THE TREE IN FULL BLOOM

It was hard to write about the virtues and vices of Saul and David. I saw myself in many of the negatives and only a few of the positives. But to write about the character of Jesus, now that takes a whole other level of daring. He doesn’t present to us character as we are. That was the purpose of writing on Saul and David. Jesus Christ presents to us the character of what we may become.

So as you read this, please remember that I’m just doing my best. My presentation of Jesus as the blueprint for real human character will have deficiencies. I know this because I have flaws myself, and that extends to my writing. But I also feel compelled to write because we need a vision of what true Christian character should look like. That is my purpose: to display to you, as closely as I can, a view of Jesus’ character through the Blueprint of the Christian Character Tree. Perhaps this will even correct some misconceptions of who Jesus is and how that affects what we are to become. 

Sometimes, folks talk about Jesus like he’s just a motivational speaker with better one-liners. Others treat him as if he’s a spiritual insurance policy in sandals. But neither of those pictures comes close to who he really is. For us as born-again believers, Jesus Christ is our Lord, our Savior, our substitute, and our risen King. He didn’t just show up to hand out a few tips for better living or sprinkle some wisdom on our problems. He came to rescue sinners—through his life, his death on the cross, and his resurrection.

But here’s the thing: because he’s our Savior, Jesus also shows us what it means to be truly human. If you want to know what a whole, holy, and joyful human life looks like, don’t start with Plato, Jordan Peterson, Mel Robbins, or even your favorite preacher. Start with Jesus. He’s not just a good man—he’s the God-man.¹ That also makes him the smartest man. Dallas Willard wrote:

He is the smartest man who ever lived. He is now supervising the entire course of world history (Rev. 1:5) while simultaneously preparing the rest of the universe for our future role in it (John 14:2). He always has the best information on everything and certainly also on the things that matter most in human life.²

So my friends, when we look at his life on earth, we see what God intended for us all along.

This changes how we look at the Christian Character Tree we’ve been talking about. If you’re like me, your tree has seen better days. The soil gets a little polluted, the roots get tangled, and sometimes the trunk is wobblier than we’d like to admit. And the fruit? Well, let’s just say it’s not always ready for the produce aisle. But when we look at Jesus, his tree is the picture of health. His soil is pure, his roots go deep, his trunk is strong, and his limbs reach high. The sap flows freely, and the fruit is always the real thing. Jesus doesn’t just admire truth, goodness, and beauty—he is truth, goodness, and beauty in person. He didn’t just preach the Beatitudes; he lived them. He didn’t just talk about virtue; he put it into action—touching the untouchable, calling out the fakes, blessing children, and walking straight toward the cross.³

The Soil: Truth, Goodness, and Beauty in Person

At the very bottom of this tree is the soil—truth, goodness, and beauty. These aren’t just fancy ideas we hang on the wall of our minds. They’re rooted in God himself.⁴ When Jesus came, these big ideas weren’t just theories anymore. They showed up as a real person. As John says, “The Word became flesh and lived among us,... full of grace and truth ” (John 1:14, ESV).  Jesus never twisted the truth or used it as a weapon. He spoke it because he is the truth. He’s the only one who can honestly say, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life” (John 10:10, ESV) 

He is pure goodness, with not a hint of corruption. Jesus loves what is right, not because he’s trying to keep up appearances or earn a gold star. He’s never petty, never vindictive, never working an angle, and never stingy with his mercy. Even when he speaks hard truths, it’s never because he’s just fed up. When he calls someone out, it’s not for show. His passion is a holy love that refuses to settle for even half-truths. That’s why Jesus can be gentle with a hurting person and tough with a hypocrite, all in the same afternoon, and never be two-faced.⁵

And then there’s beauty. Not the kind that gets you a million followers or a product endorsement. Isaiah said Jesus didn’t have the kind of looks that would turn heads. He didn’t win people over with style. But spiritual beauty just shone from him. You see it in his mercy to the woman caught in adultery, in the way he welcomed children, in his meals with outsiders, in the towel he used to wash feet, and in his calm strength before his accusers. The cross, which looked ugly to the world, became the most beautiful moment in history because Jesus, the sinless Son of God, gave himself in love.⁶

The Roots: The Beatitudes as the hidden life of Jesus

We often treat the Beatitudes like a list of impossible goals, or possibly something you’d find stitched on a throw pillow from Hobby Lobby. But they’re much more than that. They’re the hidden roots of God’s kingdom. Before they ever describe us, they describe Jesus. He isn’t ‘poor in spirit’ because he’s lacking anything—he’s sinless. But in his human life, he depended completely on his Father. He never went off on his own or acted like independence was the same as maturity. Again and again, the Gospels show Jesus living in humble, joyful trust in what the Father wanted.

That kind of trust is the deep root of real spiritual life. Jesus is meek, but never a pushover. He’s merciful, but not soft. He’s pure in heart, not just putting on a show. He’s a real peacemaker, not someone who just pretends everything’s fine to keep the peace. He hungers and thirsts for righteousness, and he takes the heat for it all the way to the cross. For Jesus, the Beatitudes aren’t just nice ideas—they’re the climate of his heart.⁷

When we get this, we see how these roots draw up the supplements Peter lists in 2 Peter 1: virtue (moral excellence), knowledge, self-control, steadfastness, godliness, brotherly affection, and love (as a supplement, not the theological virtue discussed later). Peter didn’t just come up with these after too much coffee in the Seminary library. He learned them by watching Jesus up close. He saw virtue in Jesus’ choices, knowledge in his wisdom, and self-control in his discipline. He saw steadfastness under pressure, godliness in every day, brotherly affection for the disciples, and love that went all the way to the end. Peter’s list sounds like a man trying to describe the air he breathed for three years.⁸

The Trunk: The cardinal virtues fully integrated in Jesus

This is the part of the tree that does the heavy lifting. The trunk is made up of the cardinal virtues: prudence, justice, temperance, and fortitude. These are the main supports for life. The theological virtues—faith, hope, and love—reach up like big limbs and branches toward God. For us, these virtues can be a little shaky or out of balance. In Jesus, they all fit together perfectly.

Take prudence. It’s not being timid—it’s knowing what faithfulness looks like in the moment. Jesus had it in full. He knew when to speak and when to stay quiet. He could spot a trap a mile away and never got caught. He could read a room, see what was in someone’s heart, tell a story, give a warning, welcome a sinner, or walk away when it wasn’t the right time. He was never rash, never gullible, never swayed by the crowd, and never panicked. You couldn’t trick him into foolishness.⁹

Now look at justice. Jesus always gives God and people what they’re owed. He honors his Father and tells the truth about sin, even when it’s unpopular. He never flatters the powerful. He turned over tables in the temple because worship matters, and he called out hypocrisy because people matter. He noticed those that everyone else ignored: widows, the poor, the blind, the ashamed, and the unclean. He wasn’t just ‘nice’—he was truly righteous. That’s why he was a blessing to the vulnerable and a real threat to the phonies.¹⁰

Think about his temperance. Jesus wasn’t ruled by his appetites. Hunger didn’t control him in the wilderness. Popularity didn’t go to his head in Galilee, and power didn’t tempt him in Jerusalem. He enjoyed a good meal, but food, comfort, or approval never ran his life. He had authority without showing off, power without pushing people around, and freedom without losing control. If temperance is keeping your desires in check, Jesus is the only one who has always kept both hands on the wheel.¹¹

Then there’s fortitude. C. S. Lewis said courage is every virtue at the testing point. If that’s true, Jesus is courage itself. He wasn’t reckless or dramatic for the sake of it. He was steady. When truth called for it, he walked right into conflict and set his face toward Jerusalem. He faced misunderstanding, loneliness, betrayal, injustice, torture, and the cross. In Gethsemane, we see that real courage isn’t lack of pain—it’s obeying God even when it hurts. Jesus didn’t float to the cross on a cloud. He went there sweating blood, praying honestly, and standing firm to the end.¹²

