St. James Day I

We Should Not Trouble Them

Therefore I have reached the decision that we should not trouble those Gentiles who are turning to God. 

— Acts 15:19

What an extraordinary thing for a religious leader to say! James is addressing one of the earliest and most consequential disagreements in the Christian Church. Gentiles are embracing the faith, but some Jewish believers insist that these newcomers must first observe the requirements of the Law of Moses, including circumcision. The disagreement is serious enough to bring the apostles and elders together in Jerusalem. And James, a respected leader of that community, offers a remarkably straightforward judgment: We should not trouble those who are turning to God. Imagine that! Rather than beginning with everything the newcomers are doing wrong, he begins by recognizing something wonderful that is already happening.

I wonder how often we reverse that order. Someone expresses an interest in faith, and we immediately begin explaining what must change about that person's life, beliefs, associations, or behavior before we can comfortably welcome them. We may have legitimate convictions about those matters, just as the early believers did. But James seems to recognize the danger of allowing our requirements to obscure what God is already doing. The Jerusalem council doesn't conclude that Christian life has no expectations; it establishes certain obligations intended to help these very different communities live together. Yet the central decision is unmistakable. The Gentiles need not first become Jews in order to become followers of Christ. Their journey toward God should not be obstructed by burdens God has not required of them.

And here is where the passage becomes painfully contemporary. Christianity today seems increasingly divided into competing political and cultural camps. One wing finds much of its public identity in solidarity with conservative movements and organizations; another finds its identity in progressive causes and coalitions. There are legitimate concerns on both sides, and Christians have every right to participate in public life. But sometimes I wonder whether we have become more comfortable standing alongside organizations outside the faith that share our political priorities than standing alongside fellow Christians who do not. We can recognize common cause with people who agree with us about elections, economics, morality, immigration, social justice, public safety, or international relations, yet struggle to recognize our own brothers and sisters in Christ across those same disagreements. What an astonishing reversal of priorities!

The temptation is to make our particular political or cultural understanding the doorway through which everyone else must pass. Before I can embrace you as a fellow Christian, I need to know where you stand on my defining issues. Before I can trust your faith, I need reassurance that you belong to the right camp. And if you don't, I may find it easier to question your Christianity than to reconsider my expectations. But what if James were sitting among us today? Would he recognize people turning toward God, or would he find us preoccupied with determining which political tribe deserves to claim them? Would he ask whether our disagreements are genuinely matters of faith, or whether we've been adding requirements of our own?

None of this means that convictions are unimportant or that every disagreement can be resolved by simply being agreeable. The Jerusalem council itself involved serious discussion, careful listening, and a decision that required something of everyone. Christian solidarity doesn't demand uniformity. But it does require us to remember that the Church is not the property of any political movement, and that our fellowship in Christ must mean more than our temporary alliances with those who share our opinions. We ought to be able to disagree vigorously about public policy while still praying together, serving together, learning from one another, and recognizing the work of God in lives quite different from our own. Surely a faith that has survived two thousand years can withstand a disagreement about the next election.

And so the mirror turns toward me. How often have I been quicker to recognize the faults of Christians with whom I disagree than the faith we share? Have I treated my political judgments as though they were prerequisites for belonging to Christ? Have I spent more energy defending my side than building relationships across the divisions within the Church? James doesn't ask us to surrender our convictions. He asks us to consider whether we're placing unnecessary trouble in the path of people turning toward God. Perhaps that is where Christian unity begins—not with everyone agreeing with me, but with my willingness to recognize that God may already be at work in people who do not agree with me at all.

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