CONSIDER IT PURE joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, 3because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. 4Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. 5If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him. 6But when he asks, he must believe and not doubt, because he who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind. 7That man should not think he will receive anything from the Lord; 8he is a double-minded man, unstable in all he does.
9The brother in humble circumstances ought to take pride in his high position. 10But the one who is rich should take pride in his low position, because he will pass away like a wild flower. 11For the sun rises with scorching heat and withers the plant; its blossom falls and its beauty is destroyed. In the same way, the rich man will fade away even while he goes about his business.
Original Meaning
JAMES FOLLOWS HIS introduction and greeting with a passage pregnant with practical questions and answers rich in theological content. He makes his case here in two broad strokes. In the first (1:2–8) James addresses the question of trials: What is the source of misfortune? Why does God allow difficulties in our lives? How are we to respond to them? To these questions James answers that prayer, and specifically the wisdom of God, are the tools necessary to negotiate successfully the minefield of trials and the questions they spur in our minds. In the second broad stroke (1:9–11) James discusses poverty and wealth and the effects these conditions can have on spiritual life. He urges his readers to remember that wealth is fleeting and that God elevates the poor.
Trials (1:2–8)
JAMES MAKES HIS case that (1) testing ought to be received with joy, for it results in benefit, and that (2) wisdom is needed as the gift from God in order to perceive testing in this manner. In so doing the section begins to build the case that true religion is composed of the development of both individual character (1:2–18) and corporate character (1:19–2:26; that is, the church itself should stand for truth and spurn duplicity in both teaching and worship). The section also introduces some of the major themes of the letter—prayer, faith, and testing.
James 1:2–8 is a chain argument that is given structural unity by the use of verbal links (the words “greetings” [chairein] and “joy” [charan] in verses 1 and 2; “perseverance” in verses 3 and 4; “lack” in verses 4 and 5; “ask” in verses 5 and 6) and the placing of one idea over the other, aiming at the effect of strong moral exhortation (cf. also Rom. 5:3–5; 1 Peter 1:6–7). While there are some differences in these three passages,1 all share the idea of endurance. It is possible that each depends on a common source, such as the teaching of Jesus.
Pure joy. In the phrase “pure joy,” “pure” translates pasan (“whole, complete, utter”), thus heightening the effect of joy. Plato uses this word when in the Laws he has Clinias argue that it is unlikely that a man would willingly “plunge into the utter depths of depravity.”2 In the Apocrypha God is described as the one who is “gracious … with complete favor” (2 Macc. 2:22). Paul in Colossians prays that the believers in Colosse will be filled with “all spiritual wisdom and understanding” (Col. 1:9–11). So the “joy” James speaks of here is a complete, overflowing joy. Although it seems strange, trials are to be occasions of such joy.
My brothers. With “my brothers” we revisit the question of addressees. Earlier we came to two conclusions: (1) James speaks with authority, but as one among peers; (2) James writes to the multiracial church. “My brothers” conveys warmth and comradeship, which agrees with our earlier conclusion. Two other factors cement the case. James makes no claim to apostolic authority,3 and his use of doulos (“servant,” v. 1) argues that he wishes to minimize the aura of authority.4
This leaves the question of the ethnic identification of his “brothers.” The Hebrew ʾaḥ (“brother” = Greek adelphos) is used, for example, of fellow countrymen in Exodus 2:11 and 2 Maccabees 1:1. On the other hand, in antiquity pagan religions used “my brothers” to refer to fellow adherents of various ethnic backgrounds.5 By far the most attested use of the term was within the early church. Here “brothers” could be used of fellow Jews, as Paul sometimes did (e.g., Rom. 9:3), but the overwhelming use in the New Testament and early Christian literature is of fellow Christians in contradistinction to the world at large.
It is not at all unlikely that the pervasive use in the New Testament was the product of its use by Jesus (Matt. 23:8; Mark 3:35; Luke 22:32) and of the radically different definition he gave to community. Loyalty to God, not ethnic composition, was his clarion call. James teaches that Christians sometimes encounter trials because of this loyalty to God. That Jesus so radically redefined the composition of the people of God offers us assurance that the previous conclusion concerning the twelve tribes as symbolic of the church was accurate.
Encountering trials. Christians “encounter” trials. The Greek word used here (peripipto) suggests an unwelcome and unanticipated experience. Jesus uses the same term when he tells the story of the good Samaritan, as the man “fell into the hands of” robbers (Luke 10:30). There is no room here for the idea of seeking out trials as a way of “proving” faith to oneself or to others. The trials James assumes here are unexpected and, at least initially, unwelcome.
Given what we know of contemporary Jewish thought, the trials “of many kinds” probably arose from both external and internal sources. There is little doubt that a great variety is in view; they are multicolored, intricate, and diverse. This contrasts with the straightforward integrity of God (v. 5) and recalls the subtlety of Satan.
The Hebrew word that stands behind the Greek word “trials” (peirasmos) is nasah, which means to prove the quality or worth of someone or something through adversity. In tenor it is neutral. Peirasmos is linked to peirates (“attacker, pirate”) and can mean both incitements to evil thoughts and actions and hardships that prove mettle.
Several points need to made here. (1) Testing can be linked to Satan. The New Testament sometimes refers to Satan as the attacker or the pirate (Matt. 4:3; 1 Cor. 7:5; 10:13; 1 Thess. 3:5; 1 Tim. 6:9). The incitement to do evil parallels a portion of the portfolio that Satan has arrogated to himself. (2) The testing is subtle and multiform, images that remind us of the description of the serpent in Genesis 3:1. (3) Jewish theological anthropology and psychology may stand behind this passage. In order to understand the thought of James here, a brief discussion of the biblical view of Satan is necessary (see comments in “Bridging Contexts” section).
