Hijacked by Pride (Part 1)

We’ve been talking in this series about what happens when something inside us quietly takes the wheel.

Anger
Worry
Desire

But today we’re talking about the one that’s hardest to see:

Pride

Anger feels dangerous.
Worry feels exhausting.
Desire feels hungry.
Pride feels… right.

It feels like clarity.
It feels like discernment.
It feels like moral strength.

Which is why it’s so dangerous.

Pride is the only hijacker that convinces you you’re still driving.

And that’s what Jesus addresses in one of his most uncomfortable parables — a story about two men who go to pray, and only one of them connects with God.

Let’s look at it together.

To some who were confident of their own righteousness and looked down on everyone else, Jesus told this parable:

“Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector.

The Pharisee stood by himself and prayed: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other people—robbers, evildoers, adulterers—or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get.’

“But the tax collector stood at a distance. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast and said, ‘God, have mercy on me, a sinner.’

“I tell you that this man, rather than the other, went home justified before God.

For all those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.” (Luke 18:9-14)

For us to understand this story, it’s critical to notice who the audience is.

Take a look again at verse 9:

To some — then this remarkable statement — who were confident of their own righteousness — they knew they were righteous — and looked down on everyone else.

Now… part of what Jesus came to do was to redefine what true righteousness is.

At the heart of authentic righteousness, as Jesus came to explain it, is a heart that genuinely loves God and loves people.

That’s the essence of righteousness — that’s the bottom line of righteousness.

And here Jesus is talking about people who are quite confident of their own righteousness.

And yet they don’t love anyone.
And they look down on everyone.

So what we’re getting into here is a misunderstanding of righteousness… which is unbelievably important for anyone who wants to pursue spiritual growth.

When people get righteousness wrong — it’s deadly.

Because when righteousness gets distorted, pride quietly grabs the wheel and starts steering our spiritual life.

Now the crowd Jesus was talking to would have been larger than just one group of people who thought they were superior.

There would be lots of different people in the crowd… but it contains these people who are self-righteous.

People who have power and respectability.
People who were looked up to as spiritual giants.

And that’s how they felt about themselves.
And they held in contempt the very outcasts and rejects and spiritual zeroes that Jesus kept giving himself to and hanging out with.

As you read through the gospels, you’ll notice this particular dynamic — this sense of superiority or self-righteousness — drew sharper rebukes from Jesus than any other sin.

An awful lot of other sinners flocked to Jesus.
Self-righteous people did not flock to Jesus.

Have you ever noticed that?

People who were guilty of real bad sexual sin, financial sin, and so on — they flocked to Jesus.

But the writers of Scripture never say self-righteous people flocked to Jesus.

So Jesus deliberately tells a parable in a public setting where the character who represents the spiritual giants… turns out to be the villain.

And the guy who looks like a spiritual zero… turns out to be the hero.

Understand, this is not a pleasant, little story Jesus tells to a group of his followers.

This is a gauntlet thrown in the face of a very powerful group of religious leaders.

Jesus is looking for some serious trouble in this story.

And you don’t get this story unless you can feel the tension becoming unbearable in the room as Jesus tells it.

The spiritual giants in this audience are getting so offended that they’re ready to kill him.

And one day they would for stories like this.

On the other hand, spiritual zeroes in the crowd, the sinners, they’re listening to Jesus with open mouths: “Can you believe he’s saying this?”

Tax collectors in the crowd are going nuts.

“A story where the tax collector is not the butt of a joke and isn’t the bad guy — unbelievable.”

“Jesus is telling a story where the tax collector is a hero. No one tells a story where the tax collector is a hero.”

“No wonder I love this guy,” they’re all thinking.

Now, why does Jesus do this?

Why does he get so ruthlessly in the face of the most powerful people of his day?

I’ll tell you why…

I think it’s because… when it comes to pride or superiority… he’s dealing with a problem that’s uniquely difficult for human beings to recognize in themselves.

It’s a funny thing. I’ve been thinking about this a lot this week —

People see therapists and pastors every day for anger problems. They know resentment can destroy their relationships… and people feel guilty for the way they lash out.

