Today we begin a new series of sermons on the Epistle of James. If I were to give a subtitle to this epistle, I would call it "A Manual of Practical Christianity."

All of us should be able to identify with the thought. We are always asking that everything be made practical. Speakers are admonished to use the "kiss principle": "Keep it simple, stupid."

There is a sense in which the Epistle of James is a "how to" book, and any bookstore has a large section of such books, from How To Build a Patio to How to Repair Your Motorcycle. We are a sort of "do it yourself" people. Many who can afford to have anything and everything done by others like to do it themselves.

The Epistle of James is a kind of "How to" manual for the Christian life. That's appealing, isn't it? We hear a lot in church about what we should do, but perhaps not enough about how to do it. My prayer is that, throughout this series, I will not forget the "how to", for our theme is "Practical Christianity."

Now I'm aware of the controversy that has surrounded this book, even before it was included in the canon of scripture we call the Bible. Unfortunately, Martin Luther tied a millstone around this book's neck when he called it "an Epistle full of straw." He felt there was nothing evangelical about it. I'm aware that there were many pros and cons in its journey to being accepted as a part of Holy Scripture. But the burden of tradition and the church's response to it has given it a place among the "General Epistles" of the New Testament.

While Luther called it "an Epistle of straw", others have called it "The Epistle of Rock" or "Epistle of Reality" or "The Epistle of Common Sense."

So, I believe it's a book we are well advised to heed. Its purpose is not to proclaim the life, death, and resurrection of Christ, yet here is wisdom and guidance for those who would be followers of the risen Lord. In fact, some have even thought it was a commentary on sections of the Sermon on the Mount. Throughout the Letter, you will find those words of James that sound very much like the words of Jesus.

I like to think of it as a manual for discipleship, or as I said earlier, a manual of practical Christianity.

We are going to take twelve Sundays to move through it. Our approach is going to be to center on the crisp, pungent truths that fall one after another. Some believe that the Epistle was originally a sermon or sermons preached by James, the brother of our Lord, and then recorded in this fashion. In fact, there is one theory of authorship which has it that this was a sermon preached by James in his Aramaic tongue, taken down by someone who translated it into impeccable Greek, edited it, judiciously added to it with loving care, and issued it to the Church at large. I have little or no problem with this theory of authorship.

We are going to center on these pungent points James the preacher made, elaborate them, and seek to apply them to our lives.

The body of the Epistle starts with a shout -- verse 2 -- "Count it all joy!..."

No hesitation here. No fumbling to get to the point. No tip-toeing around the thorny issue. And what is the first thorny issue James addresses? Suffering, trials, troubles -- all those flies in the ointment, and all those thorns in the flesh -- all those knock-downs in life -- all that being pushed back to the goal-line and having to start again. That's where James begins, and he shouts, "Count it all joy!"

Now I can feel you thinking and maybe saying beneath your breath, "and you call this a "how to" book." You call this an Epistle of Practical Christianity. Sounds rather naive. A "Cloud 9" approach, not a down-to-earth grappling with reality.

Well, at least, James gets our attention right off. Anyone who grabs our attention shoulders and shakes us, and looks us straight in the eye, and with a steady voice, hones in, "Count it all joy!...", he deserves our hearing, so let's listen to him.

What are the lessons here?

I.

The first is elementary, but we tend to forget it. Growth is not easy. Now that sounds so simplistic that I want to say it again so that you will know I mean for you to take it seriously. Growth is not easy. This is true of any kind of growth. It isn't easy. It is especially true of Christian growth. That's the reason we have so few truly saintly people. And that's the reason we should be slow to judge the faith and commitment of others. So much of our growth, and so much of the way we express our faith, is dependent upon the kind of people we are -- and we are all different.

There is a story of two generals in the Civil War. The pressures of battle were intense. The one general noticed that the other man was visibly afraid. "Sir," he said, "If I were as frightened as you are, I'd be ashamed to call myself a general in our nation's army."

"Sir," the other man replied, "If you were as frightened as I am, you would have fled the field of battle by now."

None of us know the other person's struggles. We sometimes think we do. But more often than not, what we perceive is far from reality. I've never been a drinking man, so I can't begin to understand the struggle of an alcoholic. Yet I would say to you that if you are not involved with people as I am, day in and day out, then you can't understand my struggle with pretension, or self- righteousness. People who say one thing and mean and do another.

So we need to be careful about judging others. We never know what may be going on inside, driving them to their actions and attitudes. If we are not willing to be patient with people and stick with them until they are free to share their inner struggle with us, we can at least not add to their burden by judging them.

Growth is not easy, and so much of our growth, so much of the way we express our faith is dependent upon the kind of people we are -- and we are all different.

II.

That suggests a second truth. When you are suffering, it doesn't help to compare yourself with others.

Over 200 years ago, there was a young boy who lived in England who was very sick and puny. They didn't have the kinds of medicines back then that we have today. They weren't blessed with the medical technology that we know. And, so, all of his life he remained in that condition and never became a strong person physically at all.

When he was young, he would look out the window of his house and watch other children playing in the field. He would get sad as he watched them -- at times, even crying -- because he wanted to be out there with them, but he couldn't. That made him feel sorry for himself. He was jealous and envious of others.

When he got older, he decided that he would go into the ministry -- be a pastor of a congregation, and spend his life serving Christ in that way.

But, again, his health failed, and he was just too frail to carry on his pastoral duties. He became deeply depressed.