There are also links to the Gospels here. Popular Jewish belief held that misfortune could be the result of either some internal fault or drive or some external force. The first is well illustrated in John 9:1–2. Passing the temple Jesus and his disciples spied a man born blind. In asking Jesus if the man or his parents sinned, the disciples expressed a popular belief that this man experienced misfortune as a result of sin. Regarding the second point, both the New Testament and rabbinic tradition recognized that Satan can and does entice human beings to sin (cf. the temptation of Jesus, Matt. 4:1–11; Luke 4:1–13).
There are other links to Jesus as well. Trials are the common experience of humanity, including Jesus; that is, we face trials just as did Jesus (see Heb. 4:14–16). Furthermore, in Luke 6:22 Jesus calls us blessed when we are persecuted for the sake of the kingdom.
In summary, James drew upon not only the developing rabbinic tradition, but also upon the life and teaching of Jesus for his understanding of trials. They can be a part of the normal ebb and flow of life, they can result from the wiles of Satan, or (as we are about to see in 1:12–18) they can be allowed by God and even sent by God. No matter their source, James insists that we should respond not with anger or disappointment, but with utter joy.
To respond to difficulties with joy seems absurd. James knows this, and so in verse 3 he offers his answer to our natural question: Why should we rejoice in the face of trials? Trials have a purifying quality; they are the arena in which and the process through which something good develops. Here in James is a parallel to the Hebrew idea that testing can result in purification even if it is the result of a person’s natural impulse to sin (yeṣer ha-ra).
Trials can have this effect as a result of the means of “testing” (dokimion). The root of this word means “approved character,” so we can see the close link between the testing and its intended result. Judaism provides a rich background for understanding trials.6 Psalm 66:10–12 speaks of God’s testing his people like silver and then leading them to a spacious place. Proverbs 3:11–12 contains perhaps the classic statement of this idea: “My son, do not despise the LORD’s discipline and do not resent his rebuke, because the LORD disciplines those he loves, as a father the son he delights in.” In 2 Maccabees 6:12–17 we read about the calamities that befell the Jewish nation as the result of God’s chastening resolve. James believes that these trials are evidence of God’s mercy (James 1:16).
Endurance and perfection. The result of the testing of faith is “perseverance” or endurance (hypomone)—a highly prized trait. Hypomone is a new feature added to the character of a Christian in the crucible of testing. This word does not refer to a solitary and exceptional act of fortitude, but to a deeper component of character that manifests itself in various situations. It means active steadfastness, staying power, constancy, and a determination under adversity. But it is colored with the idea of hope,7 which animates and enriches these other qualities.
Hypomone is also a means to an end. We should not be satisfied with constancy, as important as this virtue is, but we should let it grow to its fullest, in order to become “mature and complete, not lacking anything.”8 This idea of perfection has roots in the Old Testament and can be illustrated by two words with mutually implicatory meanings. The first word is tamîm, which means “blameless” or “innocent.” It implies a character without defect and describes the person who lives in obedience to God. This term is used of Noah in Genesis 6:9 (“Noah was a righteous man, blameless among the people of his time”). The second word is shalem, “perfect, whole, single-minded.” In the Testament of Joseph 2:4–7 the sufferings of Joseph are described, providing a parallel to the thought expressed in James.9
For a short time he may stand aside in order to test the disposition of the soul. In ten testings he revealed to me that I was approved, and in all of them I persevered, because perseverance is a strong medicine and endurance provides many good things.
The point to notice here is that the reason for the test (James 1:2–4) is linked with the character of God (1:5–8), and God is the only one deserving of such trust.
The “complete” person is one whose character is fully formed according to Christian standards; it is not “perfection” according to some standard common to popular culture. Paul found many in the church in Corinth guilty of accepting the standards of their society, and he reminded them that the wisdom of God appears foolish to this world, just as the wisdom of this world is foolishness in the sight of God (1 Cor. 1:18–31).
“Mature” (telios) denotes “goal” or “rightful purpose.” This is a key term for James; no New Testament book uses it more often. When it is used of character, it implies that God is a part of whatever process is involved in the formation of character. Its range of meaning extends to the fullest expression of character in the age to come.10 It is also important to note that this is not some unachievable high standard11; rather, we can become persons of integrity, persons who are single-minded in their loyalty and devotion to God. It is the fully developed character of stable righteousness.
The Gospels generally see maturity as the imitation of God, the development of the character traits of God within ourselves. At the conclusion of the Lukan beatitudes Jesus says:
But love your enemies, do good to them, and lend to them without expecting to get anything back. Then your reward will be great, and you will be sons of the Most High, because he is kind to the ungrateful and the wicked. Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful. (Luke 6:35–36)
What stands behind this passage is what grammarians call the “ben [son] of” classification. To be a child of someone or something is to be like the thing to which one is compared. So James and John, who angered quickly, were called “Sons of Thunder” (Mark 3:17). Jesus calls us to nothing less than to be like God in terms of character.
God gives wisdom. At this point James moves from moral integrity to wisdom (sophia), whose only source is God.12 While human beings are, at least in part, responsible for their moral development, wisdom comes only from God. In the New Testament generally, wisdom is allied to understanding God’s purposes and plan and indicates a determination to live accordingly. We need wisdom to know how to cope with trials, for wisdom provides a clear view of our situation from God’s perspective. With wisdom we perceive that what the world calls misfortune, whatever its source, is an opportunity for God to bring about his purpose. Wisdom as the gift of God logically leads to our asking for it. Here again we see verbal links to Jesus: “Ask and it will be given to you” (Matt. 7:7; Luke 11:9); “And I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Son may bring glory to the Father” (John 14:13).
Some commentators point out that in Luke 11:11–13 Jesus promises to give the Spirit, while in James the gift that comes from God is wisdom.13 There is no essential conflict here, for Judaism had developed a rich theology of wisdom, often seeing it as personified: Lady Wisdom, who seeks to reveal herself to humanity (e.g., Prov. 1:20–21). The granting of wisdom from God, who alone is truly wise, is a complicated notion. The Jews understood wisdom not only as the mind and purposes of God, but also as the content of revealed truth. In John the Holy Spirit performs both functions. Jesus promised his disciples that the Holy Spirit would come, saying, “[He] will be in you” (John 14:17) and “will teach you all things and will remind you of everything I have said to you” (14:26). For this reason it is better to speak of James’s “wisdom pneumatology” rather than his “wisdom Christology.”
