Where Is the Fruit?

This painting started out playful.
Bright colors. Juicy shapes. Fruit everywhere.

And then, halfway through painting it, I realized it was quietly asking me a much bigger question.

Where is the fruit?

Not on the paper—I can see that just fine.
But in my life.

Scripture tells us the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. Not gifts. Not talents. Fruit. Something that grows slowly. Something that takes time, care, weather, and pruning.

Fruit doesn’t show up because we try harder.
It shows up because we stay connected to the source.

As I painted each piece—strawberries dotted with seeds, blueberries clustered together, pears leaning, apples imperfectly shaped—I kept thinking about how fruit grows in real life. Quietly. Often unseen. Underground work before above-ground beauty. Long seasons where it looks like nothing is happening… until suddenly something ripens.

And it made me pause.

Where is the fruit in my life right now?

Is love showing up in the way I speak—to myself, to the people closest to me, to the ones who are hard to love?
Is joy present, not as a loud celebration, but as a steady undercurrent—even on ordinary or exhausting days?
Is peace something I carry into rooms, or something I’m still chasing after everyone else leaves?

What about patience—especially when things take longer than I want?
Kindness—when it costs me something?
Gentleness—when I’d rather be right?
Faithfulness—when no one is clapping?
Self-control—when no one would know if I didn’t?

Fruit is honest like that.
It tells the truth.

And here’s the part that really stayed with me:
Fruit isn’t just for the tree.

Fruit is for the people who come near.

Others taste it before we ever do.

It sustains those we love.

The fruit in our lives feeds our families, our friends, the strangers who brush up against us on hard days. It nourishes without announcing itself. It blesses without needing credit. It simply offers what it has because that’s what fruit does.

So I started asking another question.

Where is the fruit in the lives of those around me?

Who carries peace so naturally that I breathe easier when I’m near them?
Who models kindness in small, unnoticed ways?
Who is steady and faithful when life feels anything but?

And maybe the most important question of all:

What kind of fruit am I offering right now?

Not perfection.
Not productivity.
Not performance.

Fruit.

This painting isn’t tidy or symmetrical. The fruit overlaps. The colors bleed. Some pieces feel ripe and bold, others softer and quieter. That feels right. Because spiritual fruit doesn’t grow evenly or all at once. Some seasons we’re strong in joy but weak in patience. Other seasons we’re faithful but tired. Growth isn’t linear—it’s layered.

And grace covers the gaps.

I don’t paint fruit because I think I’ve mastered any of this. I paint it because I’m learning. Because I’m paying attention. Because I want my life—like this page—to be full of evidence that something good is growing, even if it’s imperfect and still in process.

So today, I’m sitting with the question instead of rushing past it:

Where is the fruit?

And trusting that if I stay rooted, watered, open, and honest—
the fruit will come.

In its time.
In its color.
In its quiet, nourishing way.

Thank you for being part of this journey with me—for looking beyond the painting and into the heart behind it.