Last week we learned a new math. The world's math says suffering is subtraction. James taught us that suffering and trials, when they test your faith, is actually addition. You don't lose or become less — you become more, complete and mature.
We learned that the way to deal with suffering and trials isn't just struggling or fighting through. It's looking to Jesus, the wisdom of God. He is what we need when we suffer. Not a way out.
Last week we talked about the resources Jesus provides when things happen to us. This week he's going to give us the resources we need for what is happening inside of us. Which means the biggest problem in our life is not our circumstances, it's not our suffering. It's not the people around us. Our biggest problem is us.
After teaching us about trials and suffering, he gives us an amazing promise. For those who endure their trials — you receive a crown of life. There's a reward for endurance, which means our trials have a purpose. God is using them to do something great in and for us. But we need to know something. What's the difference between a trial and a temptation?
God does test you. But He does not tempt you. Here's the difference. A test is meant to reveal what is already inside you and give you the experience you need to become something more than what you were. A temptation exploits what's already inside of you and is meant to destroy you. God does the first. He never does the second.
And then James tells us the reason temptation has such great power in our lives. It's because of our own evil desires. Your own. Not someone else's. Not the culture's. Not the devil's. Now, James is not denying that those things exist or contribute, but he's saying that when those other things come into play, they grab us because there's something inside us that grabs back.
Now, look at the picture he gives us. Conception and birth. Desire conceives. It gives birth to sin. And sin, when it's fully grown, gives birth to death.
Do you know anything about the cuckoo bird? You can find them here in Taiwan. They don't raise their own children. Instead, it sneaks into another bird's nest and lays its egg among the host's eggs. The host bird usually can't tell. So it sits on that egg, keeps it warm, protects it. But the cuckoo chick hatches first, and it's immediately aggressive — it pushes the other eggs or chicks out of the nest. And the host bird thinks it's their baby. So now the host bird is feeding a parasite that is actually destroying their future.
The world, our flesh, and the devil. Cuckoo birds. They lay eggs in our lives. And because sin has broken us, we don't recognize this bad egg and we take it as our own. We desire it. We protect it. Justify it. Feed it. Give it what it needs to survive. And it grows. And too late we realize we are feeding an alien parasite that is destroying our lives and our future.
Let me show you how this can work in our lives.
This is particularly for parents, but kids should listen too. As parents, we want our children to do well. That's not a bad thing, it's love. I think every parent in this room wants their kid to flourish.
But what happens when a good desire gets twisted by sin? Your child comes home with a bad exam result. Or they get cut from the sports team. Or they act out in public. And something happens inside you that goes beyond disappointment for them. You get disappointed. You get angry.
And you tell yourself it's because you care about their future. But sinful desire takes that good thing and their performance becomes your performance. Their score is your score. Their success is evidence that you are a good parent. So you push. Maybe not harshly. Maybe with the language of encouragement. More tutoring. More practice. Higher standards. And your child learns something in those moments that you never said out loud and never intended: that your love has conditions attached to it. That they are valuable to you when they are succeeding.
That's not just a character flaw or a misstep in parenting. Their success has become your savior — an idol you use to rescue you, the thing you rely on to tell you you're enough. And you are slowly sacrificing your child and your relationship with your child on that altar. Twenty years from now, they will be adults who cannot rest. Who will never feel like they are enough no matter what they achieve.
Let me try one more example. You just want some peace. You want some rest. So you do things to protect your time and your peace. Again, that's not a bad thing. Sometimes it's survival.
It starts small. You don't volunteer for things because you're busy — and you are busy. You pull back from a friendship that's become draining — and it is draining. You stop checking in on a person who's struggling because honestly you don't have the capacity right now — and you don't.
Every single decision, taken on its own, is reasonable. Justified. Even seems wise. But zoom out. And you start to notice the pattern. The relationships in your life have been quietly organized around a question: what does this cost me? The people who are easy to be around, you keep close. The people who need too much, you manage the distance. And when someone's crisis lands at the wrong moment, you feel something — not compassion, but a low-level resentment that they need something from you right now.
You call it wisdom. Sometimes you call it boundaries. But if you're honest, there's a flatness to your relationships. Nobody is getting the real you because the real you is being conserved for something. You're just not sure what. And you've been calling it self-care.
Here's the hard truth. When you and I sin, it's not because we're weak. It's because in that moment, we want something more than we want God. We are not victims of temptation. We are willing participants because something inside us is broken by sin.
So James warns us: don't be deceived, because temptation and your sinful desire will outright lie to you. They will tell you that God is keeping something good from you. It's the oldest lie in the book. Literally. It's the first thing the serpent said to Eve in the garden: "Did God really say...?" In other words, "Is God really good? Is he really for you?"
And James says, no. Stop. Don't be deceived. Let me tell you what God is actually like.
Every good and perfect gift is from above. A good gift isn't just something of value. It's chosen by someone who knows you. They've thought about you specifically. They've paid attention. The gift is personal — it carries the intent of the giver with it. When you know the giver loves you, when you trust their character — you can even receive things you'd otherwise push away. Even hard things. Even things that hurt.