James goes on to say that God gives generously without hesitation (v. 5). He contrasts God’s single-hearted devotion and purpose to the varied and complex nature of the fraudulent schemes created by the evil one. God also gives “without finding fault” (me oneidizontos). The root word means “to utter insult” and carries an active tone. As in Jewish literature, one who gives without reproach knows that kindness and generosity are to be granted to the poor (see Sir. 18:15–18). Taken altogether, James conveys the notion that God’s spontaneous generosity is unwavering, regardless of our previous record (see Luke 6:35).
Without doubt. Having discussed the character of God as the giver of what we need, James turns his attention to the matter of those who do not receive wisdom from God. He calls on us to ask without doubt, that is, without waffling back and forth. He employs the metaphor of a rudderless vessel in the midst of a wavy sea, buffeted by strong winds. It seems clear that these forces are linked to the human evil impulse, especially as this inclination not only allows the body to commit evil, but also impedes it when the mind and heart determine to do good. This echoes Ephesians 4:13–14, where Paul speaks of our maturation as Christians, until we are no longer children, tossed to and fro and carried about by every wind of doctrine.
Verse 6 offers the human side of prayer. Although Luther took a generally dim view of the letter of James, this verse he viewed with favor, as he wrote in his Instructions for the Visitors of Parish Pastor: “The Pastors should also instruct their people that prayer includes faith that God will hear us, as James writes in Jas. 1.”14 When a person asks from God, “he must believe and not doubt.” God does not hesitate to give to us, although we sometimes hesitate to ask. The verb aiteo (“to ask”) also appears in verse 5 in reference to prayer, and there some extraordinary things were said: God gives universally, his gift is beneficent, and it is given without regard to merit. Here, however, it is used of situations in which God does not give.
Verse 6 is therefore a difficult passage, and many of the attempts to explain it seem to make the meaning more opaque rather than more lucid. These difficulties revolve around the meaning and implications of “faith.” Some suggest that prayer that is effective is prayer that is made with confidence and in full conviction, especially with a faith that manifests itself in works.15 In contrast is the view that faith here means “confidence in prayer” and not “constancy in the Christian religion.” It is a coming to God, believing that he is able to do a certain thing.16
There are strong objections to this second view. James has just laid down the idea of the universal generosity of God, and it is unclear how this can be rectified with the image of God’s giving only to those with sufficient confidence that he is able to accomplish a certain task. Some argue that it is precisely this confidence that unleashed the healing powers of Jesus. This is a misconception.17 Those who hold this position also believe that the doubter has no such confidence that he or she will be healed.18 It is therefore more likely that James means a faith that manifests itself in action. The previous verses have made much of character and unwavering integrity, two themes that have to do with action. Further, in 2:22 James describes the faith of Abraham as one of faith and actions working together. So perhaps James is arguing that those who are growing in the will of the Father will receive even more from God, just as this growth allows more room for grace. This is essentially the thought in John 14:13–14.
The contrast here is with “doubt,”19 and since doubt is a waffling back and forth, the result of doubt is inaction. The one who doubts wavers and is tossed to and fro as on a tempestuous sea. Honest intellectual doubts are not in view here. After all, to doubt is human, as the Psalms attest. David, for example, gives voice to his doubts about the character and trustworthiness of God (cf. Ps. 96:1). In Psalm 6 he wonders aloud if God has rejected him, and he even attempts to force God into action by an obvious bribe. Yet in the midst of this honest doubt, David is reminded of all that God has done for him in the past, and he gains the hope necessary to continue. Faith here in James understands and has experienced the character of God, who gives freely and generously; because of this experience, such a person has confidence. Finally, prayer should be offered in integrity, it should be single-hearted, even as God has integrity and is single-hearted.
Double-minded and unstable. James next describes the one who doubts as double-minded (dipsychos). Behind this stands the Hebrew idea of being double-tongued or double-faced (e.g., Ps. 11:2). Deuteronomy 26:16 warns the Israelites against worshiping God with two hearts, and Psalm 12:2 speaks of the double heart: “Everyone lies to his neighbor; their flattering lips speak with deception [lit., heart to heart].” Such a heart contrasts sharply with God, who is single-hearted. James is speaking of someone who constantly changes allegiances and cultivates the patina of faith, wrongly thinking mechanistic action to be the heart of faith. James calls us to be people of character, whose faith manifests itself in action commensurate with what God has called us to be.
James touches upon an important biblical theme here: God is the one who means what he says, who always accomplishes his purpose: “So is my word that goes out from my mouth: It will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it” (Isa. 55:11). His word is like a hammer that splinters rock (Jer. 23:29). The words of human beings, by contrast, often are only wind (Job 16:3); they cannot stand up (Isa. 8:10), and they fall to the ground (1 Sam. 3:19).
James has in mind not only simple confidence that God can answer, but has added to it a deeper commitment to live in the will of the Father, even if that aspiration is one at which we often fail. What is clearly excluded is the person for whom faith is a matter of little or no account, whose words are not commensurate with the heart, which is the wellspring of deeds (cf. Luke 6:43–44), because the heart is the locus of character.
The double-minded man is “unstable in all he does.” This phrase denotes a person who is unsettled and not at rest. It reinforces the image of the one who doubts as “wavering.” Being “unstable” is a quality that marks one’s whole existence, not just spiritual life. It carries the idea of inclining this way and that, but never committing. Paul uses the noun form of this word to mean “disorder” (1 Cor. 14:33; 2 Cor. 12:20), and in Luke Jesus uses it to mean “revolutions” (Luke 21:9). This word is rare in Greek literature before James, but prevalent in Christian literature afterwards, speaking perhaps to the influence of James.
