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James 3:13–18
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Last week, my colleague shared a story about his basketball career, and it reminded me of my own journey. I too was once destined for the NBA—or so I thought. I was a member of the Tampa Tigers, sporting number 21, inspired by my idol Dominique Wilkins. I would sit in the stands watching the varsity basketball team, mesmerized by their skill and confidence. They seemed like giants to me, and I dreamed that one day I would be just like them.
Five years later, Coach Jim Brand put me on the court as one of the starting five. I thought this moment would bring me the confidence and wisdom I'd always imagined. Instead, I felt weak and nauseous. I realized something crucial that day: those varsity players I admired were also just figuring it out as they went. They were "faking it till they made it," just like everyone else.
Here's what I learned: wisdom and confidence don't come with turning 17, making the starting five, turning 20, 30, 40, or 50. Wisdom comes with a strong relationship with Christ.
That's what James challenges us to examine today. He wants us to ask ourselves: Where does your peace come from? Where does your wisdom come from? Where does your strength come from? Does it come from leading a Fortune 500 company? Building a successful family? None of these earthly achievements, as valuable as they are, can compare to the settled confidence we find by latching onto Jesus Christ.
James's central question is this: How do I know if I'm actually growing in wisdom? How can I tell if I'm becoming more like Christ or just becoming set in my ways?
James is going to set two kinds of wisdom side by side and ask you to choose. He's going to show us heavenly wisdom here and worldly wisdom there, and then he'll ask: Which one are you?
James 3:13–18 — "Who among you is wise and understanding? By his good conduct, he should show that his works are done in the gentleness that comes from wisdom. But if you have bitter envy and selfish ambition in your heart, don't boast and deny the truth. Such wisdom does not come down from above, but it is earthly, unspiritual, demonic. For where there is envy and selfish ambition, there is disorder and every evil practice. But the wisdom from above is first pure, then peaceloving, gentle, compliant, full of mercy and good fruits, unwavering and without pretense. And the fruit of righteousness is sown in peace by those who cultivate peace."
The first marker of wisdom from above is gentleness. Verse 13 tells us: "Who among you is wise and understanding? By his good conduct, he should show that his works are done in the gentleness that comes from wisdom."
Gentleness and wisdom are inseparable—like a motorcycle and its sidecar. One of the ways I know I'm walking in the flesh is when I catch myself taking a harsh tone with my wife for no apparent reason. There's an edge to my voice, and it usually has nothing to do with her. In that moment, the flesh has been activated, and there's no gentleness, no kindness, no softness in my tone.
The way you talk reveals who occupies the throne of your heart in that moment.
This is deeply countercultural. Think about how this contrasts with worldly wisdom. The world applauds the boss who pounds his fist on the conference table. The coach who humiliates her player in front of the team. The celebrity chef who screams at everyone in the kitchen. The world says, "If everyone is afraid of you, you must be in charge." But the Bible presents a completely different picture of strength.
A wise and understanding person is someone who has learned to speak with kindness even when hard things need to be said. That's true strength.
Consider the great tennis player Roger Federer. Today, many think of him as the picture of elegance and composure on the court—silky smooth, calm, classy, unflappable. But that's not how he started.
At age 16, Federer became so angry during a practice that he hurled his racket at the fence in frustration. His coach kicked him off the court. As punishment, Federer was forced to scrub the team's toilets for a week.
In an interview, Federer said: "Those toilets changed my life."
From that moment on, he decided: "I would aim for a game of finesse, not fury. I would master my emotions. I was like a wild horse that had to be broken." That's wisdom—gentleness, strength under control.
The great author wrote: "It is doubtful whether God can bless a man greatly until he has hurt him deeply."
Throughout the Bible, we see God taming wild horses. In the Old Testament, Moses was called "the most humble man on the earth," even though he had been a fugitive and murderer. God changed him through His Spirit into a humble leader.
