Penciling in Tomorrow

Good morning, Blue Oaks.

I just want you to know up front… today’s passage of Scripture will hit close to home for a lot of us — especially those of us who love a good plan.

You know who you are. You have your life mapped out in quarters.

You’ve got your career trajectory, your kids’ AP class schedule, your retirement portfolio… all lined up — just in case God needs to know what’s supposed to happen next.

When someone says,“Let’s just see what happens,” you immediately want to open a spreadsheet.

James says:

Now listen, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city, spend a year there, carry on business and make money.” (James 4:13)

Which is basically James’s way of saying: You think you have life mapped out, don’t you?

And we do, don’t we?

We live in a culture that runs on plans:

Five-year career plans.
Vacation plans.
Retirement plans.
“When we get through this busy season” plans.
Home renovation plans.
“Once the kids are in the house” plans.
“Once the kids are out of the house” plans.

If you’ve lived in the Bay Area for long, you know exactly what James is talking about.

If Google calendar were to ever go down, half of the Bay Area wouldn’t know who they are or where they’re supposed to be.

I’m serious, if Google Calendar goes down, all we’ll know for sure is we’re late for something important.

Now, James isn’t saying it’s wrong to plan. But he is saying — our plans reveal something about our posture toward God.

Because here’s what we tend to forget — we are not in control.

And you know how you know that?

Because life has a way of throwing a wrench into even the best plans.

Some of you planned a dream vacation… and ended up spending three days of it in your hotel bathroom with food poisoning.

Some of you planned your career perfectly… and then your company got acquired, and everything shifted.

Some of you planned out your marriage and family life… and then reality hit, and it looked nothing like the script you had in your head.

I know that one personally.

I’ve shared with you that my life hasn’t gone according to my plans either. And that’s humbling.

It’s humbling, isn’t it?

Life has a way of reminding us that we’re not in control — that our carefully written scripts can get rewritten in ways we never saw coming.

And that’s where James is taking us today. He’s talking to people who think they can map out their future with certainty…

So let’s start with verse 13 and we’ll work our way verse by verse through the rest of chapter 4.

Again, James says:

Now listen, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city, spend a year there, carry on business and make money.” (James 4:13)

He’s talking to businesspeople in the first century who traveled from city to city, selling goods.

And listen to the tone: “Today or tomorrow we’ll go here… spend a year there… make money.”

No hesitation. No sense of contingency. Just — confident planning.

Now I just want to reiterate that planning in itself isn’t the problem. The writers of Scripture have plenty to say about the value of wisdom, and preparation, and good stewardship.

The problem is presumption.

The problem is believing your plan is in your control.

In the ancient world, the people James was writing to were merchants — they would map out business trips to cities across the Roman Empire, where they would trade goods and make money.

And travel back then was risky.

There were no weather apps.
No reliable maps.
No credit card points if your trip got canceled.

And yet James says their confidence was not in God — it was in their ability to plan, execute, and profit.

Sound familiar?

James is speaking into a culture where this way of thinking was completely normal.

They were living in the early days of the Pax Romana — the Roman peace.

Roads were being built.
Trade routes were expanding.
Cities were booming.

If you were clever, or strategic, or willing to hustle, you could build a fortune.

It wasn’t that different from Bay Area startup culture today.

You hustle.
You plan.
You execute.

And if you’re good enough — you win.

And James says — hold on.

Not because planning is bad. But because confidence in your plan as the foundation of your life is shaky ground.

In Roman culture, merchants mapped out their journeys and assumed everything would go as intended — the weather, their health, their safety, profits, everything.

In the Bay Area we do the same thing —

Just swap…

road conditions for market conditions
cargo ships for supply chains
coin purses for crypto wallets

We make plans like we have tomorrow locked in.

But James says: You don’t.

Now, this isn’t a call to abandon planning altogether. It’s an invitation to loosen your grip. To hold your schedule, your strategies, your “this is where I’ll be a year from now” moments — open-handed before God.

It’s not about abandoning wisdom or responsibility. It’s about recognizing that life is fragile, our control is limited, and our role is to live faithfully in the present moment.

Alright, now James moves from planning to perspective:

Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes. (James 4:14)

James isn’t trying to be poetic here — he’s being direct and painfully realistic.

He says we don’t even know what will happen tomorrow.

That’s not just a theological statement — it’s a practical one.

In the ancient world, this would have been obvious. People lived with a constant awareness of risk — plagues, famine, political unrest, travel dangers… they were all part of daily life.