Poverty and Wealth (1:9–11)
JAMES NOW TURNS to the questions of poverty and wealth within the Christian community. It is worth remembering that the vision of Judaism encased within the Mosaic Law was of a society marked by a high degree of egalitarian concern. But the excesses of Solomon and his successors led the prophets to castigate the bloated rich for their lack of concern for the poor. In a similar fashion, the priestly aristocracy of the second temple period was known for its material excesses. This led to two popular conclusions. First, the poor were the pious, for they had supported Judas Maccabeus against the Hellenizing aristocracy in Jerusalem. Second, wealth tends to make its possessor double-minded, just as in the view of the poor the priestly aristocracy had sold out their religion and people in the interests of personal power.
James is intent upon playing off these two popular views: “The brother in humble circumstances ought to take pride in his high position. But the one who is rich should take pride in his low position….” This verse is arresting, for it appears suddenly and seems to have little to do with what has come before. But upon further reflection the connections come into focus. (1) The conditions of poverty constitute another “trial,” parallel to others already described by James. (2) The contrast between faith and double-mindedness seems to parallel that between humility and wealth.
New questions are introduced here: Are both the poor and the rich Christians? Is this poverty economic or spiritual? Why should each “take pride” or “exult”? What do “riches” reveal about us? The first question has occasioned the most debate. All agree that the poor brother is a member of the Christian community. But what about the rich man? He “boasts” in his riches. In this he was not alone. In a world without abundant opportunities for distinguishing oneself, the display of wealth was one of few available options.20 As Plutarch said, “Most men think themselves robbed of their wealth if they are prevented from displaying it, and that display is made in the superfluities of life, not in the necessities of life.”21
There are abundant reasons for seeing the rich man as a Christian. Grammatically, both the terms “brother” and “to take pride in” found in verse 9 are linked to “rich man” in verse 10. Furthermore, to suppose that the rich are not members of the Christian community seems unnecessarily to dissociate this section from the emphasis on “trials” with which the entire passage is stamped. If the rich are outside the Christian community, why should they even think about living according to Christian principles?22
Many commentators opt to believe that the rich man is not a member of the Christian community. The rich, in this view, are outside and see their wealth as worthy of boasting.23 These scholars point out that the word plousios (“rich”) is used in 2:7 exclusively of non-Christians. This means that “to take pride in” here must be ironic: The rich have had their day, and all they can look forward to is the eschatological judgment. This line of interpretation, it is claimed, complements James’s teaching that the poor will be vindicated but the rich destroyed.24
But there is another way to understand the matter. The wealthy whom Amos dubbed “cows of Bashan” (Amos 4:1–3) were Israelites, and yet they received condemnation, because their actions were not consonant with their claim to be children of Abraham. Like the cows of Bashan it is possible that the “rich” in James includes wealthy members25 of the Christian community whose pattern of life gave little or no evidence of Christian commitment, thereby disqualifying them from true membership.26 This is one of the issues in 1 Corinthians 11, where the rich Christians, in emulation of Roman public feasts, sponsored a Eucharist marked by demarcations of social and economic status. They thus imposed Roman cultural values upon the church, values that presupposed the legitimacy of markers like status and wealth in determining worth in the eyes of the community. Rightfully, Paul responded with deep chagrin.
The humble should rejoice (1) because their poverty provides an arena for their faith to be tested and thus for endurance to grow, and (2) because they will be exalted, just as the prophets and Jesus had promised. These poor are poor both spiritually and materially. The ancient world knew almost nothing of what we would call a “middle-class.” About 90 percent of the population of the Roman empire lived at or below what moderns would consider the poverty level. Except in select urban locations such as Corinth, social climbing in the Roman world was a virtual impossibility.27 But they are poor spiritually as well, and here James taps into the rich theology of the poor in Judaism, where poverty and righteousness go hand in hand.
The rich man should glory in his abasement, not only because riches are transitory, but because they are an encumbrance. Trials will either relieve him of this encumbrance or force a shock of clarity. Trials, if properly understood through the gift of God’s wisdom, will grant a new perspective, in which riches are seen for what they are. Riches have the capacity to dull our sight until we fail to see the image of God in those around us. They have the potential to woo us into an uncritical acceptance of the standards of the world as the rightful standards of the church.
The rich, like their riches, are fated for a transitory existence. They will pass away and wither in the scorching heat of the summer wind. The scorching wind has the power to wither flowers in a matter of minutes. The image is meant to convey both the suddenness of this discomfiture and the tenuous frailty of much that we deem secure. This is the lot of the rich, who refuse to see the world from God’s perspective, for whom the pride of wealth plays the role of God, substituting itself for Yahweh.
Bridging Contexts
SATAN, EVIL, AND trials. James does not mention Satan in this passage, yet in the rabbinic theology upon which he draws, Satan was viewed as one of the sources of misfortune—a view Jesus shared. In our day we at times casually refer to Satan as the source of evil and misfortune. Some movements (such as the Vineyard)28 and certain writers29 within modern evangelicalism offer a view of Satan’s role in misfortune that at times seems foreign to the biblical material. It is therefore both proper and important briefly to discuss the biblical view of Satan if we are safely to bridge the gap between the biblical world and our own.
In the Old Testament Satan (from the Hebrew šatan, meaning “to accuse” or “to oppose”) has a God-given appointment as the prosecuting attorney, a role he performs in Job 1–2 and Zechariah 3. While clearly interested in pursuing his own designs, he is still somewhat reticent to oppose God’s authority. But in the New Testament, Satan is openly hostile to God and has gathered about himself minions, both natural and supernatural. In addition to his legal gown he has arrogated to himself both the mantle of tyrant and the disguise of agent provocateur. He is the strong man who, without legal right, has gained de facto control over the earth. When in the temptation narratives Satan offers to Jesus all the kingdoms of the earth, he has the power, but not the right, to do so.
Satan also incites us to sin. His usual path is one of stealth and deceit (cf. 2 Cor. 11:14), preying on our moral imperfections. He is especially successful when he masquerades as the good. He operates chiefly through institutions and structures, the “principalities and powers.” Thus, Rome is described in Revelation as the consort of the beast, as a tool in Satan’s hands. At the Crucifixion Satan’s power was severely curtailed (John 12:31), but he is still dangerous.
