Of all the fruit of the Spirit, gentleness has been the most difficult for me to understand. Through study, I’ve discovered that gentleness isn’t feminine, passive, or introverted. But even with these clarifications, gentleness remained a conceptually vague “vibe” that felt like a call to combine Mr. Rogers’s personality with Bob Ross’s voice as he paints his trees.
It just wasn’t me.
Like beauty, gentleness is easier to recognize than it is to specifically define. You might be surprised to learn that over a dozen Hebrew and Greek words are translated as “gentle” in our English Bibles. While it’s popular to describe gentleness as “strength under control,” an examination of theological dictionaries (e.g., TDNT, NIDNTT) and lexicons (e.g., HALOT, BDAG) reveals that the concept is a bit more complex.
For example, according to BDAG, the Greek word most commonly translated “gentle” (Gk. πραΰτης) refers to “the quality of not being overly impressed by a sense of one’s self-importance.” Similarly, the Greek word that describes both the gentle “wisdom from above” (James 3:17) and the way we ought to treat others (Titus 3:2; Gk. ἐπιεικής) refers to “not insisting on every right of letter of law or custom.”
In an attempt to avoid oversimplifying the multifaceted nature of gentleness, Andy Naselli offers a definition aimed at synthesizing its various aspects: “Gentleness is the virtue of humbly and wisely showing tender kindness to someone.”
In what follows, my goal is not to contribute to the scholarly discussion regarding its exact definition. Naselli’s suggestion is fine for our purposes. Rather, by highlighting a concept that consistently characterizes Scripture’s use of the word, I hope to offer a diagnostic tool that will help us more faithfully practice it in the real world.
Gentleness and Force Minimalism
Take a moment and consider the core concept that the following images of gentleness share in common:
- Gentle waters (Isa. 8:6)
- Gentle whispers (1 Kings 19:12)
- Gentle treatment of a captive (2 Sam. 18:5)
- Gentle words (Prov. 15:4)
- Gentle breezes (Acts 27:14)
- Gentle defense of the faith (1 Pet. 3:15)
- Gently correcting opponents (2 Tim. 2:25)
- Gently confronting another’s sin (Gal. 6:1).
Gentle water, breeze, words, confrontation—what’s the conceptual common denominator here? Debates about its precise definition notwithstanding, gentleness in the Bible is consistently characterized by a minimization of force or intensity.
Whether it's describing whispers or a believer’s defense of the faith, gentleness is characterized by what we might call “force minimalism.” While inadequate in itself as a comprehensive definition for gentleness, force minimalism is the ethic that shapes much of what it looks like in practice.
The Question We Must Ask
If we, like Jesus, want to be gentle, lowly people (Matt. 11:29), we need a self-interrogation mechanism in place to help ensure that our responses to various situations are in keeping with the gentleness to which we’re called.
In view of honoring the Lord and loving the people around us, force minimalism requires that we ask not, “What is the most intensity or force I can use in this situation and not sin?” but “What’s the least intensity or force I can use in this situation and still be effective and faithful?”
Consider a surgeon who makes larger incisions than necessary simply because he enjoys using his scalpel or because it means he can get to lunch faster. We would rightly condemn such behavior as unethical. A good surgeon makes the smallest incision—does the least amount of damage necessary—to get the job done.
Yet, too often, we’re like the unethical surgeon in our responses to those around us. We care less about how the force of our words and actions might damage others and more about defending our own interests in the immediate present.
Sometimes, faithfulness in a situation requires using significant force and intensity. Jesus turned over tables. Believers can boldly oppose evil and injustice.
Gentleness doesn’t require that we forsake the use of force altogether. It doesn’t require us to be passive. It demands that we limit our use of force to what faithfulness and effectiveness in a given situation requires.
Practicing Force Minimalism: Three Commitments
(1) Grace-fueled effort. Years ago, I was discussing gentleness with a man who—growing frustrated with the conversation—said, “Honestly, I don’t think you’re a gentle person. I just think you try really hard.” Exactly! He was correct to say that gentleness takes effort. He was wrong to suggest that gentleness is inauthentic if it’s the byproduct of effort.
Gentleness isn’t a personality trait, nor is it something toward which our sinful hearts are naturally inclined. It is a fruit of the Spirit to be actively cultivated. Rather than simply hoping that we’ll somehow become gentle people, we must make a grace-fueled effort through the Spirit at work within us (Eph. 3:20) to ensure that our words and actions serve the interests of others, not just our own (Phil. 2:4).
(2) Patience. Someone once told me, “When I yell in the home, I get results.” While it’s true that excessive force can motivate more immediate changes in others’ behavior, gentleness demands that we prioritize loving people over efficiency, caring for others over agenda.
Sometimes, this means taking two minutes to say what you could otherwise say in five seconds with a sharp one-liner. In confrontation, it means not offering more incriminating examples than necessary to help someone understand the problem even if an exhaustive rehearsal of the evidence may produce a more immediate shame-induced response. In an effort to love our neighbors, force minimalism demands that we patiently endure the inconvenience and slower progress that a harsher approach might help us avoid.
(3) Forgoing the cathartic. Practicing gentleness is further complicated by the fact that overreacting and overstating feels good. In our flesh, there’s something satisfying about matching the forcefulness of our words and actions with the intensity of our feelings in the moment.
Gentleness requires us to forgo whatever cathartic benefits reacting this way might provide. It recognizes that only a fool gives full vent to his Spirit (Prov. 29:11) and that the demands of faithfulness in a given situation—not the intensity of our feelings—should govern our use of force.
In this way, gentleness is often a form of mercy—a kind of unmerited kindness when a more intense response could be justified. Even when wronged, it remains committed to benevolent restraint over retributive tone-matching.
Conclusion
While gentleness as a multi-faceted concept cannot be reduced to force minimalism, we’ll struggle to practice gentleness without it. When my emotional temperature begins to rise on account of being unfairly criticized or because my three-year-old has a meltdown when I tell her she’s watched enough Bluey, merely “hoping” that I’ll respond with gentleness is a losing strategy.
I need to run interference on my flesh. Chances are, you do, too.
When you find yourself provoked and believe a response is necessary, ask “How can I respond with the least force possible and still be faithful and effective?”
With this simple act of self-interrogation, you’ll be better prepared to honor the Lord in the challenging rhythms of ordinary life and more faithfully show to others the gentleness Christ has shown to you.
