Author: Jim Cantelon

Key Verse: James 3:2 “For we all stumble in many things. If anyone does not stumble in word, he is a perfect man, able also to bridle the whole body.”

If, indeed, the writer of this letter was Jesus’ half-brother, then it should comfort us to hear him say, “We all stumble in many things”. James was known in Jerusalem as “a Jew of the Jews”, a man of utmost piety and devotion to the Temple. There is a long-standing tradition that he used to climb the stairs to the Temple each day on his knees. He was highly regarded and respected as an ultra-Pharisee, and there were few, if any, in Jerusalem who would say anything bad about him. He was an excellent choice as the first leader, or bishop, of the early church (see Acts 12:17; 15; 21:18). so, when James includes himself as part of “all [who] stumble”, it should encourage us to know that even the greatest of leaders has need of daily confession and repentance.

The implied message here is that even though we may have a “blameless” life, we all fail from time to time in what we say. And, as long as our tongue trips us up, we’re far from perfect.

James very colourfully illustrates the power of the tongue. A small bit turns a huge horse. A small rudder turns a huge ship — even when storm winds are blowing. A small spark starts a huge forest fire. The tongue is untameable and “full of deadly poison” (v.8). One word can literally affect a person for “the whole course of his life” (v.6).

So what can we do about it? Cut it out? Muzzle ourselves? Or, as one philosopher put it, “Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt.”

Maybe the answer lies in something James has already said, “Be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry” (1:19, NIV). Let’s think before we speak.

Key Verse: James 2:18 “But someone will say, ‘You have faith, and I have works.’ Show me your faith without your works, and I will show you my faith by my works.”

One of the great statements from the letter of James is, “Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world” ( (1:27, NIV). Contrast James’ “religion” with that of many others — the “religion” that is self focussed, self-absorbed, and self-defined; the religion that its embraced because of what it brings rather than for what it gives; the religion that reduces the great themes and music of scripture to a means of a world end — that end being personal pleasure; the religion that majors on “felt needs” and pays lip service to real needs; the religion that signs a cheque instead of taking the hand of the widow and the orphan.

It’s plain to see that James, this half-brother of Jesus and respected Jew, was disdainful of “airy-fairy” religion that majored in “warm fuzzies”. As he saw it, your religion was worthless if it wasn’t changing for the better the way you and others lived. We are not only to reach out to the disadvantaged, James says, but we’re also to keep our morality pure. We’re not to conform to the world but transfer it. True religion entails both social and moral responsibility.

That’s why professed faith and practised faith are inseparable. That’s why James says, in effect, that you know it’s an apple tree if apples are growing from its branches. If it merely professes to be an apple tree, and nothing, or something other than apples, is growing, then it’s not an apple tree at all. The proof of the pudding is in the eating.

Key Verse: James 1:22 “But be doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving yourselves.”

I like the way the NIV puts it, “Do not merely listen to the word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says.” There are three subjects for discussion here: 1. listening to the word, 2. self-deception, and 3. practising the word.

When you look at the Greek verbs used in the New Testament for “deceive” (whether deciding others or oneself), there is a common denominator with some of them; it is best expressed by the humorous remark, “Don’t confuse me with the facts.” Self-deceit is essentially “a sin against common sense” (as one scholar put it). The specific verb used in the key verse is paralogizomai, which means “to reason falsely” or “to decide by false reasoning”. The question is, how is the reasoning in this context out of balance?

Here’s how. The Bible is not only tremendous history, literature, and poetry, it’s a book with an implicit (and explicit) moral challenge. It’s the word of God and cannot (or should not) be taken for anything less. It demands change in the reader. It is not content to leave us as we are. It expects growth, just as we do when we plant a sapling or a tulip bulb. In fact, none of us has ever planted a seed not expecting it to germinate and grow.

Imagine, then, a “gardener” who spends his day planting a garden in the desert, far from water, in scorching heat. You approach him at the end of the day as he contentedly sips a cup of tea and reads a book. “How can you be so happy?” you ask, “Your seed won’t grow!” He responds peacefully, “Grow? Who said anything about growth? I simply plant for recreation. It brings me peace and contentment. It blesses me.”

The word of God is not passive, nor does it expect a passive posture from its readers. The word is active, “sharper than any two-edged sword”, and expects the hearer to be transformed and, in turn, become an agent of change in the world. We are to do more than merely listen. We are to practise what we hear. The Bible was never meant to be taken passively. It is intensely personal, profound, and practical.

Key Verse: Hebrews 13:8 “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever ” (NIV).

Chapter 13 is sort of a postscript to the letter. The conclusion of the writer’s thought on the subject of Jesus’ superiority over the Law is “Therefore, since we are receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken, let us be thankful, and so worship God acceptably with reverence and awe, for our God is a consuming fire” (12:28,29).

