What Good Is it? James 2:14-26

Introduction

(Show picture of the roller coaster) In 2001, John Ivers, a grandfather from Bruceville, Indiana, looked at the A-frame shed in his backyard and saw more than storage—he saw a way to bring joy to his five grandchildren. A retired factory welder with a love for thrills and no formal engineering training, John had a doer’s spirit and a dad’s heart. Over two years, using scrap metal and car parts, he built “The Blue Flash,” a 180-foot roller coaster with a 20-foot drop and a corkscrew loop. When he realized it was too intense for his toddler grandkids, he didn’t stop—he built a second, gentler coaster called “Blue Too,” just for them. Thrill-seekers came from around the world, but John always said, “I built it for the kids and grandkids—something unique to have fun on.”

Man, I love dads. Nobody can turn a quiet Saturday into a sprained ankle and a near-death experience quite like a dad. God has wired men uniquely to be doers and fixers. In fact, if you just want to vent and not have us fix it, you usually have to start by telling us that.

God’s Word

James must’ve loved dads, because his letter is all about action. You could argue James is the manliest book in the Bible—straight talk and a “get to work” tone. He’s writing to affluent Jewish Christians who seem to think that as long as you believe in Jesus, it doesn’t really matter what you do. But James pushes back hard, showing that real faith isn’t just acknowledged—it’s lived. “What is True Faith?” (headline)

True faith is more than “words.”

James 2:14–17 “What good is it, my brothers, if someone says he has faith but does not have works? Can that faith save him? If a brother or sister is poorly clothed and lacking in daily food, and one of you says to them, “Go in peace, be warmed and filled,” without giving them the things needed for the body, what good is that? So also faith by itself, if it does not have works, is dead.”

My senior year, we were playing one of our biggest rivals. As we ran onto the field for warm-ups, their whole team ran over and started chanting, “We ready! We ready! We ready FOOORRR y’all!” We froze like deer in the headlights. Our coach saw it and called us together: “A man is not measured by his words. A man is measured by action. Show them that.” We went on to beat them 47–0. That’s always stuck with me.

Faith shows “mercy,” not “pity.”

James says something similar about faith. “If someone says he has faith but does not have works, can that faith save him?” Notice—he’s not addressing skeptics, but people inside the church. People who say they have faith. His concern is that some are deceived into thinking that saying the right words is enough, regardless of how they live. But true faith is always more than words. That’s his point.

True faith doesn’t stop at sounding spiritual. It stretches into action. It moves with mercy. James paints a scene: a brother or sister in the church doesn’t have adequate clothing or daily food—not luxuries, just basic needs. And someone responds, “Go in peace, be warmed and filled!” And, James asks: “What good is that?” They’re still cold, still exposed, and still suffering. That sounds spiritual—maybe even prayerful—but it’s empty. James is saying, “Don’t you see? God HAS provided for them. He sent them you.”

That kind of response reveals a deadly gap between spiritual talk and spiritual life. The words may sound holy, but if there’s no action, there’s no faith. It’s dead.

Years ago, Megan and I were looking to buy a flipped house. It looked great—granite counters, new appliances, refinished floors. But the inspector said, “He cut every corner. There’s termite damage and plumbing problems hiding behind the walls. The house isn’t what it looks like.” That’s James’ point. Spiritual words without mercy are like fresh paint on a termite-ridden frame. And, “What good is that?”

He’s warning us: a day is coming when your life will be inspected. And spiritual talk won’t pass the test. Words that once made you feel better might only prove that your faith was never real.

Salvation is “works-revealed,” not “works-based.”

Let me be clear: James isn’t saying that if you do enough for the poor, you’ll be saved. That’s not love. That’s self-serving. No, James’ point is not that showing mercy gives you salvation. He’s not teaching a works-based gospel. He’s teaching a works-revealed gospel. The problem isn’t that they haven’t done enough to earn salvation—the problem is that they talk like followers of Jesus but don’t look anything like Jesus. And, that’s self-deception.

You see, we sometimes use spiritual language to ease our guilt without easing anyone’s burden. That’s why the man says, “Go in peace, be warmed and filled.” That’s a spiritual blessing, even a prayer, and James asks: “What good is it?” They’re still cold. Man, we’re tempted to do the same aren’t we. We see a person in genuine need, and we offer them our platitudes but not our help: “I’ll pray for you.” “Trust God.” “Be blessed.” And so, James isn’t trying to guilt us into action. Guilt is a perversion of our faith. He’s wanting us to see that The gap between guilt and mercy is love. Love is the way of Christ and love leads to the mercy of Christ. So, James’ point: If you aren’t producing the fruit of love — as seen in mercy, then the tree must be dead.

Jesus didn’t just say spiritual words to you. He didn’t say, “Go in peace, be warmed and filled.” He entered your poverty. He took your place. He clothed you in righteousness and gave you eternal life. Jesus took action at his expense. That’s what real love looks like. And, that’s the shape our lives will take when we follow him by faith. Our faith must put on flesh in the same way that Jesus’ love put on flesh.