Developments within Judaism—especially Jewish theological anthropology and psychology at Qumran and within the rabbinic tradition—form part of the background to James’s thought here. In these contexts sin was beginning to be seen as the result of an impulse within each human being. This impulse was, therefore, natural and endemic to the human condition. In some cases this impulse was undifferentiated and could be swayed to either good or evil. In other cases there were two impulses, the yeṣer ha-ra (“the evil impulse”) and the yeṣer ha-tov (“the good impulse”). In later rabbinic literature these impulses are associated with various parts of the body, control the body, and act in ways inimical to the body.30 Paul’s idea of the struggle with the flesh outlined in Romans is drawn from this background.
In some contexts within Judaism the yeṣer ha-ra was virtually identified with Satan; in others the evil impulse is receptive to Satan, a ready and fertile field, prepared for him to plant his foul seeds. The remedy is not the excision of the impulse, but the addition of a pure force stronger than that of Satan in order to limit the evil impulse or even to direct it toward the good.31 At times this wholesome force was described as wisdom, at others as the Spirit of God.
Concurrent with these developments were others that saw sin as externalized. Here Satan and God were viewed as in conflict and competition over human beings. In this view Satan hopes to lead people away from God and then to cause them to suffer. Paul, like James, is aware of these developments. In his view Satan has a part in leading people astray (2 Cor. 2:11), and Paul knows of the evil impulse (Rom. 7:13–23) and of its pure counterpart, the Holy Spirit (8:1–17).32
Wisdom. As was true in ancient Palestine, our culture associates wisdom with age and experience. But as the grandfather figures used to promote investment firms demonstrate, we often apply wisdom to personal “success” and financial health. One key to interpreting this passage correctly is to avoid understanding “wisdom” by our own standards. James draws upon the richness of the Jewish wisdom tradition in three passages: 1:5–8; 1:16–18; and 3:13–18.
Wisdom has three main functions for James: (1) It produces the virtues of the Christian life; (2) it grants what is needed to stand in the test and therefore aids in being made “perfect”; and (3) it leads to life, as opposed to “desire” (epithymía), which leads to death.33 For James wisdom is initially God’s gift to the Christian. In the Old Testament, wisdom can be searched out, but in James it is granted as the result of prayer. Furthermore, in James wisdom has practical application, as it results in a series of virtues (humility, perseverance, patience) that have the effect of preserving community.
James also contrasts the wisdom of God with the wisdom of the world. Heavenly wisdom grants to those who suffer the ability to make sense of life’s injustices and difficulties, or failing understanding, still to have trust in God. The wisdom of the world, by contrast, teaches us that what we perceive to be trials and misfortunes are to be avoided. From this point it is a minor step to the erroneous conclusion that trials are proof that God does not care or that he is unable to act. James warns against these in 1:12–16.
Trials. Closely allied to wisdom, of course, are trials. As we have seen, they can result from Satan, they can be allowed by or sent by God, or they can be a normal part of the ebb and flow of life. There are four pitfalls to be avoided when considering trials. (1) We must not see trials as a sign of our election, so that we seek out trials in an effort to prove election to ourselves or others. James will have none of this. To him, God can use trials to develop character, but any attempt to seek out trials must be seen as fulfilling some self-interested need. Such an attempt effectively negates the possibility of character development, although it does proclaim the need for it.
(2) We must not see trials as necessarily the tool of Satan. Many in the name of Christ claim that sickness and infirmity are signs of sin or of satanic attack, or both. The Bible makes it clear that sickness can be the result of sin or of Satan. But the Bible also makes it clear that this is not necessarily the case. God sometimes uses infirmity for his purpose, as in the case of Paul’s thorn in the flesh (2 Cor. 12:7–10) or of the man born blind (John 9:1–2). Not all sickness or infirmity is an attack against God and his people. We do a disservice to others when we teach this, as we load them with unnecessary guilt.
(3) Poverty, James says, can be a locus for trials in and through which our character can be shaped and molded. There is a rich theological heritage within Judaism linking poverty with spirituality, for the poor feel most keenly the universal human need for God. Recently at a conference I spoke with a man who works with the homeless in Portland, Oregon. In the suburbs, he said, it is a struggle to convince people that they need to be forgiven, but it is easy to convince people that God loves them. But with the homeless in the city, he said, the situation is reversed. The homeless already know that they need God and that they need to be forgiven. What is difficult, he said, is convincing them that God loves them, for many have never known this on a human level. Poverty, he said, not only allows people to see their need for God with keen clarity, it also contributes to their being shaped by God.
(4) James should not be construed here as advocating a nonchalant attitude toward the poor on the part of the wealthy, supposing that this status is somehow “good” for them. Nor does the passage allow for a pessimistic resignation to that status. James—and indeed the entirety of the New Testament—issues a call to community obligation. Christians who have the ability should put forth a responsible effort, in the interests of the greater good, to help the poor (see, e.g., 2 Thess. 3:6–14). No matter what the situation, those of us with resources are called upon to use them wisely and generously.
Authentic humanity. In this passage James deals with a variety of issues that touch upon the human condition. He knows that in our human frailty, we are prone to waver. Yet he also knows that we have been called to perfect completion. The New Testament speaks of this completeness in a variety of ways, making the point that Jesus has led the way. Hebrews calls Jesus “the author and perfecter of our faith” (Heb. 12:2). Paul refers to Jesus as the second or last Adam (1 Cor. 15:45). Jesus in John referred to his crucifixion by saying, “But I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all men to myself” (John 12:32).
All three authors point to a central truth: Jesus overturns the sin of Adam, he completes what Adam left undone, and he therefore lives a fully human existence. The theological implications of this idea are varied, and in our text James has left them scattered about like the raw materials for a construction project. In the next section some of these implications will be addressed. In order to do justice to these issues that James has left disparate, we must briefly explore something of the biblical notion of humanness.
