Religion: Pure and Undefiled

Introduction

In his epistle, the Apostle James speaks of a religion that is pure and undefiled before our God and Father (James 1:27). He draws a line between what is truly living worship and what is merely dead faith. Specifically, he’s confronting those who claim to believe but whose lives show no evidence of that faith.

In this article, I want to address a similar concern—but I hope to press even deeper. James warns against those who profess religion without practicing it; I want to go further and show how someone can both profess and appear to practice faith, and still be spiritually dead.

At the heart of the difference between pure and defiled religion is this: divine life versus natural life in the heart of a person. That is the essential distinction.

Now, before turning to the part of this topic I most long to explore—how divine life manifests in true, undefiled worship—I believe it’s necessary to first examine the nature of this natural life. Doing so will serve two purposes:

1. Just as placing a black backdrop behind a white sheet makes the white stand out, showing what natural life is will more clearly magnify the beauty of the divine.
2. With that contrast will come clarity—and a better ability to discern divine life in others, and more importantly, in ourselves.

With that being said, let us dive into the nature of natural life in the heart. May the Lord move through my words to edify, enlighten, and bless those who read this article. In the name of Christ, and by the power of the Spirit I pray. Amen.

The Natural Life and Its True Love

When people think of the natural man, they often picture the most debased expressions of human nature like unspeakable indulgence, and shameless rebellion. But that is only one expression of the natural life, even if they proclaim unbelief. More often than not, the natural man is not as depraved as he possibly could be. In fact, he may display signs of restraint, dignity, or even apparent piety. But at the root, there is no real difference. Whether base or refined, the same thing animates them all: self-love.

This self-love manifests differently from person to person, shaped by temperament and opportunity. Some, driven by impulsivity or shallow passions, give themselves over to indulgences so flagrant they would scandalize even the morally indifferent. Even if such people claim the name of Christ, their hypocrisy is too blatant and transparent to deceive others—or even themselves—for long.

But self-love does not always parade itself so openly. Often, it cloaks itself in dignity, and discipline. It wears the garments of wisdom and self-control. These are the more dangerous types—yet for all their polish, they are no less enslaved to self, and no less condemned.

To better understand this hidden form of self-love, we must examine how it appears—even when it seems to bear fruit.

The natural man who has gained a measure of insight, intellect, or restraint learns how to avoid the grosser forms of sin. He calculates the cost of public scandal, legal consequence, or social shame, and wisely avoids it. He becomes clean, respectable, admired. But it is still self-love that governs him. The same inward bent that drives the reckless man to indulge every appetite now expresses itself in restraint—not because he desires holiness, but because he desires comfort, reputation, and personal advantage more than base pleasures. He is not purer—only more refined in his pursuit of self.

From this sense of moral superiority, the refined natural man often grows indignant toward those he deems beneath him. His self-love fuels a longing to be seen as righteous—by others, and by himself. And so he boasts of his indignation: “How dare they break the rules I follow so diligently? It’s sickening!” But he fails to see the truth: the same root governs them both. Strip away the societal and legal barriers, and he might not look so different after all.

A Revelatory Parable

But this natural life manifests not only in those who openly reject Christ—it also hides within the visible church, among those who claim a place at the table. Jesus gave a parable about a king throwing a wedding feast. He sent his servants out to invite everyone to it. This same king found a person at his banquet, yet they weren’t wearing the proper wedding garments, and because of this he cast him into the outer darkness (Matt 22:8-14).

At first glance, this parable seems to suggest that the man without the wedding garment was obviously out of place—an intruder in rags among those dressed in white. But how would he have gotten in if that were the case? It makes more sense that his clothing was similar enough to pass unnoticed by others—that he was able to deceive everyone, perhaps even himself. It took the king’s discerning eye to spot the counterfeit. Why would this man be at the feast if he didn’t think he had a seat at the table?

We’ve already seen how self-love mixed with some worldly insight can lead to a type of piety; but why would that knowledge merely stop there? The bible is a book free to all, and religious matters have never been the sole property of Christians. This self-love can easily lead to what seems like pure religious devotion.

The Self-Love of Mind

You have those natural men who believe pure religion is merely holding right opinions. They relentlessly gather facts, and earnestly studies scripture because the gaining of knowledge thrills them.

They take delight in smashing the doctrines of heretics to preserve their appearance as the smartest one in the room. They are always eager for a debate, because it gives them another opportunity to assert their views and demand submission to their opinions. Their entire identity is built around their sect or denomination, and they always have a clever answer ready for any “problem” verse that threatens their position.

They mesmerize others with their deep knowledge of Scripture and ability to expound gospel truths. The praise they receive after preaching is all the motivation they need to keep going.

The more their mind grows, the more their head swells with it. Their apparent hunger for righteousness fools everyone—but all it is, in the end, is a hunger to feed their self-love.

The Self Love of Heart

Others root their religion in feelings. They are thrilled by how richly God’s gifts seem to enhance their personal happiness, and they mistake the butterflies in their chest for the presence of the Spirit.

