There is a story in 2 Kings chapter 18 that reads like the Hollywood script of a twenty-first century political thriller. A country’s young leader is faced with a dreadful decision. His country must either submit to a ruthless foreign power’s unfair demands or go to war against an opponent whose military might dwarfs their own.

The young leader is Judah’s King Hezekiah, who reigned around the turn of the seventh century BCE. He was an excellent leader who won his people’s confidence in the early years of his reign. But after fourteen years on the throne, Assyria, the superpower of the day, demanded that Hezekiah and his people pay the Assyrians tribute. Hezekiah did not want to do this, but neither did he want to expose his country to a hopeless war. He paid the tribute.

But yielding to a bully only invites further bullying. It was not long before Assyria was back. This time the demand was nothing less than the dissolution of the nation. The king of Assyria sent his shrewdest envoys, backed by a large army, to Jerusalem to negotiate the dissolution of the Judean government and the transfer of national land and wealth to Assyria.

What follows is something like a chess game. The king refuses to speak to the diplomatic team from Assyria but sends representatives out to them. The Assyrian king’s underlings are not important enough to speak directly to Israel’s king. If they have something to say, let them say it to his subordinates.

But his subordinates are completely outmatched by the Assyrians. Their spokesman insists on holding talks before the public. This is not because they care about the public, but because they think they can leverage the public into pressuring the government to surrender. The Judean representatives ask that negotiations be conducted in Aramaic rather than Hebrew. They worry that Judah’s citizens will believe the malicious propaganda that is being spread. The Assyrians completely ignore them and continue speaking in Hebrew – perhaps more loudly than before.

The Assyrian representative publicly blames the conflict on Judah’s king by claiming that he has “rebelled” against Assyria. He then mocks Judah’s defense plans and berates her (potential) allies. He makes the idea of going to war against Assyria appear absolutely ridiculous. He even taunts Hezekiah with a wager: “My master will give you two thousand horses to help you in your war (though I doubt you can find two thousand horsemen to ride them), and, even so, his B-team will still destroy you!”

Because the Assyrians know that King Hezekiah is a pious, God-fearing man (and that many of Judah’s citizens are not), they mock his faith. “Oh, you are trusting in your God! That’s just what the people of Hamath and Arpad said, right before we wiped them out. That’s what Samaria claimed, before we conquered them and took their land.”

“Besides,” he taunts, “who do you think sent us to conquer you? It was the LORD himself, the God you worship. If you fight us, you are fighting Him.”

The Assyrian spokesman then addressed Judah’s people directly in their own language. (It would be like an English-speaking representative of the Chinese government purchasing air time from broadcast companies and streaming platforms to directly petition the American people to defy their president.) Using Hebrew, he warns the people not to put their trust in the LORD for deliverance. “That’s the kind of thing all our enemies think—right before we destroy them.”

This story, with its high stakes, devious tactics, and diplomatic intrigues shines a bright light on James 1:2-3, which states: “Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance.”

James understood that our trials are a test of faith. This is so hard for us to remember. When we face a difficult trial – think of Hezekiah and the people of ancient Judah – we assume that our courage is being tested, or our intelligence, or our strength. Perhaps they are, but the primary test is always of our faith. Will we trust God or not? In the course of any trial, we may be tempted to doubt God’s intentions (2 Kings 18:25) or power (18:33-35); question our fitness (18:23-24); worry about our past actions (18:22); fear for our future (18:27); and make compromises for our comfort (18:31).

But it all boils down to one thing: will we trust God or not? We think it is more complicated than that. But once we know what the right thing to do is (which can be very difficult to determine), the only question left is whether we will trust God and do it. It is our faith, as James clearly states, that is being tested.

It helps to know what we are being tested on. If I have a major exam in my History of Western Civilization class, it will help me prepare if I know what the subject of the test is: is it on Greek supremacy from the time of Alexander through the Carthaginian War, or the Western response to Hitler’s expansion in pre-World War Two Europe, or the rise of nationalism in western nations in the first quarter of the 21^st century? I’d better know what I’m being tested on.

We do know what we are being tested on when trials come our way: our faith in God. The test is not meant to fail us but to show us where we are and help us get to where we want to go.

How do we get better at faith? We start by doing what we know God wants us to do. We don’t need to go off to a monastery or enroll in seminary (unless that is what obedience to God requires). There are things for us to do right where we are: invite the neighbor we don’t know well to dinner or to church; love a fellow church member by a word of encouragement (or even rebuke); speak well of a former friend who speaks evil of us (blessing those who curse us); fast for a day and pray—or a thousand other things perfectly suited to our lives. Every act of obedience exercises, and so strengthens, faith.

In the final tests of faith, death and judgment, it is those who have exercised faith (Paul refers to this as “the obedience of faith”) who pass the test.