Tag: Gospel

Faith Without Works is Like a Song You Can’t Sing

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screen-door-on-a-submarine

James was written in the Hebrew tradition of mashal, or wisdom literature. Mashal is a word for a parable, but it can mean much more than that: a proverb, ethical wisdom, a story that teaches wisdom, or poetry that works as a memory aid for bits of wisdom. You can read a mashal anywhere in Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, or in lots of Jesus’ preaching and teaching.

Because Jesus taught with these ‘wisdom stories,’ they would have been a familiar teaching technique to his brother, James. James uses this teaching style in his short letter so well that many people who read it are reminded of one of Jesus’ most famous teachings—the Sermon on the Mount from Matthew 5-7.

The wisdom that James taught with the mashal in his letter was the practical and applied nature of our faith. I’ve been taught in the past that the letter deals with faith and works, answering questions about how true faith correlates to obedience in our daily lives. These works don’t save us, I’ve been taught, but they’re more of an ‘indicator light’ like you’d find on your car dashboard; if you have a good, solid faith, your works light up alongside it to mark it. Whatever the ‘works’ were was left as some fuzzy category of vague obedience, in my mind.

But James is anything but fuzzy. He tells us we can’t just listen to the Word, or Scripture, but that we have to obey it too, and that if we don’t we’re unwise and foolish. He caps off chapter 1 by saying that real faith produces works. The two don’t just accompany other, but grow from each other. His final words on that topic are familiar: “Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world.” Real faith, or religion, IS works, and most specifically it’s the work of caring for people who need it most. James tells us our faith is caring for the marginalized, the oppressed, the poor, and the lonely, and doing so with a holy heart not swayed by the things of this world that would distract us.

What are those things that distract us from the poor and distressed? What keeps us from them? In my personal experience, it is pride, power, position, wealth, and privilege. When I love these things too much to look a beggar in the eyes or offer him some food, James says my religion is worthless. When I listen politely and nod along as someone grieves and laments, my religion is worthless. When I have the opportunity to listen to the voice of someone different than me, someone often neglected and unheard just like James’ widows and orphans, and I dismiss that opportunity, my religion is useless. It is dead, and deceptive.

That may seem harsh to us, or maybe overstated, but you don’t have to take my word for it.

James goes on in chapter 2 to say the very same thing. He tells the story of a rich man who comes to a gathering of believers and is treated with honor, while the poor man is welcomed to sit on the floor, or not even offered a seat. James warns us against favoritism towards those with privilege, power, or wealth. Partiality is a sin. It’s a work that shows our faith is not mature. It’s easy to hear Jesus’ words echoed here, from the end of Matthew 5, “If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that? And if you greet only your own people, what are you doing more than others? Do not even pagans do that?”

James goes on to remind us that God has chosen the poor to inherit the kingdom (which should remind us again of Jesus’ “blessed are the poor in spirit…” beatitudes), and he tells us that breaking the law about loving your neighbor as yourself is a sin just the same as adultery or murder.

Soak that in for a second. James compares favoritism with adultery and murder. This is serious.

What good is our faith if it has not action to go with it, James asks us in 2:14? Is it even real faith? Can it save? If one of our brothers and sisters has no clothes or food and we tell them, “I hope things get better,” or “my thoughts and prayers are with you,” or “Go in peace, I hope you’re warm and full,” our faith is dead. James points out here what is called a sin of omission. It’s a sin that you commit by not doing something you’re supposed to do. For example, Moses taught us to honor our mother and father. When we don’t do that, we sin. It’s the same here. When we don’t value our brothers and sisters equally in Christ, we sin. We sin just as deeply as if we’d murdered.

That is massive. If our churches don’t listen to the voice of the poor man, the one with shabby clothes, the one we tell to stand in the corner, the old, the young, the foreign, the minority, the women, the ethnically different, James says we sin and our faith is dead without these deeds. When I don’t actively show my brother or sister with a different skin tone or eye shape that I value them, maybe I have functionally murdered them by taking away their voice and their seat in the room with me. In James 2:17-19 he compares such inaction to the ‘faith’ of the demons, who also believe in God but refuse to follow him in obedience.