People who suffer from anxiety and fear go to counseling offices every day… because they’re dying inside and they know it. They’re desperate for help.

Greed, mismanaged desires, and addictions bring millions of desperate people to a choice between life and death every day. Millions of desperate people in twelve-step groups are ready to confess every detail of their lives every day because they know they’re on the road to death.

Every one of these problems that we’ve been talking about — mismanaged anger, worry, mismanaged desire — every one of them have treatment centers and research programs devoted to overcoming them.

People buy books and attend classes and listen to podcasts and sermons by the thousands… because they’re desperate.

Here’s what’s interesting — I’ve never known any counselor or therapist who had one single person come to them and say they needed help with their pride problem.

Because pride is the only hijacker that convinces you you’re still driving.

I know of no Betty Ford Treatment Center for the Insufferably Arrogant.

Which is too bad, isn’t it?

Couldn’t our world use one or two of those: The Betty Ford Treatment Center for the Insufferably Arrogant?

Don’t you know a few people you’d like to have go to that?

I’ll tell you what I think.

I think if there was such a place, some of the people who need it most might not be Hollywood celebrities or Washington power brokers.

It would include some of us… who call ourselves Christians… some of us who can so easily complain about the rest of society that isn’t as morally upright and pure as we are.

You see, one of the biggest problems with pride, or superiority, or judgmentalism, is that the people suffering from it don’t know they’re suffering from it.

Anger feels hot. Worry feels anxious. Desire feels hungry. But pride feels justified. And when you feel justified, you don’t realize something else has taken control.

That’s why Jesus attacks it with such brutal honesty in this story.

But the sting gets lost over the centuries.

Think about this… this is so ironic —

When the majority of Christians in our day read this parable, do you know what most of them think?

They think, “Thank God I’m not like that tax collector. Or like that Pharisee — Thank God I’m not like that Pharisee who said, ‘Thank God I’m not like the tax collector.’”

Christians in our day read this story and think, “That Pharisee thought he had to earn his way into God’s favor, but I’m smarter than he was. My theology is correct. Thank God I’m superior to that guy who thought he was superior to everyone.”

But maybe that Pharisee has a little more to teach us than we think he does.

So let’s put ourselves in the place of Jesus’ listeners for a moment.

First thing — the people listening to Jesus would hear something totally different in the word ‘Pharisee’ than we do. They would hear a totally different word.

In our day, Pharisee has become synonymous with self-righteousness and hypocrisy… and we all tend to get quite judgmental about the Pharisees being too judgmental.

To get the point of Jesus’ story, you have to erase what you think you know about Pharisees.

To Jesus’ listeners, “Pharisee” was a very good word.

Even in the gospels, everything we hear about the Pharisees is not bad.

If you look at Luke 13, Jesus’ life is being threatened by Herod Antipas — a very violent, aggressive, impulsive ruler.

He’s after Jesus.

And this is quite remarkable — notice who it is that comes to Jesus’ rescue.

Luke 13:31 says:

At that time some Pharisees came to Jesus and said to him, “Leave this place and go somewhere else. Herod wants to kill you.” (Luke 13:31)

Now, we know enough about Herod Antipas to know that if he’s after an enemy of his, and that enemy gets tipped off and gets away, Herod Antipas is going to want to know who tipped the guy off.

At considerable risk to themselves, the people that intervened to save Jesus’ life are Pharisees.

Nicodemus, who sought Jesus out as a teacher, was also a leading Pharisee.

Jesus, of course, often criticized the behaviors of many among the Pharisees. We don’t know what the percentages were, but he would criticize the behavior of many.

But this is what Jesus said about their teaching in Matthew 23.

The teachers of the law and the Pharisees sit in Moses’ seat. So you must be careful to do everything they tell you. (Matthew 23:2-3)

From Jesus that’s quite a remarkable commendation of their teaching.

So if we’re going to benefit from this story, it doesn’t work for us to start with a judgmental attitude towards the Pharisees.

They were people who Jesus’ listeners would have sincerely looked up to.

Tax collectors, on the other hand, were despised as corrupt traitors.

