Andy James

Faith—for Jesus, Paul, and Us

May 28, 2025 By Andy James Leave a Comment

a sermon on Galatians 1:13-17, 2:11-21
preached at Jonesboro First Presbyterian Church • livestream
May 25, 2025

The apostle Paul is one of those figures who sparks a strong response—people tend to either love him or hate him. It seems to be almost an even split among the church people I’ve talked with over the years. Some folks love his straightforward, consistent focus on the grace of God that comes to us in Jesus Christ as he helped the early church move beyond the things that distracted them from this focus and encouraged them to be faithful in the face of the challenges of their day. Other people I know can’t stand Paul—they’d almost prefer to rip his writings out of the Bible! They don’t like his dismissal of the role of women in the church, his seeming approval of the particular practices of enslavement of his time, and what comes off to many as a general smugness about his past and current life, not to mention all the ways that Paul’s words and attitudes have been abused and misused over the years to oppress those who disagree with him. Whatever your opinion about Paul, his journey from persecutor to evangelist is an important part of the history of the growth of the early church beyond its Jewish roots into the broader cultural system of the eastern Mediterranean region.

The first part of our text this morning gives us Paul’s own account of his journey. It doesn’t mention all the details that show up in the account of his conversion in Acts but instead focuses on a pretty radical shift in his life as he moved from seeking to destroy the early church to working to build it up—as one commentator describes it, he was “something of a Johnny Appleseed of his day [as he] planted communities of the crucified and risen Christ all over Asia Minor… and then left the churches to flourish and bear fruit on their own.” (Gregory Ledbetter, “Homiletical Perspective on Galtians 1:11-24,” Feasting on the Word Year C) Just before these verses of our reading from Galatians, Paul attributes this shift not to some thoughtful study or carefully-considered decision but rather to a divine revelation of Jesus Christ. This radical transformation led him to dive right in to proclaiming the very message that he had once sought to suppress, not even pausing to get the approval of the institutional leaders who had been slowly emerging since the death, resurrection, and ascension of Jesus.

The second part of our text this morning builds on this to show how Paul’s attitudes that were apparent in this quick shift from persecutor to evangelist started to clash with other factions of the church as it grew around the eastern Mediterranean region. Over nearly two decades of this evangelistic work, he had made only two trips to see the church leaders in Jerusalem, where he received their blessing to share the gospel with gentiles without compelling them to also become Jews. Even the early apostles James and Peter supported and encouraged him and his mission in those visits.

This attitude of openness and welcome to Paul’s mission to the gentiles was not universally shared around the early church, though. There was a group, referred to by Paul here as the “the circumcision faction,” that felt very strongly that all gentile Christian converts needed to become Jews too. Among other things, they demanded that Jewish Christians keep their distance from gentile Christians at mealtimes, since they were not maintaining the same dietary practices. It seems that news of the arrival and acceptance of this circumcision faction in Galatia led Paul to write this letter, share these stories, and reflect on the theology behind his approach.

So at some point some fifteen or twenty years into his church-planting mission, Paul discovered that Peter—who he here refers to as Cephas—had begun to shift his practices. For some years, it seems that Peter had eaten with gentile Christians, but then he stopped when he was confronted by this other group. Paul felt that this change was hypocrisy, and he confronted Peter about it publicly. For Paul, Peter’s flip-flopping threatened to undermine the foundations of the message that he had been offering in his proclamation of the gospel to the gentiles, and he was not going to let those go easily.

So in the third part of our reading this morning, Paul responds to this flip-flopping by returning to the foundation of his gospel message:

…we know that a person is justified not by the works of the law but through the faith of Jesus Christ. And we have come to believe in Christ Jesus, so that we might be justified by the faith of Christ.… I have been crucified with Christ, and it is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.

If you are the type who follows along in your pew Bible or in a Bible on your phone as we read scripture together in worship, you might have noticed a slight discrepancy in the reading there. The Greek in several of these verses can be translated in two distinctive ways—we can be justified either by “the faith of Jesus Christ” or by “faith in Jesus in Christ.” Both readings are equally acceptable translations of the Greek words into English, but since they differ a good bit in meaning, scholars have had a lot of debate over which one is the more appropriate understanding of Paul’s intent here. One scholar—who described this debate as “a scholarly version of the Thirty Years’ War”—suggests that the most faithful reading will “recognize that Paul’s letters do affirm the importance of human faith, but that faith for Paul is always God’s gift, never an act of human volition or intellect. It is a gift anchored in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.” ( Beverly Roberts Gaventa, “Exegetical Perspective on Galatians 2:15-21,” Feasting on the Word, Year C) In all this, Paul makes it clear that he has come to understand the gift of faith from God in Christ to be the foundation of God’s love for all the world and the basis of the new life that he seeks to live each and every day.

