We’ve come to the final two flavors in the Fruit of the Spirit—gentleness and self-control. At first glance, they don’t feel very exciting. Compared to love, joy, or peace, these two seem like the vegetables of the spiritual plate. They sound like God telling us to eat what we don’t really want. But when we look at these fruits the way the Bible presents them—in their cultural and theological context—we discover that gentleness and self-control may actually be the strongest flavors of them all. They are the ones that separate spiritual maturity from spiritual performance. They are the ones that Jesus demonstrated most clearly, yet the ones we imitate the least. And the reason is simple: both of these fruits deal with power. Gentleness channels power, and self-control restrains it.

When Scripture speaks of gentleness, it is not referring to softness, frailty, or timidity. The Greek word used in the New Testament, prautēs, describes a wild stallion that has been trained—still powerful, still strong, but brought under purposeful direction. Gentleness is strength submitted to wisdom. It is the ability to speak harshly and choose kindness instead, to win an argument but choose relationship, to have the upper hand but choose humility. I see this every day in my house. My girls don’t think I’m very good at video games or sports, but they do think I’m smart. Don’t tell them otherwise. The truth is, I could destroy them in Mario Kart. I could outrun them, out-jump them, and out-think them, but if I always win, they never grow confidence. Gentleness is strength used in the right timing, in the right way, for the good of someone else.

Even in what we teach our kids, gentleness plays a role. One of my daughters has been praying that she will see an angel one day. But if she knew what biblical angels actually looked like—interlocking wheels covered in eyes, or six wings with four different faces—she might stop praying that prayer. I could tell her. I could correct her. I could explain it. But gentleness means knowing when to hold back. Just because you can doesn’t mean you should. Just because you have knowledge or authority doesn’t mean it’s the right moment to use it.

In the Roman world of the first century, gentleness was seen as weakness. Rome celebrated domination, conquest, force, and superiority. This was a society that crucified people publicly as a display of power and gathered crowds to watch gladiators fight lions, tigers, bears—and even elephants—to the death. Losing didn’t mean going home disappointed. Losing meant going home in a body bag. Power was everything. So when Paul wrote to the Galatians and said, “The fruit of the Spirit is gentleness,” it sounded like he was saying, “The fruit of the Spirit is losing.” But Jesus redefined strength. He said, “Learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart.” He had all power in His hands, yet He welcomed children, knelt beside the broken, forgave the guilty, restored the ashamed, and washed feet. Authority wrapped itself in love. If we claim to follow Jesus but are not gentle, then we are not actually following Him.

Gentleness also recognizes that every person carries power. God created humanity with agency and authority, instructing us in Genesis to fill the earth, subdue it, and rule over it. This is why people crave control. This is why we want to fix everything. The problem is not power itself but the way sin distorts how we use it. Gentleness acknowledges that God’s ways are higher, our perspective is limited, our emotions are not always accurate, and our interpretation of life is shaped by pain, pride, experience, and culture. Gentleness submits strength to God before releasing it toward others. It speaks truth without venom, corrects without crushing, influences without manipulating, and leads without intimidating. Gentleness is what makes people feel safe around us.

If gentleness governs how we direct power outward, self-control governs how we manage power inward. Self-control is not about willpower. It is not about trying harder, pushing through, or forcing ourselves into discipline. The Greek word enkrateia means mastery gained through surrender, not struggle. Biblical self-control is about yielding our desires to God until His desires reshape ours. We cannot control ourselves by ourselves. We need the Spirit.

The world the Galatians lived in was full of indulgence—public drunkenness, temple sexuality, and a cultural mindset that said, “Follow your desires.” Our world echoes the same message. People tell us to follow our hearts, while Scripture warns that the heart is deceitful. Paul teaches that the flesh desires what is contrary to the Spirit, meaning our feelings and cravings do not always align with God’s will. Just because we want to doesn’t mean we have to, and just because we can doesn’t mean we should. A desire is not a command. A craving is not a calling. A feeling is not an obligation. In Christ, we are no longer slaves to our impulses. Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.

Jesus modeled self-control in the Garden of Gethsemane. He wanted the cup of suffering to pass. He could have called the angels to take Him down. He could have stepped off the cross, silenced the mockers, or ended the pain instantly. He had the right, the power, and the ability. But He chose obedience. The will of God outweighed the desires of the flesh. That is self-control at its highest expression.

Most regrets people carry in life come from moments when they followed a desire they didn’t have to follow or acted on an ability they shouldn’t have used. Self-control protects our future from our impulses, our peace from our temptations, our relationships from our reactions, and our witness from our weaknesses. It doesn’t restrict life—it guards it.

And now we enter a season full of heavy meals, endless sweets, Black Friday pressure, holiday spending, emotional stress, family tension, and cultural messages that tell us indulgence is celebration. Thanksgiving is meant to be about gratitude, not gluttony. Black Friday does not qualify as a spiritual discipline. Christmas gifts should not cost next year’s peace. Everything God gives is good until we drag it beyond the boundaries He designed. Self-control allows us to enjoy blessings without being ruled by them.

If you want to see both gentleness and self-control in a single moment, look at the cross. Jesus had all power in the universe. He could have ended the suffering with a word. Gentleness chose mercy over dominance. Self-control chose obedience over desire. The cross is the clearest picture of both fruits.

As we enter the holiday season, emotions rise, temptations multiply, exhaustion creeps in, and culture invites us to indulge ourselves in every direction. But the Holy Spirit offers two flavors that can change everything: gentleness—power submitted to God’s wisdom, and self-control—desires surrendered to God’s authority. When these two grow in our lives, our relationships change, our habits change, our peace deepens, and our walk with God matures. These are not fruits we force. They are fruits we surrender to. And when the world tastes our lives, they should taste Jesus.