"Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds..." (James 1:2)

Click. Bang. James begins.

In the opening line of his letter, the half-brother of Jesus cracked open the life of faith. It will have to press through trials—and it should interpret them correctly.

According to James, the zenith of the Christian experience is not peaceful bliss, victory, and painlessness. No, the heights of the Christian life press into Christ's life—and he suffered with purpose.

Various kinds of trials are coming, James said. And when they do, the best practice, the faith practice, is to count it all joy. That a variety of trials exist is easy enough to understand. We are a species beset with relational trials, physical trials, spiritual trials, emotional trials, intellectual trials, and psychological trials—yes, we say, various trials indeed.

But what is harder to understand is the response for which James advocates. *Count it all joy? What are you smoking, James?*

But he isn't promoting plasticity—a glossy veneer that tries to convince that all is well. He isn't saying we should ignore pain or act like we are so happy to be in a time of pain. He isn't proposing a false, religious joy. Nor is he saying we will even feel joy over hurts.

He is telling us to do some accounting work. Count, he said. This is a financial term used for evaluative work. And, as we appraise our trials, though we do not rejoice to be in them, we should account for what God will do in us throughout.

It is foolish to try to find out why such and such a trial has come—to ask why misses the point, and you won't find out in full until Christ returns anyways. But it is wise to account for development in your Christlikeness that would be utterly impossible without the pressure.

We are, to quote James, to count it all joy because we know that the testing of our faith produces steadfastness. And that steadfastness, after it has had its full effect, makes us perfect and complete, lacking nothing (James 1:3-4).

The fullness of maturity, sanctification, and Christlikeness come by traveling the avenue of pain. We do not rejoice in the brokenness of this world and life. We do not find it a happy experience to suffer. We do not clap and rejoice at the trials. But we know that God redeems them, using them for his purpose.

Because Christ suffered with purpose, and all who trust in him are now in him, our trials are not like seeds cast on the sidewalk. They aren't pointless and all for nothing.

Because of Christ, our pains have a point. They have the potential to produce things in us that we couldn't have without them.

So we count. I heard of one pastor who liked to explain our tendency to see the negative to his people by drawing a small dot on a pristine sheet of paper. He then asked what they saw. Invariably, they saw a dot. No one ever said they saw a piece of paper. We are often this way.

We see the dot of the trials, but God wants us to count the massive work and lessons and grace and instruction and spiritual formation and friendships and closeness to him, and the personal growth we would have never known without them.[^1]

[^1]: Smith, James Bryan. 2019. The Good and Beautiful God the Good and Beautiful God: Falling in Love with the God Jesus Knows. 10th ed. Downers Grove, IL: Inter-Varsity Press.