You didn’t know what tomorrow would hold.

But we live with the illusion of control.

We have things on calendars that go out 18 months.
We schedule vacations for next summer.
We plan projects at work that have multi-year timelines.
We have five-year plans, retirement plans, and college savings plans.

And James comes in with this humbling word: mist.

Our lives — these precious, complex, carefully planned lives — are like morning fog. It appears for a little while… and then it’s gone.

Now, that doesn’t mean life doesn’t matter — it means life is urgent.

It’s humbling, isn’t it?

Now, why does James feel the need to address this?

Because we don’t live as if it’s true.

We procrastinate the things that matter most.
We tell ourselves we’ll get serious about our marriage later.
We’ll make time for our kids later.
We’ll invest in our spiritual life later.

James is saying: you don’t know if “later” will come.

I’m reminded of the guy who decided to get a brand-new leather/paper planner. Remember those?

He enjoyed writing on paper so he figured it would work for him.

It was a big beautiful planner — with tabs for every month, inspirational quotes on every page.

This is what he wrote on January 1st: “Get in shape. Save money. Read more.”

On January 5th, he wrote: “Eat the rest of the holiday snacks so I can start fresh next week.”

By January 12, the planner was propping up the Wi-Fi router.

We laugh… but isn’t that us?

We assume we’ve got all the time in the world to get serious about the life God is calling us to live.

James says: stop banking on “someday.” — You are a mist.

This isn’t meant to scare you — it’s meant to clarify what matters.

Think of it this way — if you knew you only had one year left, how would your priorities shift?

Would you keep scrolling as much?
Would you hold grudges as long?
Would you hesitate to forgive?
Would you put off investing in your faith or repairing relationships?

James wants us to wake up to that reality — not because life is meaningless, but because it’s meaningful right now.

This isn’t about fear — it’s about urgency.

When you embrace the reality that your life is a mist, you start valuing your days differently.

You spend less energy chasing things that won’t last, and more on what matters for eternity.

James goes on in verse 15:

Instead, you ought to say, “If it is the Lord’s will, we will live and do this or that.” (James 4:15)

Now, this verse has been misunderstood over the years.

James isn’t prescribing a magic phrase you tack onto sentences like a spiritual punctuation mark.

He’s not saying:

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Lord willing.”
“We’re having tacos for lunch, Lord willing.”
“The 49ers will win the Super Bowl, Lord willing.”
“The DMV will get me in and out in 15 minutes, Lord willing.”
“In-N-Out will finally add bacon to the menu, Lord willing.”

James isn’t trying to create a religious throwaway phrase — like something you slap at the end of an email so people think you’re spiritual.

He’s calling us to a whole new posture of humility before God.

It’s a reorientation of the heart.

This was especially countercultural in the ancient Roman world.

Merchants and business leaders prided themselves on self-sufficiency. Wealth, power, and reputation were built on your ability to make things happen.

But James is saying something radically different: Every plan, every trip, every business venture, every breath of your life… is dependent on God.

It’s a humility that’s woven deep into the fabric of your thinking.

Now here’s where we often get this wrong: We think “If it’s the Lords will” is about hedging against bad news.

Like: “I’ll be there — if it’s the Lords will,” meaning, “unless something terrible happens.”

But James is saying this for all circumstances — not just bad ones.

“If it’s the Lords will” means:

If God blesses this plan — I’ll be there.
If God changes this plan — I’ll still be okay.
If God closes this door — He must be leading me somewhere better.

This posture is freeing. It means we live fully, plan wisely, work hard — but we hold all of it with open hands before God.

And here’s the subtle but important truth: Saying “If it’s the Lords will” is not meant to shrink your life into fear — it’s meant to expand your trust.

Think about how this can reframe your perspective:

Think about your career path. You can take the job — or not — and still have peace, because your calling is in God’s hands.

Think about your family decisions. You can walk forward in confidence, because God’s will is better than your perfect five-year plan.

Think about unexpected changes. They stop being personal attacks from the universe, and start being invitations to trust.

It’s not about being passive. It’s about being dependent.

This phrase — “If it’s the Lord’s will” — does two very important things:

First, it reminds me that my plans are subject to God’s purposes. It’s a recognition that my life is part of a much bigger story than my own.

Second, it frees me from the exhausting illusion of control.

Because if I’m honest, most of my anxiety comes from trying to manage things I was never meant to control in the first place.

And James warns us — arrogance shows up when we talk about our plans as if we’re the ones running the universe.