In this chapter, he rambles through what the NIV Bible calls “concluding exhortations?” But in the middle of it all is an especially encouraging word about the trustworthiness of Jesus (and I’ve made it our “key verse” above). It speaks of Jesus’ “immutability”.

Immutability (or “unchangingness”) is one of God’s attributes. He never changes. His character is forever fixed. He is consistent.

This is why Jesus can be trusted today. Sometimes we think how wonderful it would be if we could have walked and talked with Him when He was “in the days of His flesh”. We think there would have been a greater sense of His presence or His reality — as it Jesus, like any other human, would be nearer if we were with Him in person. But think about it. “nearness” is not necessarily a spatial reality. For instance, we can lie under the same roof with someone, even sleep in the same bed and still feel very distant. Indifference, detachment, even alienation, unfortunately can sometimes characterize “intimacy”.

But Jesus is different. He’s as near to us today as He was to Peter, James, and John yesterday. He still saves from sin. He still heals. He still comforts. He still directs all who call on Him.

His love is as all-encompassing as always. His presence never fails. He’s true to His promise, “Lo, I am with you always, even unto the ends of the earth.” He is the final sacrifice for our sin. He is the faithful advocate with the Father. He’s a friend “who sticks closer than a brother.”

Key Verse: Hebrews 12:22-24 “But you have come to Mount Zion, to the heavenly Jerusalem, the city of the living God. You have come to thousands upon thousands of angels in joyful assembly, to the church of the firstborn, who names are written in heaven. You have come to God, the judge of all men, to the spirits of righteous men made perfect, to Jesus the mediator of a new covenant, and to the sprinkled blood that speaks a better word than the blood of Abel” (NIV)

The anger of God is a fearful thing. The Bible makes it very clear that God’s wrath is raging because of sin, and His just nature demands and guarantees that sin will be punished — spiritual death is the penalty. Mount Sinai is a symbol of that anger. As the Israelites camped at its foot, the mountain raged and convulsed with “fire, darkness, gloom, and storm” (v.18). It was giving birth, as it were, to the Law of God. And its “voice” was as frightening as an unexpected “trumpet blast” or a threatening word from some awful power (v.19). Even Moses was terrified (v.21).

This is what the Law does. It terrifies and discourages the faithful pilgrim. Not only are we unable to fulfill its every demand (thereby frustrating and flattening spiritual resolve), but we’re also damned by its inflexibility. That’s because God’s wrath and justice are pure and inflexible. We’re all in deep trouble — unless there’s more to God’s nature than what is reflected in the Law.

“O love of God, how rich and pure, how measureless and strong!” wrote an anonymous poet. Even while God is pure and just, He is also gracious and loving. “For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son” (John 3:16). He is not willing that any should perish. That’s why He sent His Son to become the Lamb slain for our sin. This Lamb has become our ever-living Priest who sits at the Father’s right hand, ever making intercession for us.

Instead of Mount Sinai and terror, we have Mount Zion and joy! Instead of an old covenant, we have new covenant. Instead of animal sacrifice, we have the Lamb of God who was slain once for all. We have a Saviour! And we have thousands upon thousands of angels to sing the “Hallelujah!” chorus. so let’s “worship God acceptably with reverence and awe…” (v.28).

Key Verse: Hebrews 11:1 “Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.”

If we were to poll your local church and its members for definitions of faith, we might get as many definitions as people giving them. We’d hear everything from, “faith is religion” to “faith is a feeling”. Or we might hear something like a young boy’s definition in Sunday school one day, “faith is believing something you know isn’t true!” What is faith?

Look at the writer’s definition — faith is something: the substance and the evidence of something we hope for. That hope (as yet “unseen”) is that God “exists and…rewards those who earnestly seek Him” (v.6). And the hope is more than wishful thinking — it is rooted in “two unchangeable things”, His promise and His oath, that make it “an anchor for the soul, firm and secure” (6:13-20).

So faith is something substantial and evidential, based on something unseen but at the same time “firm and secure”. Still a bit fuzzy? We need a good illustration. The writer gives us several. First of all, he refers to Noah who, on the basis of “things not yet seen” (in this case, a promise from God that there would be a flood), “built an ark”. It seems pretty silly to be building a huge boat and to the scores of years to do so when you haven’t even seen a drop of rain! But, on the basis of hope, Noah acted differently than his neighbours. The ark was the substance, or evidence of something he hadn’t seen as yet. In a very real sense, Noah’s ark was his faith.

The writer then goes on to cite may other examples of people who acted on the basis of hope. In each case, they did something because of what they believed. Their hope spurred an action which became the cause of change. Faith always causes change.

Soren Kierkegaard captured this truth well when he said, “Mere mental assent to a doctrine is not enough Where there is not transformation there is no Christianity”. We’ve got to be more than “hearers of the word” — we’ve got to be “doers”.

Key Verse: Hebrews 10:10 “And by that will, we have been made holy through the sacrifice of the body of Jesus Christ once for all” (NIV).