The Limbs: The theological virtues fully realized in Jesus

Now for the theological virtues: faith, hope, and love. We need to be careful here. Jesus is the Son of God, so he isn’t a ‘believer’ just like we are. But as a real man, his life was distinguished by perfect trust in his Father. He prayed, he obeyed, he rested in the Father’s plan, and he gave himself over to God completely. His life shows us what faith looks like with no sin in the way.¹³

This is also where the ancient theological term kenosis really matters. Philippians tells us the Son "emptied himself"—ekenosen. This doesn't mean Jesus stopped being divine, shaved off his Godhood, or shoved his divine attributes into a locker somewhere outside of Bethlehem. It simply means he didn't exploit his equality with God for personal gain. He chose humility, taking on the form of a servant. He did this by adding humanity rather than subtracting deity, willingly accepting the messy realities of a human life: weakness, dependence, suffering, obedience, and relying on the Spirit for ministry. The incarnation wasn't some kind of divine method acting. Jesus wasn't pretending. He actually lived a human life exactly as it was designed to be lived: fully yielded to God, entirely empowered by the Spirit, and obedient all the way down. This is precisely why he is both our substitute and our ultimate pattern.¹⁴

Hope stands out in Jesus, too. In the Bible, hope isn’t just wishful thinking or a forced church smile. It’s a solid confidence in what God has promised. Jesus lived with that kind of hope. He endured the cross ‘for the joy set before him.’ He knew the kingdom was coming, that his Father would vindicate him, and that suffering wouldn’t have the last word. His hope wasn’t about avoiding reality—it was anchored in the resurrection to come.¹⁵

And then there’s love. In Jesus, love is the tree in full bloom. He doesn’t just feel kindly toward people—he gives himself for them. He loves his Father completely and loves his people ‘to the end.’ He spends his days blessing, teaching, touching, warning, feeding, forgiving, weeping, washing dirty feet, carrying shame, and giving up his life. He doesn’t love by lowering the bar. He loves because real holiness always includes love.¹⁶

The Development of Jesus: growth without sin, maturity without moral defect

Careful theology is important here. Let’s be clear about this: when we talk about Jesus growing in character, we don’t mean he went from bad to good, or selfish to holy, or confused to wise, as we do. He never sinned. He never had to apologize or ‘get his act together.’ 

Luke records that Jesus increased in wisdom, in physical stature, and in favor with both God and people. The book of Hebrews points out that even though he was a Son, he learned obedience through what he suffered. Kenosis tells us this growth isn't a staged performance. The incarnate Son embraced the actual, day-in and day-out conditions of living a human life. That doesn't mean he started out disobedient and eventually learned to obey. Instead, his perfectly sinless obedience was tested, lived out, proven, and matured through real human experiences.¹⁷ Think of it like a masterfully crafted sword that only shows its true strength in the heat of battle. Or, for the Tolkien fans among us, like Aragorn’s sword, Andúril, which had to prove itself before he could lead the Army of the Dead.¹⁸ Jesus’ obedience was not like a chronic liar who finally figures out how to tell the truth. It was perfect from the beginning, but it was made evident and complete through the trials he endured.

So yes, Jesus really did grow as a human. Really. The boy in Nazareth became the man who faced the wilderness. The carpenter became a rabbi, and the rabbi became the suffering servant. The one who obeyed at home obeyed in obscurity, in popularity, in controversy, in sorrow, in Gethsemane, and all the way to death. His character didn’t need fixing—it was revealed and proven more and more as time went on. That’s why he’s not just the Savior who forgives us; he’s the model for what mature humanity looks like.¹⁹

The Sap: the spiritual disciplines in the life of Jesus

If the actual Son of God relied regularly on prayer, solitude, Scripture reading, fasting, worship, community, and service, why do we so often treat these things as optional extras for the super-spiritual? 

Jesus didn’t treat his time with the Father as an afterthought. He got up early to pray. He pulled away to quiet places. He spent whole nights praying. He fasted in the wilderness. He read the Scriptures and quoted them as if every word had come straight from his Father—because it did. He made sure to worship in the synagogue. He kept steady rhythms of Sabbath, teaching, table fellowship, service, and mercy. He chose deep communion over a hurried life. His spiritual disciplines weren't religious life hacks. They were the vital channels for a lived, direct connection with the Father, empowered by the Spirit.²⁰

This is exactly why Dallas Willard’s insights are still so helpful. Remember, Willard emphasized that Jesus isn't just an atoning sacrifice; he's the smartest man to ever live—the only one who really understood how life works. Richard Foster framed it differently but made the same point: Jesus is the master of life, not simply a religious mascot. Modern leaders like John Mark Comer, John Ortberg, and the Renovaré ministry continue to hammer this home for our generation: if we seriously want to become like Jesus, we can't just admire his stellar character while totally ignoring the habits that sustained it.

The sap that keeps the tree healthy isn’t just good intentions or warm feelings. It’s a life built around God’s presence, soaking up the atmosphere of the Spirit, and living in the light of God’s grace.²¹

The Fruit: what perfect character looks like when it ripens

When you put all this together, it’s easy to spot the fruit of the Spirit in Jesus’ life—it’s everywhere you look.

• Love? It's everywhere.

• Joy? Not a fake smile or forced cheerfulness, but a sincere delight in his Father and real gladness in doing God’s will.

• Peace? He could sleep through a storm and calm anxious hearts.

• Patience? He put up with slow, forgetful disciples longer than most of us could stand.

• Kindness? Children ran to him, not away from him.

• Goodness? No mixed motives—ever.

• Faithfulness? He finished everything the Father gave him to do.

• Gentleness? He never broke a bruised reed.

• Self-control? Every desire and bit of power was kept in check.²²

Simply put, Jesus isn’t just a branch on the character tree—he’s the whole tree in full bloom.

And here’s the main point. The goal of the Christian life isn’t to stand around admiring Jesus like art critics at a museum. The real goal is to be united with Christ by grace through faith, so that his life is formed in us by the Holy Spirit.

We’re not saved by trying to copy Jesus. We’re saved by Christ alone. But if we belong to him, we’re also learning from him. The standard is Jesus himself, and thankfully, our hope is Jesus, too.

So when we ask what perfect human character looks like, it’s not a list of traits—it’s a person. Jesus is truth with a heartbeat, goodness with calloused hands, and beauty bending down to wash dirty feet.

He’s the root, the trunk, the limbs and branches, the sap, and the fruit—all in one amazing life. 

If you ever wonder if real Christian character is possible in a world as broken as ours, just look at the Gospels. Jesus isn’t just an example to admire. He’s a Savior to trust, a King to obey, and a life we’re invited to share.²³

Endnotes

1. Luke 2:40, 52; Heb. 4:15; 5:8–9; John 1:14 (ESV).

2. Willard, Dallas. The Divine Conspiracy: Rediscovering Our Hidden Life in God. Harper, 1997. p. 95.

3. Matt. 5:1–12; 2 Pet. 1:5–7; Gal. 5:22–23 (ESV). See also Jonathan T. Pennington, The Sermon on the Mount and Human Flourishing: A Theological Commentary (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2017); and Jonathan T. Pennington, “3 Things You Didn’t Know About the Sermon on the Mount,” The Gospel Coalition, November 16, 2017.

4. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae, I–II, q. 61 and q. 62, trans. Fathers of the English Dominican Province, New Advent, accessed March 31, 2026,https://www.newadvent.org/summa/2061.htm andhttps://www.newadvent.org/summa/2062.htm; Peter Kreeft, Wisdom of the Heart: The Good, the True, and the Beautiful at the Center of Us All (Charlotte, NC: TAN Books, 2020).

