Doers of the Word (Reading the Bible as a Spiritual Practice)
Preached at Decatur First United Methodist Church
Decatur, Georgia
October 5, 2025
James 1: 22 - 27 CEB
22 You must be doers of the word and not only hearers who mislead themselves. 23 Those who hear but don’t do the word are like those who look at their faces in a mirror. 24 They look at themselves, walk away, and immediately forget what they were like. 25 But there are those who study the perfect law, the law of freedom, and continue to do it. They don’t listen and then forget, but they put it into practice in their lives. They will be blessed in whatever they do.
26 If those who claim devotion to God don’t control what they say, they mislead themselves. Their devotion is worthless. 27 True devotion, the kind that is pure and faultless before God the Father, is this: to care for orphans and widows in their difficulties and to keep the world from contaminating us.
Psalm 139 NRSVUE
To the leader. Of David. A Psalm.
1 O Lord, you have searched me and known me.
2 You know when I sit down and when I rise up;
you discern my thoughts from far away.
3 You search out my path and my lying down
and are acquainted with all my ways.
4 Even before a word is on my tongue,
O Lord, you know it completely.
5 You hem me in, behind and before,
and lay your hand upon me.
6 Such knowledge is too wonderful for me;
it is so high that I cannot attain it.
7 Where can I go from your spirit?
Or where can I flee from your presence?
8 If I ascend to heaven, you are there;
if I make my bed in Sheol, you are there.
9 If I take the wings of the morning
and settle at the farthest limits of the sea,
10 even there your hand shall lead me,
and your right hand shall hold me fast.
11 If I say, “Surely the darkness shall cover me,
and night wraps itself around me,”
12 even the darkness is not dark to you;
the night is as bright as the day,
for darkness is as light to you.
13 For it was you who formed my inward parts;
you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
14 I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
Wonderful are your works;
that I know very well.
15 My frame was not hidden from you,
when I was being made in secret,
intricately woven in the depths of the earth.
16 Your eyes beheld my unformed substance.
In your book were written
all the days that were formed for me,
when none of them as yet existed.
17 How weighty to me are your thoughts, O God!
How vast is the sum of them!
18 I try to count them—they are more than the sand;
I come to the end—I am still with you.
19 O that you would kill the wicked, O God,
and that the bloodthirsty would depart from me—
20 those who speak of you maliciously
and lift themselves up against you for evil!
21 Do I not hate those who hate you, O Lord?
And do I not loathe those who rise up against you?
22 I hate them with perfect hatred;
I count them my enemies.
23 Search me, O God, and know my heart;
test me and know my thoughts.
24 See if there is any wicked way in me,
and lead me in the way everlasting.
It is 1982. I am in third grade. My church gives me and all the other third graders a beautiful Bible. I feel honored and empowered by this gift, which looks a lot like a grown up’s Bible, because it is one. Like every other third grade Bible in America in 1982, it has small print, no maps, few pictures, no commentary, and no explanations. I want to use it, but I don’t know how. I treasure it though. I can tell that this book matters to my church, and to my parents, so I find a place of honor on my bookshelf, and I leave it there all week and take it back and forth to church with me on Sundays.
It is 1987. I am in 7th grade. It is the worst. I’ve never had a lot of close friends, but always had a pack to run with, until this year. Somehow there are packs, but I’m not in one. I find some girls who are also not in a pack and we sort of form one that provides security, but not real friendship.
I am not cute anymore. My clothes from six grade don’t fit, even though I have not gotten taller. Someone suggests that I would look good with curly hair and, being eager to connect with anyone who talks to me, I get a perm. At home. It does not look good.
Everyone seems to find me difficult. I have made teachers, friends, and parents happy all of my years, but I seem to have lost that gift. For the first time, I find myself unhappy more days than not, I am anxious more than I am relaxed, I am lonely more than I am connected, and I know that all of this is my fault and therefore not worth discussing with anyone else.
I show up at church youth group weekly, because it gets me out of the house and they are biblically required to be nice to me. One night at youth group, I hear Psalm 139, which I’m sure I’ve heard before, but something clicks for me - It was God who formed my inward parts. I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
My mind stumbles on the dissonance. I don’t feel wonderfully made, but I believe that I’m supposed to believe this book. I consider that what I look like on the outside, and what other people think about me, is not meant to define me. God, I think, is not interested in my perm or my acne. I am beautiful and wonderful to God.
It is August of 2001. I am beginning my final year of seminary. My relationship with scripture has changed since I started at Candler two years earlier. I am learning to read it critically - taking into account the author and audience, the context in which it was written, as well as the context of the whole of scripture.
At times my relationship with this beloved book is more academic and less devotional. I turn in to my professors my soulful study and reflection, only to have it returned to me with a letter grade and corrections written in red ink. But, all of this study is a gift. Slowly, this book is becoming more like a mirror and less like a hallmark card. The Bible and I are less polite with each other, and more likely to hold each other accountable.
Fun fact: in August of your last year of seminary you should know why you are there. But, I don’t. So, I’m in bed, you see. Neither the path toward becoming an ordained elder, nor the path toward becoming an ordained deacon, feels like my path. I also don’t feel like I’m built for anything other than full-time ministry, and so my fears about life after graduation are swallowing me whole.
