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On a summer evening forty years ago, the choir and congregation of Thomas Coats Memorial Church, Paisley, sang a Seventeenth Century hymn by George Herbert. The sun slanted through the lightly tinted stain glass windows, falling across the chancel. Old oak choir stalls and angels glowed in mellow golds of shafted sunlight. The Hill organ was played by Derek Norval who also conducted the choir. The word magical is too easy and lazy to describe those few minutes of heavenly music – mystical, mysterious, glorious – or perhaps gracious, in the theologically charged sense of full of grace, or as a personal experience, touched by grace.

Here are the words of the hymn we sang:

1 Let all the world in every corner sing:
My God and King!
The heavens are not too high,
His praise may thither fly;
The earth is not too low,
His praises there may grow.
Let all the world in every corner sing:
My God and King!

2 Let all the world in every corner sing:
My God and King!
The church with psalms must shout,
No door can keep them out;
But, more than all, the heart
Must bear the largest part.
Let all the world in every corner sing:
My God and King!

Praise is a recurring theme and a repeated exhortation woven within and throughout The Temple, Herbert's collection of poems. The two line refrain is both urgent and expansive. Leaving aside the advancing knowledge of cosmology from Galileo's telescope onwards, Herbert's invitation to praise and worship goes out to all four corners of the globe. And the four word acclamation, "My God and King",  is the distilled theology of the Psalms. The repeated refrain injects into the text "the steady massiveness of a group collectively affirming a premeditated truth." ¹

The first verse acknowledges a two dimensional way of seeing the world and the cosmos, the heavens and the earth, above and below. The second verse is similarly bi-focal, the church and the heart, the congregation and the individual, the liturgical and the personal. Together they gather the diversities of human experience and earthly existence into the choral praise of creation and humanity; it is creation praise in a cosmic nutshell -"Let all the world in every corner sing: My God and King."

As often in Herbert's poems, the psalter provides the poet with vocabulary for praise. "The church with psalms must shout!" That surprising word 'shout' recalls familiar exhortations: "Let us make a joyful noise…let us come into his presence with thanksgiving, let us make a joyful noise to him with songs of praise." (Psalm 95.1-2; cf. Ps 100) As one of Herbert's more recent editors notes with reference to the word 'shout' as used by Herbert, he probably had in mind memories of "the inelegant sound of a rustic congregation bellowing the metrical psalms in the barbarous Sternhold and Hopkins translation often included in copies of the Book of Common Prayer." ²

The wings of praise enable all voices to fly joyfully upwards and towards God, while the praises of earth and soil and all creation, accompanied by human voices, grow upwards. This is an interesting view of praise as a spiritual discipline that in its practice and exuberance, encourages and fertilises spiritual growth. Not only so. Praise is made imperative in verse 2, "The church with psalms must shout." Praise is the beating heart of a Christian community, a sign of communal cardiac health in relation to God. The doors can be closed but the music will be heard anyway, praise will ascend, a joyful noise will be made. The peace of God may well pass all understanding, but in heaven praise is always a welcome interruption!

But then again, not only so. It is the heart that must sustain the music, and creates and carries the energy and devotion that vitalises and renders worthy of God "the joyful noise of praise and thanksgiving." All the world, every corner, heaven and earth, each church and every heart, a full orchestration of creation praise making symphony to the one who is "My God and King."

But the Church's praise must include the communal and the personal, chorus and solo. And the solo part is the 'larger part', demanding of skill and effort, and the ability to sustain the music. And just in case the soloist forgets their place, Bloch is right in his reminder: "Antiphon 1 tells us that the heart does not sing solo; its song is always heard against a chorus of many voices."⁴

"Let all the world in every corner sing:

My God and King!

These were the words we sang on a June evening 40 years ago, with a robed choir, a Hill organ, a small but engaged congregation, in a large nonconformist replica cathedral with magnificent acoustics, in fading sunlight softening towards evening. George Herbert would have loved it!   

1. Nicholas Jones, "Text and Context: Two Languages in George Herbert's Poetry, Studies in Philology, Vol. 79.2, 1982, p.166.
2. ^{George Herbert. The Complete Poetry. John Drury, Penguin Classics. 2015. page 393.}
3. The photo above is the architect's own drawing of the church as it was conceived and subsequently built. His name was Hippolyte Blanc. 
4. Chana Bloch, George Herbert and the Spelling of the Word. University of California Press, 1985. p.245. 