It’s important to realize throughout the passage that Paul and James don’t contradict each other. Paul is asking, “How are we saved?” The answer is: by grace alone, through faith alone, in Christ alone. James is asking, “What does real faith do? What is its character?” And his answer is: real faith acts. It moves toward others in mercy. It loves like Jesus.

Cooper Turner once told me, “A Christian should always carry a little cash, just in case God puts someone in your path to help.” That’s what it means to live by faith—to live ready to love.

True faith is more than words. It’s more than sounding spiritual. It’s seeing mercy-opportunities as invitations to love like Christ. And James presses the question: Do you have that kind of faith? Not, “Do you know the right answers?” Not, “Can you talk a good game?” But when your life is inspected, will there be mercy to show for it?

True faith is more than “belief.”

James 2:18–19 “But someone will say, “You have faith and I have works.” Show me your faith apart from your works, and I will show you my faith by my works. You believe that God is one; you do well. Even the demons believe—and shudder!”

When I was 16 or 17, I asked my grandad to help fix my motorcycle. He could fix anything—but wasn’t exactly known for his patience. I tried to keep up, pretending I understood. Eventually, he just said, “Get out of the way. I’m glad you’re gonna be a preacher, because you’re a terrible mechanic.” That’s the revised, family-friendly version. And it pretty much broke my will to ever learn small engine repair. I decided it just wasn’t for me.

James sees people taking that same attitude toward their faith. “Someone will say, ‘You have faith and I have works.’” That is, some think: “Works just aren’t for me. I’m more of a belief person.” They seem to think that faith and works are spiritual giftings—you get one or the other. And yes, Scripture teaches that different people have different gifts—Peter says some speak, some serve. But James isn’t championing one gift over another. He’s saying: every Christian must be a practicing Christian. There’s no such thing as a nominal Christian with an inactive faith. “I will show you my faith by my works.”

Why? Because faith in Christ produces love for Christ, and love for Christ produces love for others. That’s what it means to abide in Jesus and fulfill the law of Christ. Faithfulness isn’t about gifting. It’s about love. Some are more gifted to speak, to give, and to encourage. But, all of us are must share the truth about God, live generously, and encourage one another. Why? Because love compels us.

Do you have “belief” or “faith?”

That’s what James is driving home with the demons. He’s smashing a mosquito with a sledgehammer. It’s like a courtroom cross-examination: “How do you know you have faith?” Many would say, “I believe!” But James would say: That’s not enough. The demons believe—and they don’t have faith. They don’t trust God, live for God, or love others.

What’s sobering is how orthodox they are. Augustine reminds us that the word “demon” comes from the Greek word that means “knowledge.” They believe “God is one”—a line Jewish people quoted daily from Deuteronomy 6. They know Jesus is King. They shudder at his judgment. Most churches would let these demons join! They’ve got better theology than a lot of Christians. But they don’t love Jesus. They live for themselves.

That’s the difference between dead belief and living faith: love. You know what it’s like? It’s like getting a vaccine. Vaccines give you just enough of the virus to build a defense, but not enough to get the disease. The goal is immunity.

Are you “vaccinated” or “infected?”

And tragically, that’s what happens to many people with Christianity. They’ve been vaccinated. Just enough Jesus to build up resistance—but not enough to be infected. They’ve had church, doctrine, “God is one” theology—but not love. No transformation. No infection of grace. They haven’t caught Jesus in a way that rewires their heart. Their lives don’t overflow with mercy. They’re immune to conviction. Immune to repentance. Immune to compassion.

Demons have that kind of belief—clearer than most of us. But no love. So the question isn’t, “Do you believe the right facts about God?” You can have enough belief to vaccinate you. The question is, has the love of God infected your heart? Have you caught the beauty and mercy of Jesus in a way that’s reshaping how you live? This passage is about people who know all the right things to say and believe—but don’t actually love Jesus. And it shows—because they don’t actually live for him.

What about you? Have you been vaccinated or infected? Do you just believe—or do you have true, living faith?

True faith is more than a “decision.”

James 2:20–26 “Do you want to be shown, you foolish person, that faith apart from works is useless? Was not Abraham our father justified by works when he offered up his son Isaac on the altar? You see that faith was active along with his works, and faith was completed by his works; and the Scripture was fulfilled that says, “Abraham believed God, and it was counted to him as righteousness”—and he was called a friend of God. You see that a person is justified by works and not by faith alone. And in the same way was not also Rahab the prostitute justified by works when she received the messengers and sent them out by another way? For as the body apart from the spirit is dead, so also faith apart from works is dead.”