5. Mark 10:18; John 2:13–17; 8:1–11; 18:37 (ESV). See also D. A. Carson, Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount and His Confrontation with the World: An Exposition of Matthew 5–10 (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 1999).

6. Isa. 53:2; John 13:1–17; 19:1–30 (ESV). See also Timothy Keller, “The Humility of Jesus,” Gospel in Life, May 24, 1998.

7. Matt. 5:3–12; John 5:19, 30; 6:38; 8:29 (ESV).

8. 2 Pet. 1:5–7 (ESV). See also N. T. Wright, After You Believe: Why Christian Character Matters (New York: HarperOne, 2010).

9. Luke 2:46–47, 52; Matt. 22:15–22; John 2:23–25 (ESV). See also Craig L. Blomberg, Jesus and the Gospels: An Introduction and Survey, 2nd ed. (Nashville: B&H Academic, 2009).

10. Matt. 23:1–36; Mark 11:15–17; Luke 4:18–19 (ESV). See also D. A. Carson, Jesus the Son of God: A Christological Title Often Overlooked, Sometimes Misunderstood, and Currently Disputed (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2012).

11. Matt. 4:1–11; John 6:15; Mark 1:35–39 (ESV).

12. Luke 9:51; 22:39–46; Mark 15:1–39 (ESV). See also Timothy Keller, “The Heart of Jesus,” Gospel in Life, February 11, 2007.

13. John 5:19, 30; 8:28-29; 17:1-26; 1 Pet. 2:23 (ESV). 

14. Phil. 2:5-8 (ESV), Gerald F. Hawthorne, The Presence & The Power: The significance of the Holy Spirit in the life and ministry of Jesus. Word, 1991. pp. 207-208. This is the best source in my opinion in one place to understand the role of the Holy Spirit in Jesus’ ministry and particularly the explanation of kenosis in Ch. 7 of this book. See also Wayne Grudem, Systematic Theology, 2nd ed. (Grand Rapids: Zondervan Academic, 2020), chap. 26; Millard J. Erickson, Christian Theology, 3rd ed. (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2013), Part 7; John MacArthur, "What does it mean that Christ 'emptied Himself' in Phil. 2:6-7?" Ligonier, accessed March 31, 2026; Jason C. Meyer, "Only the Greatest Humility Accepts the Lowest Place," Crossway, December 14, 2021; and Mark Jones, "Why Jesus Needed the Holy Spirit," Desiring God, March 12, 2019.

15. Heb. 12:2; Luke 23:46 (ESV). See also N. T. Wright, Interpreting Jesus: Essays on the Gospels (Grand Rapids: Zondervan Academic, 2020).

16. John 13:1; Mark 10:45; Luke 19:41; 23:34 (ESV).

17. Luke 2:52; Heb. 2:10; 4:15; 5:8-9 (ESV). See also John Piper, "How Did Jesus 'Learn Obedience' and 'Become Perfect'?" Desiring God, June 30, 2016; and "Why Did Jesus Need to 'Learn Obedience'?" Desiring God, December 25, 2017.

18. J.R.R. Tolkien. The Lord of the Rings. William Morrow, Illustrated Edition, 2021, pp. 789-790.

19. Luke 2:51–52; Matt. 4:1–11; Phil. 2:5–11(ESV).

20. Matt. 4:1–4; Mark 1:35; Luke 4:16; 5:16; 6:12; 22:39–46 (ESV).

21. Dallas Willard, The Great Omission: Reclaiming Jesus’s Essential Teachings on Discipleship (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 2006), 61–62; Dallas Willard, “Doing What Jesus Did,” dwillard.org, November 16, 2002; Richard J. Foster, “The Jesus Way of Life,” Renovaré; Richard J. Foster, “Ten Counsels in Spiritual Formation,” Renovaré; John Mark Comer, Practicing the Way (Colorado Springs: WaterBrook, 2024); Practicing the Way, “About,” accessed March 31, 2026,https://www.practicingtheway.org/about; John Ortberg, The Life You’ve Always Wanted: Spiritual Disciplines for Ordinary People (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2002); John Ortberg, “About,” accessed March 31, 2026,https://www.johnortberg.com/about.

22. Gal. 5:22–23; Mark 4:35–41; Matt. 11:28–30; 12:18–21 (ESV).

23. These organization is all about our becoming formed into the image of Christ: Renovaré, “About,” 2026,https://renovare.org/about/overview; John Mark Comer has spent years seeking to develop spiritual disciplines which will help place a person in the position for God’s spirit to work in his heart, mind and Soul. Practicing the Way,https://www.practicingtheway.org/; and John Mark Comer, “Practicing the Way,” www.johnmarkcomer.com. 

SAUL'S HOLLOW TRUNK AND DAVID'S DEEP ROOTS

Some trees look strong, but a storm shows what they’re really made of.

You know the kind of tree I’m talking about. From the street, it looks healthy and full of life. You might even think it could handle a tire swing and half the youth group hanging from its branches. But let a storm come through, and suddenly a branch snaps, the trunk splits, and the whole thing topples right into your flower bed. It’s a bit like those folding chairs at the church picnic that always seem to give out just as someone sits down with a plate full of fried chicken. The real issue isn’t what you see on the outside. It’s what’s happening inside the trunk that makes all the difference.

That, in a nutshell, is the story of Saul. 

Israel wanted a king like all the other nations had. They wanted someone tall, impressive, and who looked like he belonged on the cover of Israel Today—if they’d had magazines, that is. Saul checked every box. If Israel had a church directory, his photo would be right on the front page.¹ But Saul’s strength was all surface. He had enough charisma to get the job, but not enough character to keep it.

David, on the other hand, didn’t grow up in the spotlight. God shaped him out in the sheep fields, not on a stage.

Before David ever wore a crown, he wore out a few pairs of sandals chasing sheep. Before he sat on a throne, he spent plenty of nights hiding in caves. Before he led anybody else, he had to learn to lead himself—and sometimes that meant tears, mistakes, and singing psalms when nobody, except God, was listening. When God chose David over Saul, it wasn’t because David was perfect. The difference was deeper. Saul kept chasing the crown but never really gave his heart to God. David, even with all his failures, kept coming back to the Lord. That’s why the Bible calls him a man after God’s own heart—not because he never messed up, but because he kept turning back to God.²

This is where our “Christian Character Tree” comes in. If the soil is the True, the Good, and the Beautiful, the roots are the Beatitudes, the trunk is made up of the cardinal virtues, and the big branches are faith, hope, and love—then Saul and David are like two trees in the same storm. Saul looked tall, but his roots were shallow. David, on the other hand, was slowly formed by God’s grace into someone who could stand strong when the wind picked up.

And that difference still matters today. Like I’ve said before, the cardinal virtues—prudence, justice, temperance, and fortitude—can show up in folks who don’t even know the Lord. You probably know someone who’s not a believer but still returns their shopping cart, pays their bills on time, and keeps their yard looking sharp. But faith, hope, and love are a different story. Those aren’t just personality upgrades; they’re gifts from God, the result of His work in our hearts.³ In the Old Testament, you see David’s heart waking up to God, while Saul is content to look religious without really surrendering.

Saul Had the Crown, but Not the Trunk

To be fair, Saul wasn’t your typical villain, nor did he intend to be. He had natural gifts. He had stature, battlefield energy, and at least some early modesty. At one point, he was literally hiding among the baggage when they went looking for him. That is not nothing. He was capable of decisive action in battle, and in flashes, he showed the kind of courage that rallies people in a crisis. If we were mapping him on the cardinal virtues, we might say Saul had hints of fortitude and leadership capacity. He could act. He could command. He could look the part.⁴

But Saul’s virtues didn’t go deep because they weren’t rooted in God.