James speaks here of our wavering and duplicity, as well as our rightful purpose of “perfection.” This tension pierces right to the heart of what it means to be human. We commonly think of this issue in terms of two categories: We are human; God is divine. We speak of Jesus as both human and divine, and when searching the Gospels for aspects of his humanness we point to his being thirsty and fatigued (John 4), or to his weeping at the grave of Lazarus (John 11). But it is quite possible that the Bible knows a different picture, a three-part image—one composed of divine, fully or ideally human, and subhuman components.
When God created humankind, he made us in his very image. But as a result of the Fall, we endure a quality of existence that is less than God intended. It is, if you will, subhuman. That is why Psalm 8, the first commentary on Genesis 1:26–27, can speak of humanity as just a little lower than God himself (Ps. 8:5),34 because it speaks of human beings as God originally intended them, to be in close and constant communion with him. In James we find this tension—between who we are and who God calls us to be. As human beings we are frail, we fail, and we need God’s grace, care, and forgiveness. But we are called to become authentically human. Ours is not a religion of works, but it does involve a call to action. God, who ushers this clarion call to be like Christ, is also a God who forgives, for he understands our pain and our frailty.
Doubt. One of the elements of authentic humanity about which James is concerned is doubt. We must understand James correctly on this point. While modern Christians often think of doubt as something to be avoided, the Bible knows the healthy and even helpful effects of honest doubt. We must bridge this gap in order to see that the doubt James want us to avoid is not honest doubt, but doubt that leads to temptation.
Human beings, according to James, experience a full range of emotion, including doubt, anger, and pain. In this James has much in common with the Psalms, for in these ancient hymns of faith the holy and the mundane are mixed. The Psalms deal honestly with human emotion. Sometimes the psalmist expresses anger at other human beings, even though he has tried to reign in his emotions and his tongue:
I said, “I will watch my ways
and keep my tongue from sin;
I will put a muzzle on my mouth
as long as the wicked are in my presence.”
But when I was silent and still,
not even saying anything good,
my anguish increased.
My heart grew hot within me,
and as I meditated, the fire burned. (Ps. 39:1–3)
Nor is the anger of the psalmist directed only to persons. Often it is directed to God, for it seems as if the Lord has allowed the wicked to flourish. Where is justice? Where is fairness? Therefore the psalmist, with bile on the tongue and pain in the heart, asks, “O Lord, how long will you look on?” (Ps. 35:17), and, “How long, O LORD? Will you forget me forever?” (13:1). In the press of life we, like the psalmist, often wonder where God is, whether he really cares, and why he waits. As a pastor I have seen the pain of a couple mourning the death of an eleven-month-old daughter. I have seen a family grieve over a nineteen-year-old woman killed by a drunk driver while on her way to church. I know firsthand the pain of couples who yearn for children they will never have. Such people know the pain of random, senseless loss. They know what it is like to cry out to God in despair and even in doubt.
Honest human doubt drives us to remember all that God has done in the past and therefore to remember the steadfast, trustworthy character of God (cf. Ps. 77:7–12). While at times our lives offer sorrow so profound that we question God, ultimately we know his character and his touch of compassion. As Kathleen Norris has put it, our faith has an “earthy honesty”35 that allows us to pierce through the lie of false spirituality and holy talk, to see that we must be honest with our human frailty before we are holy, not the other way around. God knows us and meets us in the frailty, weakness, and dirtiness of the human condition. To pretend that our lives are otherwise is to lie to ourselves and to God. Like David we must be brought to the place where we can say to God, “My sin is always before me” (Ps. 51:3). We can do it with joy and confidence because we know the character of God. He has proven himself to be a God who forgives, who can turn sin into something good, who can turn weeping into joy.
We must understand the distinction implicit in the passage between honest doubt and duplicity. The sort of doubt James castigates is active duplicity, either conscious or sub-conscious. Duplicity makes claims or states resolve, but it cannot or will not follow through. Active doubt, double-minded doubt, can range from the extraordinary to the mundane, from the religious charlatan masquerading as an honest television preacher, to the faithful churchgoer with a heart devoid of compassion. Whenever God’s name is invoked to sanction personal power, prejudice, economic stratification, or a national political policy, we have most likely strayed into the dangerous territory of the double-minded.
Prayer is needed because it opens our minds to the wisdom and will of God, which, as the Scriptures remind us, often comes as a surprise, casting its searchlight and exposing the mixed motives at work in our human frailty. James desires an honest heart that sometimes fails but has resolve to follow in God’s path.
Contemporary Significance
IT WAS ONCE the well-attested conclusion of scholars that James has no discernible theology.36 This judgment has been challenged in more recent years, although it is true that the theology of James is not as readily apparent as that of other New Testament books. In any event, this is a theologically pregnant passage, with a great deal to say to our impatient, self-satisfied world. James here deals with tough, real world questions. Why do we suffer difficulties? Why does a good God allow suffering? What is the nature of faith? The answers that James provides teach us that God is a generous and lavish giver, even to the undeserving. James also points out that God desires the development of character within us.
There is a tension here, or a balance, depending on one’s perspective. God loves and forgives us, but he also desires us to mature and grow. This development follows an often hard road, but it is a road that must be followed with tenacity and resolve. God grants what we need to sustain our journey, if only we will ask, and ask with a single-hearted devotion that, while it sometimes falters, is essentially true to itself.
In this passage James deals with diverse theological themes that do not easily cohere. One way of binding them into a meaningful whole is to envision the call to perfection as the unifying theme, with the others as component parts. In this way we can imagine four threads, each composed of various strands, which together bring strength and coherence to the composite whole. These four major threads are: the false wisdom of this world; the nature of prayer, for James tells us that prayer is the route to our true calling; the character of God’s wisdom; and authentic humanity, which is our rightful purpose.
The wisdom of our world. The wisdom of our world is a false wisdom, offering counterfeit joy and bogus priorities. Ultimately, all are found wanting. It is immediately apparent that James speaks of wisdom and the joy it brings in a fashion almost unrecognizable to citizens of the modern world. Our world seduces us with its candidates for keys to a happy life.
