Sermon text: James 1:17-27
Alcoholics Anonymous:
The Story of How Many Thousands of Men and Women Have Recovered from Alcoholism
is the 1939 self-help book written by the founders of AA. It has become known to most as The Big
Book. It contains stories of struggle,
as well as solutions and rules to help addicts find recovery. Sounds like a book we all know
well. It was used as the blueprint for
what is now the 12-step program and the book has sold over 30 million copies,
landing it on Time magazine’s top 100 most influential books written since the
Magazine was founded in 1923.
The book is not
complex or daunting. It is very honest and
approachable and intended for those struggling with addiction to be a help for
those taking the first steps on the long road to recovery, a road that has no
end in this life. And many alcoholics
read it over and over on this journey.
It has experience that resonates and advice that must be heard over and
over to sink in, and is heard anew and in fresh ways each time. Whether the journey is new, or the journey
has been long and arduous, the struggles and the solutions are real and true.
The letter of James
from which we read this morning is a similar book for us as believers. It contains advice to new Christians, baby
believers, new converts. However, the
struggles and sage wisdom offered by its author ring true for us in each
reading and give us the reminders we need for Christian living, for how to live
as believers on this journey of faith, our road to redemption, a road that has
no end in this life.
James is a book to
which we can return over and over as we grow in faith and learn again the lessons
we have not yet fully learned. James
reminds us so often that we deceive ourselves about our own spiritual
maturity. Most of us have been
Christians for so long we take the basics for granted. Sports teams get into big trouble for this
all the time. It’s easy for a dedicated
athlete on a great college or professional team to think they’ve already done
all the hard work already and now they just have to show up. There’s nothing left to learn or practice or
improve. Winning is now just a birthright
or matter of chance. But how often has a
winning team risen from the coaching efforts of a titan who says, “we’re going
back to the basics? We’re going back to
the fundamentals.”
If you followed the
rise and eventual victory of the Lake Placid US Hockey Gold Medal Team or have
seen the film Miracle, you know that the coach did have a new style of hockey…
a mixture of two already well-established styles (Canadian and Russian) and
some new ideas about picking players… but everything about their training and
their victory… was about going back to the basics. They would practice longer, they’d pass and
they’d skate and they’d train harder. Everything they did was focusing on,
practicing and perfecting the very things they’d learned as peewee hockey
players.
And brothers and
sisters, that’s what the writer of James implores in his letter, implores his
recipient, implores us to do, to practice the basics, to perfect them. This morning, we read from the first chapter
of his letter, his introduction. We hear
his instruction to be doers and not hearers only,
as our temptation is as human beings and believers. This is his preface to the rest of his
letter. He’s saying, “let this sink in real
good because I don’t want you to merely ponder my words, but to jump up the
minute I’m done talking and go and DO.”
And as Presbyterians,
we’re super good at pondering. We’ve
made it an art, an ideal, something to which we aspire. When one of you comes to me or Pattie or John
during the week and says, “I’ still thinking about that sermon you preached
this week…” we feel we’ve really nailed it.
But I think about people who have started non-profits and movements, who
have made a difference in their communities or in raising their kids or inspiring
students, and their stories go much beyond pondering. Their stories start with conviction, with
action. I heard the sermon, I heard that
hymn sung, I heard that minute for mission and I did.” They walked right out of church, out of Bible
study, out of Sunday school, back from mission trip and they turned from being
an active hearer… to a DOER.
If you walk out of
here today mid-service, I’ll assume you were inspired to immediately go change
this world… and I’m going to ask how it went.
If you just went to the bathroom, that’s going to be an awkward
conversation for both of us. So for just
this week… hold it.
So how do we listen to
the Word today and become DOERS, leaving here to go make a difference? According to Webster, a verb is an action
word. According to my kindergarten
teacher, it’s a word on the go. And if
we Christians, if this church is what we say it is… a church on the move… then
we should be looking for verbs in James’ letter. Because James tells us that a doer acts
and will be blessed in his doing. And he closes our chapter after
this advice with just two verses. And in
these verses, we get our verbs. In verse
26, we get ‘thinking,’ ‘bridling,’ and ‘deceiving.’ James tells us that if we think that we can
go around shooting off at the mouth without any restraint, we are not only
deceiving ourselves, but our entire religion is worthless. That which we say without thinking reflects
not only poorly on us as a person, but on our entire religion. That’s a powerful burden and one that is
completely true. Think of how you’ve
viewed an entire band for what a singer says, what you think of Hollywood for
one actor’s words, for millions in a political party or nation for the words of
the one holding the microphone.