"Why can't I be like other people", he cried out. "They've got their health and I don't. They can do things with their lives and I can't. They are out there making a difference and I'm just sitting here unable to make any difference at all. Why can't I be like them?"

But then one day, someone talked with this young man and helped him see that his life had its own purpose apart from that of anyone else. He began to realize that he would get nowhere so long as he compared himself with everyone else... he had his own life to live, apart from that of anyone else. And ... what mattered was that he live his own life fully and completely and to the very best of his ability. When he did that, his life really began to take off. You see, that man was none other than Issac Watts, one of the greatest hymn writers of all time. The one who wrote, "Joy to the World", and "O God Our Help in Ages Past." But it didn't happen for him until he quit looking around, comparing himself with others, and committed himself to living his own unique life.

So, if we are going to learn how to count it all joy -- and move through our suffering and trials to be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing, we need to know that it doesn't help to compare ourselves with others.

III.

That pushes us back to a specific word in our text: Suffering can be wasted or it can produce steadfastness in our faith. That's what James says. Listen to him in verse three: "For you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness."

But listen carefully to the completion of his thought in verse 4: "For you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness, and let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing."

You see, suffering may produce steadfastness and faith, and we may still be incomplete. We may still lack joy. Pain by itself is evil. It doesn't teach us anything. It may discipline us to be strong, and not complain. It may turn us into cynics. We may be tough and steadfast in our suffering, keeping always a stiff upper lip, but that's a long way from what James is talking about. "Count it all joy...that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing."

Philip Yancey, in his book Disappointment With God, gives us the clue for allowing our steadfast faith in suffering to work its full effect in our life. He tells us about a modern Job, a man named Douglas.

Douglas seemed righteous, in the sense of Job: "Not perfect, of course, but a model of faithfulness. After years of training and psychotherapy, he had declined a lucrative career in favor of starting an urban ministry. Douglas' troubles began some years ago when his wife discovered a lump in her breast. Surgeons removed that breast, but two years later the cancer had spread to her lungs. Douglas took over many household and parental duties as his wife battled the debilitating effects of chemotherapy. Sometimes she couldn't hold down any food. She lost her hair, and always she felt tired and vulnerable to fear and depression.

"One night, in the midst of this crisis, as Douglas was driving down a city street with his wife and twelve year old daughter, a drunk driver swerved across a center line and smashed head on into their car. Douglas' wife was badly shaken, but unhurt. His daughter suffered a broken arm and severe facial cuts from windshield glass. Douglas himself received the worst injury, a massive blow to the head. After the accident, Douglas never knew when a headache might strike. He could not work a full day, and sometimes he would become disoriented and forgetful. Worse, the accident permanently affected his vision. One eye wandered at will, refusing to focus. He developed double vision and could hardly walk down a flight of stairs without assistance. Douglas learned to cope with all his disabilities but one: He could not read more than a page or two at a time. All his life, he had loved books. Now he was restricted to the limited selections and the sluggish pace of recorded books."

Philip Yancey was writing his book, entitled Disappointment with God, and asked Douglas for an interview. They met at breakfast.

"Yancey described the book he was writing on disappointment with God, and asked, "Could you tell me about your own disappointment? What have you learned that might help someone else going through a difficult time?"

Douglas was silent for what seemed like a long time. He stroked his peppery gray beard and gazed off...and finally said, "To tell you the truth, Philip, I didn't feel any disappointment with God."

Yancey was startled. Douglas, searingly honest, had always rejected easy formulas like the "Turn your scars into stars!" testimonials of religious testimony. So Yancey waited for him to explain. This is what he said. "The reason is this. I learned first through my wife's illness and then especially through the accident, not to confuse God with life. I'm no stoic. I am as upset about what happened to me as anyone could be. I feel free to curse the unfairness of life and to vent all my grief and anger. But I believe God feels the same way about that accident -- grieved and angry. I don't blame him for what happened. I have learned to see beyond the physical reality of this world to the spiritual reality. We tend to think "Life should be fair because God is fair." But God is not life. And if I confuse God with the physical reality of life-- by expecting constant good health, for example-- then I set myself up for a crashing disappointment."

"God's existence, even his love for me, does not depend on my good health. Frankly, I've had more time and opportunity to work on my relationship with God during my impairment than before."

Yancey reflected on this -- and the deep irony of the scene. For months he had been absorbed in the failures of faith, having sought out stories of people disappointed in God. He had chosen Douglas as his modern Job, and had expected from him a bitter blast of protest. The last thing he had anticipated was a graduate course in faith.

"If we develop a relationship with God apart from our life circumstances, then we may be able to hang on when the physical reality breaks down. We can learn to trust God despite all the unfairness of life. Isn't that really the main point of Job?"

Suddenly, Douglas glanced down at his watch and realized he was already late for another appointment. He put on his coat hurriedly and stood up to leave, and then leaned forward with one final thought for Yancey. "I challenge you to go home and read again the story of Jesus. Was life fair to him? For me, the Cross demolished for all time the basic assumption that life will be fair."

Do you see the difference -- it's very clear. We can waste our suffering, or we can allow it to produce steadfastness in faith -- and we can allow that steadfastness in faith to perfect and complete us -- leaving us "lacking in nothing."

So the shout of James is real -- "Count it all joy." And we can do that -- if we know that growth is not easy -- if we will realize that when we are suffering it doesn't help us to compare ourselves to others. And if we will not waste our suffering but allow it to produce steadfastness in faith to learn that which will bring us to completion, lacking in nothing.

That's a rather good lesson in practical Christianity, isn't it?