I walked through the door of our
narrow classroom out into the shop where several stations had been set up; it
was the morning our chapter of the Vocational and Industrial Club of America
(VICA, now called Skills USA) was holding the school level competitions in auto
mechanics and welding. I was competing in the auto mechanics competition (and
“competing” is a generous word). In the first bay of the shop was an old Ford
Falcon that someone had donated to the school after it came over on the
Mayflower; Mr. Waddell (our teacher), along with the help of a few local
volunteers, had crossed the plug wires of the Falcon along with disconnecting a
few other electrical components, so the goal in that bay was to get the old car
started and running after tracing the problem. In the second bay, a donated
Dodge Neon sat with a “Check Engine” light; the goal there was to properly
diagnose the source of the light and explain the needed repair. There was also
a station set up with a car battery, a few lightbulbs, and a couple of toggle
switches; the point of this station was to follow a schematic and wire a couple
of circuits accordingly. The station that I was assigned to first, however,
involved a table with an old-school drum brake system clamped in a vise;
whoever could properly remove the brake shoes and reinstall them the fastest
would “win” that station (and most likely the competition).
Now,
I’m going to skip to the end here and tell you I won—because I did. Mostly
because I knew how to do each of the tasks in each station, and partly because
Mr. Waddell happened to be my dad’s best friend, and I also happened to know a
few of the volunteers who helped him because they worked in the service
department of the Chevy dealership where I worked in the afternoons. See, I had
the old Falcon running in a few minutes; wired up a circuit on the table in no
time, and called the code on the “Check Engine” light in almost no time. The
drum brakes? Well, those were “old hat” to me. By the time I saw them during
that competition, I had changed at least a half a dozen sets (front and rear),
whereas most of the other kids didn’t even know what they were looking at! But
I almost lost the whole thing because of that set of drum brakes.
You
see, on the table with that set-up, were all the tools one would need to change
a set of brake shoes: a pair of brake pliers, removal tool for hold-down
springs, brake spoon, and safety goggles. I had never used any of those tools
before! Every other time I had changed a set of brake shoes I used a big
flathead screwdriver, a pair of vise grips, slip-joint pliers, and I had never
worn safety goggles! When I had finished, Mr. Waddell told me, “Mr. Thomas,”
that’s what he liked to call me for some reason, “you did a fine job, but in
Montgomery they will disqualify you, because you didn’t use the correct tools,
but you wouldn’t have even had the chance to try because you didn’t wear those
safety glasses.” I remember saying, “Well, Mr. Waddell, I guess it really
doesn’t matter how you get there, so long as you get there, right?”
I
suppose that’s true for a lot of things in life, isn’t it? It doesn’t matter
how you get there, doesn’t matter what means you take, what road you travel,
what motivates you, so long as you wind up in the right place. But is that true
when it comes to a life of faith? Is that true when it comes to living a life
modeled after the life and teachings of Jesus Christ? Is that true so far as it
involves what James calls in our text this morning, a “good life?” I’m not so
sure. To be honest, I think James would say, “No. It most certainly matters how
you get there, especially as it concerns that which motivates you in this life
of faith.”
Now, to be fair, we don’t know much about
James’ intended audience for this letter. Unlike Paul, James doesn’t address
his letter to a congregation in a particular city. The address of the letter
simply says, “To the twelve tribes in the Dispersion,” perhaps an allusion to
Jewish Christians living outside of Judea or maybe just a way of addressing
Jewish Christians in general or perhaps some pseudo-theological title for these
early Christians—I don’t know. What’s more, James doesn’t give us much in the
way of understanding exactly what’s going on in this congregation; I mean, he
may hint at something here and there (“if a person with gold rings and fine
clothes comes into your assembly…not many of you should become teachers…come
now, you rich people…are any among you suffering?...), but unlike Paul and the
writer of the Johannine epistles, James doesn’t name names. So, we’re not too
sure what prompted James to write, what it was that spurred the writing of this
letter. But ask any pastor who’s been around the barn a few times, and they’ll
tell you why James wrote this letter; they’ll tell you what it was that
inspired this ancient pastor to write these words (especially the words before
us this morning).