He lacked prudence because he couldn’t control himself when things got tough. When Samuel was late, Saul panicked and made a sacrifice he shouldn’t have. When people pressured him, he gave in. When the Philistines threatened, he broke the rules and called it necessary. That’s not wisdom. That’s just fear dressed up as religion.

He lacked justice because he often chose to protect himself rather than do what was right. He disobeyed God’s command about Amalek, kept what he was supposed to destroy, and tried to cover it up with religious words. He kept the loot, blamed others, and acted like partial obedience with some worship music counted as faithfulness. It didn’t.⁵

He lacked self-control because his emotions ran his life. He made rash promises, threw spears, brooded, and got angry. He became jealous when people praised David. Saul couldn’t stand hearing someone else get credit. Once envy started, he kept feeding it.⁶

He also lacked real courage deep down. He could be brave in battle, but moral courage is different. C. S. Lewis said courage is not simply one virtue among others but “the form of every virtue at the testing point.” Saul failed that test again and again. He didn’t stand firm when obedience was hard, unpopular, or embarrassing. He was brave in a fight, but not brave enough to admit when he was wrong.⁷

That last point is at the core of why Saul fell.

Saul’s main problem wasn’t just that he sinned. David sinned too, and sometimes in terrible ways. Saul’s real issue was that he cared more about his image than about being honest. When Samuel confronted him, Saul said, “I have sinned,” but then quickly asked Samuel to honor him in front of the elders and the people. That’s the problem. Even his confession was about keeping up appearances. Maybe he wanted forgiveness, but he definitely wanted to look good. His need for the people’s approval was right up there with his need for air to breathe. 

Saul seemed far more troubled by losing the kingdom than by grieving the God who gave it. That’s why his confession always feels like he’s lifting his finger to see which way the wind is blowing. He was not mainly trying to get right with God. He was trying to keep the throne from wobbling.

In the language of my tree metaphor, Saul was a tall trunk with rot at the center. In the language of Lewis, he was a man without a chest—outer frame, inner deficiency.⁸ In the language of Tolkien, he’s the man who keeps thinking that power can be managed if he just holds it with better intentions. But power doesn’t politely stay in the tool shed. It gets into the bloodstream. At the Council of Elrond, the Ring is declared unusable because it is “altogether evil.”⁹ That is a useful warning here. Saul kept trying to hold onto kingship on worldly terms and then use it for godly ends. That never works. You don’t sanctify disobedience by stamping a Bible verse over it.

David Grew in the Field Before He Ruled in the Palace

David’s life is almost the opposite pattern.

He was anointed young but didn’t get the throne until much later. That waiting period wasn’t wasted time—it was God’s mercy at work.

Alan Redpath observed that conversion may happen in a moment, but the making of a saint is the task of a lifetime.¹⁰ That fits David exactly. God was not misplacing the crown while David was in the pasture and in the caves. He was seasoning the timber.

God sent David to “Oak School” in a sheep pasture. There, he learned hiddenness, faithfulness, and courage before applause. He killed lions and bears when no choir was singing about it. Then, when Goliath stomped into the valley running his mouth against the living God, David was ready—not because he had attended a leadership conference, but because his private life had already been formed by trust. He refused Saul’s armor and went out in the name of the Lord. That is faith, not as vague religious sentiment, but as in-the-moment dependence on God.¹¹

There, right at the front end of the story, David begins to show the theological virtues.

He has faith. “The battle is the Lord’s” is not a slogan on a coffee mug. It is a worldview. David lives as though God is actually there, actually holy, actually involved, and actually decisive.

He has hope. Read the fugitive psalms (psalms written while running from Saul and his army), and you find a man who gets afraid, grieves deeply, and still turns his face toward God. Hope in Scripture isn’t wishful positivity. It is confidence in valid promises. David hopes because he believes God’s character is sturdier than his circumstances.

And he has love. You see it in his zeal for God’s name, in his loyalty to Jonathan, in his mercy toward Saul, in his later kindness to Mephibosheth, and in his aching grief over Absalom. David’s love was not always clean and unconflicted, but it was real. The branch bent toward God and toward neighbor, not just toward self.¹²

Now add the cardinal virtues.

David had prudence, especially in his early years. He learned to wait. That may be one of the most underrated virtues in the whole story. Twice, he had Saul in his grasp. Twice, he might have sped up the promise with a knife. Twice, he refused. He wouldn’t seize by sin what God had promised by grace. That is practical biblical wisdom. It's knowing that the wrong means will deform the right end.

David had justice. At his best, he ruled with righteousness, sought the good of the people, honored covenant loyalty, and used power to bless rather than merely to dominate. His treatment of Mephibosheth alone is a flashing sign that he understood kingship as stewardship.¹³

David had temperance, though not perfectly. For long stretches, he showed remarkable restraint: he wouldn’t kill Saul, wouldn’t retaliate as quickly as his men wished, and repeatedly submitted his timing to God. But this is where we have to tell the truth. No playing favorites here. David’s collapse with Bathsheba and Uriah was not a small lapse. It was catastrophic. The man who once refused to grab a kingdom used his power to grab a woman. The man who once protected the weak arranged the death of a devoted soldier. In that chapter, the trunk cracked. But it didn’t split. This should give many flawed men hope that he may still be used by God. 

David also had fortitude. He faced giants, exile, betrayal, civil war, grief, and public shame. But the deepest form of his fortitude may not be in combat at all. It may be in his willingness to be humbled by God. Lewis was right: courage is every virtue at the testing point. For David, one of the fiercest tests was not whether he would face a Philistine with a sling, but whether he’d face his own sin without excuse when Nathan said, “You are the man.”

That is where the real difference between Saul and David becomes impossible to miss.

Both men sinned. Both men were confronted. Both men said, in one form or another, “I have sinned.”

But Saul’s confession curved back toward public image. David’s confession fell forward into the mercy of God. “I have sinned against the Lord.” No spin. No committee statement. No attempt to save face with the donors in the lobby. Then came Psalm 51, which I believe to be one of the most searching prayers in the Bible. Here, David asks not simply for consequences to be softened but for the heart to be remade. This isn’t a man trying to keep his reputation intact. This is a man asking God to tell the truth all the way down and then create in him a clean heart.¹⁴

That may be the clearest contrast between the two kings. Saul looked devastated at the thought of losing the kingdom. David looked devastated because he had sinned against the Lord. Saul grieved the collapse of his image. David grieved the rupture of communion. One wanted the throne secured. The other wanted the Presence restored. 

That's why David became a great king, even though he was never a perfect one. His greatness wasn’t that he never fell. His greatness was that grace had made him returnable. Oh Lord, may we all be returnable. 

Saul was hard.

David was breakable.

Saul defended himself against the light.

David eventually collapsed into it.

Saul wanted enough God to help preserve the throne.

David wanted God—even when the throne itself became part of the discipline.

That breakability is not frailty. It is one of the surest signs of spiritual life.

The Difference Was in What They Loved

This is where the Transcendentals help.

Saul had a disordered relationship to the True, the Good, and the Beautiful. He did not want truth in the inward being; he wanted manageability. He’d use truth when it helped him and dodge it when it threatened him. Goodness, for Saul, often became whatever preserved his position. Beauty, in the biblical and classical sense, requires rightly ordered love, but Saul’s loves were badly bent. He loved approval, control, and survival more than he loved obedience.

David, by contrast, shows a heart increasingly captured by the True, the Good, and the Beautiful. He wanted truth in the inward parts. He wanted goodness, not merely success. And he wanted the beauty of the Lord. When he says, “One thing have I asked of the Lord… to gaze upon the beauty of the Lord,” he isn’t speaking like a pragmatist or a religious performer.¹⁵ He’s speaking like a man whose loves are being reordered.