They dazzle others with their expressive prayers, their theatrical praise, their loud and lingering “amens.” Their fervor becomes their assurance—and because they are more “on fire” than others, they begin to believe they must be more spiritual too.

When asked how they sustain such passion, they suggest—ever so humbly—that perhaps those who don’t feel it simply lack faith.

They honor God with their lips, but all the while, their heart is applauding itself. Their outward glow of affection may pass for devotion—but the flame that fuels it is still self-love.

The Self-Love of Strength

And then there are those who reduce pure religion to a checklist of spiritual duties. They are quite pleased with themselves for fasting for days or praying through the night. They follow every rule with precision, because a single stumble would tarnish their hard-won reputation for holiness.

They really do worship “the right way”—the way it ought to be done. Others are clearly more shallow, more irreverent. No one tithes, serves, or sacrifices like they do. And this perceived superiority becomes the ground of their assurance.

When persecution comes, they are the first to volunteer their bodies to be burned—almost exhilarated by the thought of becoming a saintly martyr.

Their burning effort convinces others they are truly holy. But the flame that drives them is not love for God. It is love for self, disguised as zeal.

The Glue Binding the Three

As different as these three may seem—and as often as they argue over who’s truly faithful—they are united by a single delusion: they believe the seat at the table is rightfully theirs. They earned it.

“Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy, cast out demons, and do many mighty works in Your name?”

But the King will answer, “I never knew you. Where is your wedding garment? Depart from Me, you workers of lawlessness—into the outer darkness, where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth.”

The Divine Life and Its True Love

Because these natural men worship themselves rather than their Creator—no matter how much they may deny it—they never truly grasp that pure religion is a divine life, born of an eternal flame placed in the heart by God. They rely on their inevitably failing minds, hearts, and wills, rather than the limitless fire of God—the one wellspring that never runs dry.

They never come to know that divine life isn’t motivated by shiny blessings, the fear of laws, or the pressures of public opinion. Rather, it’s like a river flowing down a mountain, free and unobstructed, its source the very love of God. It delights in holiness—holiness that springs from a new and righteous nature implanted by grace.

While they were busy molding themselves into their own image of good, they missed the profound truth: that undefiled religion is nothing less than having God’s own presence dwelling within your soul, shaping your heart into the image of His Son.

Searching the Scriptures is no longer about mastering them, but being mastered by them—so that your life might reflect His beauty. Debate is no longer a chance to shame, but to build up in love. You could not bear to become a stumbling block to the sweetest presence in existence, because you're not selling a system—you’re calling sheep back home.

The shallow flutters of your stomach give way to a joy unspeakable. The sense of divine arms wrapped around you warms the soul with peace. Prayer flows—not to impress, but because a heart so full must release praise, thanksgiving, and happiness. Your fiery passion and devotion are no longer a beacon of your own piety, but a witness to the radiance of Christ’s light.

Your hands no longer work out of fear, but because they must manifest the love of God into the world. “Right worship” is no longer a matter of ritual performance, but the blessed fellowship with Christ that comes through life in His Church. Giving is no longer compulsive; it’s no competition. It becomes a tangible way to show your heart to the Lord. And persecution? It’s no longer a means of glorifying self, but a sacred opportunity to display the peace only Christ can give in the midst of trials.

To put it simply: true, undefiled religion is when it becomes your food and drink to do the will of the Father (John 4:34). To walk in His ways, to do His works, to speak His language—this is balm for the soul.

Conclusion and Prayer

This isn’t to say that divine life is always ablaze while we are in the flesh. At times, the eternal flame of Yahweh may seem to flicker faintly within us. But even when it burns low, He will never snuff it out. The smoking flax He will not quench (Isaiah 42:3). Though the flame may feel small and feeble, He who kindled it will nurture it to maturity.

So let this not be a cause for gloom or regret, but an invitation to draw near. When the fire wanes, don’t hide in shame—run to your Father. Ask Him to breathe on the embers. Ask Him to stir the flame. For He delights to revive the weary and rekindle the hearts that seek Him.

Have we truly seen and tasted that the Lord is good? Is our wisdom pure? Our emotion divine? And our works full of love? Are our garments covered in the blood of the Lamb and ignited by the flame of the Lord? Or do they drip with the rotten honey of self-love?

The call is to examine our hearts: Is there a holy flame within? Not just the knowledge of God, but the life of God? Not just forms of piety, but the power of godliness (2 Tim. 3:5)?

Let us flee the vanity of self-religion beloved. Let us run to Christ, not merely for blessings, not merely for forgiveness, but for loving fellowship forevermore, so our hearts may be transformed, renewed, and molded by His precious love.

Lord of heaven, Father of lights, awaken our souls. Show us the beauty and worth of pure religion. Renew the eyes of our hearts to cherish You and Your ways. Place an eternal fire in our chests—a holy love that leads us into all righteous discernment and selfless joy. May our lives build one another up, and may the light of Your Spirit bring revival in our day.

In the precious name of Your Son, Jesus—Amen.

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