The first words Jesus spoke to his disciples after the resurrection were “Peace be with you.” He spoke them to a group of folk hiding behind locked doors. They were struggling to make sense of their grief, and cope with bewilderment and anxiety about what happens now.

“Peace be with you.” They were the right words to hear when the heart is a mess and the mind can’t function clearly. We’ve all been there; feeling shut in, wondering how to move forward, and losing confidence in ourselves.

In John’s Gospel tells us the disciples were together, “and the doors were locked, but Jesus came and stood amongst them.” Grief does that – closes doors, puts us on the defensive against further hurt, and often drains our confidence in life.

“The doors were locked but Jesus came to them.” That’s a description of what God is like, the one who can’t be shut out even when we are shut in. “Peace be with you.” These are words worth considering, at those times when life comes apart in our hands. And just to be clear, these are words of benediction; Jesus conveys the blessing he speaks.

“Peace be with you”, is the prayer of the risen Jesus who has come through death to new life. He now comes looking for those hiding behind closed doors, alone and struggling with the messiness of their lives.

That can be any of us. Peace is a rich word filled with such meanings as trust, purpose, healing of heart, confidence in life, a sense of being held by a strength more than our own. This coming week, hear these words: “Peace be with you.”

……………………

This piece was first published in the Aberdeen Press and Journal, as The Saturday Sermon, on April 20th 2024. I've done this every 6 weeks or so since 1992! It is an exercise, or at least an attempt, at what John Calvin called 'lucid brevity'. In other words, the word limit is 275 words in which to say something that is meaningful, helpful and worth a readers time to read.

There's an important discipline in word limits. In the 1980's, when technology was much more basic, I was minister in a church in Paisley which had a telephone ministry. The machine recorded exactly two minutes which included time for it to kick in and sign off, to introduce myself, and then say something meaningful in 1 minute and 40 seconds. There was no edit facility, the first take was what callers heard when they dialled the number. 

All kinds of people used this ministry. We often had letters and cards of appreciation from folk struggling at home, calling from hospital, or who regularly listened for encouragement. The two minute sermon was renewed several times a week, so ideas and ways of saying them briefly and effectively slowly developed an instinct for what was essential to include and what was waffle!

Who knows the impact of words, spoken or written. With the Saturday Sermon there is a place where what is written can make a difference to how people think of themselves, see the world, and think about the life they are living. It's a privileged place in which to share with fellow travellers whatever wisdom and humane experience God has given. Not many newspapers have such a long tradition of including spiritual encouragement for their readers. 

 

Bookplate designed for me by Ian Smith, in 1976, when leaving College. Ian has illustrated various books over the years, and the simple lines convey depth, humour and the smiling compassion of the man himself. 

Monday

John 21.2-3 “Peter, Thomas, Nathanael, the sons of Zebedee, and two other disciples were together. “I’m going out to fish,” Peter told them, and they said, “We’ll go with you.” So they went out and got into the boat, but that night they caught nothing!”

Peter knew about fishing. In a world that had become unfamiliar and where he felt powerless, he went back to what he knew and could control. Distraction, doing the routine things you know best, being in supportive company. But even this seemed to be gone. “That night they caught nothing.” We know this story well – this is the opening scene of one of the great stories of friendship, forgiveness, love and a new beginning. What a friend we have in Jesus! Peter was about to discover this.

Tuesday

John 21.4-6 “Early in the morning, Jesus stood on the shore, but the disciples did not realize that it was Jesus. He called out to them, “Friends, haven’t you any fish?” “No,” they answered. He said, “Throw your net on the right side of the boat and you will find some.” When they did, they were unable to haul the net in because of the large number of fish.

This isn’t the carpenter teaching fishermen. This is a sign that the stranger on the shore is no stranger! Water into wine, food for 5,000, walking on storm-lashed seas – and now more fish than they can catch! It can only be Jesus, in whose presence miracles happen, doors and hearts open, and life begins again. Try listening to Acker Bilk playing ‘Stranger on the Shore’ while reading John 21.1-14! It’s a brilliant combination of eye-opening truth and gentle summons to friendship with Jesus.

