being.

This matters because many of us, myself included, have what I call a “Tetris brain.” We stack our mistakes and let the good moments disappear. Eventually everything piles up. So I bring that to God. I practice gratitude. I name the people who helped carry the day. And slowly, the pile shrinks.

Some days are better than others.

All of this to say: love with everything you have. And the second is like it: love your neighbor as yourself. We cultivate this fruit by loving ourselves, celebrating others, remembering that everyone belongs to God, choosing our responses wisely, and practicing daily awareness of love.

The world needs your harvest, and more of that crazy little thing called love. Amen.