“What Have We Done?” Is the Right Question

Let there be tears for what you have done. Let there be sorrow and deep grief. Let there be sadness instead of laughter, and gloom instead of joy. – James 4:9

What have we done to the world?
Did you ever stop to notice
This crying Earth, these weeping shores? – Michael Jackson

This song doesn’t let you stay comfortable. Neither does James.

“Earth Song” doesn’t point fingers. It doesn’t argue. It doesn’t try to fix anything in three easy steps. It simply asks a question that won’t go away: “What have we done?”

James asks exactly that — and more. He asks for tears over what we have done.

James 4 doesn’t start with systems, policies, or villains either. It starts closer to home. It starts with the desires that drive us, the wanting what we don’t have, the jealousy over those who do, the pride we place in ourselves, and the assumption that tomorrow belongs to us.

James says our conflicts, our damage, and our disorder don’t come out of nowhere. They come from us — from wanting control. From planning without humility and living pretentiously.

That’s hard to hear, because most of us don’t think of ourselves as arrogant. We think of ourselves as responsible. Driven. Strategic. Prepared.

James isn’t impressed.

He says when we plan as though we own the future, we’re kidding ourselves. Life is fragile, brief and unpredictable. And when we forget that, we don’t just make bad plans — we make ourselves the center and that’s where the damage starts.

“Earth Song” mourns what’s broken. James answers why it broke. Not to shame us, but to humble us.

James says God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble. That isn’t meant to scare us; it’s meant to save us. Pride isolates us from grace; humility opens the door to it.

So James calls for something deeper than awareness. He calls for repentance. Not just regret but honest turning.

“Draw near to God,” he says. “Clean your hands; humble yourselves.” In other words, stop pretending you’re in control. That’s where faith actually begins.

Michael asks, “What about us?” James answers, “Yes, start with you.” Not with blame, not with slogans, but with surrender.

James doesn’t ask us to fix the world. He asks us to face ourselves. To admit our limits, to loosen our grasp. To live as people who depend on God rather than compete with Him. That kind of humility grounds our faith. And faith that takes action has to start with a heart that gets honest.

That’s the work James invites us into. It starts with tears over what we have done, which turns into humility toward what we must do.

THE MAN IN THE MIRROR IS AT IT AGAIN