Wednesday

John 21.7-9 “Then the disciple whom Jesus loved said to Peter, “It is the Lord!” As soon as Simon Peter heard him say, “It is the Lord,” he wrapped his outer garment around him (for he had taken it off) and jumped into the water… When they landed, they saw a fire of burning coals there with fish on it, and some bread.”

Two details. Peter clothed himself and then jumped into the water. He wasn’t going to meet the Lord stripped for work – and he was leaving his boat behind again!  The other detail to note is the charcoal fire. The other time Peter stood near a charcoal fire for comfort he denied he ever knew Jesus. (John 18.18) Now he was going to meet the one he disowned around another fire. In the place of his biggest failure he would be forgiven – but only after facing the one question that matters for all who follow Jesus, fail, and want to begin again.

Thursday

John 21.10-11 Jesus said to them, “Bring some of the fish you have just caught.” Peter climbed aboard and dragged the net ashore. It was full of large fish, 153, but even with so many the net was not torn. Jesus said, “Come and have breakfast.”

Why 153? Ancient writers thought there were 153 species of fish, so this might be John’s way of saying that those who are “fishers of men” will gather disciples from all nations. Or maybe 153 was simply the total caught! It’s the invitation that matters in this story. Hungry people are invited to eat in Jesus’ company. But an invitation to share food is also an offer of hospitality and friendship, to people who weren’t sure of their welcome. But the net of Jesus love is tear-proof, and draws them in!

Friday

John 21.12-13 Jesus said to them, “Come and have breakfast.” None of the disciples dared ask him, “Who are you?” They knew it was the Lord. Jesus came, took the bread and gave it to them, and did the same with the fish.

You can just see them, embarrassed, eyes down, everyone trying hard not to be the first to speak. All through the story Jesus makes things happen, does what needs doing. He is the cook, the host and the server. Around a charcoal fire, in the early morning, after a night of failure, they are served with food by the one who said, “I will not leave you desolate, I will come to you.” What a friend we have in Jesus!

Saturday

John 21.15 When they had finished eating, Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?” “Yes, Lord,” he said, “you know that I love you.” Jesus said, “Feed my lambs.”

You know the story. Three times the same question, “Peter, do you love me?” Three times Peter denied Jesus, three times he gets the chance to repent of those fear filled disclaimers. Each time Peter insists on the truth of his “Yes”. Until he says what we all say, what we all know, “Lord, you know all things, you know that I love you.”

Sunday

1 John 3.20 And this is how we set our hearts at rest in his presence whenever our hearts condemn us. For God is greater than our hearts, and he knows everything.

Peter discovers failure is not final. The key question always is our answer to Jesus’ question: “Do you love me? More than these? Really?” Faith is about trust, but it is also about love. Jesus calls us to love and trust him, to know the love of God revealed to us at the deepest places of our need. For God is greater than our hearts.

Preaching recently on Romans 8.1-11, about being set free through Christ and by the law of the Spirit of life, I prepared a prayer in which together we give thanks for the love of God in Jesus Christ.

What does it mean that a Christian lives in a world like ours, knowing the eternal and inexhaustible love of God? It means trusting the love of the crucified and risen Lord, and acknowledging our human weakness and dependence on the presence and grace of God in Christ.

What kind of prayer at least begins to give words to an incalculable debt cancelled at infinite cost? And what is it we give thanks for, and to whom? 

This prayer is intentionally offered in words weighted with gratitude, spoken with hushed wonder, and offered as worship which is the fusion of love for God and a life of obedience in the service of Christ, 'The Son of God who loved me and gave himself for me.

 

Prayer of Thanksgiving for the Love of Christ, with Response: 

Into our world of darkness came Jesus, the Light of the world

Thanks be to God for Jesus, God's wonderful gift,

The Son of God who loved me, and gave himself for me.

 

To hearts that are hungry comes Jesus, the Bread of Life.

Thanks be to God for Jesus, God's wonderful gift,

The Son of God who loved me, and gave himself for me.

 

To those who are anxious and afraid, comes Jesus the Good Shepherd

Thanks be to God for Jesus, God's wonderful gift,

The Son of God who loved me, and gave himself for me.

 

To those who feel life is going nowhere, comes Jesus the Way, the Truth and the Life

Thanks be to God for Jesus, God's wonderful gift,

The Son of God who loved me, and gave himself for me.