Everyone thinks I’m getting ordained. People are really, really proud of me. I don’t want to disappoint them, so I am willing myself to move forward on the Elder track, but when I think about that, I feel like I’m abandoning myself. I cannot get this right. I’ve also definitely broken up with someone that I was only sort of dating, and I’m devastated. So I’m in bed. A lot. And yet, I’m not sleeping well.
In the middle of one sleepless night, I hear a noise outside my house, and in a haze of exhaustion, anxiety, and paranoia I become convinced that I am not safe, from myself or others. The whole episode is less than an hour, but it feels like all night.
As the sun begins to rise, the words of this psalm come to me from within me.
“If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there.”
“If I make MY bed in Sheol, you are there.”
“If I. Make MY bed, in Sheol. You. Are. There.”
The psalm was calling me out.
I am making my bed here.
There are things about this situation that are beyond my control, but there are things that are not. I have to go through this. I can’t go around it. And God is with me, because God won’t ever leave me. But, I don’t have to make my bed here. I don’t have to make this painful time my home.
I call the Student Center at exactly 9am when it opens.
I ask to meet with a counselor who knows about depression and anxiety.
It is 2003. I am having a really bad year AND a really beautiful year. I have spent 12 months as a Pastor, serving a church just outside of Birmingham. This year is all I need to know that I’m not doing this. It looks a lot like failure, to quit after one year, and a lot of people are disappointed, but miraculously I do not care. I spent my year in the belly of the whale and I’m happy to have been spit up on the shore to go to Ninevah, or Atlanta, as it turned out.
I am also in love. Engaged on Groundhog Day, with a wedding in August. Andy and I plan the service as one might expect seminarians to do it. We spend hours pouring over our hymnals and our Bibles, choosing the words we want spoken and sung. We each choose a scripture. Andy’s is Luke 12: 22 - 34. You’d remember this - 27 Consider the lilies, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. 29 …do not keep seeking what you are to eat and what you are to drink, and do not keep worrying. 30 For it is the nations of the world that seek all these things, and your Father knows that you need them.
33 Make purses for yourselves that do not wear out, an unfailing treasure in heaven, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys. 34 For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.
Is that a strange text for a wedding? Maybe. It is perfect for us, though. I walk out the door on my last Sunday as a pastor with no idea where my next paycheck will come from. Andy would soon begin his final year of seminary unsure of what kind of career he is working toward. We are vocationally lost, and merging our lostness is a questionable financial decision. And it is so clearly the right thing to do. We are indeed putting our treasure, where our hearts are, which is with God and with each other.
Our preacher is our college chaplain, Dr. Stewart Jackson. We meet with him to talk through the service and say, “We want an actual sermon, not about weddings, not about us as a couple. Please preach the texts.” He grins at us. “Well, of course.” He says. On that wonderful day, this is what we hear him say about the psalm-
Students of the Psalms will remember Psalm 139 as one that was probably used in court settings, to assure anyone being tried that God knew them completely, fully. We are not in court today, but the lesson is the same. You are individually known. God has the insight into your lives, the oversight of your purpose, and the foresight of your days. I take that as reassuring. It frees us from the tyranny of trying to know it all, and allows us to enjoy the mystery of life.
It is the fall of 2025. I am not ordained as a deacon or an elder. I am somehow serving in full-time ministry. We are working through a series of sermons on Reading the Bible during worship. I am leading two parallel groups on Sunday nights and Wednesday mornings using this small but mighty book by L.J. Zimmerman. It’s a joy to teach tools for studying our holy scriptures. Together we are practicing reading not only the plain meaning of scripture, but broadening and deepening our understanding by learning everything we can about it. Honestly, it is so much fun.
Our long-term goal, though, is not to make more Bible scholars. This church does not have a Director of Adult Education, but rather a Director of Adult Discipleship, and honestly, that’s the more challenging job. Anyone can study the Bible.
The book of James says, Those who hear but don’t do the word are like those who look at their faces in a mirror. They look at themselves, walk away, and immediately forget what they were like. It is possible to read this book and not see yourself in it, but that kind of reading falls short of discipleship. The real task is to use the skills we’ve been practicing, not just to study the Bible, but to let it study you. Let it serve as a mirror through which you can see yourself and the world around you.
I’m leading my groups, and Dalton is preaching this sermon series, because we know that learning how to study the Bible will help us follow Jesus. After all, Jesus never said “study me.” He said, “follow me.” The practice of Lectio Divina does not end with the question “what do you want to study next?” The final question sends us forth - “What does this text call us to do or to be?”
If you become a Bible scholar in the process, that’s fun. I’m going to be texting you with all my questions. But, I expect most of us won’t do this professionally. We’ll strive to do it faithfully -
To study the Bible so that the words will vibrate in our hearts whether the book itself is open or closed.
To order our everyday lives inspired by God’s story of love and redemption, while going to school and work, being a part of a family, being a neighbor and a citizen.
To be doers of the word and not only readers.
That’s the endgame, friends. Read and study your Bible, then let it to read and study you. What happens next is the work of our lives. Thanks be to God. Amen.
