The “works of the flesh” are plural because they show up in endless forms—lust, anger, envy, pride, greed, and a dozen other expressions of the same disease: self-centeredness. That is the condition we are all born into. We do not have to learn selfishness; it comes factory-installed. But something dramatic happens when the love of God enters a human life. Christ on the cross is God’s love displayed at full strength. When we receive Christ, we do not just receive forgiveness—we receive His love poured into our hearts. And when God first loves us, something awakens in us—we begin to love Him in return, and only then do we truly learn how to love others. Love does what no rule, ritual, or self-help program can do—it transforms us from the inside out. That is why Paul says in Galatians 5:24, “Those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires.” The cross is not only the place where Jesus died—it is also the place where our old life died. His crucifixion was for us, but it is also meant to be in us. Love puts the flesh to death and raises us into new life.
God’s love is not a sentimental emotion; it is a force. It teaches us, corrects us, comforts us, and restrains us when necessary. Love pulls us away from self-worship and into Spirit-led living. That is why Paul continues in verse 25: “If we live by the Spirit, let us also keep in step with the Spirit.” Notice—this is not automatic. We must choose to keep step, like soldiers marching in rhythm behind their commander. When we follow the Spirit’s lead, love becomes visible in how we treat others. So Paul concludes with a relational warning in verse 26: “Let us not become conceited, provoking one another, envying one another.” These attitudes—pride, competitiveness, comparison—are signs that the flesh is trying to climb off the cross. When love is present, we stop stepping on each other and start walking with each other.
Leroy Lawson tells a powerful story that illustrates how this transformation happens. During World War II, retreating Italian forces sabotaged the harbor of Eritrea by sinking massive concrete-filled barges to block Allied ships. The Allies could not possibly lift the barges by raw strength. So their engineers turned to a different power. They sealed enormous fuel tanks, floated them above the submerged barges, chained them together at low tide—and waited. When the tide rose, the tanks lifted the barges effortlessly and cleared the harbor. Human strength could not do it—only the rising tide could. Lawson says this is how spiritual transformation works. We cannot lift ourselves above the pull of sin by willpower. But when we are filled with the Spirit, God lifts us. He does in us what we could never do alone. That is how love takes over. That is how freedom begins—not by striving harder, but by rising higher through the power of the Spirit.