But here's the danger: if you read the rest of Moses's story, toward the end the flesh gets activated. He strikes a rock when he shouldn't have. He becomes impatient with God. He fails the gentleness test and is not allowed to enter the promised land.
The lesson is this: if you think you are wise and humble, beware. Don't put that label on yourself. The minute you start thinking you're becoming proud of your humility, you've become proud. That's what the Bible calls getting "wise in your own eyes."
Proverbs 26:12 — "Do you see a man wise in his own eyes? There is more hope for a fool than for him."
How do you know this has happened to you? The easiest way is to listen to the sound of your own voice. How do you talk to people? Is there gentleness in your voice?
The Gentleness Test: Do I speak to people with tenderness or toughness? Do my words cause people to feel valued or diminished?
The second quality of heavenly wisdom is that it shuns selfish ambition. Verses 14–16 tell us:
"But if you have bitter envy and selfish ambition in your heart, do not boast and deny the truth. That kind of wisdom does not come from above. It is earthly, unspiritual, demonic. Where there is envy and selfish ambition, there is disorder and every evil practice."
How do you spot the least wise person in the room? They are the most selfish person.
Let me explain the suffix "-ish." If a person is bookish, they think about books all day. If a person is stylish, they think about clothes all the time. If a person is selfish, they think about self all the time. They're constantly asking: How do I look? But more than that—how do I look compared to other people?
Envy is the giveaway. It's not just selfish ambition—it's bitter envy and selfish ambition together. Bitter envy happens when you see another person's success and believe it's throwing shade on you. Their promotion, my job. Their house, my house. Their marriage, my marriage. Their vacation, my vacation.
If envy was a problem 20 years ago, social media has set it on fire. Her post, my post. Her skin, my skin. His workout plan, my workout plan. His Bible reading next to his perfect espresso. My measly devotions. I've gotten jealous of other people's Bible reading, for crying out loud!
It's selfish because you see what's happening in other people's lives and you immediately start thinking about yourself. The more you foster that thinking, the more you're under the spell of the world. The more selfish you become, the more you view others as threats to your dominance.
David said something very different in the Psalms:
"My boundary lines have fallen in pleasant places. Surely I have a delightful inheritance."
David looked at what God had given him and said, "Wow, what lavish gifts you have bestowed on me. I didn't deserve all this. What an incredible piece of land I own." He was astonished. That's walking in the Spirit. That's walking in wisdom—gratitude for all that you have.
But when envy activates the flesh, that verse gets rewritten: "Her boundary lines have fallen in pleasant places. Surely she has a delightful inheritance." When your mind thinks that other people got it good and you got the raw end of the stick, you're not operating in the spirit of wisdom. You're under the spirit of the world.
Notice what James calls worldly wisdom: earthly, unspiritual, and—pay attention—demonic.
Bitter envy makes a devil out of you. Why such strong language? Because this didn't start with us. It started before the garden of Eden, in heaven itself.
The Bible tells us that Satan was a glorious creature of light in heaven. God had given him a certain kind of glory. One day, Satan said, "My glory, God's glory." That's selfishness at its core. Selfishness is fundamentally demonic and satanic.
We are under the spell of the enemy when we are constantly comparing our lives to other people's lives.
That's why verse 16 says: "Where there is envy and selfish ambition, there is disorder and every evil practice." A room full of self-centered people all competing for their own glory is a foreshadowing of hell itself.
In an interview, Madonna was honest about what she wanted in life and the exhaustion she felt trying to get there. She wrote:
"My drive in life comes from a fear of being mediocre, and it's always pushing me. I push past one spell and discover myself as a special human being. But then I feel I am still mediocre and uninteresting until I do something else. Even though I have become somebody, I still have to prove that I am somebody. My struggle has never ended, and I guess it never will."
Her career went like this: she accomplished something, people applauded, she felt special. A few days later, someone she viewed as a rival accomplished something, people applauded, and she felt small. Over and over. Rinse and repeat.
When we think like this, James says we're under demonic oppression.