David Myers, in his book The Pursuit of Happiness, neatly exposes these lies. He points out, for instance, that increasing wealth does not in any way add to a person’s self-perception of joy or happiness.37 In fact, the level of perceived joy, Myers found, is essentially the same regardless of age, gender, race, education, location, or even the presence of a tragic disability.38 In some cases, in fact, superfluity actually serves to diminish perceived happiness. In 1991, for example, Barry Bonds of the Pittsburgh Pirates baseball team was offered $2.3 million, instead of the $3.2 million he asked for. Bonds said, “There’s nothing Barry Bonds can do to please Pittsburgh. I’m so sad all the time.”39
In an article in Life magazine, Christopher Whipple quotes Chris Evert Lloyd’s recounting of her married life: “We play tennis, we go to a movie, we watch TV, but I keep saying, ‘John, there has to be more.’ ”40 At the time Chris was at or near the height of her fame and success. In the liner notes to her enormously successful CD Pieces of You,41 the popular singing artist Jewel Kilcher includes a poem entitled “Faith Poem.” It speaks more of unfaith, of a longing for goodness and coherence without its discovery.
I don’t know how to do anything…. I look in the mirror and I see filth…. Why is the soil of incompetence beneath my nails? … This pen is scrawny and hardly seems able to ink out or erase this plague that infests my Generation, This Giant, This Ogre, This Beast, This Death that assumes a million faces, that borrows my own.
Our world seeks joy, but as David Myers has catalogued,42 the wisdom of this world does not allow us to find it. Jesus recognized this when in John 12:25 he said, “The man who loves his life will lose it, while the man who hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life.”
James is speaking of a different kind of wisdom and a different kind of joy—a joy that understands sacrifice in the present for the attainment of the good, a joy that is the result of a deep sense of being in the presence and the will of God. If we are to understand James properly, we must dismiss modern notions of joy and happiness, linked as they are to immediate gratification and full satiety. It is a joy that is found fundamentally beyond the self. It is found in a sensitivity to and humility before God, and in service to others. It is for this reason that James castigates the rich (1:10) and the double-minded (1:7), for each has sought joy through various types of self-interested endeavor.
As unlikely as it sounds, fulfillment is often found in the midst of difficulty. Dr. Paul Carlson, a medical missionary, was martyred in 1956 by Simba nationalists in the Belgian Congo. On his body was found his New Testament. It contained a message dated the day before he died. He had written one word: “Peace.”43 Hillel said, “To begin with oneself, but not to end with oneself; to start with oneself, but not to aim at oneself; to comprehend oneself, but not to be preoccupied with oneself.”44 Jesus said, “Happy are those who realize that they are spiritually poor.”45 To be spiritually poor is to recognize one’s need for God. It is in the midst of the challenging journey to meet God and be what he intends that joy is to be found. As Cyprian Norwid said, “To be what is called happy, one should have (1) something to live on, (2) something to live for, (3) something to die for.”46
In calling on the theology of wisdom, James reminds us of the radically different character of the Christian life and experience in comparison to the world around us. But this is not a call to some morbid fascination with tragedy. It is rather a plea to seek God’s face when life seems darkest. This is true because tragedy has the ability to impel us to disbelief when we view it on the world’s terms, but tragedy also has the potential to draw us to God.47
Lee Atwater, the campaign manager for George Bush in the 1988 United States Presidential campaign, was a great success by the standards of the world. But after he was diagnosed with cancer of the brain, he began to reflect upon his life in terms that spoke of his desire earlier to have eschewed the wisdom of the world:
The 80’s were about acquiring—acquiring wealth, power, prestige. I know. I acquired more wealth, power and prestige than most. But you can acquire all you want and still feel empty. What power wouldn’t I trade for a little more time with my family? What price wouldn’t I pay for an evening with my friends? It took a deadly illness to put me eye to eye with that truth, but it is a truth that the country, caught up in its ruthless ambitions and moral decay, can learn on my dime. I don’t know who will lead us through the 90’s, but they must be made to speak to this spiritual vacuum at the heart of American society, this tumor of the soul.48
Without knowing it, Lee Atwater was echoing the thought of James. What human beings desperately need is the wisdom of God. Without God and his wisdom we are doomed to experience this tumor of the soul. Trials force us to the place where we ask God for this wisdom, and this wisdom allows us to endure the trial until we are complete. This is not the wisdom of the world.
Prayer for wisdom. James calls us to contemplation when he invites us to ask God for wisdom, especially during trials. This is to walk the middle course between irrational optimism and a worldly pessimism that betrays a lack of trust in God. Irrational optimism can be marked by a failure adequately to understand oneself, a failure adequately to understand one’s situation, and a belief that what we consider comfortable is precisely what God considers best for us. Neither irrational optimism nor worldly pessimism takes seriously God or ourselves.
The wisdom of the cross, in the minds of the great medieval Christian thinkers, has the ability to hold two things together: a recognition of the power of evil without allowing the presence of evil to so fixate us that we forget the sovereignty of God. Gregory the Great, when counseling a friend undergoing trial, related that before he was crucified Jesus told his captors “This is your hour, and the power of darkness.”49 But Gregory also reminded his friend that Easter morning was already appearing on the horizon.
James links wisdom with the prayer of request. The Christian tradition contains a rich theology of prayer, with many different definitions offered. In his book Prayer, Olle Hallesby says that prayer is opening the door and allowing God to flood our lives.
To pray is to let Jesus into our hearts…. It is not our prayer which moves the Lord Jesus. It is Jesus who moves us to pray. He knocks. Our prayers are always a result of Jesus knocking at our heart’s doors. This throws light upon the old prophetic passages: “Before they call, I will answer; and while they are yet speaking, I will hear” (Isaiah 65:24)…. To pray is nothing more involved than to let Jesus into our needs. To pray is to give Jesus permission to employ His powers in the alleviation of our distress. To pray is to let Jesus glorify His name in the midst of our needs…. To pray is nothing more than to open the door, giving Jesus access to our needs and permitting Him to exercise His own power in dealing with them.50
Psalm 62 echoes this same thought: “My soul finds rest in God alone.” Worship, someone once told me, is the position from which God becomes visible. We must find that place and make our home there.