Peter Kreeft has argued that the deepest movements of the human heart are directed toward truth, goodness, and beauty because they ultimately point toward God.¹⁶ David increasingly lives that way. Saul increasingly does not.

Or, to borrow another Lewis image, Saul kept feeding the Tragedian. In The Great Divorce, Lewis portrays a tiny Dwarf dragged around by a grandstanding theatrical self.¹⁷ In my opinion, it is one of the best pictures of image management ever put on paper. Saul keeps polishing the public self while the inner man shrivels. David does ugly things, grievous things, but by grace, he keeps dragging the real self back into the presence of God, where truth can do its painful work.

What Saul Did Not Have, What David Was Still Learning

So what did Saul lack among the seven virtues, and what did David possess? Glad you asked.

Saul showed fragments of prudence, justice, temperance, and fortitude (courage) in natural form, but none of them were stable enough to carry the load. They were not rooted deeply enough in the fear of God. His faith was shallow, his hope collapsed into despair, and his love curved inward. He ended as a man consulting a medium in the dark because he’d spent years refusing the clear Word of God in the light.

David, on the other hand, showed all seven virtues in real, although imperfect, form. Prudence in waiting. Justice in ruling. Temperance in restraint. Fortitude in suffering. Faith in battle and exile. Hope in the Psalms. Love in worship, loyalty, mercy, and grief. But he remained weak in the places many gifted leaders are weak: sexual appetite, comfort, and family management. David’s story is not “be like David because David was awesome.” David’s story is “behold what grace can build in a man, and behold how badly that man still needs mercy.”

Dallas Willard loved to say that grace is not opposed to effort but to earning. David’s life illustrates that better than most. His hidden years weren’t earning the kingdom; they were training for it. His habits in the pasture and cave became what Willard would call a kind of habitual capability. When the moment of testing came, character did what character does. Saul kept reaching for hacks. David was being trained into a heart.¹⁸

And that, honestly, is where this lands for us in the church today, particularly in our Southern Baptist ones.

We in the church still know how to pick Sauls. We are suckers for height, charm, confidence, a big platform, and the kind of polish that makes you think someone was born holding a microphone. We still confuse giftedness with godliness and charisma with character. One does not preclude the other, yet we don’t often differentiate and then choose the more important. We still want kings like the nations.¹⁹

But God still looks at the heart, not the highlight reel.

He’s still less impressed with the shine than with the solid joinery underneath.

He’s still less impressed with the platform than with the root system.

He’s still less impressed with quick results than with long obedience in the same direction.

The crown doesn’t make the man stronger. It just shows what’s already there.

If there’s a final lesson here, it’s this: The real question isn’t whether you have public gifts—Saul had plenty. The question is what kind of person you’re becoming when nobody’s watching. Can truth get past your defenses? Does goodness matter more to you than success? Has God’s beauty started to change what you love? Are faith, hope, and love alive in you by God’s grace? And when the pressure comes, do you harden up like Saul or break open like David?

Because eventually the storm comes.

Eventually, the branch bears weight.

Eventually, the throne gets heavy.

And when that day arrives, hacks will not hold you.

Image management will not save you.

A borrowed suit of armor will not make you strong.

Only roots. Only trunk. Only Limbs. Only the slow, steady work of God’s grace.

God didn’t just hand David a throne. He spent years growing a tree that could hold the weight.

Know someone who could use this encouragement? Why not share it with them now?

Endnotes

1. 1 Sam. 8:5, 20; 9:2; 10:23–24 (English Standard Version [ESV] ).

2. 1 Sam. 13:14; 16:7; Acts 13:22 (ESV). See also S. A. Fix and J. Robert Vannoy, “1 Samuel,” TGC Bible Commentary, The Gospel Coalition, https://www.thegospelcoalition.org/commentary/1-samuel/ ; Sinclair Ferguson, “A Man After God’s Own Heart,” Ligonier Ministries, November 20, 2008, https://www.ligonier.org/posts/a-man-after-gods-own-heart. 

3. Saint Thomas Aquinas. The Summa Theologica. Edited by Mortimer J. Adler et al., Translated by Laurence Shapcote, Second Edition, vol. 18, Robert P. Gwinn; Encyclopædia Britannica, Inc., 1990, pp. 60-61.

4. 1 Sam. 10:22, 26; 11:6–13 (ESV).

5. 1 Sam. 13:8–14; 15:1–24, 30 (ESV).

6. 1 Sam. 18:7–11; 19:9–10; 22:16–18 (ESV). See also John L. Mackay, “Was King Saul Possessed by Demons? (1 Samuel 19),” Crossway, June 24, 2021, https://www.crossway.org/articles/was-king-saul-possessed-by-demons-1-samuel-19/. 

7. C. S. Lewis, The Screwtape Letters (New York: HarperOne, 2001), chap. 29. See also 1 Sam. 15:20–31 (ESV).

8. C. S. Lewis, The Abolition of Man (New York: HarperOne, 2001), 25.

9. J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings, Illustrated ed. (New York: William Morrow, 2020), “The Council of Elrond,” p.267.

10. Alan Redpath, The Making of a Man of God: Lessons from the Life of David (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Publishing Group, 2004).

11. 1 Sam. 16:11–13; 17:34–47 (ESV). See also Burk Parsons, “The Heart Restored,” Ligonier Ministries, https://learn.ligonier.org/articles/heart-restored; Alan Redpath, The Making of a Man of God: Lessons from the Life of David (Grand Rapids, MI: Revell, 2004).

12. 1 Sam. 24:3–12; 26:7–11; Pss. 56:3–4; 57:1; 2 Sam. 1:17–27 (ESV).

13. 2 Sam. 8:15; 9:1–13; Ps. 27:4 (ESV); see also 1 Sam. 23:2; 30:8; 2 Sam. 5:19 (ESV).

14. 2 Sam. 11:1–27; 12:1–13; Ps. 51 (ESV). See also Matt Erbaugh, “The Heart of True Repentance,” Desiring God, December 26, 2017, https://www.desiringgod.org/articles/the-heart-of-true-repentance; Trevor Laurence, “8 Steps for Real Repentance from Psalm 51,” The Gospel Coalition, April 24, 2018, https://www.thegospelcoalition.org/article/steps-repentance-psalm-51/.

15. Psalm 27:4 (ESV). 

16. Peter Kreeft, Wisdom of the Heart: The Good, the True, and the Beautiful at the Center of Us All (Charlotte, NC: TAN Books, 2020). See also Peter Kreeft, “The Good, the True and the Beautiful,” PeterKreeft.com, accessed March 28, 2026, https://www.peterkreeft.com/audio/27_good-true-beautiful_org.htm. 

17. C. S. Lewis, The Great Divorce (New York: HarperOne, 2001), chap. 13.

18. Dallas Willard, The Great Omission: Reclaiming Jesus’s Essential Teachings on Discipleship (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 2006), 61–62. See also Dallas Willard, “Personal Soul Care,” Dallas Willard Ministries, accessed March 28, 2026, https://dwillard.org/resources/articles/personal-soul-care; Dallas Willard, Renovation of the Heart: Putting on the Character of Christ (Colorado Springs, CO: NavPress, 2002).

19. R. Scott Pace and Jim Shaddix, “3 Ways That Scriptural Leadership Differs from Secular Leadership,” Crossway, January 9, 2024, https://www.crossway.org/articles/3-ways-that-scriptural-leadership-differs-from-secular-leadership/. See also 1 Sam. 16:7 (ESV).

THE LOAD-BEARING SOUL: THE ARCHITECTURE OF NON-HOLLOW CHARACTER

9th in the Wide Witness, Deep Root Series

There is a reason nobody hangs a swing from a branch of a hollow tree.

