By Sandra Bost
We just celebrated our nation’s 250th birthday, so I circled back to this article I wrote last July 1 that had to do with the history of America and my half-hearted approach to studying history. I asked Gemini to help me relate it to a spiritual precept, and I think AI touched a Divine tenet, so I decided to go with it.
I have never been much of a history student. I made it through the high school quadfecta of social studies classes in the 80s because I was good at memorizing facts, and knew how to research and write reports (without Google or AI, mind you). However, I wasn’t interested enough to apply myself to really learn much of what I was reporting on.
My favorite history class in high school was World History because I had Coach M. Every sophomore looked forward to his class, since we knew that it only took one comment to derail the whole Ming dynasty in favor of a colorful rendition of a story from Coach’s glory days on the football field.
If I close my eyes, I can still see him with his feet kicked up on his desk, keys in hand, mining for ear wax like it’s gold. His booming voice captivating us all, even as we dodge the flying wax balls being flicked across the room.
I do remember one lesson on the rise of Islam where I raised my hand to (incorrectly) name the city to which Muslims made a yearly pilgrimage. I think I must have said, “Medina.” I will never forget Coach pointing his waxy key at me as he shouted, “It’s Mecca, Baby! Mecca, Mecca, Mecca.”
In college I took World History at Southern Union to protect my bleeding, Auburn GPA, and avoid the large classes that wreaked havoc on my ADHD-brain. Sadly, I can’t recall my professor’s name, even though she was the one who lit the spark in my affinity for world history by spinning tales–of kings and queens that I’d never heard of–with the same gusto as Coach M telling about his glory days. I remember the whole class being completely hooked, leaning in to catch every juicy detail about the movers and shakers of our pre-modern world–without having to dodge a single wax ball.
After college, with a healthy curiosity of world events, my husband and I had the opportunity to live abroad in the Middle East–ironically in Saudi Arabia, home to Mecca and Medina. Suddenly, standing on the red-sand, ancient ruins of Jerash, Jordan and the like, I found myself regretting that I had not paid more attention in school. I realized that I made passing grades by memorizing facts just to get by, but I had failed to let the deeper meanings stick.
That got me thinking about how often we treat our faith the same way. Do we read scripture just to check a box, and memorize the points of a Sunday sermon without letting it disrupt or shape our lives?
This struggle with “head knowledge” isn’t a modern phenomenon born out of short attention spans or the digital age. It’s an ancient human tendency. In fact, it is the exact same disconnect the Apostle James was trying to dismantle when he wrote his letter to the early church.
He knew how easy it was for believers to sit in a gathering, nod along to Truth, and leave entirely unchanged. That’s why he delivered a wake-up call in James 1:22. As usual, I love the vivid way The Message paraphrases verses 22-24: “Don’t fool yourself into thinking that you are a listener when you are anything but, letting the Word go in one ear and out the other. Act on what you hear! Those who hear and don’t act are like those who glance in the mirror, walk away, and two minutes later have no idea who they are, or what they look like.”
Those early Christians had the same heart-level temptation we face today: to listen to the Truth without living it out. The challenge for us today is to stop acting like spiritual reporters.
A reporter’s job is simply to gather data, write down the facts, and pass them along to an audience without ever letting the story personally change them. But God isn’t looking for a news anchor to read the script; He is looking for an eye-witness who lives the Truth.
Our job is to move past simply knowing about God by transitioning from passive observers to active participants in our faith. It requires us to open Scripture–not to check a box or memorize trivia for a spiritual passing grade–but to get to know Jesus.
The more we know Jesus, the more we will love Him. The more we love Him, the more we will obey Him. And it is the obedience to Christ that will begin to transform us by shifting our identity and rewiring our desires.
Faith was never meant to be like my 10th-grade history class, where we passively nod along, memorize the minimum to get by, and hope we don’t get called on. James 1:22 calls us to let the Truth of who God is change the person we see in the mirror. It is a call to stop simply reading and reporting ancient history, and finally start walking out the reality–one obedient step at a time.
This week, may we trade the role of passive history student for that of the participating disciple. May we bear witness of the Love of Jesus with a transformed life.
Connect with Bost on social media platforms by searching for “Sandra Mullins Bost.”