The Selfishness Test: Charles Spurgeon put it this way:
"A man will readily sit down and sympathize with a friend's griefs. But if he sees him honored and esteemed, he is apt to regard him as a rival and does not readily rejoice with him. This ought not to be—we ought to be happy in our brother's happiness."
Can you pass this test? When your friend gets the promotion, when your neighbor shows you their sprawling new estate, do you genuinely celebrate with them? Can you say, "What a wonderful place the Lord has provided for you. Good for you. Let's celebrate."
The wisest people on the planet do exactly that.
The third mark of heavenly wisdom is that it spreads peaceful fruit. Verses 17–18 tell us:
"But the wisdom from above is first pure, then peaceloving, gentle, compliant, full of mercy and good fruits, unwavering and without pretense. And the fruit of righteousness is sown in peace by those who cultivate peace."
Walking closely with God produces a life-giving person. Let me unpack these qualities:
Doesn't that sound like someone you'd like to hang out with? Doesn't that sound like someone you'd want your son or daughter to marry?
Wisdom produces a life-giving person.
James wraps this up beautifully: "The fruit of righteousness is sown in peace by those who cultivate peace." He uses the language of agriculture—a harvest.
Wise people are like farmers. They know it takes a long time to become a life-giving person. It's not accomplished overnight. It's a process. A good harvest results from longevity. It comes when the farmer does the right thing, the simple thing, day after day, year after year, knowing that one day God will reward him with a field full of crops.
You don't turn wise when you turn 17. You don't turn wise when you make the starting five. You become wise through a lifelong pursuit of Jesus Christ. As you are conformed to His image through daily obedience—what Eugene Peterson called "a long obedience in the same direction"—you look up one day and realize that all around you are people plucking the fruit from your tree.
Your family benefits from a life-giving father or mother. Your church benefits from a life-giving member. You become that person through faithfulness and fruitfulness.
In his book Respectable Sins, Jerry Bridges has a gut-wrenching chapter on selfishness. He writes:
"A lot of selfishness is exhibited in the home among family members. Outside the home, we're apt to be on our best behavior and act as we know we should. But in the home, we tend to put aside those artificial restraints that are not part of our true character."
If you want to know who you really are, take a water sample from home, not work. Home is where artificial restraints are left in the garage and our true colors come shining through.
We say things to our family that we would never say in society. People at work might say, "He is so nice. He is such a servant," but at home he never lifts a finger to help.
Bridges offers this challenge: Go home and ask your spouse or your children: "If you knew I wouldn't be offended, how would you respond to this question? What is it like to live with me? What is it like to experience me? Do you feel like there's selfishness about me? Do I ever give you the impression that it should be all about me?"
Only ask that if you're walking in the Holy Spirit. Nothing will make you more defensive than that question on the wrong day.
I'll be honest with you: I have not had what I would call an "A" week as a husband. It is hard for two selfish people to learn how to become unselfish. My wife and I are celebrating 25 years this fall, and it's not easier today than it was when we started. I have to continually remind myself: It is not about what I want. It is not about what she wants. It's about what we want.
That's where the real fruit shows—at home.
A seasoned Christian might ask: "How can I tell if I'm becoming wiser over the years or just more set in my ways?"
There are pros and cons to becoming settled in your convictions. The good side: we become less gullible. We've been tricked before, so we don't fall for nonsense easily.
1 Timothy 4:7 — "Have nothing to do with godless myths and old wives' tales. Rather, train yourself to be godly."
It's good to learn from experience, to spot counterfeit teaching as soon as it appears. As we get older, we're less likely to be blown about by the latest trend or false doctrine.
But there's a danger: I can start thinking that what the world really needs is my perspective. If people would just do it my way, everything would work out. I receive letters like this—mostly from seniors, which scares me because I recognize my own tendency as I get older.
Proverbs 10:19 — "When there are many words, sin is unavoidable, but the one who controls his lips is wise and prudent."
