"When People Make You So Mad!" James 1:19-20

Kim and I spent last week at the national LCMS Convention in Phoenix, I know… you’re jealous. The LCMS is the church body NewChurch is a member of—the Lutheran Church Missouri Synod. Some of you are like, say what? Ha. Kim, my wife for those who didn’t know that, served as the lay delegate for our circuit, and I was there as an advisor and strategist, part of a group of like-minded ministry leaders trying to do some good. How cool is it that our little church was able to be part of shaping the direction of our whole church body! If you’ve never had the distinct pleasure of sitting through days of parliamentary procedure, resolution debates, and church politics—if you wonder what that might be like—just imagine a room filled with thousands of church leaders arguing over Robert’s Rules of Order in 114 degree desert heat, everyone there thinking they’re on a mission from God, imagine that and you’d be pretty close. Eight in the morning until six in the evening. But the exhaustion didn't just come from the long hours; it came from the battle lines. Church politics can be a lot like national politics. There are factions within our church body—brothers and sisters—who, from my perspective, seem persistently obsessed with making things difficult. Mostly by forcing every one of our congregations into absolute, rigid uniformity with theirs. They want every worship service to look like their church, sound like their church, and smell like their church. They want the exact same liturgy, the exact same hymns, accompanied by organ of course, pastors robed up in vestments, they want the same Scriptures to be read, in the same way, only by the pastor, everything should be the same all the way down to how high we raise our hand to make the sign of the cross. To them, total uniformity in practice is the same thing as unity in confession. So, that’s why we were there—to push back against that. We spent the week carefully combing through the fine print of every overture and resolution, line by line, just to make sure nobody was trying to sneak in language that could be weaponized against churches like ours—churches that care about context, culture, and trying to connect to people in our local community in a way they can hear us. I’d sit there in those long sessions, feeling my blood pressure rise, staring at people across the room, listen to them say things I absolutely didn’t agree with, and feel this deep, dark, visceral urge to just grab the microphone and verbally lay waste to the whole thing. I didn’t want to listen to their punchable faces. I wanted our side to win. I wanted to crush them. I wanted us to be the loudest voice in the room. But everyone kept their cool. There was no punching or yelling. Everyone was actually very polite… on the outside. 

We all do this. You don't have to be at a church convention to get what I’m talking about. The way emotions get drummed up. It happens with our families, and friendships, at work, on social media, in Sunday school when someone says something we don’t like, or at Bible study. The second someone threatens our way of seeing things, or rubs us the wrong way, that internal switch flips. We stop seeing them as a human being made in the image of God and start seeing them as an enemy that needs to be neutralized. We draw the battle lines, look around for allies, and snap back at their words. We tell ourselves we're standing up for the truth, that we're fighting for good—that if we just talk over them long enough, we’ll win the argument and save the day. It’s how we talk about politics, theology, sports, pretty much anything these days. I’ve heard people lose it over whether chili should have beans or not. Which is crazy. Of course it should. Ha. The worst part is how righteous we feel while we're in the heat of the argument. Drunk on our own outrage. We can’t help ourselves, we think our anger is holy and righteous—when the truth is we just don’t want to be wrong. We want to get the last word. So we build our little fortress, throw rocks at each other, and ruin our fellowship, all in the name of being right. You feeling any of this? Or am I only talking to me?

What does the Bible say about all this? When my blood starts boiling, I think it’s good to turn to the book of James. It's a straight shot of pure wisdom. Think of James as the New Testament book of Proverbs. Practical wisdom for how to live out our faith in this infuriating world we live in.

Remember who James was? He was one of the earthly biological brothers of Jesus. Any of you grow up with brothers or sisters who argued with you about everything? Who knew the exact location of your crazy button and took absolute delight in pushing it any time they could? I sure did. I had four of them. But imagine if one of your brothers was Jesus. Not only was He clearly mom's favorite— but He was actually right about everything and better than you for real. That had to drive them crazy! James didn't believe Jesus was the Messiah, not until after the resurrection. There was at least one time when James and the rest of the family actually tried to have an intervention to keep Jesus from saying crazy things and getting Himself killed. It wasn't until after the resurrection that James finally got it. Jesus made a special appearance just for him. Imagine that awkward conversation: "So anyway, yeah... brother... I'm actually God. You probably should have figured that out a long time ago."