A branch like that may look sturdy enough from a distance. It may still have bark. It may still have leaves. But if you hang real weight on it, the branch gives way, the rotten tree comes down, and somebody ends up in the begonias. A lot of modern discipleship feels exactly like that. We want fruit before fiber. We want visible sweetness before invisible strength. We pray fervently for patience, but we want it delivered Next-Day Amazon Prime. We want a harvest without a growing season, attempting to hack-grow Christian character while our deeper spiritual structures remain dangerously hollow.

As I have written in previous blogs, the Apostle Peter will not let us play that delusional game. He tells believers that God's divine power has given us what pertains to life and godliness, and then—without flinching—he says, “make every effort” to supplement our faith with nutrients that keep us from being ineffective and unfruitful in the knowledge of Christ (2 Peter 1:3–11; Galatians 5:22–25).

That is why the Blueprint of the Christian Character Tree is so crucial. If we do not understand the architecture of the soul, we will collapse under the weight of an unhinged age. 

A BRIEF LOOK BACK

To understand why structural character matters, we must look backward before we look upward. As explored in the previous Light in the Attic series, the biblical narrative of King Josiah provides a terrifying warning about superficial reform. Josiah inherited a nation drowning in idolatry, and he instituted a massive, wide-reaching external overhaul. He smashed the altars, cleaned out the temple, and mandated total behavioral compliance. It was a spectacular outward witness.

But the reform was merely an aggressive cleaning of the national attic; the foundation of the house remained severely cracked.¹ The transformation was wide, but it was not deep. The moment Josiah died, the "rubber band effect" took over, and the people violently snapped right back to their pagan values. (You can get the complete download of  “The Light in the Attic” Series plus special worksheets to apply the five principles for free here.)

J.R.R. Tolkien captured this exact spiritual pathology in The Hobbit with the concept of "dragon-sickness". Thorin Oakenshield successfully reclaims his mountain and slays the external dragon, but he nearly destroys himself and his friends because the internal sickness of greed and narcissism still infects his heart.² Curing the external behavior without renovating the internal character is a fatal error. We can slay the cultural dragons outside the church, but if our people still possess the dragon-sickness within, we have accomplished nothing.

Currently, much of the church operates on a spreadsheet mentality, equating the mandate "I will build my church" with numerical attendance, budget surpluses, and cultural influence. (For more on this, see “The Gates of Hell Do Not Fear Our Spreadsheets”) This metric-driven pragmatism ignores the slow, invisible work of molding the heart, head, and hands into the image of Christ. To survive the modern unhinged age without snapping, the tree must be grown in a specific, deliberate order.

TREE AS ANALOGY

I used the tree as an analogy for Christian character because it gives a visual blueprint of how the whole life of formation fits together, from hidden roots to visible fruit. A tree shows that Christian character is not religious cosmetics or factory output, but a living whole rooted in Truth, Goodness, and Beauty, nourished by grace, and strengthened by virtue. It also makes clear that what people see in a life depends on what is happening beneath the surface. We will start there. 

Soil

The soil is the Transcendentals: the True, the Good, and the Beautiful. The objective, foundational reality that corresponds to our deepest human desires.³ They are profound, mysterious and even infinite because they are attributes of God.  

Roots

The roots are the Beatitudes; those hidden postures of poverty of spirit, meekness, hunger, mercy, purity, and peacemaking that let grace sink deep. Roots are entirely unglamorous. They live in the dark, they are never photographed, and nobody writes glowing blog posts about them, except here. Yet, they are the vital conduits that allow supplements to your faith to be absorbed deeply into the soul (Colossians 2:6-7). 

Sap

The sap is the Spirit of God moving through the habitual practice of the spiritual disciplines. The sap keeps moving as we place ourselves before God through the Word by the means of grace. This is not easy nor often pleasant. God is making the believer sturdy enough to handle the sheer weight of holiness. We often say we want the fruit of the Spirit while quietly resisting the means by which the Spirit shapes the tree. We want love, but not hospitality. We want hope, but not Sabbath. We want temperance, but not fasting. We want a harvest without a growing season. But God grows oaks, not plastic plants.

Trunk

The trunk is the four cardinal virtues: prudence, justice, temperance, and fortitude. In the architecture of the soul, the trunk is the chest. Think of C.S. Lewis’ description of “men without chests”—people with vast amounts of information in their heads and raging desires in their bellies, but absolutely no moral center to stabilize them.⁴ The trunk is our moral center, our stabilization. If these virtues are weak, or absent then we are hollow.

Limbs

The limbs are the three theological virtues: Faith, Hope and Love. These reach Godward and are infused by grace. Fruit comes later. That order matters. If you reverse it, you do not get holiness. You get cosmetics.

No Fruit Yet

So this post is not yet about the fruit of the Spirit. That will come later. This one is about the load-bearing strength that comes before fruit. It is about the seven virtues—four in the trunk, three in the limbs—and about how a Christian actually grows in them. Not in theory. In real life—kitchens, meetings, temptations, family strain, loneliness, deadlines, conflict, prayer, repentance, and the ordinary Tuesday afternoon where theology either learns to walk or stays in the garage.

THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE TRUNK AND THE LIMBS

The old Christian tradition called prudence, justice, temperance, and fortitude the cardinal virtues. “Cardinal” comes from the Latin word for “hinge.” These are the hinge virtues because so much of moral life swings on them.⁵ Christianity then named faith, hope, and love as theological virtues. They are called theological because they are directed immediately toward God, are made known by revelation, and are not manufactured by unaided human effort. They are given by God and awakened in us by grace.⁶ In plain English: the cardinal virtues make a person sound; the theological virtues make a person Godward.

That difference matters. A non-Christian can show real courage, and a disciplined executive may outperform many church members in prudence and reliability. Common grace is real. But biblical Christianity is aiming at more than polished humanity. It is aiming at union with Christ, likeness to Christ, and life in the Spirit. That is why the theological virtues do not replace the cardinal virtues; they elevate, animate, and direct them toward God.⁷ The trunk gives structure. The limbs reach upward. The trunk keeps the tree from collapsing. The limbs receive light and carry the coming fruit.

VIRTUES STURDY ENOUGH FOR HOLINESS

And how do these virtues strengthen and grow? Not by moral posing. Not by stapling fruit to dead branches. They grow as the roots keep drawing proper nourishment from the right soil. And values matter because they help us to see all this in the needed perspective. (See my blog on what values root the tree in the soil of the Transcendentals: Stop Stapling Fruit to Dead Trees). Truth feeds prudence because prudence must see reality clearly. Goodness feeds justice because justice gives what is right and due. Beauty reorders desire, which is why it matters so much for temperance and love. The sap keeps moving as we place ourselves before God in the means of grace. Dallas Willard was right: grace is not opposed to effort; it is opposed to earning. Spiritual disciplines are not ways of buying holiness. They are ways of opening the sails to a wind we do not control.⁸

C. S. Lewis once pictured God as entering a house to rebuild it. At first the repairs make sense. Then the walls start shaking, additions go up where you did not ask for them, and the whole project feels wildly inconvenient. Lewis's point was that God is not satisfied with making us into a slightly improved cottage. He intends to build a palace and live in it himself.⁹ That is what virtue growth feels like. God intends to make you sturdy enough for holiness.

We will now walk up the tree, first through the trunk and then out into the limbs, and ask a very practical question at each point: what concrete practice most helps this virtue grow?

