If patience is a tough fruit of the Spirit, then kindness is a tender one. It is interesting that Paul puts kindness right after patience. Perhaps that’s because he saw both of them as essential qualities of love—the first fruit of the Spirit. “Love is patient, love is kind,” he said (1 Cor 13:4). That’s so true, isn’t it? When you love people, you find it easier (or at least a bit less difficult!) to be patient with them. And being kind to others is one of the most noticeable characteristics of a genuinely loving person.
What is kindness, then? What sort of behavior do we have in mind when we say that someone has been kind to us or to others? I think the essence of kindness is being thoughtful for others more than for myself in any particular situation. To be kind means to want to help others, to encourage or comfort them, to do something that serves or benefits them. In order to be kind to others, I need to put myself in their shoes and think what I would most want or need them to do for me—and then do it for them. Kindness seems very close to what Jesus meant when he said that we should do for others whatever we wish others would do for us.
Kindness can be as simple as a pleasant word, or a caring smile. But more importantly, being kind means being willing to do something, or to take some action, that helps somebody else even if it might be inconvenient to myself. When others are willing to use some of their precious time to help me out of some difficult or confusing situation, they are being kind. Kindness goes beyond duty—it means doing something you don’t have to do, but just choose to do. Kindness goes beyond reward—it means doing something you won’t get paid to do. In fact, real kindness usually costs something and doesn’t expect any reward. You do what is kind for its own sake and for the sake of the other person. In that sense, kindness is its own reward.
In the Bible, kindness is often linked with generosity. In fact, the word Paul uses often had that sense: kindness could often mean generously providing for another person’s benefit. That’s biblical kindness.
“Thank you, you’re very kind,” we sometimes say, when another person has done something that we needed. Notice that we don’t just say, “That was a very kind thing that you did,” even though that is true. Kind deeds are done by people who are themselves kind by nature and character. Kindness, in other words, is not just a term to describe actions, but a characteristic that describes people—people who habitually behave in a way that blesses and benefits others because that is their character.
And that leads us immediately to the character of God as revealed in the Bible. As with the other items in the fruit of the Spirit, we may not quickly associate kindness with the God of the Old Testament, but in fact it is a very strong element of the character of God that is celebrated there.
In the Old Testament, God is often praised for his kindness. There is a beautiful word in Hebrew—hesed—which is so rich in meaning that it gets translated in many ways. Very often it is translated as “love,” with an emphasis on the faithfulness that is an essential part of genuine love. So sometimes hesed is translated “faithful love.” Sometimes it can mean “loyalty,” when one person acts out of a strong sense of commitment to another person because of the relationship between them. When God acts with hesed it can mean that he exercises “mercy” toward people who are in a vulnerable or needy situation, so it is quite close to “compassion,” which is another word that occurs very often in the Old Testament.
One of the older ways of translating hesed (e.g. in the KJV) is “loving-kindness”—a beautiful old English double word that I wish we still used. And often, hesed is simply translated as “kindness,” since it does have that active sense of doing something for another person, something that shows thoughtful love in action. When God acts in “kindness” (in hesed), it means God is being faithful to his covenant promises, paying careful attention to our needs, acting in generous and merciful love, generously providing everything for our blessing and benefit. Didn’t I say it is a beautiful word?
We could give dozens of examples of God’s hesed, but probably the most famous is the last verse of the twenty-third Psalm. “Surely goodness and mercy [hesed] shall follow me all the days of my life” (Ps 23:6, KJV; NIV translates the second word as “love”).
David was thinking of God as a shepherd who treats his sheep with kindness, protecting and providing for them. A shepherd is committed to caring for his sheep, even at his own cost. And so God will keep his commitment to his “flock,” his people, because God himself is the essence of goodness and kindness.