Fast forward a few years, and James goes from trying to shut Jesus up to being the leader of the church in Jerusalem. He actually presided over the very first church convention in history—the Council of Jerusalem in Acts 15—they had a massive, knock-down, drag-out fight over, of all things, uniformity. The religious traditionalists back then were trying to force all the new Greek Christians to adopt every single Old Testament Jewish tradition, ceremony, and worship practice. They argued that if you didn't do things the traditional way, you weren't doing it right, and maybe you weren't even a real Christian. Remember that convention's ultimate decision? How much of all that traditional uniformity did they force on the new believers? None. Zero.

I can’t help but think of this when traditional Lutherans try to force everyone else into uniform liturgical lockstep, claiming that if we don't do worship their way we're lesser Lutherans or bad Christians. So James is someone who knows a thing or two about church fights. Here is what he writes to a church that was tearing itself apart in James 1:19:

“Know this, my beloved brothers: let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger,”

“My beloved brothers.” Before he drops a single command, he reminds them that they are loved. He grounds their identity in God's love before addressing their toxic behavior. But then he gets right to the point, he tells them to be "quick to hear." When someone is trying to force their ideas on you, being "quick to hear" means you actually pull up a chair, shut your mouth, and try to understand the heart, the fear, or the convictions behind what they’re saying… before building your counter-attack. Why do they believe what they believe? Why do they think it’s right? And before you say anything… Could you make their argument for them? In a way they would agree with you? If you can’t… you’re not ready to speak.

You need to listen more. Ask some questions. Be "slow to speak" and "slow to anger." 

That’s not our natural setting in conflict. We’re pretty much the opposite aren’t we? Lightning-fast to speak, completely deaf to hearing, and instantaneous to anger. We’ve got our talking points loaded in the chamber and aimed at their face before the other person even finishes their sentence—if we’re not already talking over them like a child. But James says to slow the whole thing down. He says following our anger will lead us nowhere good. He exposes the grand delusion behind all our battles in James 1:20:

“For the anger of man does not produce the righteousness of God.”

That’s the hammer right there. We genuinely believe our outrage, our clever words, our putting people in their place is somehow going to accomplish God’s holy work. We think if we can just talk over someone long enough, we’ll force them into line. Riding our emotions like an adrenaline junkie. But James looks us right in the eye and says, "No, it doesn't." Your anger, your self-righteous crusades, your attempted destruction of your brothers and sisters—none of it produces anything godly. It doesn't change a single heart, it doesn't build unity, and it looks absolutely nothing like Jesus.

You feeling this yet? This is life-changing. It’s brutal. It’s not just a friendly suggestion for how to run a church meeting; this is a mirror that shows how deeply broken we actually are. God demands that we will be slow to speak and slow to anger. But we don’t want to be. We don't want to be slow. We want to get those jabs in because we want to win. We like our anger. It makes us feel powerful. It gives us a sense of purpose when things feel out of control. 

When I was sitting at that convention, getting furious at all those smug people trying to force uniformity, I wasn't reflecting the righteousness of God; I was trying to be God. I was thinking about how punchable their faces were. I wasn’t thinking of them as brothers and sisters, they were just in my way.

That’s the thing that’s hardest to remember… those people who frustrate us, those people who fight us at every turn over every little thing—and every big thing—they’re still our brothers and sisters. They’re people Christ died for. They genuinely believe they’re doing the right things for the right reasons just like we do. They’re convinced they’re defending the truth, and they’re just as frustrated with us as we are with them. But instead of seeing their humanity, we turn them into cartoon caricatures. We make enemies out of them. And we can’t just fix this on our own. We can't just promise we’ll be nicer at the next meeting; we can't just try harder to hold our tongue. James has something to say about that, too. No one can tame the tongue. This problem isn't going to be solved by parliamentary procedure or politics, because the problem is the festering rot in our own hearts. We’re sinners. We’ve completely failed the standard of James chapter one. We are quick to speak, slow to hear, and furious at the slightest thing, and our self-righteous anger condemns us right along with the people we're fighting against.

James knows this but he doesn’t let us off the hook. God still expects us to do better. Repent and try to be more like Jesus. Quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to get angry. We should all be very thankful that really is a perfect description of Him.

