Taping Apples on a Thornbush: The Evidence of True Salvation

I’d like to share a little story with you.

In the soft, flickering light of a 17th-century workshop, Robert stood quietly, watching a dyer dye cloth. The dyer’s hands move with the kind of confidence that comes with years of practice. The fabric was initially pale, but it came alive with color as it was dyed. Then, Robert noticed the dyer reach for a small vial and drop a bit of vinegar onto the fabric. Instantly, the color brightened.

Robert furrowed his brow. "Do you always use vinegar to bring out the color like that?"

The dyer glanced up, half-smiling. "Yep, when I need it a bit brighter. Vinegar’s an old trick. Want it darker? Iron or a little ash usually does the job. Changes the whole thing."

Robert nodded slowly. He wasn’t just admiring the craft anymore—he was thinking about why the ingredients reacted as they did. It felt like something more profound was happening.

He left the shop that day pondering the question: Why does vinegar brighten color? Why does iron dull it? Why does such a small amount have such an apparent, visible effect?

His curiosity sent him digging. He started reading everything he could get his hands on—notes from artisans, techniques from artists that had been passed down through generations. The more he read, the bits and pieces began to come together and make sense.

The Litmus Test

That man, by the way, was Robert Boyle. If you’re up on your high school chemistry - and who isn’t? - you might recognize him as the father of modern chemistry. And what he eventually pieced together became known as the litmus test: a simple method to determine whether something is acidic or basic using a small piece of treated paper. Nothing flashy, just a plain bit of paper that changes color depending on the substance it touches.

Now, you might be wondering what a pastor is doing talking about chemistry and dyed cloth. And that’s a fair question. It’s because I found this illustration to help understand how faith and works are connected. What I mean is, works are like a litmus test of faith. The litmus test doesn’t change anything about the substance it touches. All it does is reveal what that substance already is.

The Role of Good Deeds

There’s this idea out there that to become a Christian, you've got to get yourself together first—quit some bad habits, pick up a few good ones, maybe clean up your language and be nicer to your neighbor, and start going to church. But that’s not how the Gospel works.

See, good works don’t make you a Christian. They just show what’s already happened in your heart. Like that little strip of paper—works aren’t what causes the change from sinner to saint; they just show that the change has taken place.

The Apostle Paul put it like this:

“God saved you by his grace when you believed. And you can’t take credit for this; it is a gift from God. Salvation is not a reward for the good things we have done, so none of us can boast about it.” (Ephesians 2:8-9, NLT)

Read that line again: Salvation is not a reward for good things. It is a gift, not a reward. However, salvation certainly leads to good works, good habits, clean language, and right living.

The next verse adds a powerful punch.

“For we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago.”

Did you catch that those good works were intended for you by God long before you were ever born? From the beginning of your life, God has planned that you would do some pretty incredible things as a Christian. Things so great, they would mark you as a “masterpiece” of God - Paul’s words, not mine. However, these good works don’t save you. They are only the litmus test that indicates what God has done in your life.

Taping Apples on a Thornbush

Jesus used a different picture, but it’s the same idea. He said, “You’ll know a tree by its fruit.” Makes sense, right? If you see apples growing, you know you’re looking at an apple tree. The fruit doesn’t make it an apple tree—it just proves what kind of tree it already is.

Jesus said, “Figs are never gathered from thornbushes, and grapes are not picked from bramble bushes” (Luke 6:44). That’s because the kind of fruit that shows up is always tied to the type of root from which it grows.

So if you're seeing good works in someone’s life—kindness, compassion, generosity, forgiveness—that’s not them trying to earn salvation. That’s fruit growing from a heart that’s been changed by grace.

And if you’re not seeing the fruit you hope for in your own life? The answer isn’t to tape some apples onto a thornbush. It’s to let God do the deeper work at the root.

Three Time-Tested Actions that Transform

So how does that happen?

Well, most of the time, it’s not flashy. It’s steady, simple things. I refer to them often because they’ve been proven time and again to change lives. First, spend time in Scripture. Not just to check a box, but to let God reshape how you see things.

Second, talk to God—and take time to listen too. Real prayer changes more than just your circumstances. It changes you.

Third, don’t try to do this alone. Walk with other believers. Let them speak into your life, encouraging you, challenging you, and reminding you who you are when you forget.

Because when God changes you at the root, the fruit will take care of itself. The evidence will show—like color on a cloth, or like a strip of paper dipped in truth.