Let’s follow the writer’s reasoning in the first part of this chapter. The Mosaic Law, and the animal sacrifices it requires for sin, are only a “shadow” of the heavenly reality. Perfection is not achieved incrementally, year after year, but is given to the faithful by God once for all. All that the annual sacrifices on the Day of Atonement do is remind the believer that he/she is still a sinner and still guilty. Why? “Because it is impossible for the blood of bulls and goats to take away sins” (vv.1-4).

The writer tells his readers that Jesus said He had come to the world because the Father was not pleased “with burnt offerings and sin offerings” (v.6). Jesus came to “set aside” the “shadows” and establish the “will” of the Father. That is, through the sacrifice of His own body Jesus would make men holy “once for all” (vv.5-10). And, after He had done this, Jesus “sat down at the right hand” of the Father. There, in that place of ultimate authority, the Lamb that was slain makes his enemies His “footstool” and eternally makes perfect “those who are being made holy” (vv.11-14).

So, in the eternal dimension, those who are covered with the blood of the Lamb are seen as forever perfect. In space and time, we are in the process of “being made holy”. Presently, we are being cultivated and pruned. Eternally, we are “the planting of the Lord”.

Jesus has taken “the wage of sin” upon Himself. We are no longer in need of animal sacrifice. The Lamb has become the Priest, and because He lives forever, those who put their trust in Him no longer have any need of “sacrifice for sin” (vv.15-18). In Christ we are forever saved from eternal death.

Key Verse: Hebrews 9:14, 15 “How much more, then, will the blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered Himself unblemished to God, cleanse our consciences from acts that lead to death, so that we may serve the living God! For this reason Christ is the mediator of a new covenant, that those who are called may receive the promised eternal inheritance — now that He has died as a ransom to set them free from the sins committed under the first covenant” (NIV).

God, for His own reasons (most of which are unknown to us), chose to link forgiveness of sin with the shedding of blood (v.22). In the Old Testament days, no one was allowed into the Holy of Holies, with the exception of the high priest, who entered only once a year “and never without blood” (v.7). The shed blood “of goats and calves” (vb.12) was critical for the covering of the high priest’s sins in order for him to enter “the Most Holy Place” without dying himself. God is altogether Holy and will not tolerate sin in His presence. But when He sees the sacrificial blood, He withholds the “wages of sin” and sees holiness in the supplicant.

But, says the writer of Hebrews, there’s a problem — the sacrificial blood of animals is “not able to clear the conscience of the worshipper” (v.9). “The blood of goats and bulls and the ashes of a heifer sprinkled on those who are ceremonially unclean sanctify them so that they are outwardly clean” (v.13). So the outside is covered, but what about the inside?

That’s where Jesus comes in. His blood cleanses much more than the outer man. His blood cleanses the conscience (v.14). He creates a new person on the inside, whose actions on the outside are forever changed. This new creature is able to turn away from “acts that lead to death” and embrace service to “the living God!” (v.14b).

The first covenant showed us what miserable sinners we are, but it gave no long-term relief. The new covenant, on the other hand, sets us free from the penalty and dominance of sin and gives us the glorious hope of an “eternal inheritance” (v.15).

This is all possible because of Jesus, who “has appeared once for all at the end of the ages to do away with sin by the sacrifice of Himself” (v.26).

Key Verse: Hebrews 8:6 “But the ministry Jesus has received is as superior to theirs as the covenant of which He is mediator is superior to the old one, and it is founded in better promises” (NIV).

In verse seven, the writer say, “if there had been nothing wrong with that first covenant, no placed would have been sought for another.” The covenant he refers to is the “expanded” version — that is, it refers not only to God’s promise to Abraham, but to the Ten Commandments given to Moses and the Law that resulted. It’s the covenant that was to “perfect” Israel through the mediation of the Levitical priesthood (7:11). And the writer has the effrontery to suggest that something God initiated was imperfect.

The problem was not with God. The problem was with the other signatories, the people — “But God found fault with the people…” (v.8a). He was faithful, but they were unfaithful. He was keeping His part of the contract, but they were defaulting on theirs.

So what does God do? Instead of satisfying His justice by  destroying the defaulters. He chooses instead to send His Son to suffer the “wages of sin” and give the faithless ones a second chance for redemption. He kills Jesus as a penalty for our sin, and then He raises Him up again and seats Him at “the right hand of the throne of the Majesty in heaven” (v.1), in order that Jesus be not only the “Lamb that was slain” but also the Priest who “always lives to intercede” for us (7:25).

What’s more, God then extends the parameters of His grace by writing His “laws in their minds and…on their hearts” (v.10b). He makes “a new covenant” that depends no on the faithfulness of man but on the faithfulness of the Son.

Suddenly, legalism gives way to liberty. Law gives way to Grace. Our new High Priest transcends “copies” and “shadows” (v.5) and serves us where only he serve us best — “in the sanctuary” (v.2).