If we went house-to-house in our community this afternoon and asked people if they were Christians, most would say yes. And if we asked why, many would respond, “Because I made a decision when I was 10 or 15 or 22.” But if you followed up with, “Are you living for Jesus day-in and day-out today?”—most, if they were honest, would have to admit they’re not. They’ve just been trained to say they “made a decision.” And James would ask, “Well, what good is it?” It’s as good, he says, “as the body apart from the spirit”—which is to say, dead.

This helps us understand the tension we often feel between Paul and James. But the truth is, there really isn’t a tension. Paul isn’t saying we’re justified by faith and James saying we’re justified by works. They’re using the word, “justified,” but in different ways to make different points. Paul is talking about initial justification—the moment God moves in our hearts and we decide to follow Jesus. That decision matters. But, as Jesus teaches in the parable of the sower, some decisions are not sincere. And that’s James’ concern. He’s focused on our final justification, when we stand before Christ and He asks: “Did you feed me when I was hungry? Did you clothe me when I was naked? Did you give me water when I was thirsty?” James is asking: Is there enough evidence to convict you as a follower of Jesus? That’s what he means by “justification.”

We want “blessing” without the “costs”.

To make his point, James draws from the Big Story. First, he points to Abraham—the poster boy for salvation by faith alone. Genesis 15:6 says, “And he believed the Lord, and he counted it to him as righteousness.” Some read that and say, “See! It only takes belief and we receive Jesus’ righteousness.” And if that’s your response, then you’ve taken James’ bait—hook, line, and sinker. Because he asks, “Was that the end of the story?” No! That’s not what made Abraham so memorable.

What sets Abraham apart as a man of true faith is what happened on Mt. Moriah. When God commanded him to take his beloved son, Isaac, and offer him as a sacrifice, Abraham obeyed. Why? Because he believed so deeply that God could even raise Isaac from the dead if need be (Hebrews 11). That’s the kind of faith James is talking about. Verse 23 calls it a “fulfillment.” His initial belief in Genesis 15 was fulfilled—vindicated—by his obedience in Genesis 22.

Why do we need James to explain this? Because we want the blessing of Abraham without the obedience of Abraham. We want the reward, but on our own terms. We read Genesis 15 and think, “Easy peasy. I believe. Credit my righteousness and I’m on my way.” But Genesis 15 is just the moment of decision. And if that decision is sincere, it becomes a kind of prophecy that presumes future obedience. That prophecy is fulfilled when the faith is tested and proves true—most clearly in Genesis 22.

Can you imagine the tears that Abraham cried as he carried his son to the top of that mountain? Can you imagine how confused he was? Can you imagine how everything instinct he had was yelling at him to turn around? In Genesis 15, Abraham said he trusted God. In Genesis 22, he had to prove whether he trusted God more than his own instincts. That moment—when he lifted the knife—is what vindicated his faith. That’s what it means when James says his faith was “justified.” It was living faith—faith that could be convicted in a courtroom.

You can understand James’ logic by thinking of a marriage. Every marriage begins with a wedding—a moment of decision and profession. You say, “I love you. I choose you.” And those vows are real—but they’re also prophetic. You declare your love “in sickness and in health, in poverty and prosperity.” But you haven’t experienced those trials yet. The proof comes later. When the cancer comes and you stay. When the job is lost and you stick together. When the nights are long and the love is hard—and you still choose one another. That’s when the vow is fulfilled and justified. That’s when your love is proven real. That’s how Paul and James relate. Paul is talking about the vow. James is talking about the life that fulfills it.

Our “obedience” is the “evidence”.

And then James throws in Rahab. Abraham gets the paragraph; Rahab gets the sentence. But it drives the point home. Abraham is a spiritual giant—the father of the faith. So we might think, “Of course he had to show his faith through remarkable obedience.” But Rahab wasn’t a giant. She was a Canaanite prostitute. And yet she had to make a costly choice: Would she commit treason against her own people to align herself with God’s people? She made the decision, and proved it by the risk she took. The situations were very different, but the faith was the same. That’s the point. The works of faith aren’t reserved for the spiritual elite. They’re the fruit of anyone who truly knows and loves God.

In fact, Rahab’s choice led to a life of faithfulness that made her the grandmother of David—and eventually part of the line of Jesus himself. She’s a stunning picture of the last becoming first in the Kingdom of God. And, she’s the reminder that our faithfulness to Christ is not determined by how our life started or how insignificant we are. Those things aren’t determinative. Our faith is.

One day, you will enter the courtroom of the Great Judge. And the goal of that day is not to acquit you, but to convict you—as a true follower of Jesus, ready to enjoy his Kingdom. And in that examination, He will ask: “When I was thirsty, did you give me something to drink? When I was hungry, did you give me something to eat?” And we might ask, “Lord, when did we see you thirsty or hungry or naked?” And He will say, “When you saw the least of these, you saw Me.”

But if your faith has been dead, you might say, “But I prayed the prayer. I believed in you. I made that decision.” And He’ll look right back at you and ask, “But what good is it?”