Why,
James may have caught wind of a situation a lot like one involving Mary. I
showed up to the church one Friday to clean up before service on Sunday, and
there, on a table in our little fellowship hall, was a big box with the word “BROTHER”
on the side and next to it another box with the picture of a filing cabinet on
it. Mary had decided that the church needed a file cabinet and a real nice
color printer (that also functioned as a fax, copier, and scanner). Mary
donated the copier and file cabinet to the church, but informed me that she
would also be using it from time to time herself (seeing as how she was the one
who donated it, you know) to print personal pictures. In fact, by the end of
our conversation, she had determined that it would really make more sense just to
keep the machine at her house, which was just across the road, since she’d
probably use it more than the others at the church anyhow. She didn’t even take
it out of the box before loading it back in her Suburban and reminding me to
tell the treasurer on Sunday that she’d need a tax receipt for the printer she
donated. It was sure awful nice of her to do that.
Or
maybe James had someone like Lacy in his congregation. Lacy was nice enough,
had a trio of sons that were born in the wrong era I think (they liked to trap
skunks and raccoons for fun). Lacy said she needed to talk to me after church
one Sunday because she had an idea that was going to save our little church a
lot of money. After service the next Sunday, I asked Lacy what her idea was.
She said, “Well Chris, you know how we pay someone to cut the grass here at the
church during the spring and summer?” I nodded. “Well,” she said, “what if the
church buys a good lawnmower, and one of our boys just comes up here to cut the
grass when it needs it?” I think I might have looked up at the ceiling or
something before I said, “I think that might work.” She said, “Well great.
Maybe we could keep it at our house, and use it too?” Sure was nice of her to
want to save the church all that money.
I’ve
come to find that some folks can be downright inspired to do the Lord’s work,
to help out their church and their community if there’s something in it for
them. Whether it’s a nice tax break, use of the church van, their name in the
paper, there’s a lot of folks who’ll step right up to make sure their name is
counted on the list. And I suppose there may be some good in that: I mean, we
did print a few bulletins on that copier (maybe a week or two), and if we had
bought the mower I’m sure those boys would have cut the grass at least a few
times, and there was that one church where I preached in college with the big
brass plaque on the piano with the name of the man who gave it engraved on the
side…but if the motive for the gift, if the reason one gives his or her time, money,
energy—whatever—is remotely motivated by selfish gain, James seems to suggest
that such an offering comes from anywhere but God; it’s “earthly, unspiritual, devilish.”
Of course, James isn’t dealing with folks looking to get a tax receipt or
trying to bum equipment off the church or someone trying to count their name on
the membership role so they can get married in the church or use the gymnasium;
James seems to be speaking to a more serious issue—a more common, ancient,
universal issue among those bodies that call themselves churches.
James
says, “For where there is envy and selfish ambition, there will also be
disorder and wickedness of every kind…Those conflicts and disputes among you,
where do they come from? Do they not come from your cravings that are at war
within you?” What’s really going on in this congregation? Disorder,
conflicts, disputes. And what’s driving these things? Envy and selfish
ambition. See, it wasn’t that the folks in this congregation didn’t necessarily
get along, and it wasn’t that things weren’t necessarily getting done. James
doesn’t suggest that they’re lazy, ungiving, or inactive. James is writing to
correct their motives, their means to their shared ends, because what’s really
at the heart of these conflicts isn’t theology. It isn’t a difference in
biblical understanding or ethical ideology. No, the source of these conflicts
is the selfish ambition, personal agendas, and envy in the hearts of members of
the congregation. In other words, there were folks claiming to do the Lord’s
work there, but really what they had in mind was their own work.
