James 1:17-27 17 Every generous act of giving, with every perfect gift, is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change. 18 In fulfillment of his own purpose he gave us birth by the word of truth, so that we would become a kind of first fruits of his creatures. 19 You must understand this, my beloved: let everyone be quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to anger; 20 for your anger does not produce God’s righteousness. 21 Therefore rid yourselves of all sordidness and rank growth of wickedness, and welcome with meekness the implanted word that has the power to save your souls. 22 But be doers of the word, and not merely hearers who deceive themselves. 23 For if any are hearers of the word and not doers, they are like those who look at themselves in a mirror; 24 for they look at themselves and, on going away, immediately forget what they were like. 25 But those who look into the perfect law, the law of liberty, and persevere, being not hearers who forget but doers who act—they will be blessed in their doing. 26 If any think they are religious, and do not bridle their tongues but deceive their hearts, their religion is worthless. 27 Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to care for orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained by the world.

James 1:17-27 08/29/2021 – Saginaw First UMC “Doers of the Word” Rev. Amy Terhune

An epistle of straw. That is what Martin Luther, the great reformer who nailed his 95 theses to the door of the Wittenburg Chapel in 1517, called the Letter of James, from which our text this morning is taken. Some believe Luther actually wanted to cut James from the New Testament altogether, although if he did, he never actually went that far. Instead, Luther tended to avoid it, by and large, because he believed that James directly contradicted the Apostle Paul’s assertion that we are saved by faith alone. And he’s got a point. In the second chapter of James, we’ll hear these words: “What good is it if you say you have faith but do not have works? Can faith save you? 15 If a brother or sister is naked and lacks daily food, 16 and one of you says to them, “Go in peace; keep warm and eat your fill,” and yet you do not supply their bodily needs, what is the good of that? 17 So faith by itself, if it has no works, is dead.” (James 2:14-17) But 200 years later, John Wesley would come along and say, “Hold it! We are saved by faith alone. But genuine faith produces a change in the heart that invariably leads to action.” The Sun rises in the east, 2 + 2 is 4, and faith will lead one to act in the world on behalf of others. For John Wesley, these were indisputable facts. And still today those of us who look to John Wesley for wisdom on how to be a follower of Jesus Christ continue to accept the premise that faith in the heart produces work with our hands, our time, our dollars. Faith cannot long stay in the head and remain life-giving. Earlier this year, on Pentecost Sunday, I told you about Don Saliers - an ordained United Methodist Elder who was for many years the William R. Cannon Distinguished Professor of Theology and Worship at the Candler School of Theology at Emory University. He’s now the theologian in residence and professor emeritus there. Unless you read theology, you probably haven’t heard of him. But you may have heard of his daughter. along with her friend are the . Since Emily grew up hearing about John Wesley, it probably won’t surprise you to hear her sing the following words:

1 My life is part of the global life I'd found myself becoming more immobile When I'd think a little girl in the world can't do anything. A distant nation’s my community A street person’s my responsibility If I have a care in the world I have a gift to bring. I gotta get out of bed get a hammer and a nail Learn how to use my hands, not just my head, I’ll think myself into jail Now I know a refuge never grows From a chin in a hand in a thoughtful pose Gotta tend the earth if you want a rose. [from “Hammer and A Nail” off 2nd by the Indigo Girls entitled Nomads Indians Saints, 1990.]