The most repetitive use of the word comes in Psalm 136, where every line ends with the phrase, “his hesed is forever.” The KJV translates it as “his mercy endureth forever,” and the NIV as “his love endures forever” (Ps 136:1). The whole psalm celebrates how God, in his works of creation and redemption, has always acted with trustworthy love, even when his redemptive work included acting in judgment on those who opposed him. Psalm 145 says “The LORD is righteous in all his ways and faithful [kind] in all he does [or, toward all he has made]” (Ps 145:17).
The Israelites really celebrated God’s kindness. Their history was full of examples of his “kindnesses” that they could recount.
I will tell of the kindnesses of the LORD,
the deeds for which he is to be praised,
according to all the LORD has done for us—
yes, the many good things
he has done for Israel,
according to his compassion and many kindnesses. (Is 63:7)
So when Paul wanted to tell people in Lystra what the one true living God is like, he focused on God’s kindness: “He has shown kindness by giving you rain from heaven and crops in their seasons; he provides you with plenty of food and fills your hearts with joy” (Acts 14:17).
That is very Old Testament language, even though Paul was addressing people who had no clue about the Bible. But the God Paul was telling them about, the God who was so different from all the many gods they worshiped, is the God who shows his character in what he does—even in his generosity in creation toward all human beings.
Paul was very aware that the kindness of God was “available” to all people, but he was also grieved that as fallen sinners we so easily reject it, and fail to understand that God’s patient kindness is meant to lead us to repentance and salvation: “Or do you show contempt for the riches of his kindness, forbearance and patience, not realizing that God’s kindness is intended to lead you to repentance?” (Rom 2:4).
And of course, as we would expect, the supreme example of the kindness of God (using the same word as this fruit of the Spirit) was God’s gift of his own Son, Jesus: “When the kindness and love of God our Savior appeared, he saved us, not because of righteous things we had done, but because of his mercy” (Titus 3:4-5).
Since that is what God is like, then those who claim to know God and worship him must show the same character. The Old Testament has several outstanding examples of people showing exceptional kindness, reflecting the kindness of God.
Ruth and Boaz. The book of Ruth is a beautiful story of double kindness: Ruth’s kindness for Naomi, and Boaz’s kindness for both Ruth and Naomi. Actually, it’s triple kindness, if you include the Lord God (meaning Yahweh, the God of Israel). For Naomi prays for the Lord’s kindness to be shown to her Moabite daughters-in-law (Ruth 1:8), and as the story unfolds God answers that prayer—at least for Ruth (we are just not told what God may have done for Orpah).
First of all, Ruth shows amazing and self-sacrificial kindness to Naomi, her widowed mother-in-law, by refusing to go back to Moab and leave Naomi to return alone to Bethlehem. Her outburst of loyalty, commitment, and conversion to the God of Israel is one of the most remarkable speeches in the Bible:
But Ruth replied, “Don’t urge me to leave you or to turn back from you. Where you go, I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God. Where you die I will die, and there I will be buried. May the LORD deal with me, be it ever so severely, if even death separates you and me.” (Ruth 1:16-17)
Then, when Boaz meets Ruth as she is gleaning in his field, he commends her for all she has done for Naomi since the death of her husband and father-in-law, and Ruth in turn expresses great relief and gratitude for his kindness (Ruth 2:11-13). And when Ruth tells Naomi that very evening what happened, Naomi bursts out, “‘The LORD bless him!’ Naomi said to her daughter-in-law. ‘He has not stopped showing his kindness [hesed] to the living and the dead.’ She added, ‘That man is our close relative; he is one of our guardian-redeemers’” (Ruth 2:20).
In the next episode, Ruth (on the instruction of Naomi) lies down beside the sleeping Boaz in the middle of the night. And then, when Boaz wakes up very startled (as you would be), and Ruth asks him to marry her, we hear the word hesed again. It is quite surprising. You might think Boaz would rebuke Ruth for her embarrassing action and tell her to get up and go home immediately before anybody noticed her there. But no! He blesses her: “‘The LORD bless you, my daughter,’ he replied. ‘This kindness [hesed] is greater than that which you showed earlier: You have not run after the younger men, whether rich or poor. And now, my daughter, don’t be afraid. I will do for you all you ask’” (Ruth 3:10-11).