Think about the last time you received some criticism. If it came from someone you know really loved you, really cared about you, then I bet at some point you realized it was a gift. When you trust the giver, you can receive a trial as a gift, even when it's painful, because you know the intent behind it is good.
But when you don't know or don't trust the giver — when you're unsure of their motives, when you suspect there might be a catch — you can't receive it. Not really. You hold the gift at arm's length. You look for the angle. And what was sent in love gets misread as something else. You end up rejecting the very thing that was meant for your good.
Verse 18: By his own choice, he gave us birth through the word of truth, so that we would be a kind of firstfruits of his creatures.
James has told us that desire gives birth to sin, and sin gives birth to death. And now he shows us God's answer — God's greatest gift to us. God gives us a new birth through his word. On the cross, Jesus absorbed the penalty for all the sin we have given birth to and defeated death so that we could have a new birth. The way you receive this new birth is through the word of truth — the truth about Jesus revealed in the Bible. He has revealed himself to us so we can know him, and his revelation is Jesus Christ. I want you to know Jesus today. He's God's greatest gift.
James isn't giving us a list of things to do. He's helping us to actually hear what he's saying. Most of us, when we hear something that sounds hard or difficult or that we just don't want to believe, we don't listen — we start talking, either internally or with others. And we get angry. And when we do those things — we miss what God wants to do in our life. Let the word of God speak to you. The implanted word can only do its work in someone who's listening, quiet and humble.
In ancient times, it was actually pretty rare to see yourself. Mirrors were expensive and not common. The only place a regular person might see themselves was in a pool of still water — their reflection on the surface.
So when James talks about a man looking in a mirror and then walking away and immediately forgetting what he looks like, he's describing someone who for a moment sees the truth about themselves and then just… walks away from it.
He's asking us to look intently into the law of freedom — that's God's word. When we look intently into the Bible, what do we see? Who do we see? Jesus. He's asking us to look intently at Jesus and be changed and transformed. And when you see Jesus — really see him — it changes you.
James says the result of seeing clearly is that it transforms you. You will produce fruit. And here's the evidence: it changes your speech and your relationships.
Now, if we read this out of context, James is just giving us more things to add to our spiritual to-do list. Care for the vulnerable. Keep yourself clean. Try harder. But actually, he's showing us what happens when the word — the perfect law of freedom — begins to do its work in our lives.
Some Christians try to avoid all temptation. They stay away from the world, they try to control their flesh, they pray against the devil. Which are not necessarily bad things. But what about the evil desire that is still inside of you because of sin? You need something that can destroy the sinful desire, because even if you do your best, you won't be able to avoid the outside temptations.
An old Scottish pastor named Thomas Chalmers preached a famous sermon called "The Expulsive Power of a New Affection." His argument was simple but profound. You cannot defeat the sinful desire that lives inside by just trying harder not to want it. You can only defeat it by wanting something else more. A new affection doesn't just compete with the old one — it pushes it out.
And that's exactly what James is telling us. God gave us a new birth through the word of truth. Not a new set of rules. Not better willpower. A new birth. A new life with new desires.
So let me go back to our two examples. The parent who needs their child to succeed. Why does that desire have such a grip on you? Because somewhere deep down, you need evidence that you are enough. But the gospel says the verdict is already in. Before your child took their first exam. Before you made your first parenting decision. God looked at you — not at your performance, not at your child's performance — and He said, "This one is mine. I chose this one. I gave this one new birth."
When that verdict gets deep enough into your heart — when you not only believe, but you receive that your identity was settled at the cross — something happens. The grip loosens. Not because you stop caring about your child. You actually care more. But the desperation is gone. You can let your child fail because their failure no longer says anything about your worth or theirs. You're free to actually love them instead of using them. That's the expulsive power of a new affection. The old desire doesn't just get managed. It gets displaced.
And the person who is carefully managing their relational energy — conserving themselves. Why? Because deep down, you believe that if you give too much, there won't be enough left for you. You are your own supply. But look at what God did. Verse 18 — by his own choice, he gave us birth. He didn't calculate the cost first. He didn't check if we were worth the investment. He spent everything. The cross was the most expensive act of generosity in the history of the universe, and he didn't hold anything back. When you know — really know — that you are loved by someone who will never run out, who does not change, who has already given you the most costly gift imaginable — you stop hoarding. Not because you grit your teeth and force yourself to be generous. But because you're no longer afraid of running empty. You have a source that won't run out.
That's how the implanted word works. That's what knowing Jesus does. That sinful desire gets displaced with a new desire.
Why do we have this sin issue? Because we are orphans. In the garden of Eden, we orphaned ourselves. We rejected our Father's love and said, we'll live life on our own.
Pure and undefiled religion before God the Father is this: to look after orphans and widows. Isn't that what God did? He came after us.
We read those words "look after" and it sounds like, you know, send a Christmas box. Or sponsor a child. None of which is bad by the way. But that's not what it means. These words mean a deliberate, costly move toward vulnerable people that results in real, personal care.
Does that sound like anything? Deliberate. Costly. Move toward. Real personal care. Why? So you would never be forsaken. Never alone and never without a place in His family. He was abandoned so you could be adopted. Forever loved without end.