Put on your swim goggles because we are about to take a deep-dive into the etymology of the “looking” word for the person who looks into the perfect law of the Lord – what that looking actually looks like and why it is the necessary prerequisite to the natural doing of it. Plus: why you don’t want to be a 10-second Tom when it comes to God’s Word.

The Technicalities

Before we get to this last part of the first chapter of James’ letter, I want you to take a look at a piece of one of Paul’s – over in Romans 10. It’s the part in verse 8 where he quotes Deuteronomy 30:14 and says that the word is near you, in your mouth and in your heart, and he uses that truth to illustrate his point in Romans 10:9 that if you confess with your mouth the Lord Jesus and believe in your heart that God has raised Him from the dead, you will be saved.

With that in mind, look at James 1:21. James already established at the end of the last section, in verse 20, that a person’s anger never produces God’s righteousness.

“So,” he says in verse 21, “put it off. Give it up. Refuse to carry it one second longer because it’s not yours to carry.” The Greek word he uses for filthiness is rooted in a word that specifically describes dirty clothing that only grows filthier over time. And, the overflow of wickedness? James isn’t just talking about a cup brimming over with something (although he touches on that specific word picture in a minute). Instead, he chose his words carefully, using the Greek word perisseia, which has been used to describe an abundance of something (like grace in Romans 5:17 or joy in trials in 2 Corinthians 8:2), but, in this context, it actually describes the residue or leftover remains of a previous substance – like the old life of a person who hasn’t fully given themselves over to Jesus. They’ve heard the gospel. It’s right there, right in front of their face. They just haven’t gotten to the confessing and believing part of it – their “doing” part of salvation.

So, when they face trials that their faith isn’t ready to endure yet (because their faith hasn’t really become theirs yet), the anger flashes differently than the anger we discussed in the last passage. And, all the while, Jesus stands by, holding out His robes of righteousness. Do you want to put on those old, filthy rags that are marked all over with the residue of a person who is a stranger to God?

“Renounce that robe,” James says. (Pause to take another look at Deuteronomy 30:13-14.) “The word is very near to you,” Moses told the Israelites, “abundantly close. Hear it and do it” (flip back to James 1:21) “and receive it, letting it root deeply into your heart so that you can do it.” Perform it. Fulfill it. Carry it out. Execute it. There are a dozen other ways to say it, but they all mean the same thing: just do it. As I dig into the linguistics, I see a subtle pattern that feels almost poetic in its rhythm – receive God’s wisdom and then do it. Receive His Word and then do it. Build your house on top of it. Hang the curtains. Lay down the rugs. Unpack the boxes. This is where you get to spend the rest of your days – the beautiful and holy privilege of getting to live inside of the doing of His Word.

Do you want to know what it looks like to only be a hearer of the word and not a doer? Have you seen the movie 50 First Dates? There’s a character in it called Ten-Second Tom who can only retain ten seconds of memories before his mind is wiped clean again. It’s kind of like that – where you hear the word and see yourself as God intended you to be back in Genesis 5:1 (made in His likeness). But, the moment you walk away, you forget that you are in God’s likeness and are back to the residual of your sin, covering those only-getting-filthier robes.

“But,” James says in verse 25, “the one who looks into the perfect law of liberty (which is as perfect as your patiently-perfected faith from James 1:3) and continues in it … this one will be blessed in what he does.”

To me, verse 25 is a ship in the ocean with two distinct anchors hidden beneath the water’s surface. Put your goggles on and jump into the sea to get a closer glimpse of the first anchor, “look.” You’ll see parakyptō, which is looking carefully at something, inspecting it with curiosity (precisely what you’re doing with these anchors). Follow the chain along the anchor, and you’ll kyptoō, which describes stooping down, bending forward, and bowing the head. And the next chain in the parakyptō anchor? It’s kyma – a wave or swell of the sea, or what one lexicon describes as an impulsive or restless person tossed to and fro by their raging passions. (Sound familiar?)

I can almost feel the swell of the ocean waves in an underwater swim as I close my eyes and think of the implications of the story parakyptoō has to tell – that, no matter the size of the wave or how much the sea around you rages, you will not be tossed around if you hang onto that “looking” anchor that is securely attached to the promise of James 1:25. Instead, you’ll float along with it, knowing that God will carry you through it to the other side of the Mark 4:35 sea that He asked you to step into the moment you said yes to salvation in Him.

But it’s not just curiously inspecting the perfect law (God’s perfect Word). It’s continuing in it. Remaining beside it, always continuing near it, comparing yourself to it, adjusting what needs to be adjusted, refusing to carry what isn’t inside of it, and not budging an inch until every remnant of every lingering stain of your previous life is washed away inside of the sea of His grace. That’s what a doer looks like. That’s the picture of a woman who will be blessed in everything she does or, as one translation reads, is blessed in her doing.

Making it Personal

I’m getting a little bit ahead of myself as I dip into the next passage, but I want to acknowledge that the jump between James 1:25 and verse 26 feels like another piece of the proverbial nature of the book of James. At first glance, it seems like a topic hop, reads as two directly unconnected truths that fit under the same general umbrella of “what faith looks like.” But, if you follow the cross-reference of James 1:26 to Psalm 34:13, one Bible translation ties it all together with a not-so-subtle connection between the doing of most of this passage and the slow speaking of James 1:19.

“Keep your tongue from doing evil,”  Psalm 34:13 reads in the ISV. But even more fascinating is that the whole verse itself lulls me into another linguistic dance all its own, whispering and reiterating the chorus of James 1:19. To learn it, we follow another anchor chain of words, beginning with the keeping.

“Keep your tongue from evil,” David writes, using a Hebrew word for “keep,” which means to guard or watch. It’s putting a bouncer at the door of your mouth so rash, hastily-spoken, and ill-considered words don’t escape through it. Be slow to speak.

The “tongue” word describes devising injuries or using your tongue boldly, quickly running to slander or accuse someone of something. Be slow to speak. And the evil from which you are keeping it? It’s noxious, hurtful maliciousness and it’s root word, ra’a, describes rushing to crush something because of rage or envy or sadness. In other words, don’t be the tool that provokes another person’s trial. Be slow to speak.

Listen, I struggle to write these words because it feels fraudulent in some way, like I’m presenting myself as a person who has learned and perfected the art of this instead of a woman who sees what the linguists say and doesn’t quite know how to make it consistently and actively true in my life. I know the uphill battle of this. My frustration flashes daily. I’m a writer, so I’m quick with words, which means, more often than not, they are quick to escape my lips before I choose to check their ID. In other words, I’m a poor bouncer of my own mouth. And, just three days ago, my child was reprimanded at school for consistently saying unkind words to his classmates.

I don’t have this all figured out, is what I’m trying to say. But what I do know how to do is deep-dive over the side of the boat into the depths of God’s grace to feel the anchor chains of this. I know how to look at it and turn it into prayer. (God, help me to pray this faster than I speak.) Even better, I know how to steal someone else’s prayer to make it my own. I’ve done it a lot with David, and I’ll do it again with this because I clearly haven’t done well at it. My bouncing days are over. I’m asking God to take over instead.

“Set a guard, O Lord, over my mouth,” David prayed in Psalm 141:3. “Keep watch over the door of my lips.” And then I get busy again, looking intently at His perfect law because I know: His Word is omnipotent. Mine, if I’m not careful, can be potent. So I ask Him to set the guard over my mouth. Because, in my own efforts, I will fail. But with Him? Nothing is impossible.

Thanks so much for listening!