Thoughts From an Immature Believer

I recently read an Instagram post about the parable of the wheat and the tares. The author framed it as two paths Christians must choose between in order to bring God glory. One path was described as boldly speaking God’s truth regardless of consequences. The other was characterized as silence—teaching that calling out sin is unloving and therefore should be avoided. The first path was labeled “the wheat,” the second “the tares.”

What troubled me wasn’t the call to faithfulness to God’s truth. It was the spirit behind how easily we seem to label one another.

It genuinely hurts my heart to see how quickly many of us slip into contempt for sinners—sometimes for those outside the faith, but often for those inside it. We convince ourselves that loudly opposing what God calls wrong is always righteousness, even when it’s done without love, humility, or self-examination.

For context, I’m writing this as someone who is currently in a season of loving discipline. Old pain I thought I had dealt with resurfaced, and I ran as far from Jesus as I possibly could. Yet He did what He always does—He left the ninety-nine and came after the one. Again.

Jesus is absolutely about correction. He is the Word of God, and His Word corrects us. I am deeply grateful for that correction, because I misunderstand and misapply Scripture more often than I care to admit. Jesus also teaches that those who follow Him will bear fruit, and that we are to exercise discernment—righteous judgment—by examining that fruit.

But I want to suggest, carefully, that we may often misunderstand what fruit actually looks like.

If we lived in Jesus’ time, many of us would likely have pointed to the Pharisees as examples of spiritual maturity. They were disciplined, knowledgeable, morally serious, and visibly devoted to God. By outward standards, their fruit looked impressive. Yet when we read the Gospels, we see that Jesus reserved His harshest rebukes for them.

Why?

Because beneath their religious performance was pride, contempt, and a lack of love.

As humans—especially religious humans—we have an unsettling ability to use our moral convictions to place ourselves above others. We begin to see their failures as proof of our superiority. Sometimes we even feel justified in calling them “tares,” confident that Jesus would never tolerate such hypocrisy in those who truly seek Him.

But is it possible we’re wrong?

Not just theoretically wrong—but deeply, dangerously wrong?

The fruits of the Spirit are love, joy, peace, patience (or forbearance), kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. These are not optional accessories to Christian faith; they are its evidence. When we follow Christ, these qualities should increasingly mark our lives.

The Pharisees, for all their zeal, did not display these fruits. That is how we know they were not aligned with God’s heart. Yet they were utterly convinced they were right. Even Jesus Himself confronted them directly, and they remained unreceptive.

That should give us pause.

When we correct our own lives, these fruits must be present. When we speak into the lives of others, they matter even more. If we find ourselves mocking, dismissing, or publicly shaming people who claim the name of Christ—especially when their failures are obvious—then we should first take a long, honest look at our own fruit.

Are we actually reflecting Christ?

Because if not, we may find ourselves on the receiving end of His discipline—and it would be deserved.

Take gentleness, for example. Of all the fruits of the Spirit, it may be one of the least practiced and most misunderstood. Gentleness is not weakness. It is strength under control, modeled perfectly by Jesus Himself.

Scripture repeatedly emphasizes this:

• “A gentle answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger” (Proverbs 15:1).

• “Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near” (Philippians 4:5).

• “Clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience” (Colossians 3:12).

• “Be peaceable and considerate, and always be gentle toward everyone” (Titus 3:2).

• “I am gentle and humble in heart” (Matthew 11:29).

• “Give an answer for the hope you have, but do this with gentleness and respect” (1 Peter 3:15).

• “The Lord’s servant must not be quarrelsome but must be kind to everyone” (2 Timothy 2:24).

Yes, I’m fully aware that Jesus flipped tables and drove people out of the temple with a whip—one He intentionally took time to make. That moment mattered. He was confronting exploitation, corruption, and abuse happening in His Father’s house. His anger was protective, not performative. And praise God, He still confronts systems and leaders who harm His people.

But that moment should not be used as permission for everyday cruelty.

Right now, Scripture tells us we are still waiting for the full number of the Gentiles to come in. If that’s true—and I believe it is—then perhaps our time is better spent loving people into the Kingdom rather than trying to identify and uproot the “fakes.” God is fully capable of sorting wheat from tares without our hostility.

To be clear, this reflection is about followers of Christ speaking to one another—not about leaders in positions of power who abuse their authority. Scripture is clear that such leaders should be confronted publicly, and God will deal with their hearts.

What I long to see is a Church that looks like a family: a body committed to edification, sanctification, and loving discipline. A people who fight together—not against each other—so that every member feels supported in their calling. A Church that holds one another accountable in love, not pride, and that actively removes the stumbling blocks that tempt us away from Christ.

Truth matters. Holiness matters. But so does how we carry them.

And if our defense of righteousness costs us love, we may want to ask whether we are defending Christ—or merely ourselves.

An excellent blog post on the Fruits of the Spirit Stop Trying to Grow Fruit