THE TRUNK: THE CARDINAL VIRTUES

Prudence: The Steering Wheel of the Moral Life

Prudence is practical wisdom. It is the trained ability to see what is fitting, true, and faithful in this situation, at this moment, with these people, under God's reality. Prudence keeps zeal from becoming stupidity. It is the steering wheel of the moral life. If justice is the will to give what is due, prudence helps you know what is due. If courage is the power to stand firm, prudence helps you know when standing firm is actually obedience and when it is just ego in boots.¹⁰

• Scripture Meditation

The single best discipline for growing prudence is Scripture meditation. Not merely reading fast to get the box checked. Meditation. Slow chewing. Repeated exposure. Lingering over the text until your reflexes start to bend toward God's wisdom instead of your impulses. Joshua is told to meditate on the Book of the Law day and night. Psalm 1 says the blessed man delights in the law of the Lord and meditates on it like a tree planted by streams of water. That is not accidental language. Prudence grows when the mind stops treating God's Word like a McDonald's drive-through and starts treating it like daily bread.

Prudence does not usually arrive with fireworks. It comes by holy attention. It grows when the soul becomes less allergic to reality. A church member who meditates on Scripture for years will often outgrow the flashy leader who only knows how to react. Why? Because prudence is formed by saturation. The wise person is not merely informed. He has been marinated.

Justice: Repairing the Damage

Justice is the steady will to give God and neighbor their due. It is not the same thing as being nice. Niceness may refuse conflict because it wants to stay comfortable. Justice will enter discomfort because truth, fairness, and neighbor-love require it. Justice tells the truth, keeps promises, pays debts, refuses partiality, and honors image-bearers.¹¹

• Restitution and Repair

The most practical discipline for growing justice is restitution and repair. When you wrong someone, make it right quickly and concretely. That sounds almost too plain, but that is why it works. Justice grows when we stop treating sin as vapor and start treating it as damage. If your tongue injured someone, go back and repair it. If you were careless with what belonged to another, return it. If you benefited from a wrong, make restitution. Zacchaeus did not merely feel bad. He repaid (Luke 19). Jesus taught that reconciliation with a brother cannot be treated as an optional side quest to worship (Matthew 5:23-24). It belongs in the middle of worship. 

This discipline trains the soul out of self-justification. It teaches you that other people are not stage props in your private story. It also does something else: it makes you hate your sin more honestly. 

Sin always looks clever before restitution and expensive after it. That is a mercy. A man who regularly practices repair becomes more just because he stops thinking of righteousness as a slogan and starts feeling the cost of his own crookedness.

Temperance: Governing the Tiny Dictator

Temperance is self-government. It is not the hatred of pleasure. It is the refusal to be bossed around by pleasure. It enjoys created things without kneeling to them. Food, drink, sex, sleep, money, comfort, amusement, screens, applause—none of these are allowed to sit on the throne. Temperance is more than clenched-teeth restraint. It is ordered desire. It is the soul learning how to say, “This is good, but it is not God.”¹²

• Fasting

The best discipline for growing temperance is fasting.¹³ Fasting is not spiritual dieting and it is not an attempt to impress God with how hungry you can become. It is a way of exposing how noisy your appetites really are. Skip a meal and you will quickly discover whether your stomach is a servant or a tiny dictator. Abstain from some lawful comfort and all the buried monsters begin to crawl into the light: irritation, entitlement, panic, self-pity, control.

That is exactly why fasting helps. Temperance cannot mature while the flesh is always indulged and never contradicted. Fasting teaches the body that it is a body, not a master. It also retrains desire upward. Hunger becomes a kind of prayer. Need becomes a reminder. “Man shall not live by bread alone” stops sounding decorative and starts sounding necessary. In a culture drunk on immediacy, fasting is a firm and cheerful way of telling your cravings, “You are not in charge here.”

Fortitude: Courage at the Testing Point

Fortitude—often called courage—is steadfastness under pressure. A person may look virtuous while righteousness is easy. Fortitude shows up when telling the truth may cost reputation, when faithfulness becomes lonely, when temptation does not leave after one well-worded prayer, when grief lasts longer than your energy, or when you must do the next right thing without applause.¹⁴ Courage is what keeps the rest of the trunk from splintering under strain.

• Costly Obedience

The most effective practice for growing fortitude is deliberate costly obedience in small things.¹⁵ The phone call you do not want to make. The confession you do not want to speak. The hard conversation you keep delaying. The quiet refusal to flatter. The faithful presence in suffering. The continued obedience when nobody seems impressed. Fortitude is built like muscle. It strengthens under resistance.

That is one reason Scripture keeps connecting endurance with trial. James says the testing of faith produces steadfastness (James 1:3). Not because pain is magical, but because pressure reveals what rules us. If every hard thing makes me bolt, I will not become brave by admiring bravery. I become brave by obeying God when my comfort begins screaming. Lewis was right in essence: every virtue reaches a testing point. Fortitude is what keeps a conviction from dissolving the first time it is laughed at.

THE LIMBS: THE THEOLOGICAL VIRTUES

Now we move from trunk to limbs. Here the difference is crucial. The cardinal virtues can be practiced and strengthened as habits. The theological virtues are different. They have God as their direct object. 

Faith believes God. 

Hope expects from God. 

Love delights in God and seeks the true good of neighbor for God's sake. 

These virtues are not self-generated spiritual moods. They are gifts of grace, infused by God and nourished through union with Christ.¹⁶ If the trunk says, “Here is a structurally sound human life,” the limbs say, “Here is a life reaching into God.”

Faith: Dependence Made Audible

Faith is not vague positivity. It is not religious optimism wearing a smile. Faith is personal trust in the God who has spoken and in the Christ who saves. It receives rather than boasts. It leans rather than swaggering. Faith says, “I do not hold reality together. Christ does.” Peter's character supplements (2 Peter 1:5) begins with faith because everything else in the Christian life grows out of dependence, not self-congratulation.¹⁷

• Prayer

The most fitting discipline for growing faith is prayer—real prayer, not perfunctory prayer. Prayer is dependence made audible. Richard Foster connects prayer directly to the strengthening of faith, arguing that as prayer is learned, believers grow in “receiving more faith.”¹⁸ When you pray honestly, you are actively refusing the illusion of self-sufficiency. You are saying, “My life is not self-interpreting, my strength is not enough, and my needs are not finally solved by my own hustle.” Prayer forces faith out of abstraction and into relationship.

A person can know orthodox doctrine and still be thin in faith if he rarely prays except in emergency. Faith grows when we keep coming to God as needy children. It also grows when prayer is tied to promise. Romans states, “faith comes by hearing the word of Christ.” (Romans 10:17)  So the pattern is simple and ancient: hear the Word, answer with prayer, and let trust deepen through repeated contact with the living God. The person who prays only when cornered often has panic more than faith. The person who learns daily dependence begins to develop a steadier soul.

Hope: Faith Stretched into the Future

Hope is faith stretched into the future. It is confident expectation anchored in the promises of God. John Piper has called it the present enjoyment of a future blessing.¹⁹

It is not sunny temperament. 

It is not denial. 

It is not pretending all news is good news. 

Christian hope can stare into a grave and still say, “This will not have the last word.” It can stand in the dark without believing the dark will stay.  Hope keeps fortitude from turning into steely stoicism. 

• Sabbath

The best discipline for growing hope is Sabbath—a regular practice of resting in God rather than living as if the universe will spin off its axle the moment you stop managing it.  Sabbath trains hope because it confronts one of our favorite lies: that everything depends on us. When you stop, worship, pray, rest, eat, and refuse productive panic for a set period, you are making a theological statement. You are declaring that God is God and you are not.

Dallas Willard called Sabbath a way of life because it loosens our bondage to our own effort and reminds us that the outcome of our work does not finally rest on our frantic control.²⁰ That is hope-training. In Tolkien's story, Sam sees a star above the reeking darkness of Mordor and realizes that the Shadow is only a small and passing thing.²¹ That is what Sabbath does to the Christian imagination. It lifts your eyes long enough to remember that Pharaoh is not forever, cancer is not forever, headlines are not forever, your exhaustion is not forever. Christ is forever. Hope needs that rehearsal.