Can
I tell you something? That’s not always an intentional thing, or at least it’s
not something that always comes from an intentionally evil place. No, I’d go so
far as to say that (at least in our context these days) there are many folks
who just can’t help it. They can’t help it because they can’t see past their
own ideologies, their own worldviews, their own self-interests to understand
that maybe their desires, their perspectives, their comfort isn’t the right
motivation for the work of God’s kingdom. And hear me when I say, that’s a
truth for people all up and down every spectrum of every issue, ideology, or
denomination. So often, folks pray, speak, and act from a place they believe to
be grounded in some sort of theological conviction, yet if they really plumbed
the depths of their own souls, really sought to ground their prayers, words,
and actions in an intentional and meaningful reflection upon the very nature of
God, the words and actions themselves may not change, but their very
understanding and motivations behind them would. Because it’s easy, I think, to
fool ourselves into believing that what makes us comfortable, what feels
familiar to us is always what’s
right. It’s easy to give into the idea that because I think it’s right, because I’ve
always believed this or that, because I
feel deep down that I’m right that
whatever affirms my preconceived notions must be the right path. When that
happens, when we give into that way of thinking, our actions tend to find their
root in our comfort, in our ide of “rightness,” and we may in fact lose sight
of what is actually in the best interest of our neighbors, our families, our
church.
This
congregation seems to be consumed by conflict, the kind of conflict that boils
below the surface. The church to which James is writing isn’t having long,
drawn-out business meetings with folks shouting at each other overt the color
of the carpet; people are threatening each other with physical harm or
threatening to take their families and their tithes to the megachurch across
town. No, most likely the sort of conflicts James’ congregation is experiencing
is the type that happens in those private meetings in the parking lot, those
telephone calls in the morning, the conversations that take place in the
produce aisle. The folks in this congregation aren’t conflicted when it comes
to theology, Scripture, circumcision, the nature of God in Christ—not really.
Their conflicts are about personal comfort, about keeping things the way they
want them, about making sure their kind of folks are in and the “wrong” kind of
folks are kept out (isn’t that the whole reason James has to rebuke them about
the rich man and the poor man in chapter two?).
“Those conflicts and disputes
among you, where do they come from? Do they not come from your cravings that
are at war within you?” James asks. The conflicts and disputes in
James’ congregation aren’t really about theology—church disputes rarely ever
are. The lack of peace at the heart of this congregation stems from the selfish
ambitions, envy, and desire for personal comfort at the heart of some of its
members who wish to keep things in line with their way of thinking, the right
way of doing the work of Christ’s Church. But here’s the thing: James says you
can desire to do the right thing, but if you do it for the wrong reasons you’ll
fail every time. “You ask and do not receive, because you ask wrongly…” You can
ask for the right things, but if you ask for it from a place of personal
desire, of ambition, envy, or self-centeredness, it will not come to fruition.
Can’t we sum up just
about every conflict ever imagined that way? A result of one or more people
believing they’re seeking the right thing, but doing it for the wrong reasons?
It does matter how you get there, doesn’t it? “For where there is envy and
selfish ambition, there will also be disorder and wickedness of every kind. But
the wisdom from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, willing to
yield, full of mercy and good fruits, without a trace of partiality or
hypocrisy. And a harvest of righteousness is sown in peace for those who
make peace.” A harvest of righteousness is sown in peace for those who
make peace…why is that so hard to get for us? Why are we convinced that the way
to make peace is to start a fight? How in the world can someone cause division,
claiming to want unity? How in the world can brothers and sisters stand on
opposites sides of line they’ve drawn together, hurling insults and bombs at
one another while claiming they are pursuing peace? James says you can’t do it
that way! The way towards peace, the way towards reconciliation, the way of the
Lord is found in letting go of a desire to always be right, the need to always
be comfortable, to always be the winner, to pick sides and have favorites. The
way of the Lord is paved with mercy and selflessness. A harvest of righteousness is not sown in the battle to
prove one is more right than another it is not sown in the soil of complacency
or self-righteousness.
A harvest of
righteousness, James says, “is sown in peace for the who make
peace.” It is sown in the loving, sacrificing, humility of one who
is willing to forego being right in order to first show love. It is sown in the
soil of cooperation and conversation, the dirty work of listening to a loving
those with whom we disagree. It is sown in the peace that comes from seeking first
to listen and understand rather than seeking first to contempt, correct, or
convert. A harvest of righteousness is sown in the peace that comes from being
willing to yield, to give of oneself, the willingness to even be taken
advantage of or be told you are wrong. Above all else, it is a harvest sown
only by the self-same work of love we see in Christ Jesus, the willingness to
even lay down our very lives for someone else, even those who might kill us,
those who my mock us, those who might reject us. A harvest of righteousness is
sown in the soil of peace by the work of selfless love. Amen.
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