Today, being doers is ingrained into who we are. It’s why we pack backpacks, and serve meals, and bring food to the pantry, and wear our masks, and read to kids in schools, and give generously to help people in Haiti and Liberia and Ethiopia, and out west and down south, and even in Afghanistan. We don’t do that for the hell of it. And we don’t do it just to feel good about ourselves. We do it because we share James’ belief that we are created in God’s image and likeness and are therefore we do as God does. If God gives generously every perfect gift, then we likewise share what God has given. As we reflect today on what it means to be one who not only hears the word of God is a doer of God’s word, we may take note that doing is part of our identity. James says BE doers. In other words, let service shape your identity. Why? Because it shaped Jesus’ identity. Two thousand years ago, Jesus knelt in front of his friends and washed their stinky, dirty, disgusting feet. And as he did so, he reminded them that He had come, not to be served, but to serve and to give his life for many. He calls us to do as he does. And he reminded them that any who would be truly great must become a servant of all. Wall Street may measure greatness by net worth, Hollywood may measure greatness by name recognition, and Washington DC may measure greatness by political clout, but Jesus measured greatness by service – by living what we believe. The fact is: we were created to be doers. Both our bodies and our minds fall apart if we don’t use them. Jesus said: You are light. You are a beacon. Paul said: you are called. James said: Be a doer. He holds a mirror up to us. This is what you’re supposed to look like: quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to anger. In other words, someone in control of your mind, your mouth, and your emotions. Someone who focuses on others for the glory of God. Thomas Lentz points out that, “The human ear holds a harp of 10,000 strings. Surrounded by fluid, tiny hair-like strings sort various sounds and send them on to the hearing center in the brain. This marvelous mechanism is a masterpiece of our creator. Private hearing aids, public address systems, loud speakers, and surgery help many when those little hairs become damaged. But no technological device out there can make us listen to truly hear what’s being communicated. [adapted from “The Ear, the Tongue, and the Temper: A Lesson in Spiritual Anatomy” by Thomas Lentz, www.Sermons.com.] That kind of listening starts in the heart, not the ear. We listen first, put our own words on hold, because faith working within us shapes us into people who care about others. We all know people who love nothing more than the sound of their own voice. We all know people who spend every moment their mouth isn’t moving in a conversation thinking of what to say next rather than listening to others. Listening is humble – it accepts the reality that others may have something valuable to share, something worth hearing. Listening is vulnerable. It opens itself to another’s ideas, considers

2 possibilities. Too often, we don’t listen because it makes us angry, particularly in today’s world. We don’t want to understand why a black man might kneel at a football game during the national anthem or why a transgendered woman might be hurt because her family won’t use her preferred pronouns, or why a seasoned gentleman might go looking for a new doctor when patronized and brushed off one too many times by a fleet of young doctors taking over the old practice. But we need to challenge ourselves to understand anyway. James never says agree. But he does say listen; listen to understand. “One December back in the late 70s or early 80s, a university professor was invited to speak at a military base. He was met at an airport by a soldier named Ralph. This is the professor's story: “After we introduced ourselves to each other, we headed toward the baggage claim area. But Ralph kept disappearing. Once he stopped to help an older woman with her baggage. Once he stopped to lift a little boy up to see Santa Claus, and again, he paused to give directions to someone who was lost." Finally I said to him, “Where did you learn that?” “Learn what?” asked Ralph. “Where did you learn to live like that?” And Ralph replied, “In Vietnam, my job was to clear the mine fields. You never knew which step might be your last, so I made up my mind to live between the steps. After a couple of years, that just got ingrained in my nature, I guess, and so I just keep living that way. All told, it’s not a bad way to live.” [adapted from “This Little Light of Mine” by Dr. J. Howard Olds, www.Sermons.com.] Ralph is so right, isn’t he? Living between the steps, seeing each day as precious, stopping to help another—that’s a lot more than “not a bad way” to live. That’s a great way to live, and no doubt a meaningful one, even if it’s not easy. Ralph knew something that the truly wise throughout time have figured out—that being attuned to others is a way of living in the world, and it doesn’t take a break at the grocery store or the park or the golf course or the ski trails or at our kids school or our mother’s nursing home or a restaurant or on vacation or at the bank. It listens, perceives, cares. Finally, and I can’t stress this enough, we are doers because we believe God will use us to make a difference. As Christians, we are asked to use our faith that the world can, is, and will change for better. And we’re asked to act on it The United Methodist Church has stated its mission thusly: to make disciples of Jesus Christ for the transformation of the world. Do you believe that’s possible? I do. I think a lot of you do also. We believe the world can be better. In writing about this lesson from James, Dr. Leonard Sweet asks an interesting question: Will we experience culture shock when we get to heaven? He writes about how a friend experienced culture shock when coming from Africa to America to study – how he could get money any time he wanted it from an ATM machine, how restaurants were on every corner and grocery stores had dozens of aisles and thousands of choices, how many cars there were, how many paved roads even beyond the city limits, how the electricity was always on, and the water ran whenever you went to the tap, and the TV had literally hundreds of channels. “You tell me why it is, when we have a terrible time adjusting to the whole notion of an automated teller giving us our cash, we are convinced that we will feel completely comfortable in a new existence in heaven where there is no such thing as a credit card! We blithely assume heaven will be so, well, "heavenly," that we never even consider what kinds of "culture shocks" we will encounter there: • where we turn the other cheek instead of getting even. • where gold is as dust while goodness is treasured. • where love is neither a full-body contact sport nor a winner-take-all competition, but is the atmosphere we breathe.