What “kindness” did Boaz possibly mean? How was Ruth acting in a way that was in any sense “kind” to Boaz? Well, there was the fact (possibly flattering) that she had chosen to ask him to marry her (though he was old enough to be her father), when she could have had any young man of her own age. But more than that, he realized that in asking him to marry her as a “guardian-redeemer,” she was actually doing “kindness” to Naomi and her deceased husband, Elimelech. For if she could have a son with Boaz, then that son would carry the family name and property of Elimelech. And that explains also why Boaz’s willingness to take her as his wife was also seen as a very righteous and kind action for which he is praised (Ruth 4:11-12). So Ruth’s action in asking Boaz to marry her was an act of kindness to the family of Elimelech and Naomi, and Boaz’s action in agreeing to do so (after some delay) was his act of kindness to them also.
So all in all, the book of Ruth is a story of hesed—kindness in action from beginning to end. Boaz and Ruth model the kindness of God. That is how God behaves, and that is how his servants should behave, whether native-born Israelites like Boaz, or converted foreigners like Ruth. Both of them went beyond what was normal or expected in their own cultures. Both of them took considerable risks. And they did so in order to show kindness to someone in dire need. Exactly like God.
David. The friendship between David and Jonathan, son of King Saul, is legendary. They both knew that Saul was determined to kill David if he could. But they also knew that David had been anointed to be king in Saul’s place eventually. That would have been a big threat to Jonathan who, as Saul’s son, could have expected (and wanted) to be the next king. So Jonathan asks David to swear lifelong loyalty to him and his family—no matter what would happen. His words explicitly ask David to model himself on God in doing so:
“Show me unfailing kindness [hesed] like the LORD’s kindness as long as I live, so that I may not be killed, and do not ever cut off your kindness from my family—not even when the LORD has cut off every one of David’s enemies from the face of the earth.”
So Jonathan made a covenant with the house of David, saying, “May the LORD call David’s enemies to account.” And Jonathan had David reaffirm his oath out of love for him, because he loved him as he loved himself. (1 Sam 20:14-17)
Later, when Saul and Jonathan had both died in battle with the Philistines and David had become king of all the tribes of Israel, David remembered that promise to Jonathan, and the very terms in which it had been made:
David asked, “Is there anyone still left of the house of Saul to whom I can show kindness [hesed] for Jonathan’s sake?”
Now there was a servant of Saul’s household named Ziba. They summoned him to appear before David, and the king said to him, “Are you Ziba?”
“At your service,” he replied.
The king asked, “Is there no one still alive from the house of Saul to whom I can show God’s kindness?”
Ziba answered the king, “There is still a son of Jonathan; he is lame in both feet.”
“Where is he?” the king asked.
Ziba answered, “He is at the house of Makir son of Ammiel in Lo Debar.”
So King David had him brought from Lo Debar, from the house of Makir son of Ammiel.
When Mephibosheth son of Jonathan, the son of Saul, came to David, he bowed down to pay him honor.
David said, “Mephibosheth!”
“At your service,” he replied.
“Don’t be afraid,” David said to him, “for I will surely show you kindness for the sake of your father Jonathan. I will restore to you all the land that belonged to your grandfather Saul, and you will always eat at my table.” (2 Sam 9:1-7)
So the Old Testament, then, taught that hesed—kindness—was part of the character of the God of Israel, and should also therefore be part of the character of his people. Faithful love and kindness is what God wants to see being exercised on earth, for that is what he delights in, as several prophets spell out very clearly:
This is what the LORD says:
“Let not the wise boast of their wisdom
or the strong boast of their strength
or the rich boast of their riches,
but let the one who boasts boast about this:
that they have the understanding to know me,
that I am the LORD, who exercises kindness [hesed],
justice and righteousness on earth,
for in these I delight,”
declares the LORD. (Jer 9:23-24)
He has told you, O mortal, what is good;
and what does the LORD require of you
but to do justice, and to love kindness [hesed],
and to walk humbly with your God? (Mic 6:8; NRSV)
“This is what the LORD Almighty said: ‘Administer true justice; show mercy [hesed] and compassion to one another.’” (Zech 7:9)
The Wisdom literature goes beyond seeing this simply as a command. It points out that when we do actions that are kind, we not only imitate God, we are actually doing such things to God. The word hesed does not occur in all of the following texts (sometimes it is the word for compassion which is very close), but the sense of generous kindness to others, especially the needy, is clear.
