Faith of our Fathers

James 2:14 – “What does it profit, my brethren, if someone says he has faith but does not have works? Can faith save him?”

Introduction: More Than a Thought, More Than a Word
Faith. It’s one of those words we toss around easily, often without realizing how dangerous and powerful it really is. In today’s culture, faith has been watered down. It's become a hashtag, a self-help slogan, or a decorative word on coffee mugs and throw pillows. But true biblical faith—the kind that saves, the kind that moves heaven and earth—was never meant to sit quietly on a shelf. It was meant to walk. To work. To build. To bow. To burn. Real faith always does something. James, the passionate pastor of the early church, gave us a warning that still speaks to us loud and clear today: “Faith without works is dead.” Not wounded. Not weak. Dead. Dead faith never changed a city. Dead faith never freed a captive. Dead faith never built an ark, climbed a mountain, or gave birth to a nation. Dead faith watches Jesus from a distance. But living faith—resurrection faith—follows Him up the hill with a cross on its back. This is the kind of faith you were born to walk in.


Faith That Talks vs. Faith That Walks
James 2:14 opens with a piercing question: “What does it profit…?” In other words—what good is it? What good is faith if it never affects your decisions?  What good is believing if you never obey?  What good is a spiritual life that never gets messy with action? James knew the temptation of spiritual performance. It’s easy to talk about trusting God, to attend a small group, to nod your head during a sermon. But when the lights are off and the crowd is gone, what remains? Faith without action is like a lamp without oil. It might look okay from the outside, but it’s powerless when the darkness comes. In James’ letter, he calls out a specific kind of empty faith—a faith that sees someone in need and says, “God bless you,” but never lifts a finger to help. He’s not attacking kindness. He’s exposing pretense. Because real faith doesn't just say “be warmed and filled”—it builds fires and bakes bread.


The Journey to Moriah
To understand the relationship between faith and works, James takes us back to one of the oldest and most dramatic stories in Scripture—Abraham on Mount Moriah (Genesis 22). By the time we reach this moment, Abraham had already shown tremendous faith. He left his homeland at God’s command. He wandered in tents, believed for a son well past the age of childbearing, and interceded for entire cities. But all of that pales in comparison to what God asks of him now. "Take now your son, your only son Isaac, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah... and offer him there as a burnt offering." (Genesis 22:2) Can you imagine the silence in Abraham’s heart after hearing those words? Isaac wasn’t just any son. He was the promised son—the miracle child through whom God had vowed to bless the nations. Isaac was the evidence of God’s faithfulness, the living testimony of hope fulfilled. And yet God asks for him back. This wasn’t just a test of Abraham’s belief. It was a test of obedience. Would Abraham trust God enough to do what didn’t make sense?

There’s something haunting and holy about the three-day journey to Moriah. Abraham saddled the donkey. He cut the wood. He called his son. Every step must have echoed with silent prayers and painful thoughts. Faith is not just an emotional high—it’s the grind of hard obedience. When Isaac, unaware of the plan, asks, “My father... where is the lamb?” Abraham answers with one of the most prophetic declarations in Scripture: “My son, God will provide for Himself the lamb for a burnt offering.” (Genesis 22:7–8 NKJV) That wasn’t a random guess. That was faith. Real, living, obedient faith. Faith that climbs mountains with a knife in hand, believing that even if the dream dies, God can raise it back to life. Hebrews 11:19 gives us a glimpse into Abraham’s heart: “...concluding that God was able to raise him up, even from the dead.” This wasn’t blind submission. This was clarity rooted in covenant. Abraham knew God, and because he knew Him, he trusted Him—even in the most unthinkable moment of his life.

At the very peak of the test, as Abraham raises the knife, the voice of the angel stops him. “Do not lay your hand on the lad… now I know that you fear God.” (Genesis 22:12) And there—caught in the thicket—was the ram. God saw. God provided. God honored the faith that walked all the way to the altar. From that moment on, the mountain was no longer just called Moriah—it became Jehovah Jireh: “The Lord Will Provide.” (Genesis 22:14) It’s one of the most beautiful names of God. And it was revealed not through study or theory—but through action. God reveals Himself to those who are willing to walk.