Before you send that letter—even if it's a good letter, even if it's gentle, unselfish, and fruitful—ask yourself: Has the Lord genuinely led me to write this? Or do I just want to make sure somebody knows what I think about it? Let the Holy Spirit lead, not your own lips. That's a word for all of us, young and old.
A good-hearted skeptic asks: "Isn't some measure of selfish ambition necessary to accomplish great things? Is there such a thing as sanctified self-interest?"
There actually is. Jesus even told us about it:
Matthew 6:20 — "Store up for yourselves treasure in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys, where thieves don't break in and steal."
Notice: "store up for yourselves." Jesus is saying it's good for you to want treasure. Just make sure it's the right treasure. It's good to want reward. But the wise realize that only what we do for the glory of God can exist beyond the grave.
Selfish ambition asks: How can I get my 15 minutes of fame on earth?
Holy ambition asks: How can I use my gifts to spread God's name while I'm alive on earth?
Those are two very different things.
In the movie Chariots of Fire, there's a memorable scene. The main character, Eric Liddell, was born with an unusual ability to run. He had already committed to becoming a missionary in China, but he wondered if he should try out for the Olympic team. His sister Jenny worried that running was distracting him from God's work.
In a famous moment, Eric said to her:
"I believe God made me for a purpose, but he also made me fast. And when I run, I feel his pleasure."
Liddell realized that pursuing his gift was not selfish ambition—it was obedience to God's design. It's not selfish ambition for you to pursue the thing God has given you a gift for and to maximize that gift for His glory. Because when you do, the name of Jesus is spread even more.
When you realize what God put you on the planet to do—the thing where you sense His good pleasure—go and do it with all your heart. He'll get the most glory.
A student asked me: "In addition to my Bible, what could I read that would help me stay humble?"
The Bible is the best answer, but I also think anything that helps you repent often is valuable. How can you continue to see yourself as a sinner saved by grace and not as a spiritually elite person whom others are lucky to know?
Many years ago, I discovered a tool: John Wesley's Holy Club Questions. You can find them online by searching "John Wesley's Holy Club questions."
Here's the story: John Wesley and a group of friends at Oxford University formed what they called the Holy Club. Others made fun of them, but their goal was simple—they wanted to take their following of Jesus seriously. They met regularly to pray, study Scripture, confess sin, and ask one another hard questions that kept them soft and repentant.
If you want to feel very human, read Wesley's 22 questions. Here are five zingers:
Can you imagine asking yourself those questions regularly and repenting of what you find? Humility doesn't happen by human decision. It happens by consciously rejecting every pocket of unholiness in our lives.
These questions are like spiritual mirrors, revealing things you would otherwise miss. Repent before God of all those areas. Anything you do that helps you stay soft in God's hands will keep you low before God, and He will elevate you in His sight.
Adrian Rogers, a former pastor of this church, often shared that God called him to preach while he was still in high school. But he felt woefully inadequate. When called upon to pray aloud in Sunday school, he felt he had no words to say. He thought, "I'm just not gifted with verbal skills. God will never use me."
Yet deep in his heart, he continued to feel the Lord calling him to ministry. One night, while taking a walk and passing his favorite spot—his high school football field—something happened.
Adrian tells the story in his own words:
"One night, walking on the football field, I felt a need to kneel and pray. Alone on that field, I called out to the Lord: 'God, I want you to use me.' Kneeling did not seem good enough or humble enough. So I lay down prostrate in the grass and said, 'Father, I want you to use me.' That did not seem humble enough. So I took my finger and made a hole in the dirt and put my nose down in that hole and I called out, 'Lord, I'm as low as I know how to get. I want you to use me.'"
Adrian Rogers then said: "Something happened in my life that night. I had a personal experience with the Holy Spirit. From there my life went up because I was willing to put myself low before God."
That's what the wisest people do. They are continually getting as low as they possibly can. They understand: "He must increase. I must decrease." Anything you can do—young or old—that puts you down low, that humbles you in the sight of the Lord, positions you for Him to exalt you.