James rounds off chapter 2 by explaining that true faith isn’t just correlated with works, but that it compels us irresistibly toward works. Our faith should lead to radical sacrifice of what is dear to us, like Abraham giving up his only son Isaac. Is our comfort zone so dear to us that we can’t give it up to have awkward conversations with people who feel excluded or voiceless in our churches? James also says that that kind of Abrahamic faith-to-works should cut across stereotypes like the faith the prostitute Rahab showed through caring for people who had no claim on her. If you read James and don’t want to be like Rahab, you’re doing it wrong.

James preaches what many today would call a social gospel. And many who would call it that shudder and squirm. Faith is about saving our souls, they say. Faith is about redeeming our minds and our wills. Faith is about heaven and eternal salvation.

But James won’t accept that answer, at least not as a whole answer. Faith is about action, in our real world, to care for real people, who may not deserve our attention, but whom God declared deserve grace under the new covenant just as much as we do. Perhaps they deserve it even more, given God’s repeated emphasis on the poor in spirit and broken-hearted. James closes chapter 2 by saying our faith must be accompanied by social action or we aren’t really talking about real faith or the whole gospel. “As the body without the spirit is dead,” he says, “so faith without deeds is dead.” Just like you can’t have a body or soul without the other, our faith is dead if it’s just about our soul. It must care for the body too.

One of my favorite childhood songs was by Rich Mullins. It has the line, “faith without works is like a song you can’t sing—it’s about as useless as a screen door on a submarine.” This message from James is rough. It’s convicting. And it makes me consider many different aspects of my interactions and care for people. But it has beauty too. A song you can’t sing is depressing, a hollow promise. But when we get this right and evaluate and make changes to listen and include better, our faith can sing. It can be welcoming and warm, truly showing love to everyone. Is your faith the kind that falls silent in the throat, or is it the kind that sings?

Feeding the Hungry

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We spent the last week teaching English with our university students. We teach them English and make connections to our favorite Stories and they teach us about their culture and beliefs. We’ve been on outings with them to Tuol Sleng and the Killing Fields, the Phnom Tamau Zoo, and a riverboat on the Mekong to celebrate the new year. We teach three classes every weekday, and we want to make friends with the students so we can tell them about things that are important to us. And they are wonderful. Our two guys (affectionately dubbed ‘the brothers’ by our M) have really bonded with a group of guys, and we continually lift up the students so that Father would prepare their hearts for his Message. Our guys and the guy students have done a lot together—icecream, karaoke, arcade games, and shared meals.

We have gone shopping with our girls, had icecream and ‘American fast food,’ and just had them over to our house to talk. Father has really blessed us, because we have all connected with students whose hearts have been undergoing preparation for the Message for a long time. The two girls I am closest to (we’ll call them Padma and Rita) have been over to our house many times already. I’ve started a story set with them, and they are both so hungry for the stories I’ve shared. Between the two of them, they have heard C2C, Jn. 13:1-14:14, creation of the spirit world (that story was in Khmenglish), Elijah and Ahab at Mt. Carmel, and Noah’s flood. With all of that, they’ve learned about sin and our need for the Son. They’ve learned that our Father is more powerful than anything they encounter, and that he does not desire them to live in fear. They have learned that the Father is holy and that we are not, and they have learned that all paths do not lead to heaven. They are so hungry for what they are learning. It blows my mind. We take for granted that we can pick up the Word and read any story any time. These girls know nothing about the stories I love, and if they had time, they would sit with me all day to learn. I love them with all of my heart, and I lift them up daily. I love the assurance that none of this is my doing. So many requests to the Father have been answered, and He has been hard at work preparing minds and hearts. He has called us here to feed the hungry; to bring good news to the broken, and to provide for the poor. Is. 55 is one of my favorite chapters in the Word, and I love seeing it work out in my daily life here.

Father has really brought our team together since we’ve been here too. That has been a blessing greater than my words can ever say. We have all become close friends, and we love spending time together. Often on short term trips friction within the team can be used by Satan to retard Father’s work, but we have not had to deal with that. Father has heard what we have lifted up and woven us together as a wonderful team. We learn from each other and balance each other’s weaknesses and strengths. We are functioning as the Body, and it is a beautiful thing. It almost brings me to tears when I think about it. And speaking of tears, a few were shed last night when we dropped Dr. Carlton off at the airport. He is leaving early and the team and I will be ‘on our own’ for the rest of our trip. I cried a tiny bit before I could rein it back in, but I cried for many reasons, and my heart still sings and hurts when I think about it. First, I cried because I’m a girl and I’m hormonal. Second, I cried because of the good friends who came to see him off, and because of those who didn’t. And I cried because of his legacy.