I’ve got a good bit of
time around horses, and if you have too, you know the importance of a
bridle. Its intent is not to limit the
freedom of a horse or to harm it. The
bridle is intended to the benefit of a horse and its rider. With a bridle, you can lead a horse to the
best water, or into a stable where it will be safe during a storm. Without it, a horse may lead itself to dirty
water or run off during a storm. The
bridle is the tool of the horse’s rider that helps the horse. And so it is with our tongues, with our
words. They need a bridle; they need our
wisdom to guide them from danger and destruction to that which is life-giving.
We gain wisdom from
experience and scripture and wise instruction from others. My father offered a lot of advice to
me as a kid. “Measure twice, cut once…
Wash a car from the top down… Don’t tell your mom about this speeding
ticket.” But the one nugget of wisdom
I recall was about bridling my tongue… “Before you say something to someone,
ask… is it true… is it kind… is it necessary?”
If it doesn’t pass these tests, chances are, you’re better off keeping
it to yourself. I’m not sure my dad was
always as successful at that as he hoped I would be, but it was sage wisdom.
As good Presbyterians,
if there’s one thing we’re almost as good at as pondering, it’s pondering
aloud. A committee is nothing more than
a collection of people pondering aloud.
An effective committee does a lot of listening and praying as well, but
it’s the pondering together aloud that is the defining characteristic. Presbyterians are at their best when they
ponder aloud together, pray together and listen to one another and the
Spirit. It’s how the denomination was
formed. It’s how we call pastors. It’s how we make decisions for the life and
future of the church. It’s how we
establish confessions and for our government and rules.
But at our worst,
pondering aloud is like a wild bucking bronco.
It can be quite something to watch, mesmerizing and powerful, but
utterly destructive. Most of the time,
it’s harmless enough. No one is close
enough to get kicked. But at its very
worst, pondering aloud is just gossip.
And while we may not address it often or with much authority as
Presbyterians, it’s cancerous and deadly.
The versaity of gossip is certainly one of the problems, but not the
only one. Suicide is rampant in our
kids’ schools in this day and age.
Bullying is the well-defined culprit.
Broadly, it’s responsible for this tragic epidemic. But its tools are not all so obvious. Sometimes it’s physical abuse. Sometimes it’s name-calling and
exclusion. And just as often, kids
recount how their reputations and identities are marred by rumors and
accusations… by gossip. Gossip is bullying
at its most nefarious.
I spent a summer in
college as the youth director for a small rural Baptist church in Burlington,
NC, learning much in my first job in ministry.
I learned I was very Presbyterian that summer. But I learned more from the Baptists than I
ever expected. They taught me to pray
unceasingly and to expect God to answer.
They taught me to bravely share my faith and that keeping it to myself
was both safe and selfish. I had good
news to share and I should treat it as such.
One of the most meaningful things they taught me was a thing or two
about bridling.
As a youth worker, I
had become accustom to discussing the problems (and solutions) of the kids with
which we worked. Youth workers do
it. Teachers and administrators do
it. Managers do it. It’s commonplace, in ministry, teaching and
management. What isn’t so commonplace was
at the church I served… they guided those conversations to a closing prayer in
which they prayed for God’s guidance and help to teach the youth. Unbridled pondering aloud is gossip. Pondering aloud bridled by wisdom and the
Holy Spirit is Christ moving in his people.
It’s ministry. Guided by thoughts
of what is true, what is kind and what is necessary to say is how we bridle our
speech and how we become doers of the Word and not hearers
only.
I won’t ask us to
raise our hands and admit how often we each stand in a cluster of folks and
gossip, or how many times you forwarded on a little tidbit about a coworker or
an actress or a politician on Facebook before determining if it was true, let
alone kind or necessary. I won’t ask you
because I know precisely how guilty of such things I am every single
day. We leave here feeling very proud
that we’ve heard the scripture or heard the whole sermon. And I leave here hoping those things are true
and feeling very successful if those things are true. But we honor God most and we show our
religion worthwhile when we leave here and make apparent we are doers
of the Word and not hearers only.