The wisdom of God. The wisdom of God allows us to understand trials, and it drives us to perceive our responsibility to one another. Maria Skobtsova was a prisoner at the Nazi concentration camp called Ravensbrück. In the midst of this unimaginable horror, it would have been easy and even normal for her to despair. Yet the wisdom of God granted to her the ability to see her situation not as misfortune, but as opportunity. She wrote: “I am Thy message, Lord. Throw me, like a blazing torch into the night, so that all may see and understand what it means to be Thy disciple.”51
With wisdom through prayer comes an appreciation for the timing of God. Peter Abelard wrote: “By faith which we have concerning Christ, love is increased in us, through the conviction that God in Christ has united our nature to himself and that by suffering in that nature he has demonstrated to us the supreme love of which he speaks.”52 Abelard argued that the cross has the power to bring about true repentance in sinners, to change our hearts of stone into hearts of flesh, hearts of compassion, and hearts that desire ever more to know and be known by God. In trials we ask for wisdom in prayer, and trials push us to contemplate Scripture, to pray, and to seek God’s face. In so doing we become more like God himself, as his love wells up within us more and more. This requires and fosters patience.
Contemplation helps us to realize that God is the author of every good thing. Like Maria Skobtsova, we realize that God’s definition of that good thing might be very different than ours. Contemplation allows us to discern the truly important and to reorder our priorities accordingly. A victim of breast cancer put it this way:
You take a long look at your life and realize that many things that you thought were important before are totally insignificant. That’s probably been the major change in my life. What you do is put things in perspective. You find out that things like relationships are really the most important things you have—the people you know and your family—everything else is just way down the line. It’s strange that it takes something so serious to make you realize that.53
Contemplation and prayer also fire within us a heart of compassion for others. When viewing trials from a divine perspective, we are freed from the shackles of self-centeredness that our world so often expresses. Pete Incaviglia, a player for the Texas Rangers baseball team, said: “People think we make $3 million or $4 million a year. They don’t realize that most of us only make $500,000.”54 Such self-interest is shattered by contemplation. Instead, God’s vision of the world floods our hearts and minds, and we recognize in others not only a treasure in the sight of God, but the manifestation of God’s grace for us. We are called to be and receive this grace one from another, without regard to worldly considerations of wealth or privilege.
This is a particularly hard lesson for us to learn. We are taught individual responsibility and rugged independence, as if these were natural characteristics, and even biblical. In point of fact, these have more to do with the hallmarks of the Enlightenment than with the teaching of Jesus. This dangerous conflation of cultural values with Christian practice is one of the least recognized and most virulently inimical issues besetting the church. The acclaimed University of California sociologist Robert Bellah says that what is missing in our culture is a sense of connectedness—to each other and to some greater cause.55
James lived among and wrote to persons who knew poverty and hardship unimaginable to us. We must not so emphasize the spiritual element of these concerns that the concrete expression that James intended is lost. We must let these ideas speak for themselves and then seek to use them as a mirror for our own situation. All that we have—our health, our education, our wealth—these are gifts from God. We have a sacred responsibility to use them wisely.
When James discusses the rich and poor brothers, his intent is to call us to the practice of community. One of the hallmarks of biblical community is a deep practical concern for others. The concern of James might very well be based upon the teaching of Jesus. When in Matthew Jesus spoke of the Son of Man coming in glory, he spoke of the surprise of many who would find that their conduct disqualified them from true membership. The righteous, Jesus said, were those who gave to others the cup of cool water, who took from their own resources and clothed the needy. James knew of rich “brothers,” but true brotherhood treats others as precious in the sight of God. Jesus considers our treatment of others our treatment of him (Matt. 25:31–46).
Nor should we fall victim to the arrogant assumption that those of us with material prosperity always play the role of beneficent giver. The model of Jesus and the teaching of James is that both rich and poor have much to give to and learn from the other. We bear a responsibility to give and to receive the touch of the hands of Jesus to and from those around us.
Authentic humanity. James calls us to perfection. But the idea of perfection is not one with which we are comfortable. It reminds many of us of unhappy childhood experiences in which we were unable to earn the praise of a parent or authority that we so desperately desired. This is not, however, the notion of perfection James has in view. Kathleen Norris has learned this: “I have lately realized that what went wrong for me in my Christian upbringing is centered in the belief that one had to be dressed up, both outwardly and inwardly, to meet God.”56 That is why she so appreciates the Psalms, for they “demand engagement, they ask you to read them with your whole self … through all the moods and conditions of life, and while you may feel awful, you sing anyway. To your surprise, you find that the psalms do not deny your true feelings but allow you to reflect on them, right in front of God and everyone.”
A friend recently told me about a Catholic priest who ministers to women who have had abortions. He tells them that abortion is a terrible sin, but an equally terrible sin is not allowing God to forgive you if you have had an abortion. God, he tells them, wants them to come to him, for he loves them deeply. Honesty before God does not keep us from God; rather, it allows us to know him and to be known by him. It is the first step on the path that leads to our union with him, as Abelard noted. It is a path marked by trials and prayer, and it leads to perfection. For James perfection is tied to honesty, to honest appraisal of oneself before God and others. It is a singleness of heart and a patient resolve to know God and the character of integrity.
James teaches that on the road to authentic humanity life and death are paired. Jesus in Matthew 16:24–25 said: “If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it.” James echoes this teaching in his discussion of trials and wealth. To grow into Christian maturity is to lay down the wisdom of the world with its standards of success and joy, and to take up the imitation of Christ. In his Murder in the Cathedral T. S. Eliot envisioned the final Christmas sermon of Archbishop Thomas Becket: “The true martyr is he who has become the instrument of God, who has lost his will in the will of God, not lost it but found it, for he has found freedom in submission to God.”