James 5:13-20

Here we are at the end of James. Let’s take a look at what we’ve figured out about this little book so far. It’s true James doesn’t have a lot to say about Jesus. In fact, the book mentions Jesus only once! It doesn’t give us any details about his life or reminders of his crucifixion for our sins or hope based in his resurrection. That is, of course, what prompted Luther to say that James is an epistle of straw.

But straw isn’t worthless; it’s actually quite good food for your livestock. You just don’t want to build a house out of it in case the big bad wolf comes around. Once you’ve got the good brick house, though, you do need to be fed, and that’s what James is all about. He assumes you know the good news about Jesus; he assumes you’re already safe inside. Now that you’re here, he’s giving your nourishment for your new life in Christ.

Let’s face it: If you’re not already in Christ, this book is going to be the most painful burden. Who can endure persecution cheerfully? Who can rein in the poisonous tongue? Who can ignore the robes of the rich and the rags of the poor? Who can be truly patient in traffic? Without Christ, these are all disastrous, damning observations on our weakness and wickedness.

But in Christ, they are the shape and color of a new life. They are ways to live that are naturally desirable because they embody the love of God that’s already coursing through our veins. These instructions for Christian living mark out the boundaries of the struggle between the old person and the new in us. The old person needs destruction; the new person needs a vision. James, in his book, gives us both.

So here we are at the end. Endings have to be dramatic—they have to wrap up all the anticipation that’s been building all along. Endings have an extra punch just from where they’re situated. You can get away with a lot of evasion and allusion and colorful descriptions in the beginning and the middle, but at the end you’ve got to put your cards on the table and show where you stand. No more fooling around. So we get to the end of James and he tells us the heart and soul of the Christian life.

Here it is: PRAY!

Are you suffering? Pray. Don’t complain, don’t curse, don’t whine, don’t take it out on your nearest and dearest, but turn all of that on God who actually wants to hear it. Pray! Lay your suffering at God’s door. Dump it at God’s door. God offers to bear it, so take Him up on the offer. If you are suffering, pray.

Are you cheerful? Pray. Don’t brag, don’t boast, don’t whistle Disney tunes till your coworkers tear out their hair, don’t buy more stuff you don’t need, don’t have an extra helping of dessert. God sent you the blessing; tell Him about it, praise Him for it, thank Him for it, ask for more, don’t be shy! Your heavenly Father made you to enjoy the earth now and eternal life in His presence forever. Your cheer gladdens His heart, too. If you are cheerful, pray.

Are you sick? What’s the answer? “Pray”? Wrong!

Oh, that tricky James. Here he throws you a curveball, just when you thought the third time was the charm. See, you started to think that you were alone in your gospel house with your straw to eat, that your sufferings were for you and God alone together, that your triumphs were for you and God alone together. James had to nip that one in the bud. There is straw enough for everbody in this house. If you are sick, don’t take it upon yourself to keep your steady streams of private prayer going. You are ill; your body needs repair. Your heart needs other people. So don’t pray alone; call upon the elders of the church, and get your name on the prayer list. Have them pray over you, have them anoint you with oil in the name of the Lord just as the prophets and kings were anointed, just as Jesus was anointed by the long-haired woman just before his death. And of course, if you know someone who is sick, don’t leave her to pray alone; get in there and pray with her, anoint her yourself if you have to, and knock at God’s door for a response.

James has bold expectations of God here. The prayer of faith will save the sick—perhaps not temporally in this life but surely in the life to come, for the Lord will raise them up. You may remember here, as James certainly did, that when Jesus healed the sick during the course of his ministry, he forgave the sick person’s sins at the same time—occasionally causing a great scandal among the Pharisees and scribes—and the ascended Jesus has not forgotten to continue this practice. The prayer of faith will save the righteous, James says, and the Lord will raise them up, and anyone who has committed sins will be forgiven.

You can feel now how the stakes are mounting. First you were praying for yourself, in sorrow or happiness; then you were calling others to pray for you in your illness of the body; now you are concerned with the illness of your soul. If you are a sinner, pray. But not alone. James has already pulled us away from this temptation of lonely prayer. You will be forgiven your sins: and since this is going to happen, James exhorts all of us sinners not to keep those sins a secret—after all, when God takes them, they are no longer yours and no longer private—instead, confess them to one another.

Confess them, not so that your fellow Christian has a grand opportunity for blackmail, or pleasure at your shame, or disgust at your sinfulness, but so that you can pray for one another and be healed. Another person prays for your body’s healing; it is only right that another should pray for your soul’s healing too. Likewise when another sinner approaches you with the need to confess, hear that confession, again not for blackmail or pleasure or disgust, but for the love of the sinner in the love of God, to pray for forgiveness and healing. Will God ignore such a prayer? Never.

James lays it out there for us again, with another one of his closing punches: The prayer of the righteous is powerful and effective. Powerful? Effective? Really? Sure. Elijah was another mere mortal like us, excelling us perhaps only in persistence. His prayers were so phenomenally unbroken that the skies were, too—three and a half years passed without so much as a drop of rain. Only when he turned his prayers back in the other direction did rain fall and crops grow.

James is quite modest here, listing only one example, but marvelous pray-ers abound in the Scripture. Abraham and Sarah prayed for an heir and got one. Jonah prayed almost against his own will and got Nineveh spared. The widow of Jesus’ parable pleaded with the unjust judge till he got sick of her suit and gave her what she wanted.

Prayer in Christian life is not some kind of resigned submission to the almighty will of God. It’s more like an invitation to battle with the army that loves you best. This is your God—He is asking for your prayers—so get in there and fight.

How magnificent can prayer be? I ask you. What can be the powerful and effective outcome of the prayer of a righteous Christian? James ends with the mystery that brought us all here to church and that keeps us coming back. All of this stuff, all of this living and waiting and listening and praying, is for salvation. My salvation does matter enormously to me and to God, but that’s not where James ends—he ends with the salvation of others. This is what your Christian life can do. It’s almost too much to bear, but this is what James has to say about it. Some people can and do wander from the truth, for whatever reason, and they are in genuine danger. But if you go out there and bring a sinner back again—if your words and your deeds and your life and your love can turn that sinner around to see God again, and get back on the right path—yes, you will have saved that sinner’s soul from death. You will have covered the multitude of sins your sinner acquired on his wandering way.

Oh, what a burden to lay on us! How could James just stop there and leave us without so much as an amen? Dare we think that we are part of one another’s salvation? Doesn’t that sound like dangerous competition with the work of Jesus? But the fact is that Jesus doesn’t work only outside and beyond us; he also works in us. The life of the Christian is the life of Christ in me. Luther loved to say that we all become Christ to each other, and that is exactly what James has to say to us at the end of his epistle of straw. Christ is in you; be Christ to one another; save one another’s souls through the power of the righteous one who lives in you.

And whatever else you do, keep praying!

And we add what James neglected—Amen!