1:1 – Long traditions, which appear generally reliable, attribute
this book to James, the half-brother of Jesus. (That is, the physical son of
Joseph, or some other close male kinship within Jesus’ earthly family.) He was
one of the foremost leaders of the church in the first century—the overseer of
the mother church in Jerusalem for decades, apparently serving as the president
of the first great church council (Acts 15), and noted by Paul as being one of
the “pillar apostles” (Gal. 2:9) along with Peter and John. And yet, despite
this lofty position of birth and ministry within the growing Christian
movement, James make no claim to any of these positions of authority in
introducing himself. Rather, he simply notes that he is “a servant of God and
of the Lord Jesus Christ.” This is remarkable humility, especially for one who
could legitimately and appropriately lay out a case for his authority to speak
to the church via letters of apostolic counsel (a case that Paul often has to
make for himself). It may simply be that James was so well known that no list
of credentials was necessary; but even in that case, it says something about
the man’s humility that he opts to present himself in the simplest way
possible. He addresses himself here to “the twelve tribes scattered among the
nations,” which is an allusion to the diaspora of the Jewish community, but is
probably intended here as a metaphor for the Christian church.
1:2-4 – James begins his letter with one of the most astonishing
statements in the whole Bible: “Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you
face trials of many kinds.” It’s not astonishing in being out of character for
Scriptural advice; no, similar sentiments can be found elsewhere (see, for
example, Jesus’ teaching in Matthew 5:11-12). But it is astonishing in that it
provides such a strong contrast to normal human behavior. We are not naturally
wired to consider it pure joy when all the busyness, hassle, worry,
frustration, and danger of life comes cascading down upon us. No, most of us
respond with sadness, irritability, and impatience. Now, it may be the case
that James particularly has in mind the case of believers who are undergoing
persecution for their belief in Jesus—a situation in which believers are
repeatedly exhorted to rejoice. But he goes a bit farther than most New
Testament passages on this mark, by extending it to “trials of many kinds.” This would seem to
include, at least at first glance, all those little trials of everyday life,
which, in their volume and incessancy, sometimes feel even harder to bear than
the ennobling journey of bearing up under persecution. As if James realizes
that his counsel sounds ludicrous, he quickly goes on to explain the logic
behind it: testings of this nature help us grow in perseverance, and
perseverance is a necessary element of full Christian maturity. There are
certain virtues that simply cannot be developed in the absence of suffering,
and perseverance (like patience or courage) is one of them. If our lives were
dreamy cakewalks filled with nothing but the thrilling consolations of God’s
Spirit, and never a hardship to dampen our mood, then we would actually end up
the worse for it by the end of our lives. We would not have had the opportunity
to grow into people of great courage, endurance, and (to use an old KJV word) “longsuffering.”
James, then, is calling on us to recognize, in the midst of the hardships and
persecutions of this life, a precious and radiant opportunity to become more
than what we are now. We must learn to see, in those difficult moments that we
would rather avoid, the chance to gain that most priceless of treasures:
character. If you want a happy life—a truly
happy life—then you are far more likely to find it not in money or comforts
or entertainments, but in becoming the sort of person who can bear up nobly
under the sufferings of a fallen world. Ironically, then, the way to joy is
through suffering, and only through suffering. So, in the midst of your trials,
remember these things, and count the experience as “pure joy”—a gracious
opportunity to become, in your own character, ever more like the character of
God himself.