Those who are kind benefit themselves,
but the cruel bring ruin on themselves. (Prov 11:17)
It is a sin to despise one’s neighbor,
but blessed is the one who is kind to the needy. (Prov 14:21)
Whoever oppresses the poor shows contempt for their Maker,
but whoever is kind to the needy honors God. (Prov 14:31)
Whoever is kind to the poor lends to the LORD,
and he will reward them for what they have done. (Prov 19:17)
If kindness is essentially loving others enough to put their needs before your own, then Jesus was kindness incarnate—kindness on two legs.
I have a friend who says he wants to write a book on the life of Jesus and call it “a theology of interruptions.” Because, he says, so many of the things that Jesus said or did in the Gospel stories happened because somebody interrupted him when he was actually doing something else, or on a journey, or visiting, or eating. Yet Jesus responded to these interruptions not with irritation and dismissal but with kindness and warmth. And in many cases he showed this respectful kindness to people whom society typically rejected and shunned.
Think of the woman with bleeding, interrupting him on the way to an urgent medical emergency; think of the parents bringing their children when his disciples were wanting to get on with their private lessons; think of blind Bartimaeus who kept shouting over the crowd until Jesus stopped; think of the Syro-Phoenician woman who wouldn’t take no for an answer; think of the woman who anointed his feet at a meal, and scandalized the host. Even in Jesus’ excruciating agony on the cross, he was thinking of the needs of his mother. And after his resurrection, he knew that hungry fishermen needed a good breakfast after a night at sea.
And all these examples of the kindness of Jesus were not just because he was “a very nice man,” or just the kind of person who always seems to be gently smiling in the background. Jesus could use some very strong words and actions against religious leaders and hypocrites. But to the poor, the sick, and the marginalized—people that everybody else pushed aside—to such people Jesus showed extraordinary kindness and gave precious time and attention to their needs. In fact, Jesus crossed barriers and broke down social taboos to show such kindness, by eating and drinking with people whom polite society despised.
So if being a disciple of Jesus means that I ought to follow his example, why do I so often fail to take the time to be kind to others in daily life? Even though I’d like to think that I’m generally a kindly sort of fellow, I know that there are many—far too many—occasions when I could show some kindness to another person, but don’t. Probably nobody notices, but I feel guilty about it inside. Why does it happen? Well I can answer my own question, and maybe you would answer differently, but it is certainly a challenging question to ask.
Often it’s because I’m too busy and don’t want to be interrupted. I’ve got things to do, people to see, work to get done. I’m out and about, I’m going somewhere, and I have an agenda and a schedule and time is precious. So the moment flies past when I could stop and just talk for a while to that homeless person, or when I could go over and offer to help that stranger looking a bit lost. I didn’t do anybody any harm, but there was a kindness I could have done, and it got left undone. I was not willing to let my life be interrupted in order to show kindness to someone else. Not very like Jesus.
Sometimes it’s because I’m being self-protective. When I travel, it seems almost necessary to go into “flight mode” and just push ahead: Don’t cross me, I’ve gotta do what I’ve gotta do. There is so much inconvenience and hassle involved in traveling these days that it easily makes me self-absorbed, just concentrating on my own immediate needs and urgency. At such times, I need to remind myself (since Christ lives in me) how I should be behaving toward others around me—even strangers, and even when I’m tired and under pressure (as Jesus must have been). The challenge of exercising kindness, even in stressful circumstances, has to be faced. And it’s a challenge that I know I too frequently fail.
