Doing II

 Faith without works is dead not because faith itself is deficient but because it cannot truly exist without being accompanied by works. Works are a natural byproduct of faith. A package deal. Inseparable, and interwoven. Your faith ignites the desire in your heart to do the works of the kingdom. Your faith allows you to snatch glimpses of eternity and stand on the promise of God that He will give to each one according to his work.

 When you have faith, your desire is to obey and do what God commands without question or delay. A writer writes, a painter paints, a singer sings, and a servant serves. Without serving, you are not a servant, just as without writing, you cannot be a writer. You can tell people you’re a writer, but if they ask you what you’ve written and you say nothing, they’ll roll their eyes and realize you could have just as easily said you’re a scientist, an archeologist, or a Reiki healer. In case you’ve never run across one, those last people are a hoot.

I’ve mentioned wanting to be an archeologist when I grew up, but I’ve never introduced myself as an archeologist just because I wanted to be one. When it suits them, or there is some profit in it, some people like to identify as Christian without being Christian and doing Christian things. By that, I don’t mean going to Gaither concerts or putting a fish sticker on your car, but daily picking up their crosses, denying themselves, and following after Christ.

When one is determined to be a follower, it presupposes that they will follow the one leading wherever He may do so. It’s not about where the follower wants to go, nor is it the follower that determines the pace the leader sets. The follower has one function: to follow. He does not determine anything more about the journey than just that.

You can’t follow Jesus without denying yourself. People have tried, and people have failed because the self does not desire to follow after Him. Picking up your cross not just once or once in a blue moon requires discipline and a singularly focused purpose. Yes, there will be days when you won’t want to pick up your cross. There will be days when it’s the last thing you want to do because you’re tired and sore, and everything the world is throwing at you is leaving a bruise, but you do it nonetheless because He said you must, and that you have no choice in the matter if you desire to follow Him.

Many have taken to believe that intellectual acknowledgment of a thing is all that’s required for living, transforming, and saving faith to be ignited in the heart of man without any of the transformative byproducts that true and abiding faith produces. When someone says they are spiritual or believe there is a god, they’re not referring exclusively to the God of the Bible or the redeeming work of Christ. To them, God is a concept rather than a person, an idea rather than the embodied reality of God’s love in Christ Jesus.

All dogs don’t go to heaven, and all paths don’t lead to the same destination. The lies we tell ourselves are multitudinous, but the intent and purpose of every lie is to distract you and take your eyes off Jesus and the cross.

The example James puts forth is reminiscent of what politicians do whenever there’s a disaster somewhere, and they want some face time with the peasants, showing how empathetic they are to their pain while in reality doing nothing substantive to help them in their time of need.

James 2:15-16, “If a brother or sister is naked and destitute of daily food, and one of you says to them, “Depart in peace, be warmed and filled,” but you do not give them the things which are needed for the body, what does it profit?”

The demographic isn’t the world’s poor or someone in a far-flung country, but a brother or sister. Someone you know, someone you fellowship with, someone within your circle of acquaintances, if not outright friends. If you see them naked and destitute of daily food, and all you do is pay them lip service without seeing to their need, what have you really done?

We’ve all seen it at one point or another, and it’s always grating. Some politician landing near some devastation in a helicopter, with rubber boots so new they didn’t even bother to take the tags off, looking around, glad-handing a few folks he made sure used some Purel first, and insisting that they are all in this together.

How so, mister politician? How exactly are we all in this together? There’s a little girl fifteen feet away, covered in mud, with a torn dress, petting a dead cat, with a hollow look that reveals she’s seen more than any child her age ever should. You’re about to board a jet and go back to Washington because you don’t want to miss your reservation at Mastro’s.

Tell me how seeing a brother or sister in need, being able to do something to ameliorate their need, yet choosing to do nothing is any different. Worse still are those who would do something only if a camera crew were around or their name ended up on a plaque somewhere. It’s not the rich James is referring to; it’s everyone and the condition of their heart. If someone’s naked and destitute of daily food, you don’t have to be a millionaire to make their lives better. A loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter, and some hand-me-down clothes would be an answer to prayer.

It’s not about the grand gestures. It’s not about building the wings of a hospital if you are unable to do so. It’s about the little things and the people that fall through the cracks, those who could use not just a reassuring word and an encouragement but also a hot meal.

I’ve been married for twenty-three years. In all that time, I realized that my wife is more excited when I remember to pick up eggs and milk than when I gift her a pair of earrings or some trinket or another. Grand gestures play well in the eyes of others, but the little things are what warm people’s hearts.

With love in Christ, 

Michael Boldea, Jr.