And that’s when our confidence in our plans gets misplaced.

It’s a little like weather forecasting in the Bay Area.

The app says “sunny and 72,” so you plan a picnic at Dolores Park.

But you get there, and the fog is rolling in like it’s the opening act for Metallica.

Or the app says “100% chance of rain,” so you cancel your plans…

And it turns out to be the clearest day of the month.

Our confidence is high. Our accuracy? Not so much.

And James is saying — don’t just laugh about that when it’s the weather.

Recognize it in your life.

Hold your plans with humility. Speak them with open hands.

Because “If it’s the Lords will” isn’t just a nice phrase.

It’s a daily reality check: I am not in control.

And that’s good news — because the one who is in control is infinitely wiser, and kinder, and more loving than I am.

And here’s the beauty of this: Saying “If it’s the Lords will” doesn’t make life smaller — it actually makes it more secure.

When I live with an open hand toward my plans, I’m no longer crushed when they change.

Because my confidence isn’t in the plan — it’s in the Planner (God).

That’s what allows you to step into your work, or your relationships, or your future… with a confidence that’s rooted in humility.

I was talking to a friend in the Bay Area last week who had done everything “right.”

Smart investments.
A dream job at a strong, respected company.
He had the trajectory he wanted.

And then… his company was acquired.

Overnight, his role disappeared. The roadmap vanished. His carefully timed plans for the future — gone.

He told me later: “I had to sit there and admit to myself — my future wasn’t mine to control. I’d been living like I had it all figured out. But now I realized… I never actually did.”

And here’s the surprising part — losing that job became one of the most faith-shaping seasons of his life.

Because in the gap where his plans had been, God started planting new ones. Different ones. Better ones.

Who is this friend?

It’s Joe Hartley — our Executive Pastor at Blue Oaks.

Joe went from running the global education and healthcare division of Sun Microsystems — a billion dollar division — to co-leading a little church start-up in Pleasanton.

From success… to significance.

From a carefully mapped out corporate plan… to an unpredictable faith journey.

And looking back, Joe will tell you — it was worth every step.

That’s what James means when he says, “If it’s the Lord’s will, we will live and do this or that.”

It’s a reminder that our plans may be good, but God’s plans are better.

James says:

Instead, you ought to say, “If it is the Lord’s will, we will live and do this or that.” As it is, you boast in your arrogant schemes. All such boasting is evil. (James 4:15-16)

It’s interesting that James calls our boasting evil.

It’s not because confidence is bad. It’s because misplaced confidence is dangerous.

It puts us in the illusion of control — and that illusion will eventually break.

And when it does, you and I will either be left bitter that God “ruined” our plans…

Or we’ll be humbled enough to say, maybe his plans were better all along.

Now — this doesn’t mean you live passively.

It doesn’t mean you shrug your shoulders at every opportunity and say, “Well, if God wants it, it’ll happen, so I’ll just sit here and binge Netflix.”

No. It means you work hard, you plan wisely — but you hold it all with open hands.

Because here’s the reality — we’ve been learning this the last several weeks — there is freedom in surrender.

It takes the pressure off of you to be the master of your own universe.

It keeps your hope from being anchored to something that’s one phone call — or one appendix — away from changing.

And it keeps you rooted in the only thing that’s certain:

That God is good, God is faithful, and his will can be trusted — even when it takes us off our map.

So here’s the question James is pressing:

What’s one plan you’re holding onto so tightly right now that you haven’t left room for God to redirect?

Maybe it’s a relationship. You’ve already mapped out how it’s supposed to go, what the timeline should be, and what the ending should look like — and the thought of God changing that script feels threatening.

Maybe it’s your career. You’ve worked too hard, made too many sacrifices to end up anywhere other than where you’ve decided you should be in five years.

Maybe it’s your finances. You’ve planned every dollar, every investment, every retirement goal — and God’s nudge toward generosity feels like it’s interrupting your security.

Maybe it’s your family. You have a picture in your mind of how your marriage, your kids, your home life should look. And every time reality doesn’t match the picture, you grip it tighter, thinking you can force it back into place.

Or maybe it’s something more personal — your image, your reputation, the way people perceive you. And you’ve been white-knuckling control, afraid to let God rewrite the narrative.

James is asking: What’s that one area where your hands are clenched so tightly around your plan… that there’s no space for God to place something better in your hands?

Alright, James ends this section with one of the most deceptively short and challenging verses in the whole letter.