We need to remember that kindness is part of the fruit of the Spirit precisely because it doesn’t come naturally (even though it’s true that some people seem to be just more naturally kind than others). But the sort of kindness Paul is talking about is not “natural,” but “spiritual,” in the sense that it comes from being filled with God’s Spirit.
Such kindness is fruit (it grows because of the life of the Spirit within us), but it also has to be cultivated. It has to become a habit that builds into our character.
How do you know something has become a habit? Only when it becomes more natural to say and do what is kind than not to. It has become a habit when you don’t have to stop and think and check the many negative reasons before offering to help someone else. It has become a habit if we feel really miserable and self-accusing when, for whatever reason, we fail to do and say what is kind, or (even worse) when we behave in ways that we know were downright unkind. At such moments we should be challenging ourselves, How could I possibly do that? How could I, as a Christian, be so unkind? And then, of course, we should come back to the Lord to ask for forgiveness and grace. For we all fail at times. But if kindness as the fruit of the Spirit is beginning to grow within us, then we will notice the failure far more painfully and want to ask for grace to do better next time.
So as we go out into each day, with its travel and its work, and its constant rubbing of shoulders with other people, why don’t we ask God for opportunities to show kindness?
Here is something that may help us move in that direction. Actually, it is one of the most challenging combinations of verses that I have come across in terms of personal behavior. I first heard John Stott preaching on these verses, and his words have stuck with me ever since.
There are two places in Colossians 3 where Paul begins a sentence with, “Whatever you do,” which simply means, “in everything you do”! The first is: “Whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus” (Col 3:17, emphasis mine). Now, to do something “in the name of” Jesus means that I am doing something that he would do if he were present. It means that I am acting as though Christ himself were acting in and through me. So the question that this startling text raises in our minds is this: If I were Christ, what would I do for that other person? What would Jesus do in this situation? And what, therefore, ought I to do, since I should be acting “in the name of the Lord Jesus”?
The second example from Colossians 3 is: “Whatever you do . . . [do it] as working for the Lord ” (Col 3:23, emphasis mine). That means that I should act as if the other person were Christ. What I am doing to or for the other person, I am doing to or for him. Paul was writing this to Christian slaves working for Christian and non-Christian masters. But Paul tells them very clearly that even slaves could serve Christ by working hard and honestly for their masters. So this raises another startling and balancing question in our minds: If that person were Christ, what would I do for him or her? How would I behave right now if that were Christ there in front of me? Supposing then we lived each day with those two questions in our minds:
Wouldn’t that make a difference in how we treat other people? What lengths of kindness would we show to others if we asked ourselves those questions and lived out the answers? Even as I write this and remember that teaching of Paul, through the preaching of John Stott, I feel personally convicted yet again. None of us lives up to that standard, do we? But should it not be the goal we aim for?
Richard Wurmband, the Romanian pastor who was imprisoned and tortured under the Communist regime, tells of how one day he was back in a cell with other people after he had been tortured. It was freezing cold and he was hugging his only blanket for warmth. Then he saw another prisoner shivering with cold in the corner with no blanket. He hugged his own blanket more closely to himself, until the thought came into his mind, If that were Christ, would you give him your blanket? The question answered itself. He gave the man his blanket (and later, after he was freed, he wrote a book with that question as the title).
That quality of self-denying kindness is not only what it means to be Christlike, it is also deeply attractive to others because it bears witness to the One who lives within us and whose Spirit is bearing fruit in our lives.
Anita Roddick, author of A Revolution in Kindness, says, “The end result of kindness is that it draws people to you.”
Well, that may be true. But I think we can say, with far greater conviction and for a far better reason, “The end result of kindness is that it draws people to Christ.”