Pastor Tricia's Ramblings

Based on James 2:9–13

Have you ever prayed to be more like Jesus?

Most of us who follow Christ have whispered that prayer, whether in a moment of awe during worship or in the aftermath of failure when we longed to love better, forgive quicker, or speak more kindly. It’s a good prayer. A holy prayer. But it’s also a dangerous one — not because God won’t answer it, but because He will. And when He does, He won’t just ask you to imitate Jesus. He’ll ask you to be remade.

At first, I thought becoming more like Jesus meant copying his actions. WWJD — What Would Jesus Do? That was the motto of my youth. So I watched how Jesus treated people. I paid attention to his compassion. I marveled at his courage.

Take John 8, for instance. A woman caught in adultery is dragged before him. According to the law, she deserves death by stoning. Her accusers demand judgment. And what does Jesus do? He bends down. He writes in the sand. No thunder. No threats. Just a pause. A moment to level the playing field. Some scholars speculate that he was writing the sins of her accusers, reminding them that all have fallen short.

And then, after they’ve slinked away one by one, Jesus looks up and says something extraordinary: “Neither do I condemn you. Go, and sin no more.”

That’s the Jesus I want to be like. Not the one shouting from mountaintops or overturning tables, though there’s a place for righteous anger. No, I want to be the Jesus who kneels down beside the broken, who shields the vulnerable from shame, who replaces judgment with mercy. I want to be that kind of Christian — someone who defends rather than condemns, who lifts instead of crushes.

But here’s the thing: being like Jesus is not just about copying what he did. It’s about adopting his posture — the posture of his heart.

The Posture of Humility

Jesus obeyed the law. He taught the Torah. Not out of legalism or an attempt to earn God’s favor — he was, after all, the Son of God. But out of humble obedience to the Father.

Obedience. That’s a word that’s fallen out of fashion in many Christian circles. We’re quick to call it legalism. We don’t want to be “religious.” We’d rather be “spiritual.” But Jesus himself said, “If you love me, you will obey my commands” (John 14:15). That wasn’t legalism. That was love.

James echoes this in chapter 2 when he writes, “For whoever keeps the whole law but fails in one point has become guilty of all of it” (James 2:10). That sounds intense — even unfair. But the point James is making is clear: partial obedience is still disobedience. It’s not about keeping score. It’s about the heart behind the law.

In Jesus, the law was never used as a weapon. It was fulfilled through love. Through mercy. Through sacrifice.

A Life of Sacrifice

To be more like Jesus requires sacrifice. Not just the kind you offer when you give up sweets for Lent or wake up early for quiet time. I’m talking about real sacrifice. The kind that costs you something. Your pride. Your comfort. Your plans. Your sense of control.

Jesus didn’t just preach about self-denial. He lived it — all the way to the cross. He placed himself on the altar, not just figuratively, but literally. He gave up his body, his breath, his life — so that we might live.

And if we are to be made like him, we must do the same. Romans 12:1 tells us to present our bodies as living sacrifices. That means offering God everything — our minds, our habits, our relationships, our rights — and trusting Him to consume it all with holy fire.

My pastor once said, “When you place something on the altar, don’t expect to get it back. God is a consuming fire. He will take it, burn it, and give you back something new — purified by His presence.”

It’s a hard truth, but a beautiful one. Because what God returns to you after the fire is far better than what you placed on the altar. He gives you new desires. A clean heart. A refined purpose. His image, burned into your soul.

Mercy Triumphs Over Judgment

This is where James 2:13 cuts through all the noise: “For judgment is without mercy to one who has shown no mercy. Mercy triumphs over judgment.”

Those words should echo in the heart of every believer. We live in a world that’s quick to judge. Quick to cancel. Quick to punish. But God’s people are called to be quick to mercy.

You can’t become like Jesus and remain judgmental. You can’t draw close to the cross while holding a gavel. You can’t kneel at the altar while pointing fingers.

Jesus consistently chose mercy — not as an excuse for sin, but as an invitation to grace. Think of the Samaritan woman at the well, the lepers he touched, the tax collectors he dined with. These were not accidental encounters. They were illustrations of divine mercy.

James reminds us that our speech and our actions must reflect this reality: “So speak and so act as those who are to be judged under the law of liberty” (James 2:12). What is the law of liberty? It’s the law fulfilled in Christ — a law not of condemnation, but of compassion.

We are judged by the standard of mercy, and we are called to extend that mercy to others.

A Story of Sand and Mercy

There’s a reason I keep returning to the image of Jesus writing in the sand. It’s more than just a nice anecdote. It’s a picture of divine restraint. Jesus had the authority to condemn, and yet he chose to convict through silence and to restore through words of grace.

How many of us, when faced with someone else’s sin, write their faults in stone and our own in dust?

James reminds us that mercy isn’t optional. It’s not a personality trait or a spiritual gift reserved for a few. It’s the mark of someone who has received mercy themselves.

We cannot ask God to make us like Jesus if we’re unwilling to extend the same mercy that Jesus poured out on us.

Be Careful What You Pray For

Here’s the warning embedded in this blog — and in the Gospel itself: Don’t ask to be like Jesus if you’re not ready to give up your need to be right. Your need to be noticed. Your need to win.

Jesus didn’t come to win arguments. He came to win hearts.

He didn’t conquer through dominance. He conquered through surrender.

He didn’t demand justice for himself. He offered mercy for others.

So when you pray to be more like Jesus, know what you’re asking for. You’re not asking for ease. You’re asking for endurance. You’re not asking for praise. You’re asking for pain. You’re not asking for glory. You’re asking for Gethsemane.

But here’s the hope: mercy always wins. The tomb is empty. The judgment was overcome. Mercy triumphed.

And it still does.

Living as People of Mercy

So how do we live this out? How do we reflect the mercy of Christ in a world desperate for grace?

1. Watch your words. Speak like someone who has been forgiven. Your language should heal, not harm. Choose kindness when it’s hardest. Especially online.
2. Slow your judgment. When someone falls short, remember your own failures. Don’t rush to conclusions. Sit with people in their mess instead of standing above them in pride.
3. Practice visible mercy. Find ways to show compassion every day. A meal for someone grieving. A phone call to someone lonely. A kind word to someone overlooked.
4. Sacrifice your comfort. True mercy costs something. Be willing to be inconvenienced. Give up your rights for someone else’s restoration.
5. Stay on the altar. Let God continue consuming your old ways. Don’t crawl off the altar when the fire gets hot. Stay there until what comes out of the ashes looks more like Jesus.

Conclusion: A Heart Transformed

Becoming more like Jesus is not a moment. It’s a lifelong transformation.

It’s not just mimicking what he did — it’s becoming who he is. A person of mercy. A bearer of grace. A humble, surrendered servant who reflects the Father’s heart.

So yes, pray to be more like Jesus. But pray with open hands and a willing heart. Because God will answer. And when He does, it won’t just be about your actions. It’ll be about your identity.

You’ll speak differently. Love differently. Forgive differently.

And when the world looks at you, they won’t just see someone who acts like Jesus.

They’ll see someone who has been with Him.