Faith That Shows Up: Faith Under Fire James 1:1-18 Rev. Dr. Rhonda Abbott Blevins August 3, 2025

James, a servant of God and of the Lord Jesus Christ,

To the twelve tribes in the dispersion: Greetings.

2 My brothers and sisters, whenever you face various trials, consider it all joy, 3 because you know that the testing of your faith produces endurance. 4 And let endurance complete its work, so that you may be complete and whole, lacking in nothing.

5 If any of you is lacking in wisdom, ask God, who gives to all generously and ungrudgingly, and it will be given you. 6 But ask in faith, never doubting, for the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea, driven and tossed by the wind. 7,8 For the doubter, being double-minded and unstable in every way, must not expect to receive anything from the Lord.

9 Let the brother or sister of humble means boast in having a high position 10 and the rich in having been humbled, because the rich will disappear like a flower in the field. 11 For the sun rises with its scorching heat and withers the field; its flower falls, and its beauty perishes. It is the same way with the rich; in the midst of a busy life, they will wither away.

12 Blessed is anyone who endures temptation. Such a one has stood the test and will receive the crown of life that the Lord has promised to those who love him. 13 No one, when tempted, should say, “I am being tempted by God,” for God cannot be tempted by evil and he himself tempts no one. 14 But one is tempted by one’s own desire, being lured and enticed by it; 15 then, when desire has conceived, it engenders sin, and sin, when it is fully grown, gives birth to death. 16 Do not be deceived, my beloved brothers and sisters. 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 birth to us by the word of truth, so that we would become a kind of first fruits of his creatures.

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It’s been nearly one year since Hurricane Helene devastated our beautiful community, wreaking destruction not only in Florida but as far as North Carolina and Tennessee. Hurricane Helene reminded us that storms don’t ask permission. They just come. Some of you are still rebuilding. Some are still processing loss. Others discovered strength you didn’t know you had.

James knew about storms too—not weather, but the storms of persecution, poverty, and pain that his readers faced. Today we begin a series in which we’re reflecting on a letter he wrote to Jewish Christians scattered across the Roman Empire, somewhere around 45-50 AD. Jesus’ half-brother is writing to people who have been driven from their homes because of persecution. They are facing poverty, discrimination, and the temptation to let their faith become merely private and personal. James knows they needed more than comfort—they needed a faith that can survive in hostile territory.

A Faith That Endures

And yet, James’ letter begins with a startling word: joy. Joy . . . not despite trials, but in trials. “Whenever you face various trials, consider it all joy” he begins his letter. Note that James doesn’t say “If you face trials,” he says “Whenever you face trials, consider it all joy.”

My inclination is to push back against James from the very first line of his letter. “Seriously, James? That seems a bit Pollyanna-ish, doesn’t it? Can we not acknowledge that life is hard, and tears are too often warranted?”

But looking a little deeper, I don’t think James is taking a Pollyanna attitude. Rather, he’s acknowledging the reality of suffering and the persistence of trials throughout our lives. I think James is suggesting that trials test the genuineness of our faith—when the storm waters of life rage, do we keep the faith, or do we abandon faith?

The townspeople of Feldkirch, Austria found a way to keep the faith. Horror gripped the peaceful village early on Easter morning in 1799, when high above the valley in which the town nestled, they spied the tents and the gleaming armor of a foreign army. The uniforms, plainly seen in the clear dawn, were those of Napoleon’s French forces.

With the weapons of enemy soldiers glittering above them, and their own Austrian army far away across the mountains, the villagers had reason for desperation. Hurriedly, the town council assembled. Hopelessness pervaded the council chamber.

Someone proposed that they send a peace offering up the steep cliff, handing the keys of the city to the enemy commander and petitioning him for mercy. But up rose the old dean of the church, serene as the sunrise, stout-hearted as the ancient trees upon the hill. “This is Easter morning,” he declared, his voice echoing the peace of the first resurrection day.

Confusion instantly subsided among the council members who were calmed by the tones of his voice. “We have been reckoning on our own strength; and it is but weakness. Let us ring the bells and have services as usual. We will leave our troubles in the hands of a Higher Power.” His courage was contagious, and the council agreed with him. Soon the village church bells rang out joyously. Gaily dressed villagers, on their way to worship, thronged the streets. The surrounding hills echoed the rich tones of the church bells as they pealed louder and louder, proclaiming the resurrection of the living Christ.

On the heights above the little town, General Massena in command of Napoleon’s invading army with 18,000 troops, hearing the sounds of rejoicing, and seeing the carefree, brightly-clothed throngs, concluded that there could be but one reason for such gaiety in the presence of his military might.

He was sure that the Austrian army had come up in the night and might even now be encircling his position on the wooded hill. Massena ordered his army to break camp speedily and depart. Almost before the bells had ceased ringing, long before church services were concluded that Easter day in 1799, the French army was in retreat.

When the worshippers of Feldkirch poured out of the church doors and looked up at the heights, they saw not one tent, not one French soldier, not one flashing sword above their peaceful village![1]

Now, not all trials have happy endings like that, but trials test our faith. I’m not someone who believes that God sends trials to test us, but I am someone who believes that God uses trials to teach us and to strengthen us, in the way that fire tests gold and pressure takes coal and turns it into diamonds.