Jesus: The Word Who Worked
When John the Baptist sent his disciples to ask Jesus if He was really the Messiah, Jesus could have quoted Scripture, outlined theology, or given a family tree. Instead, He said, “Go and tell John the things you have seen and heard…” (Luke 7:22) And then He listed the works: “...the blind see, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised...” Jesus didn’t just declare the kingdom—He demonstrated it. He didn’t come with fine-sounding speeches. He came healing, teaching, forgiving, feeding, and raising the dead. His works were the evidence of His identity. And He calls us to the same. “Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father in heaven.” (Matthew 5:16 NKJV)


Living Faith in a Culture of Comfort
We live in a generation where comfort is king. Where convenience is marketed as a virtue. Where sacrifice seems outdated, and obedience is optional. But real faith still looks like action. It still looks like saying yes when you want to say no.  It still looks like loving the unlovable.  It still looks like tithing when money is tight.  It still looks like getting up early to pray.  It still looks like serving in places that feel unseen. It still looks like laying down your plans and saying, “Nevertheless, not my will, but Yours be done.” Faith is not about perfection—but it is about pursuit. If your faith has never cost you anything, it might not be the faith God’s looking for.


You Were Made for More
Let’s bring this close to home. Faith is not just for the big decisions—it’s for the daily ones. It’s how you speak to your spouse. How you treat your coworkers. How you respond to disappointment. How you handle temptation. How you serve your local church. How you talk when no one is watching. Faith is shown in your works—not as a way to earn salvation, but as a result of it. We don’t work to be saved. We work because we are saved. “For as the body without the spirit is dead, so faith without works is dead also.” (James 2:26 NKJV)
So build the ark.  Climb the mountain.  Dig the well.  Wash the feet.  Pick up your cross. Let your faith walk.


Conclusion
Ours is not the first generation to be called to the altar of obedience. From the dawn of redemption’s story, God has always drawn close to those willing to walk by faith and not by sight. The faith we cherish today is not new. It is ancient. It is blood-tested, fire-tried, and Spirit-filled. It is the faith of our fathers—a faith not built on cultural trends or emotional highs but on unwavering trust in the God who speaks, calls, and provides.

Abraham did not just believe in the abstract idea of God’s faithfulness; he acted on it, even when it meant carrying his beloved son to the top of Moriah. The early church did not just believe in Jesus' resurrection; they preached it in the streets, faced persecution, sold their possessions, and turned the world upside down. Our Pentecostal forebears didn’t just read about Acts 2—they prayed until the wind blew again. They lived what they believed. Their faith made them builders, givers, martyrs, missionaries, and worshipers.

Today, we stand on their shoulders. We hold their Bibles, sing their songs, and preach the gospel they preserved through trials, tears, and triumph. But their faith was never meant to be merely inherited—it must be activated. Living faith cannot skip generations. What they began, we must continue. We must be the kind of people who don’t just admire the past but carry its torch into the future with holy boldness.

The world doesn’t need more spiritual spectators. It needs men and women like Abraham, like James, like Peter, like Paul—believers whose faith works in the darkness, worships in the fire, obeys when it’s costly, and stands when the culture kneels. It needs a church not content to remember revival but desperate to live it.

So let us rise, not as fans of faith, but as followers of Jesus. Let us be counted among the faithful—not because we were perfect, but because we believed enough to obey. Let our faith speak—not just from our lips, but from our lives. The same God who met Abraham on Moriah, who empowered the early church at Pentecost, who stirred the hearts of those who came before us—is calling us now. Let us respond with hearts full of trust and hands ready to serve. Let our faith walk. Let it worship. Let it work. Let it be worthy of the God who gave everything for us—and worthy of the faith our fathers walked before us.


Closing Prayer
Lord, I don’t want a faith that only talks. I want a faith that walks, climbs, gives, prays, and obeys. Help me to live what I believe. Give me the courage to take You at Your Word, even when it costs. Even when it’s hard. Make my life an altar where Your name is glorified. In the name of Jesus, Amen.