By this point, all this exposition of the narrative here might have you taking a third perspective on Paul: Who cares?! Why should this fight between factions and leaders in the early church matter to us nearly two thousand years later? Why should we care whether these words are best translated “faith in Christ” or “the faith of Christ”? And why should we trust Paul’s perspective on this over anyone else’s?

I can understand the seeming disinterest in the details here, and yet I want to dig in on the importance of Paul’s message of faith. For Paul, the faith of Jesus that stands at the center of our Christian belief and practice is about the whole of life and living: “It is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me.“ This faith is demonstrated in the incredible witness of Jesus Christ, sealed upon us by the Holy Spirit, and enabled not by our action but by the power of Almighty God. This faith stands in stark contrast to the mindset of the law that Paul saw surrounding him, for it is captured not in words followed to the letter but in the humanity of Jesus Christ himself—his humble, self-giving way of life, his defiant yet quiet submission unto death, and his radical resurrection by the power of God that restored him to life and seals our own resurrection in hope. Many of those who opposed Paul were seeking simple, straightforward, clear rules for living that they found in the law, but the alternative came in this mysterious and powerful gift of God in Jesus Christ that stepped in to make things different once and for all.

I think the witness of the faith of Christ is important for our own time, too. In a day and age when it is easy to be most comforted by the things we know best, God offers us Jesus, who always seems to be both familiar and yet new. In a world where many latch on to the powerful, God puts Jesus before us, who finds his greatest power in weakness. In a world that sometimes seeks to prolong life at all costs, God invites us to look at Jesus, whose resurrection life required a strange passage through death. This witness of the faith of Jesus Christ opens us to a new life of faith shaped not by a series of rules that we are required to follow but rather by an invitation to follow in the steps of Jesus himself to offer compassion, grace, mercy, justice, and peace to all we meet.

Exactly what this faith looks like is as varied as each one of us. We each much figure out how we will live out the faith of Jesus Christ in our own lives. For me, Paul’s journey, as troublesome as it certainly was, still offers some inspiration of how I might understand the faith of Christ in my own life. In his focus on the faith and grace of God in Jesus Christ, Paul offers me a helpful vision of what it looks like to stay grounded in the foundations of the Christian life even as the pressures of the world swirl around me. In his sometimes overzealous commitment to his particular understanding of Christian practice, Paul reminds me of the ways in which I must temper my own passion for my practices so that others can experience the grace and love of Jesus along the way. In light of his personal revelation of Jesus Christ, Paul reminds me as a keeper of the institution of the modern church that I must always be open to those who push the envelope and seek to broaden our experience of what it means to encounter Jesus. And in his commitment to giving up his life so that Christ might live in him, Paul shows me that I still have more work to do to show others the life of Christ in me.

In the days ahead, I hope you will take the time to reflect on what all this might mean for you, how this deep affirmation of the centrality of the faith of Christ that leads us to take on this gift for ourselves strengthens you in your daily life and allows you to show Christ living in you all the more. So whether you love or hate Paul—or find yourself bored or indifferent about him after all this exploration today!—may his message here be clear in our lives as we seek to live out the faith of Jesus Christ in our own faith and share that faith with others until the day when all things are made new through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Alleluia! Amen.

How Lovely!

October 27, 2021 By Andy James

a sermon on Psalm 84
preached on October 23, 2021 in honor of the 150th anniversary of the First Presbyterian Church of Whitestone

To borrow the words of our psalm this morning: how lovely it is to be among you today! By a loose count, I’ve probably stood in something like 70 or so different pulpits since I last set foot in this one some five years ago,
and it is truly a joy and a privilege to be back here with you today as we celebrate 150 years of ministry in and through the First Presbyterian Church of Whitestone. Thank you for this invitation to join in your celebration and especially for the privilege to share the word again from this pulpit.

The psalmist was and is right, though: “How lovely is your dwelling place, O Lord of hosts!”