So with that, perhaps we can heed James’ admonition to “consider it joy” whenever we face trials. In the words of Kelly Clarkston, “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger!” Let us create together, a faith that endures.

A Faith That Asks

Reading further in James’ letter, we are encouraged to also build a faith that asks. Verse 5: “If any of you is lacking in wisdom, ask God, who gives to all generously and ungrudgingly, and it will be given you.”

When we find ourselves in situations we’ve never faced before . . . a loss, a diagnosis, a challenge we don’t know how we’ll face . . . these are the moments when we realize we need more than our own understanding—we need God’s wisdom.

Notice James doesn’t say “ask for knowledge”—he says ask for wisdom. Knowledge is information; wisdom is knowing what to do with that information.

The scattered Christians James was writing to needed wisdom desperately. Should they hide their faith to avoid persecution? How should they respond to discrimination? How do you live as a follower of Jesus in a hostile world?

Here’s what's remarkable about James’ promise: God gives wisdom “generously and ungrudgingly.” The word “ungrudgingly” literally means “without reproach”—God doesn’t roll God’s eyes at our requests or make us feel foolish for asking.

If you call out to God during a crisis—maybe for the first time in years—God doesn’t say, “Well, where have you been?” God responds with open hands and an open heart, to give you the strength and resilience you need to get you through.

James adds a crucial condition: “But ask in faith, never doubting.” This doesn’t mean we can never have questions or struggles. It means we approach God believing that God wants to help us, that God has our best interests at heart. The “doubting” James warns against isn’t intellectual uncertainty—it’s the kind of doubt that keeps us from truly seeking God’s guidance. It’s asking for wisdom while already deciding we’ll probably handle things our own way.

How many of us treat prayer like a spare tire—something we pull out only when everything else fails? James calls us to make prayer our first response, not our last resort. When we don’t know what to do, our natural inclination is to worry, research, call friends, make lists. James says: Ask God first.

This week, as you face decisions—big or small—remember James’ promise. God gives wisdom generously to all who ask. The same God who has guided you throughout your life is ready to guide you through whatever storm you’re facing today.

A Faith That Trusts

So in addition to building a faith that endures and a faith that asks, James invites us to have a faith that trusts. James reminds us that we can trust God because God is faithful.

A lighthouse keeper once shared how he learned to trust in constancy during his most difficult assignment. For thirty years, he had maintained a lighthouse on a rocky coast known for its fierce storms and treacherous waters. Ships depended on his light to navigate safely home, especially during the worst weather.

One particularly brutal winter, supply ships couldn’t reach him for weeks. His fuel was running dangerously low, and he faced an impossible choice: conserve fuel for his own survival, or keep the lighthouse beacon burning for ships that might need it. As he watched his supplies dwindle, fear crept in. Everything felt uncertain—when would help arrive? Would he survive? Would ships be lost without his light?

But then he remembered what the lighthouse represented: unwavering constancy in the midst of change. For generations, that beacon had shone through every storm, every season, every crisis. Ships counted on its reliability not because the keeper was perfect, but because the light itself was dependable.

He chose to keep the light burning, trusting that somehow provision would come. On the very day his fuel ran out, the storm cleared and supply ships arrived. Later, he learned that three vessels had safely navigated treacherous waters that week because of his faithful beacon.

James calls God “the Father of lights”—the one who created the sun, the moon, the stars, the entire cosmos. God, the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. Our God, James reminds us, has “no variation or shadow due to change.”

We live in a world where everything seems to shift. Job security isn’t guaranteed. Relationships change. Health can fail. Financial markets fluctuate. Political landscapes transform. Even the institutions we once trusted can let us down.

But James points us to the one constant in our changing world: God’s unchanging character. God’s love doesn’t depend on our performance. God’s faithfulness doesn’t waver with our circumstances. God’s promises don’t expire when times get tough.

Notice what James says about the source of “every generous act of giving, with every perfect gift.” They come from above. The kindness of a neighbor, the unexpected help that arrives just when we need it, the strength we find in difficult moments, the hope that sustains us through dark seasons—James would say all of this flows from our unchanging God. When the storms of life threaten to shake everything we’ve built our lives upon, we discover what our foundation really is. James reminds us that God is the one foundation that cannot be shaken, the one constant in a world of variables.

This doesn’t mean faith makes us immune to change or loss. It means that even when everything else shifts, we have an anchor that holds. Even when we can’t see the way forward, we can trust the One who never changes and whose love for us is as constant as the lighthouse beacon piercing through the darkest storm.

The same God who was faithful to those scattered Christians in the first century is faithful to us today. The same God who has proven trustworthy through every generation will prove trustworthy in ours.

Faith That Shows Up

I’ve learned something about you over this past year—when crisis hits, you show up. You open your homes, you deliver food, you give generously. The challenge is to carry this same faithful spirit into the ordinary seasons of life as well . . . not just emergency faith, but everyday faith. You’re already doing this, just keep on doing it!

Our sanctuary is restored. Thanks be to God! And now for our next act, let’s restore our commitment to being the church beyond these walls—a people whose faith consistently, joyfully, boldly shows up.

This week, ask yourself: “Where is God calling my faith to show up?” In your workplace? Your neighborhood? Your family? Your community?

Faith under fire isn’t about surviving trials—it’s about letting trials shape us into people whose faith shows up everywhere we go. Let it be!

[1] From The Mighty Hand of God by Katherine Pollard Carter.