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There’s a sobering thought that has followed me this week – that one day, my faith will be weighed not just by what I claimed to believe, but also by what my life revealed. The thought surfaced after a recent Bible study where my small group focused on James chapters 1 and 2. Our discussion centred on how genuine faith perseveres through trials and is authenticated by obedience and works of love, not by favouritism or empty words. It was a reminder that faith is meant to be lived, not just professed. The conversation lingered with me long after we closed our Bibles.
In the days that followed, I began to think about what that kind of faith looks like within the ordinary patterns of my own life. I’ve been reading of a growing reference to the “rise of the influen-CEO” – people who build platforms and social capital through personality, style, and the ability to draw attention. These influencers amass large followings and go viral overnight, suddenly finding hundreds or thousands of people hanging on to what they have to say. In that sense I guess it’s easier to trend than to be transformed, and that reveals something about the times we live in: our lives and our faith are often measured by reach and recognition, rather than by depth. It’s the kind of favouritism James warns against – the preference for appearance over substance, where the approval of people is often mistaken for the approval of God. And it got me thinking: at a time where it’s so easy to confuse visibility with fruitfulness, how can we steward our influence so that we might one day give a faithful account before God?
The Discipline of Obedience
When I return to the book of James, I find a grounding place to begin. In chapters 1 and 2, James is not writing about status or leadership, but about how genuine faith forms character. Yet the qualities he describes – humility, integrity, and attentiveness – lie at the heart of true discipleship. To a community of scattered believers, he says: “Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry.” (James 1:19). It’s a verse I keep coming back to.
Bringing it back to the notion of trends over transformation, ours is a culture that speaks before it considers, and forms conviction faster than it forms character. A few words shared in haste on a Live, can travel further than any act of patience or prayer. And yet James’s order is deliberate: to restrain our speech, and to master the passions that so often master us.
To listen is to pause long enough to perceive both truth and heart – to discern what another person is truly saying, or perhaps what they cannot bring themselves to say. It is to choose empathy before judgment, and curiosity before defence. But that is never easy. I myself am as prone as anyone to desire to be heard, to speak quickly so that others know where I stand, especially in a heated discussion. Even within the Church, visibility can masquerade as faithfulness, as if the quantity of our activity or the volume of our worship were proof of our obedience. However, James unsettles that illusion. He reminds us that faithfulness begins not with assertion but with attention to God, to others, and to the present moment. Listening, in this sense, is not passivity but participation: a spiritual discipline in which humility makes space for wisdom to take root.
A Faith That Speaks
Seen through this lens, faithfulness to me looks different. I find myself less drawn to the impressive and more to the consistent – to those who quietly serve and act with integrity when no one is watching. The true measure of faith, I am learning, is not shown through who notices us, but in who, or what we notice. It is about seeing value where others overlook it and serving without seeking recognition.
And maybe this is what the world needs most: believers whose faith listens, truly lives what it professes, and loves without condition. A Church that learns to hear and obey the Gospel before it seeks to proclaim it. When my time is done and God asks, “What did you do with your faith?” I hope I can say, “I listened when You spoke. I tried to love well. I stayed faithful, even in the small things. And in that faithfulness, I did what You instructed.”
That, I think, is what enduring faith looks like: one that listens first, acts with integrity, and endures with love.