It almost feels like he’s shifting topics — but really, it’s the logical conclusion of everything he just said.

If anyone, then, knows the good they ought to do and doesn’t do it, it is sin for them. (James 4:17)

We tend to think of sin as doing the wrong thing — lying, cheating, gossiping, breaking commandments.

James says — yes, that’s sin. But there’s another category:

Sin is also not doing the right thing when you know you should.

In seminary, I learned that this is called the sin of omission.

Sins of commission: Doing what God says not to do.
Sins of omission: Failing to do what God says to do.

And if you read through the Gospels, Jesus confronts both.

The Pharisees were meticulous about avoiding sins of commission — they didn’t want to break rules.

But they missed sins of omission:

They didn’t show mercy.
They didn’t welcome the outcast.
They didn’t lift burdens off people’s backs.

James says — knowing the good and not doing it is sin.

That means when I know I should forgive and I don’t — it’s sin.
When I know I should speak up for someone who’s marginalized and I stay silent — it’s sin.
When I know I should give generously but I hold back out of fear — it’s sin.
When I know I should check in on that friend who’s struggling but I tell myself I’m too busy — it’s sin.

This isn’t James trying to crush us under guilt.

It’s James saying — faith is alive when it does something.

And notice — this ties directly back to what we saw earlier in the chapter.

Holding our plans humbly before God isn’t just about what we don’t do. It’s about being open to what God is calling us to do — in the moment, in the day, in the ordinary opportunities of life.

In the ancient world, philosophers had a term for this kind of responsiveness: kairos — the “opportune moment.”

They saw wisdom as not just knowing timeless truths, but knowing the right thing to do at the right time.

James is essentially saying: Every day is filled with kairos moments.

Moments when God nudges you:

Call them.
Help them.
Speak up.
Step in.
Slow down.

And the question isn’t — do you know the right thing?

The question is — will you do it?

Let me share with you something that will hopefully will bring this into focus.

A pastor friend told me about a man in his church named Bill.

Bill was the kind of guy who showed up early, stayed late, and never drew attention to himself.

One Sunday, during their greeting time, a young single mom walked in for the first time. She had that look — half here, half planning her escape route.

Bill saw her. Walked over. Introduced himself. Asked if she needed help finding a seat.

That was it. Nothing flashy. Just noticing and responding.

Months later, she joined a small group, where she had to tell the story of how she started attending the church.

She said:

“The sermon was fine. The music was fine. But what brought me back was a man named Bill who saw me when I felt invisible. That moment changed everything.”

Bill had no idea.

But he knew the good he was supposed to do — and he did it.

Here’s the sobering flip side: There are moments when I’ve totally missed it.

Moments when I felt a nudge from God and ignored it.
Moments when I let “busy” or “awkward” or “someone else will handle it” talk me out of obedience.

And James says — don’t shrug that off. Those moments matter.

Because when you know the good you ought to do and you don’t do it…

You miss not just an opportunity to help someone — you miss an opportunity to join God in his work.

Jesus told a story in Luke 10 that perfectly illustrates James 4:17.

A man is beaten and left for dead on the road.

Two religious leaders — the priest and the Levite — pass by.

Did they beat the man? No.
Did they break a law? No.

But they knew the good they were supposed to do — and they didn’t do it.

I wouldn’t be surprised if James had this particular story — one Jesus must have told a number of times — running through his mind as he put verse 17 down on paper.

Then the Samaritan comes along. The cultural outsider. The one everyone assumed wouldn’t do the right thing.

And he doesn’t just see the need — he moves toward it.

The difference wasn’t knowledge. All three knew what love required.

The difference was action.

The priest and Levite committed the sin of omission.

The Samaritan stepped in to do good.

James would say: That’s the choice in front of you and me every day.

And it didn’t end in the first century. Generations later, followers of Jesus were still wrestling with the same tension…

William Wilberforce was a member of British Parliament in the late 1700s.

He was wealthy. Well-connected. Ambitious.

After a dramatic conversion to Christianity, he wrestled with what that meant for his political career.

He considered resigning to pursue full-time ministry.

Then he met John Newton — the former slave trader who wrote “Amazing Grace.”

Newton challenged him: Stay where you are. Use your position for the good God puts in front of you.

Wilberforce knew the evil of the slave trade. He knew the good he ought to do.

And he didn’t just talk about it — he spent the next 46 years of his life fighting for abolition.

Year after year, vote after vote, defeat after defeat — until the Slave Trade Act finally passed in 1807.

