Some people correct to win the argument. Jesus corrected to win the heart.

When I think about His time on earth, one thing stands out to me: how gentle His approach was in teaching and correcting. He could have spoken with blunt force, delivering raw truth that would shake people to their core. Instead, He often chose parables—simple, relatable stories that carried eternal truths in ways people could digest and reflect upon.

As Ephesians 4:15 reminds us, we are to “speak the truth in love.” That was Jesus’ way. Parables invite self-discovery rather than shame, which is truly the heart of God—correction that restores rather than condemns.

Think about how He taught forgiveness and reconciliation through the story of the Prodigal Son. Or how He defended the woman caught in adultery, disarming her accusers with a single challenge: “He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her.” Or His conversation with the Samaritan woman at the well—full of truth, yet layered with compassion. Even in parables like the sower and the seed, He could have bluntly told His listeners, “This is what the kingdom of God requires,” but instead, He used stories to help them see themselves and understand the message deeply.

Guarding What Matters Most

Of course, there were moments when His correction was firm and urgent—like the day He entered the temple, saw merchants turning God’s house into a marketplace, and overturned the tables. His words were clear and passionate: “My house shall be called the house of prayer” (Matthew 21:13).

Growing up, my mom instilled a similar reverence for prayer. She would say, “There are things you can interrupt and get away with—but never prayer.” I didn’t realize how deeply this had been ingrained in me until an amusing (and slightly embarrassing) moment with my mother-in-law years later—but that’s a story for another day.

That value stayed with me: prayer time and sacred moments deserved protection. Jesus guarded the sanctity of the temple; my mom guarded the sanctity of prayer time at home. Both left an imprint that shaped my approach to God’s presence.

A Bite of Garlic and a Gentle Lesson

Thinking about Jesus’ style also reminds me of my dad. He had a gift for giving honest feedback without making you feel small. In today’s quick-to-condemn culture, people often speak the truth like a weapon—cutting, cold, and unyielding. My dad believed truth should be spoken with love.

He could point out a fault in a way that made you laugh—and still made the lesson stick.

I remember one evening when my younger sister brought him his usual snack: orange quarters and peeled garlic cloves. She forgot to bring a fork. Dad called her over, took her hand, used it to pick up a garlic clove, and pretended to bite her hand.

Now, if you’ve ever smelled garlic—especially after it’s been chewed—you know it’s not exactly perfume! My sister’s eyes widened in shock, and I could barely contain my laughter. Dad grinned and said, “Oh, I thought you wanted me to use your hand as a fork.” We all burst into laughter, but she never forgot to bring a fork again.

The Day the Clothes Were Dry but the Job Wasn’t Done

Another time, Dad asked me to wash his clothes. At seven years old, I was thrilled—trusted with Daddy’s clothes! I washed, rinsed, and hung them outside on the line to be sun-dried, checking them from time to time until they were ready. The smell of sun-dried clothes filled the room as I folded them neatly and placed them on his bed.

I felt on top of the world. I thought, Daddy is going to be so proud of me—I even folded them nicely!

When he came home, he smiled. “Thank you for washing my clothes. Did you iron them?”

“No, Daddy, you didn’t tell me to.”

He chuckled and said, “When I say ‘wash clothes,’ I mean wash, rinse, dry, iron, and keep them away. Otherwise, I should have rinsed them myself.” I laughed too, but the lesson stuck: Do the job completely, not just partly.

Redefining Respect

It wasn’t the only time Dad corrected me with a smile. Another day, I brought home a “lesson” from school that he quickly and lovingly rewrote.

In primary school, I’d learned that when serving your parents food, you must kneel down as a sign of respect. That evening, I was serving my dad swallow with soup. Since he ate with his hands, I also brought a bowl of water and liquid soap so he could wash his hands before eating—a common practice in many African homes.

In my eagerness to do it “the proper way,” I knelt down before him while holding the bowl. Dad burst out laughing and said, “Stand up—there’s no need for that.”

I explained, “But that’s what they taught us in school.”

Still smiling, he said, “Okay, if you don’t stand up, I won’t wash my hands.” I quickly stood up, and he washed his hands. Then he told me something that stuck: respect isn’t just about outward actions—it’s about the way you treat people all the time, even when they aren’t there to see it.

Why Gentle Truth Hits Deeper

Both Jesus and my dad showed me that correction doesn’t have to crush a person’s spirit. Gentle words can still carry strong truth. As Proverbs 15:1 reminds us, “A soft answer turneth away wrath: but grievous words stir up anger.”

So think about the last time you had to correct someone. Did your words build them up or tear them down? How might your approach change if you spoke as Jesus did—with gentleness and truth?

In a world that rewards quick judgment, may we be slow to speak, quick to listen, and gentle in our correction—just as Jesus is with us. And may God help us speak the truth in love, so that our words heal, restore, and transform.

Categories: My Christian Beliefs, My lifestyle

Tags: Christian, Christian Living, Christianity, correcting in love, Experiences, Faith, gentle correction, Godly wisdom, Intentional living, Life lessons, Motivation, Reflections, Self-Development, speaking truth in love