We should also be very thankful that our standing before God has absolutely nothing to do with how well we manage our tempers. Because of Jesus. Our assurance, our peace, and our righteousness are entirely grounded in the finished, objective work of Jesus Christ on our behalf. Jesus is the ultimate, flawless example of James 1:19. I’m pretty sure James was thinking about His brother when he wrote this. When Jesus walked this earth among people who were constantly trying to trap Him, manipulate Him, and force Him into their own political boxes—He was perfectly "quick to hear." He listened to the broken, the outcasts, He saw the underlying fear in the hearts of people who opposed Him.

And when the ultimate confrontation came—when religious wackos and politicians lined up to falsely accuse Him, beat Him, and mock Him—remember what Jesus did? He showed us what "slow to speak" looks like. Like a lamb led to the slaughter, He opened not His mouth. He didn't unleash a legion of angels to crush His enemies like we would have. He didn't drop a devastating counter-argument to vindicate Himself like we would have. He allowed Himself to be misunderstood, condemned, and nailed to a cross… Where the entire weight of the "anger of man" was poured out on Him, along with the righteous wrath of God against our sin. The crowd screamed their hateful words at Him, telling Him to come down if He was truly the Son of God. And instead of silencing them with judgment, Jesus used His final breath to say, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do."

Through His death and resurrection, Jesus didn't just give us a moral example on how to handle conflict… He took the full penalty for every one of our sinful, arrogant, self-righteous words. Every time you've used your tongue to slice up a brother or sister, every time you’ve allowed anger to live in your heart toward someone—it was all nailed to the cross and completely paid for by His blood. You’re free from the guilt and weight of all that anger and pride. You’re free to be someone else now. You don't have to spend your life frantically trying to protect your turf or justify your existence by winning arguments, you don’t have to justify yourself because Christ has already justified you completely. You don't have to try and force everyone to agree with you to feel secure, because your security is anchored in the promises of Jesus. The pressure is completely off you. The war is over. It doesn’t depend on you. Your righteousness isn't something you create by being right… it’s a free gift given to you by the One who loved His enemies all the way to the cross.

Grace and peace are freely given to you from Christ, so you’re free to give it to each other. Don’t make enemies out of people just because they frustrate you. When someone argues for something that makes your blood boil, you don't have to panic. Take a breath, slow down, rest in the gospel, and realize your faith and your church aren't going to collapse just because someone disagrees with you… Jesus is the one holding everything together, not you.

This should change how we operate in every vocation we have. How we talk to that family member who knows how to push our buttons. How we respond to an annoying email at work. How we speak to each other in discipleship groups, church meetings, and lunch conversations. Do what James says, be "quick to hear.” Ask genuine questions. Look at the person who sees the world different than you do and start with the attitude of, "I’m going to assume they have good reasons for why they believe what they believe.That they’re not an idiot." Try to find out what those reasons are. You can stand firm for the truth of the Gospel and the mission of the church without turning your heart into a factory of hatred. And when you mess up—when you speak out of anger, lose your cool, and let your emotions take over—after you’re done riding that wave of pride… you don't have to hide away in shame. You can run right back to the cross, receive the forgiveness that’s always being offered to you, and then offer that same grace to the person who made you mad in the first place.

Anyway, looking back on that exhausting week in Phoenix, sitting in those hard chairs and feeling all that tension, a lot of people really did do the best they could. We had some pretty great victories along with some disappointing things that didn’t go our way. But in the end, thanks be to God, nothing happened that’s going to get in the way or slow down anything we’re trying to do here. Everything we fought for is to make sure we can share the love and grace of God with the people He sends to us here at NewChurch. There’s nothing stopping us from doing that. We’ve been at it for 11 years, let’s keep at it. And as we do… we’re not going to make enemies out of the people who frustrate us, and we’re not going to worry about what anyone thinks of us. We’re not going to fight with each other about how to do it, either. The future of Christ's church doesn't depend on our ability to win an argument with someone who disagrees with us. The church belongs to Jesus. He bought her with His own blood, and He is faithful to keep her. We can turn off the outrage, put down our weapons, and rest knowing that our Savior is alive, His mission cannot be stopped, and His grace and peace will have the absolute final word. AMEN.