Three days before his death in 1833, slavery was abolished in most of the British Empire.

Imagine if Wilberforce had said, “Someone else will take care of it. I’ve got my own plans.”

Knowing the good and not doing it — it’s sin.

Knowing the good and stepping into it — it’s obedience that can literally change the world.

Now most of us aren’t Wilberforce. Most of us aren’t passing landmark legislation.

But all of us have “good” we ought to do — right in front of us.

It may not make the history books.

But it matters deeply in the Kingdom of God.

It’s the conversation with your spouse you’ve been putting off.
It’s the apology you know you need to make.
It’s showing patience in a meeting.
It’s offering forgiveness before it’s asked for.
It’s mentoring the younger person you know could use your encouragement.
It’s actually slowing down enough to see the people you walk past every day.

James says: Don’t delay obedience.

Because every “I’ll do it later” is one step toward a calloused heart.

And every “Yes, Lord” in the moment is one step toward a life fully alive to the Spirit of God.

So let me ask you:

Where is God inviting you to stop delaying… and start doing the good he’s placed in front of you?

Because the life James is painting here is one of humility, responsiveness, and faith that doesn’t just know — it acts.

James has been asking us throughout this entire Wise Up! series:

Are you living like this world is yours — or like it belongs to God?

In James 4:13–17, he pulls it into sharp focus:

Your plans are fragile. Life is a mist.
Your control is limited. You don’t know what tomorrow holds.
Your arrogance is dangerous. Boasting about what you’ll do is spiritually hazardous.
Your responsibility is real. When you know the good to do, and don’t do it — it’s sin.

And all of this puts one clear question into focus:

Are you living with open hands before God — or clenched fists around your plans?

I want you to picture this for a moment:

Your life — your work, your relationships, your dreams, your finances, your reputation —
it’s like sand in your hands.

The tighter you clutch it, the faster it slips through your fingers.

James is saying: Loosen your grip.

Not because God doesn’t care about your life — but because he cares more than you do.
Not because your plans don’t matter — but because his plan is better.

And maybe for you today, the call to action is incredibly personal:

Maybe you’ve been white-knuckling your marriage, thinking you can control the outcome. Believe me, I know what that’s like.

Maybe you’ve been clutching your kids’ future so tightly that you’ve squeezed out peace.

Maybe you’ve been gripping your career path, unwilling to trust that God’s detour might be his provision.

Or maybe you’ve been holding onto an image of yourself — successful, strong, put together — and God is asking you to let it go.

James says: Humble yourselves before the Lord. Open your hands.

Not in defeat — but in trust.

So here’s the invitation:

What’s the plan, the dream, the timeline, the script you’ve been holding onto that God is asking you to lay down today?

It doesn’t mean he won’t give it back.

It means you trust him more than you trust yourself.

And maybe it’s not just laying something down — it’s picking something up.

The good you know you ought to do.
The step you’ve delayed.
The obedience you’ve rationalized.

James doesn’t want us to walk away convicted but unchanged. He wants us to walk away humbled and ready for action.

Alright, let me pray for you as the worship team comes to lead us in a closing song.

And you may want o open your hands on your lap in a posture, and as a symbol, of opening your life and plans to God.

Before we close, I want to invite us to respond to this message not just with words, but with an act of remembrance and humility.

Communion is the perfect picture of what James is calling us to.

Because in communion we remember that Jesus didn’t just talk about surrender — he lived it.

He humbled himself… He opened his hands… He said, “Not my will, but yours be done.”

That surrender is what brought us salvation.

So today, as we come to communion, I want to ask that you come with open hands — not clutching your plans, not gripping control, but letting go… trusting that the same God who gave his Son for you will be faithful in everything else.

Here’s how we’ll receive communion together:

In just a moment, I’ll invite you to exit your row to your left and come forward.

You’ll take the bread — which represents Jesus’ body, broken for you for the forgiveness of your sins — and eat it here at the front.

Then you’ll take the cup — which represents his blood, shed so you could have life in all its fullness — and drink it here.

You can then toss the cup in the waste basket next to those serving communion.

And return to your seat on the other side of your row.

As you come, let this be a moment of release.

If there’s a plan you’ve been clutching, a burden you’ve been carrying, a step of obedience you’ve been delaying — lay it down before coming forward to take communion.

Because communion is not just a ritual — it’s a reminder that Jesus’ open hands at the cross are what make it possible for us to open ours today.

Whenever you’re ready, you can come forward.