This is one of my favorite psalms, partly because of the wonderful musical setting that we sang a few minutes ago but also because I have always had a soft spot for beautiful houses of worship—the places that so often come to mind when we think of a divine dwelling place. When I hear this psalm, I remember all sorts of incredible houses of worship I’ve seen over the years: the simple neocolonial style of the church where I was baptized in Mississippi, the sharp angles and stark simplicity of the church where I grew up, the towering walls and flying buttresses of great cathedrals in New York and beyond, the beautiful stone of Iona Abbey that has stood for some 800 years, the towering concrete of the modernist Hallgrimskirkya in Reykjavik, Iceland, and the varied shapes and sizes and styles of churches large and small around New York and New Hope. All these are beautiful and inspiring places, where the wonders of human creativity in architecture and construction inspire “my heart and my flesh [to] sing for joy to the living God.”

But when I look more closely at our psalm for today, I am reminded that there may be something more going on. First of all, any divine dwelling place is more than a building. This was first seeded for me in the simple motions I was taught as a child:

here’s the church,
here’s the steeple,
open the doors
and see all the people.

But the psalmist also recognizes this: “Happy are those who live in your house, ever singing your praise.” In these words I am reminded of all the faithful people who I have encountered in this way, those in the community of faith who work and worship together, all who reach out and serve God and neighbor as they find a home in God’s house. And I think of the challenges of the last year and a half of pandemic life together, the ways in which we have found God somehow strangely dwelling in, around, and under our Zoom boxes as we have done our best to connect with one another.

So I think it is no surprise, too, that we find that these words of praise are filled with deep memory and longing. This is one of a series of pilgrim psalms, where the writer is likely not admiring the beauty of the temple while sitting inside it but rather recalling its wonder from afar in hopes of returning again soon.

The incredible images here only deepen our sense of longing and anticipation as we are reminded again and again of the incredible and wonderful gift of this place of worship and the community in which we find God present. The sparrow and swallow who find a home there, the highways and springs that lead the way, the early rain and pools of water that sustain life— all these things point the way to deeper, more faithful living in the house of God. The vision of the sparrow finding a home and the swallow making a nest might freak out the building and grounds committee, not to mention a few of the more timid worshipers, but they seem to be one of the ultimate expressions of the psalmist’s longing to dwell with God along the way. As translator and commentator Robert Alter notes,

Small birds such as swallows may well have nested in the little crevices of the roughly dressed stones that constituted the Temple façade. The speaker, yearning for the sacred zone of the Temple, is envious of these small creatures happy in the Temple precincts, whereas he, like an unrequited lover, only dreams of this place of intimacy with the divine.”
Robert Alter, note on Psalm 84:4 in The Hebrew Bible: A Translation with Commentary.

For 150 years, the First Presbyterian Church of Whitestone has offered this kind of home—thankfully not so much a home for so many actual sparrows and swallows of the neighborhood but a place and a people where those beloved by God can find shelter and hope, where we pilgrims can gather to sing and pray and learn and work as we journey together, where even those who have stepped away can still long and faint for the kind of loving divine embrace that they have experienced here.

This church has been a dwelling place for God fo the last 150 years: in this building’s history from a small wood-frame church amidst farmers’ fields and grazing cows to its simple yet secure presence amidst an ever-changing neighborhood, in the journey of the people of this congregation through changing times with the many faithful saints who walk before us and beside us, in the work of this church within and beyond its walls to provide a place of comfort and hope and share the wonder and joy of God’s love. This is a place where the sparrow has found a home and the swallow has made a nest for herself, where we have welcomed generations of faithful folks in baptism, guided so many in growing their faith, offered shelter to those struggling with addiction, shared knowledge and hope with people of all ages, sung songs of joy and lament and wonder and hope through all the seasons of life, lifted up one another so many within and beyond this community in prayer, fed the bodies and spirits of those who are hungry, and even danced a bit as we have shared the joy of being together with one another and with God.

Today we rightfully celebrate this incredible past and remember the faithfulness of God and all the saints who have brought us to this place in the present, but that same celebration inspires us to look ahead and explore what this divine dwelling place might look like in the future. What sort of place and people will those beloved by God need in the days ahead to offer them shelter and hope? How best can we welcome new pilgrims to our gatherings for singing and praying and learning and working as we journey the road together? What will it look like in the years ahead for us to evoke memories in one another and in all those around us of the loving divine embrace that we have experienced here? All that lies ahead in response to these questions is likely not to need a new building, new technology, or even a vast influx of new people but will rather draw on the incredible sense of community in God’s presence that defines this incredible congregation.

