There was a guy named Billy Bray who lived in Cornwall, England, back in the 1800s. He was a tin miner. And if you’re not familiar with that particular career path, it did not come with stock options or a dental plan. Billy was poor. Not “I’m watching my budget this month” poor. He was genuinely, consistently, sometimes-didn’t-eat poor. His clothes were patched. His shoes were falling apart. By every measure the world uses to determine a person’s value, Billy Bray was at the bottom of the list.
And by every account from the people who actually knew him, he was one of the most joyful human beings who ever lived.
He used to walk around the mine shafts singing at the top of his lungs. His coworkers thought he’d lost it. And when people would ask him why he was always so happy, he’d grin and say, “I’m the son of a King!”
People thought he was out of his mind. But Billy understood something that most of us spend our whole lives struggling to believe: his poverty did not get the final word on his identity. His Father did.
That’s what James is getting at in chapter 1, verse 9. He says the lowly brother should boast in his exaltation. Which sounds strange until you realize what James means. He’s not saying pretend things aren’t hard. He’s saying you have something the world’s scoreboard will never show, and it’s the only thing that actually lasts. James says it even more directly in chapter 2, verse 5: “Has not God chosen those who are poor in the world to be rich in faith and heirs of the kingdom?” This isn’t a consolation prize. This is the actual scoreboard of heaven.
And the person the world overlooks is winning on it.