One of my teenage daughters loves to steal my phone, take strange, close-up selfies, and then load them to my phone’s wallpaper and lock screen. She takes advantage of the fact that I’m middle-aged and therefore technologically challenged, so changing a preset is hard. I imagine the only thing worse would be her changing the predictive and autocorrect settings for my texts—like “hi” to “I’m a potato,” “okay” to “Not on my watch!,” or “sounds good” to “I haven’t stopped thinking about you.” Even with the help of Google and AI, the thought of how much time and energy it would take me to change those presets makes me want to fall asleep.
Whether it’s the sound or frequency of a notification alert, an app set to “always allow” my location, or my screen turning off every ten seconds while I’m reading, our devices have defaults. And they’re not always easy to change.
You and I have our own versions of an operating system with default settings, and we see it in every conversation we have.
Our brains can shift into autopilot, and unless we’re intentionally relying on God’s help, our interactions are more likely to be shaped by who we were apart from Christ than by who we are now that the Spirit of God lives within us.
Just as we can adjust the permissions on our phone settings to keep devices from unwanted buzzing or sending embarrassing texts, we can reset our relational defaults to have Spirit-filled conversations with our friends and those we love.
When I was just out of college, I regularly taught a seminar on listening skills. In my mid-twenties, I was a really good listener, by the way. So why is it that in my mid-forties, I struggle so badly? I’m on the phone with my sister or at the gym with a friend, and before I know it, I’m dismissing or indulging, avoiding or fixing, neglecting or interrupting… or simply sharing a story that’s not mine to tell.
We all do this. We hedge and curate, but then we also blurt and vent (sometimes spiritualizing while we do it). We fill quiet spaces with unnecessary words and withhold our real selves. We seek to be understood rather than seeking to understand. Some of it is nature. Some of it is nurture. But either way, the Bible refers to these presets and patterns as “the flesh.”
Yes, we’re new creations in Christ, and no, we’re no longer enslaved to our old sinful nature, which has passed away (2 Cor. 5:17). But when we begin to follow Jesus, our hard drives aren’t erased; our bodies keep the score. Our minds are still programmed with the disordered desires of our old selves (Rom. 6:6, Eph. 4:22), and there’s some messed-up muscle memory in all of us.
Whether these patterns are genetically predisposed or learned ruts and reflexes, there’s an ongoing conflict within us that needs the Spirit’s reprogramming and renewal (Galatians 5:16-17). That’s why Paul says in Romans 12:2, “Don’t be conformed to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.”
This conflict becomes most noticeable in our conversations with our best friends and loved ones. The moment we open our mouths, our old hard drive collides with our new identity. The struggle is real.
Have you ever left a conversation with a friend sensing a stirring you wish you’d had the courage to voice? Or maybe you’ve felt regret that you weren’t more attuned to your friend in the conversation. Perhaps you’ve been convicted for speaking over them, rather than yielding to their wants and needs. Have you ever left and grieved how your words or tone caused harm rather than healing?
These feelings—the regret, the subtle grief, the conviction—are the Spirit’s gentle nudges showing us there’s a better way to live, a better way to talk.
Paul says, “Walk by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh” (Gal. 5:16). We need to learn how to walk by the Spirit—and also how to talk by the Spirit.
Do you want to have Spirit-filled conversations with your friends?
Paul tells us that if we’re in Christ, the same Spirit who raised Jesus from the dead lives inside us (Rom. 8:11). Jesus is right there. No need for human wisdom, conversations in our own efforts, or stubbornly sticking to our old presets and flesh patterns.
We can trade our ever-failing friendship defaults for Spirit-filled conversations that bring life.
The acts of the flesh are obvious… But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control (Gal. 5:19, 22-23). When we abide in the Spirit, our words and tone start reflecting his character. We pause instead of interrupting, we listen before rushing to fix, and we don’t spiritualize gossip. We no longer feel compelled to fill silence or share stories that aren’t ours.
This kind of reset may feel a little clumsy, but when we ask God’s Spirit to fill and empower us—when we tell him we want to depend on him rather than ourselves—our words, tone, and presence begin to reflect his love rather than our bad impulses.
When we choose to abide in Jesus and give him permission to override our faulty system settings (even mid-sentence), we’re far more likely to honor the friend in front of us than to wound them.
If you want to have Spirit-filled conversations with your friends, start with this prayer of surrender:
Holy Spirit, I need your help. Rather than walking—and talking—by your Spirit, I confess, I’m too easily led by my disordered defaults in conversations with my friends. Help me to abide in you so I can bear the fruit of your Spirit and honor the friends you’ve given me. Amen.