Love: The Summit of Virtue

Love is the summit. Not mere niceness. Not conflict avoidance. Not sentimental religious syrup, no matter how good it tastes. Christian love seeks the true good of another for God's sake. It rejoices with the truth. It bears, believes, hopes, and endures. It is the greatest of the three theological virtues because it most fully participates in the very life of God, who is love.²² 

Faith receives. 

Hope expects. 

Love gives.

• Hospitality

The practice that most concretely grows love is hospitality.²³ Hospitality takes love out of theory and puts a plate in front of somebody. It opens the home and the table. It interrupts the narcissism that wants every room arranged around the self. In the New Testament, hospitality is not luxury entertaining for people who already impress you. It is neighbor-love made visible.²⁴

This is why hospitality is such strong medicine. Love does not mature mainly by being admired. It matures by being spent. Open your home to church members, strangers, the lonely, the inconvenient, and the person who cannot pay you back. You will quickly discover whether your version of love is real or just a slogan. Hospitality makes love concrete. It gives agape a front door, a casserole dish, and a towel by the sink.

HOW IT ALL HOLDS TOGETHER

Now step back and look at the tree trunk and limbs again.

Prudence learns to see reality through Scripture. 

Justice learns to make wrongs right. 

Temperance learns to master appetite through fasting. 

Fortitude learns to obey under cost. 

Faith learns dependence in prayer. 

Hope learns to rest in God through Sabbath. 

Love learns self-giving through hospitality. 

None of these practices earns grace. All of them are ways of keeping the sap moving. The growth pattern is both humbling and hopeful. Nobody drifts into virtue, but real change is possible. Peter does not say, “Pretend harder.” He says these qualities can be ours and increasing (2 Peter 1:8). Growth may be slow, but slowness is not the same thing as impossibility. Trees do not panic because they are not orchards by Thursday.

Many of us need a gentle but firm correction. I would be one of these people. As I wrote earlier, we often say we want the fruit of the Spirit while quietly resisting the means by which the Spirit shapes the tree. We want love, but not hospitality. We want hope, but not Sabbath. We want faith, but not prayer. We want temperance, but not fasting. We want justice, but not restitution. We want prudence, but not meditation. We want courage, but not costly obedience. In other words, we want a harvest without a growing season.

That is not how God usually works.

He grows oaks, not plastic plants.

So before we rush ahead to fruit, we need to ask harder questions. Is my trunk solid? Are my limbs alive? Am I drawing from the right soil? Are my hidden values helping the roots take in truth, goodness, and beauty—or are they poisoning the uptake? Do I only admire virtue in sermons, or am I placing my life under the disciplines that make virtue strong?

Sooner or later, the wind picks up. Family stress. Ministry strain. Temptation. Loss. Fatigue. Conflict. Success. Obscurity. Delay. Praise. Pain. One way or another, weight gets hung on the structure. That is when hollow trunks crack.

So no, this is not yet the post on fruit. This is the post before the fruit—the one about wood grain, fiber, rings, sap, and load-bearing strength. The one about the sort of person a Christian is becoming long before anyone takes a picture of the fruit.

And that matters, because nobody hangs a swing from a branch of a hollow tree.

ENDNOTES

1.  After The Attic Light: Why Reform Must Become Character  https://www.fairburnba.org/post/after-the-attic-light-why-reform-must-become-character

2. J.R.R. Tolkien, The Hobbit: Illustrated By The Author (William Morrow, 2023), pp. 236-239.

3. Peter Kreeft, Wisdom of the Heart: The Good, the True, and the Beautiful at the Center of Us All. Gastonia, NC: TAN Books, 2020. pp. 173-174. 

4. C. S. Lewis, The Abolition of Man or Reflections on Education with Special Reference to the Teaching of English in the Upper Forms of Schools. HarperOne, 2001, p. 26.

5. Encyclopaedia Britannica, “Seven Virtues,” last revised and updated by Melissa Petruzzello, accessed March 22, 2026, https://www.britannica.com/topic/seven-virtues; Encyclopaedia Britannica, “Virtue,” accessed March 22, 2026, https://www.britannica.com/topic/virtue-in-Christianity .

6. Saint Thomas Aquinas. The Summa Theologica. Edited by Mortimer J. Adler et al., Translated by Laurence Shapcote, Second Edition, vol. 18, Robert P. Gwinn; Encyclopædia Britannica, Inc., 1990, p. 60.

7. “Thomas Aquinas,” The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, Fall 2024 ed., accessed March 22, 2026, https://plato.stanford.edu/archives/fall2024/entries/aquinas/. And: Saint Thomas Aquinas. The Summa Theologica. Edited by Mortimer J. Adler et al., Translated by Laurence Shapcote, Second Edition, vol. 18, Robert P. Gwinn; Encyclopædia Britannica, Inc., 1990, p. 61.

8. Dallas Willard, “Cultivating a Life of Worship and Joy,” Renovaré, accessed March 22, 2026, https://renovare.org/articles/cultivating-a-life-of-worship.

9. C. S. Lewis, Mere Christianity. New York: HarperOne, 2001. bk. 4, chap. 9, “Counting the Cost.”

10. Kreeft, Peter. Back to Virtue: Traditional Moral Wisdom for Modern Moral Confusion. Ignatius Press, 1992, Chapter Four: Justice, Wisdom, Courage, and Moderation: The Four Cardinal Virtues.

11. Ibid.

12. Timothy Keller, Counterfeit Gods: The Empty Promises of Money, Sex, and Power, and the  Only Hope That Matters (New York: Dutton, 2009), xvii-xix.

13. Dallas Willard. The Spirit of the Disciplines: Understanding How God Changes Lives. New York: HarperCollins, 1991, 167–68. Richard Foster, a dear friend of Willard’s also concurs with this estimation in a general way. Richard J. Foster, Celebration of Discipline: The Path to Spiritual Growth. San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 1998, p.55.

14. Peter Kreeft, “Weakness Into Strength,” PeterKreeft.com, accessed March 26, 2026, https://www.peterkreeft.com/topics/weakness-strength.htm 

15.  Richard J. Foster, Celebration of Discipline: The Path to Spiritual Growth (San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1978), 134–35.

16. Saint Thomas Aquinas. The Summa Theologica. Edited by Mortimer J. Adler et al., Translated by Laurence Shapcote, Second Edition, vol. 18, Robert P. Gwinn; Encyclopædia Britannica, Inc., 1990, p. 60.(Vol. II, q.62, art. 2) 

17. Ibid. Vol. II, q.4, art.7. 

18. Richard J. Foster, “Five Misconceptions that Hinder Prayer,” Renovaré, accessed March 26, 2026, https://renovare.org/articles/5-misconceptions-that-hinder-prayer 

19. John Piper, Future Grace: The Purifying Power of the Promises of God, rev. ed. Colorado Springs, CO: Multnomah, 2012.

20. Dallas Willard, “The Key to the Keys to the Kingdom,” in The Great Omission: Reclaiming Jesus’s Essential Teachings on Discipleship. San Francisco: HarperCollins, 2006, p. 34.

21 J. R. R. Tolkien, The Return of the King. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1994. bk. 6, chap. 2, “The Land of Shadow.”

22. Andrew David Naselli, “Why Is Love Called the Greatest of These? (1 Corinthians 13),” Crossway, February 10, 2024, https://www.crossway.org/articles/why-is-love-called-the-greatest-of-these-1-corinthians-13/ 

23. Richard J. Foster, Celebration of Discipline: The Path to Spiritual Growth, rev. ed. San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 1998, pp. 129–131.

24. Ibid., pp.131-137.