If faith produce no works, I see That faith is not a living tree.

Host: The room was warm, the soft glow of the fireplace flickering in the corner, casting gentle shadows across the space. Outside, the night had begun to settle in, the world muffled by the quiet of evening. Inside, Jack and Jeeny sat in comfortable silence, a book resting between them on the table, the words on the page lingering in the air like a quiet challenge.

Jeeny: (breaking the silence, her voice soft but clear) “Hannah More once said, ‘If faith produce no works, I see that faith is not a living tree. Thus faith and works together grow, No separate life they never can know. They’re soul and body, hand and heart, What God hath joined, let no man part.’”

(She looked up at Jack, her eyes steady.) “What do you think she meant by that? About faith and works being inseparable?”

Jack: (pausing, his voice thoughtful as he considered the quote) “I think she’s saying that faith isn’t just about believing. It’s about doing. It’s easy to say you have faith, but if it doesn’t move you to action, if it doesn’t change the way you live, then it’s not a living faith. Faith and works are two sides of the same coin. They can’t exist without each other.”

Jeeny: (nodding slowly, her voice calm and understanding) “Yes, exactly. Faith isn’t passive. It doesn’t just stay inside you, unspoken. It has to be lived, expressed, through the things you do, the way you treat others. It’s not enough to just believe — faith has to be visible in action. That’s where the real power is.”

Jack: (looking down at the table, his tone softer now) “It makes sense, though. You can’t just say you believe in something and not show it. If faith is real, it moves you to make a difference. To act in a way that reflects that belief.”

Jeeny: (her voice gentle but firm) “And that’s the beauty of it. Faith and works don’t just exist side by side. They’re connected — they’re meant to grow together. When one is missing, the other doesn’t have the same power. They’re soul and body, hand and heart. One can’t live without the other.”

Jack: (smiling softly, his voice reflective) “It’s like a living organism. Faith gives direction, but without works, it’s stagnant. And works, without faith, can feel empty, without the deeper purpose behind them.”

Jeeny: (gently) “That’s it. Faith gives your actions meaning, and your actions give your faith purpose. They’re not separate, not something that can be compartmentalized. They are one and the same.”

Host: The air in the room felt still, the conversation settling into a quiet understanding between them. The warmth from the fire seemed to radiate through the space, not just physically, but emotionally — as if the idea of faith and works growing together had ignited something deeper within both of them.

Jack: (sighing softly, his voice more certain now) “I think I’ve always known that. But hearing it put so simply — that faith without works is like a tree without roots, that one needs the other to grow — it’s powerful.”

Jeeny: (smiling gently) “It is. And the beautiful thing is that when faith and works come together, they create something that lasts. They create a life that reflects not just belief, but action. It’s not just about what we think or say, but what we do with those thoughts and words.”

Jack: (quietly, almost to himself) “It’s like they’re meant to be together, never apart. That’s how they’re strongest.”

Jeeny: (nodding softly, her voice calm) “Exactly. What God has joined together, let no man part.”

Host: The fire crackled softly in the background, the gentle warmth in the room growing as the night settled in. Jack sat back, his thoughts quiet but grounded, knowing that faith wasn’t just something you hold inside. It’s something you live — in every word, every action, every choice. And in that understanding, the balance between faith and works became clear: they were two halves of the same whole, meant to grow together, to shape each other, to move the world in a way that was whole and true.

Jeeny sat beside him, her smile quiet but content, knowing that sometimes the simplest truths held the deepest power. And as the night deepened, they both understood that faith, when lived through works, created something lasting, something that couldn’t easily be broken.

And in that shared silence, there was peace.