It’s almost gardening season here in the Adirondacks. Almost, but not yet. Although the sun is shining on most days, those pesky May frosts will teach patience to any overly eager gardener. And as we practice waiting—while preparing both ourselves and the soil along the way—I am reminded of this:
You can’t force a plant to bear fruit on command. Not by yelling at it. Not by pruning it into submission. Not by standing over it with a spreadsheet and a deadline. Not with executive orders, memos, or discipline committees. Yet, still, we try—and I’m not talking about plants.
We try in relationships, in institutions, in churches. We build systems—both external and internal—with rules and data, metrics and punishments. We tell ourselves that if the authoritative pressure is heavy enough, the outcome will be good. Once we get control of the soil, the conditions, the plant… maybe then we can manufacture something of value. But fruit doesn’t grow like that. Not real fruit. Not the kind Paul spoke of:
“The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control…” —Galatians 5:22–23
Paul didn’t write those words as a motivational list. He wasn’t coaching behavior. He was naming the visible evidence of a life well-grounded and faithfully lived. The signs of an invisible rootedness. The abundance of a life not bound by the way of law—whether religious, cultural, or political.
Paul knew something we tend to forget: you can’t cultivate Spirit-fruit in empire-type soil. Not then. Not now. It just won’t work. And when we try…we end up with something more bitter than Spirit-fruit.
Empires—whether Babylon or America—run on a different kind of law than the one Paul was talking about. They run on law rooted in fear, competition, and control. It doesn’t matter if that empire is Rome, the American consumer rat race, an oppressive religious or militant regime, or the co-opted-faith-based-entertainment-machine we often call church.
And empire isn’t just “out there.” It gets inside us. It is both the soil we operate in—and the nutrients of our life…and it is the antithesis of the Spirit. The way of empire always demands and requires. Empire produces pressure, not patience. Focuses on appearance, not gentleness. Judgment, not hospitality. Disgust, not regard. Compliance, not joy. Control, not freedom.
So when we don’t see the fruit of the Spirit in our lives, we might be asking the wrong questions. We often ask: How can I do more? Be better? Try harder?
But Paul might ask something simpler: What power are you presently living under and practicing? Because the Fruit is not the problem. It’s usually the impatient gardener.
Today, I invite you to notice the condition of your spirit. What power is working in you… and through you? Are you fluent in shame? Do you easily see the wrongs of others, but rarely your own? Are you driven by judgment? Do you see yourself as good and right—and others as broken, misguided, even disgusting? Are you tuned to fear? Do you worry about losing some previous “way of life” or “sense of order,” and feel a need to control things to keep it all from slipping away?
Then maybe the absence of Fruit in your life isn’t failure. Maybe it’s wisdom of the Plant…a Spirit-refusal to bloom under the wrong sun or out of season. Because the fruit of the Spirit doesn’t grow until it’s ready. It will not respond to coercion. It cannot grow in the season of fear. It does not serve empire—or answer to its ways.
The Spirit grows where great patience reigns. Where Love is the soil, not the reward. Where joy is unscripted, not scheduled. There’s a wildness to this fruit that no system can replicate. No program can manufacture it. No policy can contain it. And no act of judgment or condemnation can produce it.
It’s the fruit of another kingdom. A truer law and way. One that doesn’t require you to first behave—but invites you to first belong. To root yourself in the soil where Love really lives.
So if you’re tired of trying to force the fruit—maybe it’s time to stop. Maybe it’s time to ask: Am I willing to leave the empire ways behind… for something more holy and free?
Because the frost will soon pass. The ground will soften. The soil will wake up. Right where you are. Where I am. Right here. Even in Adirondack dirt.
Shane Ash 