But Where Is Your Fruit, Child?

"But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, long-suffering, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control." (Galatians 5:22)

The other day, I was perusing one of those social sites and landed on the profile of a young man I once knew from our church in Georgia. He's now a college graduate, setting foot outside the confines of school and making his way in life.

Gazing over his profile, I noticed that he had the quote, "I can do all things through Christ, who strengthens me."

Directly below the quote was a reference to pornography. The quotes began to get worse (and much more embarrassing) the further down I read. After looking at his pictures, I began to wonder what went wrong in his life. The dichotomy between the biblical quote and the pornography quote was striking.

And then it occurred to me, so many professing Christians are not Christians at all.

Where are the fruits that are proof-positive that one has turned from sin and the Holy Spirit has taken up residence in one's heart? Where is the change?

I spent years wondering if I was indeed saved. I believed in God. I went to church every Wednesday night and every Sunday morning. But something just wasn't right. It seemed like I was two people; one who said she loved God and the other who acted and spoke as if she did not know God at all. How can that be?

I thought back to that hot, muggy day in Georgia when at 13, I made my way down to the makeshift altar at bible camp and said the Sinner's Prayer. And then it hit me; the Sinner's Prayer was the problem!

We've all heard it. Many of us have actually uttered it after a well-meaning pastor or traveling preacher spoke it for us to repeat.

It would hold for awhile, but since there was no genuine conversion, the sinner's prayer would fall further and further from our memories as we fell further and further into the very sin we were supposed to hate.

Fruits of the Spirit then would not be made manifest because the sinner is not saved. This explains why so many professing Christians are so carnal in their behavior and why they continually find themselves on the wrong side of grace.

How could I claim to be a Christian when my focus in life was on everything but God? I didn't read the bible I carried on Sunday mornings, nor did I read it while I was working with the young people at church. We were too busy trying to have fun instead of trying to lead others to Christ.

But the fruit! Where was the fruit? Was I compassionate? Did I shun gossip? (No.) Was I kind? Was I faithful? Did I practice self-control? Was I good?

I can honestly say that no, I was very clearly not who I portrayed myself to be and when I was confronted by a holy and just God, I found out very quickly that I was nowhere near being saved. In fact, I was on the wide road and approaching the wide gate.

Confronted by my sin, I forgot the sinner's prayer and instead, found myself face down on the floor and crying out to God to save me. I wanted to be saved from my sin, saved from hell, saved from me.

Repenting suddenly made sense. Suddenly understanding why Jesus died on the cross brought a fresh round of guilt and heartbreak.

I knew it was supposed to be me up there.

I remember that day. I'll always remember the day I was truly born again.

That's the day the worthless Sinner's Prayer died and when I began to notice the blooming flowers of joy, peace and kindness and could not wait to taste the delicious fruit they would become.


©Tara Floyd (Peachy)

The Fall Part I

June 28, 2011

Summer break. 

The Big Guy had just graduated and was learning the ways of the lazy and the Butterbean was mastering the art of staying up all night and sleeping all day.  I was enjoying sleeping in: until 10 am just about everyday!

This particular Tuesday I had lollygagged in dreamland until 10:30 and when I awoke, I quickly realized I needed to put the dogs out.  Grabbing my phone and a couple of plates off the nightstand, I started down the stairs only to be stopped at the landing by my two schnauzers, Sadie and Emma, enjoying a skirmish two steps further down.  

Shooing them down because I didn't want to fall, I stood there momentarily until both had turned the corner and tore off into the kitchen.

Then I took one step...and missed.

First off, I did not know I could bounce.  For future reference, I can bounce.

Secondly, with that first bounce, I fractured my T11 and T12 vertebrae; they are in my thoracic spine if you aren't aware of their location.  I didn't have a clue where my thoracic spine was.  Just think, "middle" and you're right.

By the time I made it down to the second to the last stair, bouncing all the way, which is clearly not like jingling all the way, I could barely breathe.  This made calling the Big Guy for help nearly impossible.

For a full two or three minutes I practiced Lamaze breathing for the pain.  Hee hee hee, hoo hoo hoo.  I would punctuate my hee hoos with a wail.  It added to the drama.

Finally, I was able to begin banging the wall and within moments a clearly panicked Big Guy appeared at my side, instantly whipped out his cell phone and called the paramedics.  In all my years, I never saw someone go from terrified to calm and concerned and clearly in charge.  And he did it in mere seconds.

When I attempted to move, he appeared in front of me and with a firm but gentle grasp to the shoulders he said, "Don't."

I didn't.

Within a couple of minutes, the paramedics arrived, assessed the situation, with a sideways glance to the broken plates scattered down the steps and on the floor, and placed a cervical collar around my neck.

I know it's for my safety, but it is also clearly a device of torture.  Especially when it's 105 outside and the ambulance meant to take me to the hospital dies in the driveway...