Dr. Carlton and his wife Mrs. Gloria have been an influential part of my life since they moved to OBU almost two years ago. I love them both so much, and I have learned so much from them. They are both hilarious, and one of the things they have taught me is how important it is to laugh as you work on the Field. Dr. Carlton has taught me to story, taught me to be an M, trained me and encouraged me in the classroom, and invested in my life just as he has with his other students. Mrs. Gloria and I have met (along with my roommates) to talk many times about life, love, and all things related to being an M or simply living a life full of the Son. I admire them so much, and they both have invested deeply in me, just as they have with countless others. On this trip I have gotten to see a little bit of their legacy, and I have been overwhelmed with their commitment and dedication to Father’s work and Father’s people.

During the whole trip I have worked alongside students developing a passion for overseas work that they wouldn’t have were it not for the Carltons. I have met Shepherd after Shepherd who was trained and taught by Dr. Carlton. I have seen people and the work of people who were trained to plant new communities of believers. And I have watched many tearful reunions and listened to many stories about the years of work the Carltons invested in this country and its people. I am so honored to be serving our Father alongside such heroes of our faith. And I don’t just say that to lift them up on a pedestal or praise them. They would be the first to deny that they had any hand in the exponential growth of believers—they would give all the credit to Father, where credit is due. Dr. Carlton shared an impromptu motto with us the day he left that I think is worth sharing with all of you: Life is fun. Have a blast. Tell people about Jsus.  As we have done on this short trip, the Carltons have done just that and fed the hungry for many years; I ask the Father to bless them for their work.

One of our goals for this trip is to establish a legacy of believing university students. We want to make connections and disciple so that when we leave, the students who are hungry for the Message can continue to meet with the Ms. I told you I have been storying with my girls, but this Sunday we got to model what a gathering of believers looks like. We asked Father earnestly to bring students to hear his Word and to see our joy in Him, and He did not disappoint. At the risk of sounding like an American, I’ll tell you that we were blown away by the numbers; but not just by the numbers. We had EIGHT students come to worship with us, and every one of them was engaged and hungry for the meat of the Word. It was INCREDIBLE! I was so amazed and blessed and overwhelmed by Father’s faithfulness!

We sang Every Move I Make (which we taught them in class on American Song day) and some other songs we love (and miss while we are here). I storied about Elijah, Ahab, and the showdown at Mt. Carmel to help correct the fault in their worldview that allows them to believe that they do not have to pick between deities. Father blessed my words, and everyone present had something to say about what they had learned from the story. After we sang some more, Kasey shared a short message on Paul’s conversion to teach that believing in Father is not just intellectual—that is brings about a change in people, and that no matter what our past holds, Father still wants us to turn to Him. I’m pretty sure I had a goofy grin on my face the entire time because I was so excited to see Father’s work in our student’s hearts! Please continue lifting them up with us. If you lift up Rita and Padma, Father will know who you’re talking about. 🙂

I have one more quick story about feeding the hungry and I’ll let you go on with your lives instead of melting your corneas in front of a computer screen. Today was not one of my favorite days. The girls and I had a wonderful brunch with the lady Ms, and then we met the boys in the market for some shopping and bartering before we went back home to rest. Today is an Independence Day for the Khmer people, so there were no classes. The first part of the day was great, but after that I wasn’t feeling very good, which compounded any emotions I had stored up. But as we rode back from supper in our tuktuk, my mood was radically changed because we were given another opportunity to feed the hungry. The streets are lined with beggars, many of whom are contracted and are forced to pay any money they receive to bosses, who dole out next-to-nothing to live on. We stopped at a stoplight and three precious little boys came up to our tuktuk with a hand out and a feather duster ready to clean anything for us. We had some leftover food from the restaurant and some fresh fruit we had just picked up, so we gave the boys something to eat. We also handed them each a little book in Khmer that told the Greatest Story Ever with comic book-like illustrations (taken from an incredible storying tool called The Action Bble, for any of you who’d care to know). They forgot about the food in their hands and immediately sat down and started flipping through the pages and following along the words with their fingers. It may not have been much, but at least they have the chance to hear the Good News from someone who cared enough to feed their bellies and souls.