3 • where instead of struggling to gouge out a niche for ourselves, we are enfolded by the unity of peace. • where the only designer label to be found reads "Graced by God" and it is found on everyone and everything. “If the truth be told, won't this place called "heaven" in actuality be utterly foreign to us and our experience? Won't we experience a form of "culture shock" greater than any we have ever known before? “But wait. Before you decide to be buried with a bottle of Extra-strength Tylenol by your side to help you cope consider that the text from James declares that heaven should not be such a "shock" to our systems after all. (I want to thank Dr. Paul Jaw of Montclair, New Jersey, for helping me to understand this text over lunch one day.) First, the writer reminds us, that every "generous act" and "every perfect gift" we experience on Earth are in fact heaven-sent from God. Each moment of grace and goodness we experience during our lifetime is a tiny glimpse, a momentary preparation for the heaven that awaits us. In stunning fashion, James’ epistle counts our very existence – as flawed and frail as it is – as one of those heavenly glimpses, for God has created men and women to be first fruits of his creation. “You and I were created as "first fruits" not scooped up from the bottom of some cosmic barrel. When we experience "heavenly moments" here on Earth, they should pluck a chord of response in our souls reminding us that this is the way God intends our lives to be experienced. That is why James goes on so stringently, even stridently, to urge believers to act as God's first fruits not merely accept that designation as a static identity. "Be doers of the word, and not merely hearers," (v.22) insists the epistle writer. Once hearers become doers, we can play fragments of heavenly music throughout our earthly existence. We become the embodiment of God’s hope, God’s hands, God’s work in the world. [5 ¶s from “Had To” by Leonard Sweet, www.Sermons.com.] “A first grade teacher asked her class the question: "What do you do to help at home?" One by one the answers came back. One little girl said, "I dry the dishes." One little boy said, "I feed the dog." Another child said, "I sweep the floor." Everybody gave an answer but one little boy sitting in the back. He didn't say anything. The teacher looked at him and said, "Johnny, what do you do to help out at home?" He said, "I stay out of the way." [from “At Your Service Lord” by James Merritt, www.Sermons.com.] How sad! Folks, we’re not stars, we’re not heroes, we’re not perfect. But we’re not called or created to stay out of the way. We are beloved of God, created as Doers of God’s word, called to hope, designed to better the world. We are God’s gift to this time and place, which is no cause for arrogance. Gifts are made to be used. Gifts are given to remind the receiver of the love of the one who gave it. You and I are God’s gift, meant to communicate the love and redeeming grace that we have felt in our own lives; meant to be used by God. Don’t walk away from the mirror and forget what you look like – created in God’s image, other-focused. hope-driven. We are doers of the word. And when I look out at you, honestly, I cannot help but say: Thanks be to God. Amen.

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