When we find ourselves
in the midst of people sharing idle gossip about friends or family, or even
strangers, famous, powerful or rich, we have the choice to participate, to
ignore, or perhaps even to challenge that.
We have the choice to bridle our tongues with wisdom, to ask what is
true, what is kind and what is necessary, everyday. We have the choice to pray and to listen for
God about how to respond to the things we hear and learn, and how not to
deceive ourselves and our hearts.
Because James signs
off from this chapter before moving on with verse 27… he defines PURE and
undefiled religion with a few more verbs… Visiting orphans and widows in
their affliction… to keep oneself unstained from the world. And if you can’t walk away from a long
conversation about something or someone feeling like it was a better use of
your time than visiting a widow or an orphan or someone sick or in prison or
feeding a hungry person. If you consider
those things and feel a twinge of guilt or doubt about how “unstained by the
world” that conversation truly was, perhaps as a doer of the Word, you
can consider bridling your tongue, restraining your passion, your indignation,
or your curiosity for the sake of extending grace to another and bringing honor
to your God and your faith.
As we enter a season
of political upheaval and debate, I would not encourage you to merely be
mild-mannered Christians, passionless, polite and powerless. I don’t think James is recommending
that. I don’t think James or Jesus would
suggest in word or in deed that you not speak truth to power, to question and
challenge your leaders. But it would be
a helpful distinction to pause and consider if you are speaking truth to power
or speaking truth to gain power yourself or just to take it from someone you
dislike or with whom you disagree. There
is great temptation to unseat your opponent instead of listening to and loving
them. But then you’re back to being a
Zax, unbudged in your tracks and useless.
You cannot be a doer, if you’re stuck where you stand as
the immovable object in the path of your enemy.
Immovable objects are not verbs.
They are not on the move.
James calls us to be
like Christ, to be doers, and he gives us his wisdom. And we learn from this passage that we can
bridle our tongues, bridle our words, and honor God by speaking in wisdom. We can ask ourselves what is true, what is
kind and what is necessary and we can move from pondering to action, from
gossip to Godly action. We can move from
words to widows and orphans, the sick and the hungry, from words of oppression
to freeing the oppressed. Do not merely
ponder this sermon. Do not merely ponder
the words of James. Leave this place and
be a doer of the Word.
Leave here and consider how you can bridle your own words and your own
heart. Challenge your friends, your
family and your leaders to consider those things which are true, kind and
necessary. Put a sticky note on your
computer or by your phone and bridle that which you would say to others.
To be a doer of the
Word is to live humbly, to accept the challenges of scripture and your faith
community and to extend that challenge in love to the people you love… and to
those you don’t yet love. Do not be
content to be a hearer only. I would
pray for you and for me that we never be content so long as we are hearers
only… stained by our world, passively allowing injustice to those in need while
we gossip and speak idly.
We are called to be
doers of the Word, and we must use our own words to bring good
news to those who need it, to speak words of kindness and comfort, of challenge
and support, of grace and mercy, not of hate and intolerance, slander and
cruelty. We cannot speak badly to and
about one another, about our political and ideological enemies, other countries
and people of other faiths. We must
follow the example of Christ and speak in love and forgiveness, even to those
who hurt and oppress us. Jesus’ last
words were to forgive those who killed him in anger and jealousy and hate. How much more are we called to say and to do?
I have not always done
this well, but I can say the closest thing to a miracle that I’ve ever
witnessed is the reaction of those who have hurt me to the kindness I have
shown them. To be a doer of the Word and
not just a hearer is a powerful testimony to the grace of the God in who we
believe.
I’ve always loved the
old hymn and its refrain that calls, “Spirit of restlessness, stir us from
placidness.” For that is what the Spirit
does. May the Spirit be present in our
lives, stirring each of us from our placidness to lives of restlessness, to
lives of action…
Let us pray…
Oh Lord, send your spirit as you sent it to your son to drive us from
this place to the wilderness. Call us to
needs and strengthen us to deeds in your name.
Amen.
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