Just as we have received so many gifts from God to sustain this divine dwelling place over the last 150 years, I am confident that God has already given you all the gifts you need for the ministry of this divine dwelling place for the next 150 years. You already know how sparrows and swallows find an unexpected home here, and you continue to offer them a welcome place to share your wonder and joy. You have long explored the highways and springs that lead the way to the places that people long for, and you are always inviting others to share that path with you. You have been gifted with abundant stores of early rain and pools of water (even occasionally in the basement!) that can sustain you along the way—after all, as the psalmist said, “no good thing does the LORD withhold from those who walk uprightly.” I am confident that the next generation of pilgrims who need this place are already making their way to join this community, and knowing this congregation, I am equally confident that you are always getting ready to welcome them with a warm smile, a gentle presence, and a big hug—when it is safe to do so!

When another group of God’s people look back on this church after another 150 years, I cannot say what they will see. I suspect none of us will still be around, and as such I can’t predict what shape this building will be in. The memories of this place preserved in records and archives may be all that is left, or our grandchildren’s grandchildren may be gathering to celebrate 300 years of ongoing ministry in this place. Whatever path may lie ahead, I am confident that God will keep taking all the gifts that have been poured out upon God’s people in this lovely dwelling place and will continuing using them as instruments of God’s freedom, grace, justice, peace, and love.

In the meantime, may our hearts and our flesh keep singing for joy to the living God as we celebrate this lovely dwelling place—this building and all its people that offer a welcome to all creation and help connect us to the God who created us, the God who redeems us, and the God who sustains us, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Thanks be to God! Alleluia! Amen.

The Days Are Surely Coming

November 30, 2018 By Andy James

a reflection shared with The Presbytery of New Hope e-News

“The days are surely coming…” A new church year begins with these five simple words from the prophet Jeremiah that open the first reading for this first Sunday of Advent. We enter this season knowing and expecting that “the days are surely coming”—busy days of Christmas preparation, full days of joyous celebration, wonder-full days of hope and promise. And yet this season reminds us that we have been waiting for the days to come for a long time. Generation after generation hungers for something more than even the joys of Christmas can bring us.

“The days are surely coming…” The Advent longing of this season speaks to some of the deepest feelings within us: uncertainty, fear, sadness, despair, grief, pain, sorrow. Making it through to the joy of Christmas can be a balm for our spirits, but too often our need for something new reaches far beyond what we can know in a single day of celebration. A deeper, more complete transformation eludes us and our world.

“The days are surely coming…” The hope and promise of Advent is more than confidence that we will survive the busyness of the holiday season, make it safely to our many travel destinations in these days, or even find new joy in Christmas this year. We journey beyond these things of this world in this season to wait, watch, and work for “the days that are surely coming” when transformation will take hold and the reign of Christ that we celebrated last Sunday will be visible in every place.

“The days are surely coming…”So amidst everything else that fills this season, I hope and pray that you will make a little time to be about this deeper work of preparation for the days that are surely coming. Maybe this is a moment to discover new space in your own journey for living out God’s faith, hope, and love. Maybe this is the time to talk with leaders around you about sketching a strategy to participate in God’s work more fully in the coming year. Maybe this is the season to slow down just enough to mark the calendar for some of the opportunities coming in the year ahead that are outlined below. Maybe this is an opportunity to pray even more fervently for openness to the days that are surely coming for our world and our church.

“The days are surely coming…”May today and every day ahead for you be filled with peace, love, joy, and hope, until this Christmas comes and until all things are made new in Jesus Christ.

Holy Week 2017

April 7, 2017 By Andy James

written for New Hope Presbytery‘s e-News on April 7, 2017

As we stand on the edge of another Holy Week, preparing to remember the journey of Jesus from his triumphal entry into Jerusalem through his arrest, trial, and execution and finally his resurrection, there’s something almost shocking to me about the intensity and speed of all these things. Just when things seemed to be at their highest point for Jesus, just when the man who had taught as he roamed the countryside reached the big city, just when he finally would be able to bring his proclamation of the kingdom of God to the halls of power, everything came crashing down in only a few days.