 

To those who are thirsty for truth and new purpose in life, comes Jesus the Living Water.

Thanks be to God for Jesus, God's wonderful gift,

The Son of God who loved me, and gave himself for me.

 

To those afraid of life, losing hope, struggling to hold things together, comes Jesus the Resurrection and the Life

Thanks be to God for Jesus, God's wonderful gift,

The Son of God who loved me, and gave himself for me.

Lord Jesus Christ, our Saviour, receive the gratitude and prayer of our hearts.

Spirit of life and freedom, give us the energy to live for you in the freedom and joy of Christ.

Creator God, send us out into this God-loved world to be channels of your love, agents of your compassion, and conduits of your peace.

Amen

 I know. We all have our particular interests. So allow me to mention how happy I was to find that James Denney's battered old commentary is still on the shelves in Aberdeen University library.

Old commentaries are not obsolete because they are old. It depends on the writer and the type of commentary. Denney's Thessalonians is his series of preached sermons at Broughty Ferry Free Church, published in 1899 with minimal alteration.

Denney's sermon manuscripts are written in small neat writing, usually 5-7 pages, and almost never a correction evident. Preaching to his congregation about God's love and Christian love he told them, and reading the minute books during my research, I learned that the good people of the church needed to be told!:

"We love because he first loved us. In whatever degree love exists in us, God is its source; it is like a faint pulse, every separate beat of which tells of the throbbing of the heart; and it is only as God imparts his Spirit to us more fully that our capacity for loving deepens and expands. When that Spirit springs up within us, an inexhaustible fountain, then rivers of living water, streams of love, will overflow on all around. For God is love, and he who dwells in love dwells in God, and God in him."

Now, yes, I will want Weima's commentary for solid and at times quite inspiring exegesis of the Greek text. F F Bruce is always still worth reading on the Thessalonians, and Gordon Fee is also within reach. But for sheer pastoral passion and homiletical force, Denney holds the floor, and deserves still to be consulted as an exemplar of pastoral theology in the service of a believing community. Oh, and by the way, as a believing critic, Denney was fully in control of New Testament critical scholarship and immersed in the New Testament text and history, and as learned in German criticism as his contemporary P. T. Forsyth – together two of Scotland's finest exponents of a theology of the cross.

Anyway, great to see his sermons to a suburban Free Church congregation, alongside the more mainstream volumes more usually found on the shelves of a University library

Monday

John 20.24. “Now Thomas (also known as Didymus), one of the Twelve, was not with the disciples when Jesus came.  So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord!”

We don’t know why Thomas wasn’t with the others when Jesus appeared to the disciples. He was one of the first outside the inner circle to be told Jesus was risen, but not to have seen Jesus himself. What the disciples said to Thomas has always been the core truth of Christian witness. “We have seen the Lord.” Crucified and buried, and now risen, Jesus is the living presence of God, The resurrection is the evidence that God keeps his promises, and they are all fulfilled in Jesus, God’s Yes!

Tuesday

John 20.25 “But Thomas said to them, “Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.”

Forget the dismissive nickname ‘doubting Thomas’. Grief carries a powerful payload of broken hopes. This strong minded, passionate man was working through loss of his life’s centre, not helped by claims that Jesus wasn’t really dead. He insists on evidence of sight and touch. Faith is not, and cannot be, a way of evading the searing realities of human loss, aching sorrow, and the hard facts of life. Thomas insists on seeing and meeting Jesus. Thomas’s persistence shows us that faith is born in a living relationship with Jesus. He too needs to hear God’s Yes, and in the presence of Jesus.

Wednesday

John 20.26 “A week later his disciples were in the house again and Thomas was with them. Though the doors were locked Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.”

For Thomas, a week is a long time of not knowing. But he’s back with his friends, and Jesus comes to be with them. For the second time we are told the doors were locked (19&26). Grief does that, locks the doors in a defensive move to give our mind and heart time to come to terms with things. But the risen Lord is not deterred or excluded by doors of fear and defensive mistrust. He stands amongst us and speaks the blessing, “Peace be with you.” These are powerful words of purposeful love. He is not here to rebuke unbelief, or mock their fear, but to heal hearts and restore trust.

Thursday

John 20.27-28 “Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe.” Thomas said to him, “My Lord and my God!”

