I write about Stuff

James 1:2 “When all kinds of trials and temptations crowd into your lives, my brothers, don’t resent them as intruders, but welcome them as friends!”

There are so many ways to respond when trials and temptations come knocking. And they will come knocking—loudly, rudely, without checking whether it’s a good time. One option, of course, is to simply collapse under the weight of it all. To wave the white flag. To let despair have the final word or let temptation steer the ship. That’s the first extreme, the one that feels easiest in the moment but costs the most in the end. Let’s call it what it is: the worst possible thing you can do.

Another option is to turn your frustration toward God. To assume that if something hard has entered your life, then God must have stepped out of it. Blaming God is subtle, but it’s really just another way of trying to be God—deciding what should or shouldn’t happen, assuming we know better than the One who sees the whole story.

A third option is to grit your teeth and ride it out. Hunker down. Brace yourself. Wait for the storm to pass like a coastal resident boarding up windows before a hurricane. It’s survival mode, and sometimes it’s all we feel capable of.

But James offers something so unexpected, so counter‑intuitive, that it almost sounds absurd at first hearing: Welcome trials and temptations as friends. Friends? Really? These things that bruise us, stretch us, expose us? How could they possibly be friends?

But Scripture has a way of turning our assumptions upside down. Proverbs 27:17 reminds us, “As iron sharpens iron, so a friend sharpens a friend.” You could easily substitute spouse or mentor or the person who loves you enough to tell you the truth you don’t want to hear. Real friends don’t just comfort us—they challenge us. They refine us. They knock off the rough edges we’d never deal with on our own.

Trials and temptations do the same work, only with different tools. They are not random. They are not pointless. They are not evidence of God’s absence. They are often the very places where God is most intentionally at work. He knows how you’re wired. He knows the potential He placed inside you. And He knows which parts of that potential can only be unlocked through pressure, perseverance, and holy resistance.

Paul echoes this in 1 Corinthians 10:13, reminding us that our temptations are not unique, that God is faithful, and that He will always provide a way through. Not around. Not away from. Through. And because God is faithful, we can endure anything life throws at us. Anything.

So instead of resenting the hard things, we can begin to ask: What is God forming in me here? What strength is He building? What freedom is He preparing me for?

Sometimes God allows a hardship so He can deliver you from it. Sometimes He allows it so He can deliver something out of you. And sometimes He allows it because the only way to grow endurance is to actually endure.

James continues, “For you know that when your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow. So let it grow…” (James 1:3–4). Let it grow. Don’t rush it. Don’t resent it. Don’t run from it. Let it do its work.

Think of it as a spiritual workout. I go to the gym, but I don’t love it. I’m surrounded by the weight‑slammers—the ones who drop their barbells with a dramatic clang so the whole room knows they’re lifting heavy. Then there are the people who sweat on every surface, and the ones who take gym selfies like they’re filming a documentary. Honestly, my favourite part of the gym is the moment I walk out the door.

But I still go. Why? Because strength doesn’t grow in comfort. Muscles don’t build without resistance. You have to break them down to build them up. And God, in His wisdom, trains us the same way. Trials and temptations become His gym—His training ground—where He strengthens us for the present and prepares us for the future.

They are not intruders. They are unlikely friends. Friends who sharpen. Friends who strengthen. Friends who shape us into the people God always knew we could become.