The Fruit That Can't Be Faked
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There’s a story Jesus tells near the end of the Sermon on the Mount that’s both haunting and hopeful. He says there will be people who stand before Him one day, calling Him “Lord,” listing off everything they’ve done in His name—preaching, healing, performing miracles—and yet, He’ll say, “I never knew you.”
That’s a hard line to swallow. But it’s not meant to terrify us; it’s meant to wake us up.
Jesus is closing out His most famous sermon—the one about loving enemies, forgiving freely, and building our lives on something deeper than appearances. And as He wraps up, He gives this sober warning: not everyone who looks the part actually knows Him. Some people will say all the right words, hold all the right beliefs, and lead impressive ministries, but somehow miss the narrow, quiet path He’s been describing all along.
When the Backpack Looks Right but Isn’t
Imagine going skydiving and realizing the person next to you is about to jump with a regular backpack instead of a parachute. Everything looks fine from a distance—they’re smiling, excited, ready to leap—but what’s inside that pack makes all the difference.
That’s what Jesus is getting at. The “false prophets” He warns about don’t show up with horns and pitchforks. They look right. They sound right. They use all the same language. The problem isn’t how they present themselves—it’s what’s actually forming them from the inside out.
In other words, Jesus is less interested in the backpack and more interested in the contents.
What the Will of the Father Really Looks Like
When Jesus talks about “doing the will of the Father,” it’s easy to think He means following a strict list of religious rules. But throughout the Sermon on the Mount, He redefines what obedience looks like.
The will of the Father, Jesus says, looks like mercy instead of revenge. Integrity instead of image-management. Humility instead of platform-building. Forgiveness instead of grudges.
It’s not glamorous, and it doesn’t get you trending on Christian TikTok. But it’s the kind of fruit that lasts—the kind that flows out of a heart being formed into Christ’s image.
Fruit That’s About Character, Not Performance
Here’s the hard part: many of the things we call “fruit” in modern Christianity aren’t what Jesus meant.
Good doctrine? Important—but not the whole story. Even the people Jesus warns about call Him “Lord.”
Successful ministry? Impressive—but success can easily mask pride.
Religious activity? Noble—but it can become a performance more than a practice.
True fruit, Jesus says, looks like the slow work of becoming more like Him. It’s seen in the way you speak to your kids when you’re exhausted. How you talk about a co-worker who gets under your skin. Whether you keep a promise no one will notice if you break.
That’s the kind of fruit you can’t fake.
Why This Is Good News
For a lot of us who grew up in church, this passage used to sound like a threat. But for those who’ve seen hypocrisy up close, maybe it actually sounds like good news.
Because Jesus isn’t impressed by showmanship. He’s not fooled by charisma. He sees through the metrics and titles and “wins.” He’s looking for something real—something that grows in the soil of humility, mercy, and love.
That means the quiet acts of kindness, the reconciliations no one hears about, the prayers whispered in doubt—they all count. In fact, they might be the truest evidence that Jesus is forming something alive in you.
So maybe this is what Jesus meant when He said, “By their fruit you will recognize them.”
Not by their platform. Not by their performance. But by the kind of love that shows up in the hidden places—the fruit that can’t be faked.