The best commentary on these two verses is 1 John 1.1-4. Read them, as Thomas’s testimony. They are written on the other side of doubt, as the shared experience of those who found in their grief, loss and buried hopes that the Word of life came to them, risen and present, always and everywhere. For Thomas, though his doors were closed, Jesus came and stood beside him. Faith is the recognition of this One who knows us deeply, completely and lovingly: Our response? “My Lord and my God.”

Friday

John 20.29 “Then Jesus told him, “Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.”

These are forward-looking words. And they include us. True, we have not seen Jesus the way the first disciples did. Our faith comes from the Spirit of God opening our eyes to see the truth of who Jesus is, and what God has done through the death and resurrection of the Son of God. Faith is not some kind of worked up credulity, it is the gift of God, the movement of the Spirit opening our eyes to the Light of the World, and opening our hearts to the God who so loved the world that he gave his only Son.

Saturday

John 20.30-31 “Jesus performed many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not recorded in this book.  But these are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name.”

Peter, the Beloved Disciple, Mary, Thomas – people like us, confronted by events we can only imagine. Peter too scared to go into the tomb, John (who I think is the Beloved Disciple) whose love overcame his fear, Mary blinded by tears, Thomas blinded by grief. One way or another we have all been in those scary places where faith seems to desert us – and in our sense of abandonment the Risen Lord comes to us “that we may have life in his name.”

Sunday

1 John 1.1-5  “That which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we have looked at and our hands have touched—this we proclaim concerning the Word of life. The life appeared; we have seen it and testify to it, and we proclaim to you the eternal life, which was with the Father and has appeared to us.  We proclaim to you what we have seen and heard, so that you also may have fellowship with us. And our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son, Jesus Christ.  We write this to make our joy complete.”

Forty or fifty years after Jesus’ death and resurrection, this letter was written by John. Looking back in wonder at something the world had never seen before and which changes forever the way the world is. John insists, “We have seen with our eyes”, and “this we proclaim concerning the Word of life.” Our joy is complete!

At a difficult time I wrote out in thread the Hebrew script for 'Shalom'. It is a beautiful word, gathering into itself a rich cluster of other words – welfare, well-being, peace, harmony, health, contentment, security, goodwill. It presupposes friendship, or the wish for friendship, based on trust and sustained by faithfulness.

I often finish an email with my own version, "Shalom the noo!"

This morning the news brings this word back to mind, as a prayer, as a word repeated in the presence of God as intercession, in a world where intercession between nations seems to have failed and to fail again and again.

When I finished the script for Shalom I had no idea what would provide the background. Until I read again Isaiah 35, which has long been a passage that is itself stitched into my way of thinking. It's hopefulness and sense of purposes beyond our own, and a power beyond the political powers that shape so much of our world. The promise of streams in the desert, crocuses in blossom in the desert, and a path, indeed a motorway to travel towards shalom.

So that's what I stitched, a river, the first crocuses, a wilderness with 'recovered greenesse', and right at the heart of it those lovely Hebrew letters formed to spell out 'Shalom.'

So we pray for the peace of the nations, and if words are hard to find, offer the word 'Shalom', the desire of the heart for all that the word contains to grow into reality in our own times

I've never bought into the easy, and quite lazy, naming and shaming of the apostle Thomas as 'doubting Thomas.' He's the disciple who argued they should all go to Jerusalem and die with him. For whatever reason he wasn't with the gathered disciples when Jesus first came, stood amongst them, said 'Peace be with you', and proved he was alive.

When Thomas said he wouldn't believe till he saw and touched Jesus, he was asking for no more than had already been given to the others. Incidentally, Thomas didn't say he needed to hear Jesus, though it was hearing, not seeing that opened Mary's eyes. 

I think the clue to understanding the resurrection stories in John lies in the imagination applied to the text, and demands of us far more psychological understanding than we usually bring to our interpretations of what happened. Centre, front and inescapably there, in the consciousness of all those who loved and followed Jesus is the combination of shock, grief and loss.

Peter couldn't face going into the tomb. If Jesus was still there and dead he didn't want to see him. If Jesus was indeed risen then Peter wasn't ready to meet him. The Beloved Disciple did go in, saw Jesus wasn't there and believed – but he still had no evidence and Jesus was elsewhere. Mary simply thought Jesus body was stolen. It's not only tears that blur her vision; grief closes down her perceptions, the defensive inner denials that are grief at its most raw. Until Jesus spoke her name.