Yet I think the intensity and speed at which the cries that greeted Jesus shifted from “Hosanna!” to “Crucify him!” makes the journey before us all the more compelling. These sorts of overnight shifts are all too familiar for us—maybe the friend who quickly goes from being in great health to suffering from terminal illness, or the colleague who is suddenly let go as the company’s priorities shift without warning, or the world situation that escalates almost overnight from order to massive chaos. In these moments as death seems to take hold, we experience the reality of Holy Week firsthand.

But amidst all the darkness and death in our world, Holy Week also reminds us that death is not the end of the story. To paraphrase and extend the words of Martin Luther King, Jr., I believe that death does not drive out death—only resurrection can do that. The death of Jesus changed things once and for all, but that death would not have meant anything at all were it not for the resurrection. And so it is with us, that death will not change anything in our world, either—only living as resurrection people can do that.

So as we remember this week the journey that Jesus first made from triumphal entry through execution and into resurrection, I pray that this journey might be real for us, too. I pray that we might see God walking with us in the pathways of darkness and death that stand before us so that we might live the new life of resurrection in our lives, in our churches, and in our world. Blessings on your journey this Holy Week and beyond!

Why I Sing: Brahms Requiem

January 29, 2017 By Andy James

This afternoon, I will join with over 150 voices of the North Carolina Master Chorale to sing Johannes Brahms’ Ein deutsches Requiem. This is my first time to perform this beloved masterpiece, though I have heard recordings of it many times before over the years. This piece has a storied history of performance over the century and half since its composition, but I most remember the quickly-organized performance by the New York Philharmonic on September 20, 2001, in memory of the victims of the attack on the World Trade Center in New York City just nine days earlier.

The text chosen by Brahms for Ein deutsches Requiem is not that of the traditional requiem mass but rather of biblical texts meant to offer comfort to the living. In these days of conflict and strife, words like these are all the more important to sing and share. Sometimes the words we sing and the music that makes them live are certainly enough, but today, in light of the dark clouds gathering around us, the walls being built to keep people from finding safety and hope, and the uncertainty of the coming days, I feel like I need to say a bit more about why I sing this piece today.

Today I sing for family and friends who have died, for the gift of their lives in shaping mine, and for the memories that continue to flow.

Today I sing for the victims of terrorism, on 9/11 and before and beyond, for those whose lives were cut short by violence of every sort.

Today I sing for armed forces everywhere, for police officers and firefighters and EMTs, for those who work every day to protect us and lead us and guide us.

Today I sing for government officials in my own nation and around the world who work for peace and goodwill and cooperation that sustains the fullness of life.

Today I sing for those who long for peace, even a peace that looks different from what I have come envision through my own prayer and study.

Today I sing for all who mourn death in so many ways, particularly those whose loved ones have been killed by injustice, terrorism, war, poverty, strife, and heartbreak.

Today I sing for a Church that does its best to sing for others, even though it sometimes falls short, and for my own church that is not afraid to speak up for the vulnerable and oppressed.

Today I sing for those who are afraid and allow themselves to live in fear, for those who have allowed violence to win the day by seeking vengeance, for those who seek something different but know no other way that the discord we have known and sown.

Today I sing for refugees and displaced persons everywhere, for their immediate comfort and safety, for their longing to return home, for their hope of some way out of the difficult and challenging days that they face.

Today I sing for those we are called to welcome as guests in our midst, for the stranger who knocks at our door, for the person on the side of the road who needs our help, and for those who reach out and respond in hope.

Today I sing for people who have been singled out by the world as different in one way or another, for people of color, for LGBTQ persons, for immigrants and migrants, for Muslims and Jews and Christians, for all those who need to know that God loves them and need to feel that divine love expressed in human affection.

Today I sing for my sisters and brothers who proclaim the gospel each and every day, whether they be Christian or Jewish or Muslim or other or claim no faith at all, whether they be ordained or not, whether they they use words or not.

Today I sing for all those who show that God’s love cannot and will not be limited by any limit of our human minds.

And today I sing for a new heaven and a new earth, as the little work I can do today to make a new and different way visible in the here and now, for the power of God to mold us and shape us and transform us and make us new.

Wherever you are, however you raise your voice, I hope you will sing too.