In seminary, I took a preaching class that required us to give mini-sermons in front of our peers. I agonized over every word and rehearsed my talk a hundred times. I wanted to be recognized as the best preacher in the class.

In 1970, John Darley and Daniel Batson asked seminary students at Princeton Theological Seminary to participate in a study in which they were asked to give a sermon on the Good Samaritan. After some initial instructions, the seminarians were told to walk to another building; on the way there, they passed a distressed man in clear need of help. They observed that, “on several occasions, a seminary student going to give his talk on the parable of the Good Samaritan literally stepped over the victim as he hurried on his way!” It’s easy to criticize the seminarians for their hypocrisy, but I drive by people begging nearly every week. I tell myself, “There’s no point, they’ll probably misuse anything I give them.”

In one of Leo Tolstoy's short stories, Martuin Avdyeitch did what was right, but his heart was weighed down with sadness. His wife and children had all died, and he started to blame God. But one day a man encouraged him to buy a Bible and read it, and "these words kindled a fire" in his heart. One night, as he read, he heard strange words: "Martuin! Ah, Martuin! look to-morrow on the street. I am coming." The next day, he cares for an old man sweeping snow, a poor woman with a crying child, and an old woman selling apples. In the evening, he hears a voice, "did you not recognize me?" Then he sees a vision of each person he cared for, and the voice speaks, "It was I."

I asked my community group leader what he did for work. He was wealthy, charismatic, well-respected, and I admired his devotion to God. "I sell reverse mortgages," he said. I knew this financial tool had legitimate uses, so I asked him to explain more. My stomach turned as I realized he was taking homes away from the elderly, who didn't realize what they were signing away to him. After that conversation, it always felt weird when he led us in prayer.

In 1522, when the Protestant reformer Martin Luther published his German translation of the New Testament, he placed Hebrews, James, Jude, and Revelation after the New Testament. He considered them to be second-tier books; He felt that James did not sufficiently teach the gospel of justification by faith. In doing so, he set off a debate between faith and works that we still wrestle with today.