Then there is Thomas. Passionate, courageous, intelligent and realistic Thomas, not to be taken in by the wishful thinking of others. What is telling about John's telling of the story is that Thomas who had demanded to see, and touch and invasively poke the wounds of Jesus, did none of these things when the time came. Jesus invited Thomas to touch the evidence, but Thomas is far ahead of such needs for proof. His confession, "My Lord, and my God." are the crowning words of faith in the entire Gospel and of John's art as a storyteller of the Gospel. 

The Gospel of John starts with "In the beginning was the Word", the creative, light-shining, life-giving Word. And Thomas saw that Light of Life.  "And the Word became flesh and dwelt amongst us, full of grace and truth," and Thomas was persuaded and won by that same grace and truth. Throughout John there are signs of Jesus as the Word of God, water into wine, the feast of the 5,000, the raising of Lazarus, and now Thomas was seeing in the risen Jesus the new wine, the bread of life, and the resurrection as promised.

The words of the Word, and the signs of the Son of God, are concentrated and connected to this One who stands this side of resurrection and says, "Peace be with you." John draws us, his readers, into and through the story, to this point, when finally and fully Jesus is addressed in the fullness of his deity, "My Lord and my God." That is the cry of recognition from hearts that believe the deep truths that intersect in the story of the light that shines in the darkness, and the darkness doesn't get it, cannot extinguish it, and recedes before the Light of the world.

Painting is by Fra Angelico, Mary Magdalene and Jesus. 'Noli me tangere'. 

 

"The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control." (Galatians 5.22-23)

I've read those words hundreds of times, it might be thousands. Most times I've prayed them as I read them. Often, too often, they have been prayers of confession that whatever fruit there might be is unripe, maybe even unformed.

And yet. Such a description of moral formation and character construction was never meant to be an exam paper, a set of criteria with which to demonstrate our failures and supplement our existing feelings of guilt and shame.

As with everything else in Christian experience, the fruit of the Spirit is sown in grace and harvested in the life of those who are in Christ, who live by the Spirit, and whose first confession is of grateful praise for the love of God in Christ. 

Paul's letter to the Galatians is a charter for Christian freedom. The heart cry of Paul to these new Christians is "For freedom Christ has set you free…for you were called to freedom."(5.1,13). Paul is not guilt-making or using shame as a lever when he lists the fruit of the Spirit. Like the good pastor he is, he is encouraging the Galatians to stand firm in their freedom in Christ, and to trust the work of the Holy Spirit to weave the strands of Christ-likeness into the tapestry of their character.

The fruits of the Spirit are listed in contrast to 'the works of the flesh'; and that list is much longer, describing the attitudes and actions that threaten every possibility of community. What makes the difference in Christian character is the great reversal, the freedom from works of the flesh, the call of freedom to a life lived in Christ, and the promise of the fruitfulness of life in the Spirit, in the community of Christ, and in our witness to the world.

In what I've always thought of as the pivotal verse in Galatians, Paul describes our existence in Christ as cruciform in shape, enlivened by faith in the risen Christ and in Christ's faithfulness: "I have been crucified with Christ, and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God who loved me and gave himself for me." (2.20)

The fruit of the Spirit displays the character of Christ crucified and risen, as his life is lived in us and through us by the power of the Spirit. In Romans 5 Paul says exactly how and why this is so: "Hope does not disappoint us, for God's love has been shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Spirit. (Romans 5.5)

The last thing Paul intends by listing the fruit of the Spirit is that those moral dispositions should be a further check-list of our failures. They are to be looked for as the natural outcome of God's gifting grace, Christ's reconciling love, the Spirit's liberative power. 

Instead of seeing the fruit of the Spirit as mere aspiration, what we'd like to be but never will, or even worse, as a hit list of our chronic failures, take to heart Paul's advice to another group of Christians whose behaviour was at times far from exhibiting the fruit of the Spirit: "He who began a good work in you will bring it to completion until the day of Jesus Christ." (Philippians 1.6)

We are called to live into the freedom of Christ, to walk and live in the surrounding environment of the Holy Spirit. Crucified with Christ, and living by faith in the faithfulness of Christ, knowing that the Son of God loves us and gave himself for us, we live in Christ and Christ in us, and the fruit will appear.