If you want to put this in modern terms, this story would have the feel of something like a boy scout volunteer and a drug dealer who go into a church to pray.

It would have that kind of flavor to it.

Another detail we need to know:

When Jesus says these two men go up to the temple to pray… it would have sounded a bit different to his listeners than it sounds to us.

We tend to think about that as a private experience — that they went to pray on their own.

However, his listeners would have understood Jesus to be referring to the time of the daily sacrifice.

It was offered once in the morning at about 9:00 and once in the late afternoon at about 3:00.

Many, many people would go to the temple to observe the sacrifice of atonement.

At a certain time they would pray — and they would do this out loud. It would be a public act.

In other words, this is not a private deal. This is a public service.

The actions and words of these two men would have taken place in full view of all the people gathered together in the temple. This is a public deal.

So Jesus says the Pharisee and tax collector go to the temple for the daily sacrifice.

The priest goes in, kills the sacrificial calf… and goes inside the holy place to burn incense.

And at that point, when the incense rises — that was a symbol of the prayers of God’s people rising to heaven.

So that would be the time when the people would pray… and, in their culture, they’d pray out loud.

Jesus says the Pharisee stands up and starts to pray.

And the phrase that Jesus uses in Luke 18 says

The Pharisee stood by himself and prayed: (Luke 18:11)

In other words, he separated himself from the masses of people…

Because he was a Pharisee.
Because if he were to accidentally touch anyone in the crowd who was unclean, that would defile him.

He was a holy man. So he separated himself. He prays by himself.

And everyone seeing this would say, “Of course, this is a holy man.”

Now usually at this point in the service, it was customary for the sinners, like this tax collector, to be led outside the temple area to stand at the eastern gate.

Customarily, that’s what happened.

For some reason, on this day, that did not happen.

And these defiled people — these sinners like this tax collector — are allowed to hang around.

And the Pharisee doesn’t like that.

So he does an interesting thing with his prayer.

And what he does is not just reserved to people in the first century.

Have you ever heard someone who, technically, is praying out loud, but you can tell they’re really just using prayer as an excuse to send a message to someone else who’s listening?

Have you ever experienced that kind of thing?

“Oh, God, help my husband who’s listening right now, even as you and I speak, to have victory over his selfish and inconsiderate ways.

“And to buy a really nice gift for me for my birthday… which as you know, O Lord, is in my shopping cart at Nordstrom.com even now.”

That person is not really talking to God.

Bill Moyers was Lyndon Johnson’s press secretary during the ’60s. And he was praying one time before a cabinet meeting.

Because he was praying kind of quietly, L. B. J. said to him, “Speak up, Bill. I can’t hear you.”

And Moyers said, “That’s okay, Mr. President. I wasn’t really talking to you.”

The Pharisee is not really talking to God.

He decides to use this prayer as an opportunity to instruct the unrighteous people around him.

Notice at this point how his sense of superiority is cutting him off from the Spirit.

He’s not really in contact with God.

He thinks he is, but he’s not.

He offers a parody of a prayer.

Jewish prayers were generally either expressions of thanksgiving for gifts that God had given to them… or petitions for need.

And this guy says:

God, I’m so glad I’m not like all other men.
Thanks that I’m not a robber.
I don’t steal.
I’m not an evildoer.
I’m not an adulterer.
I’m not like this tax collector here.

Do you ever find yourself deliberately searching for flaws in another human being?

Do you ever find yourself kind of hoping you can pass judgment on someone?

It’s a strange thing — this business of pride or superiority is particularly a problem for people who pursue faith and virtue.

Pride or superiority is a problem for people of faith in a way that’s kind of unique… compared to resentment and anxiety and fear and appetites and so on.

Because when I try to do something I think is good, it’s a real short step for me to say:

What a noble thing I’m doing.
How come other people can’t be more like me?

Sometimes it happens in just goofy, little ways.

Let’s say I’m working on an appetite problem.

I’m a chick-fil-a-aholic.

I’ll go on a diet, and for two days, I’ll eat really well, but I’m kind of cranky about it.

I walk into Chick-fil-a and I get the garden salad.

And I see people around me eating fried chicken sandwiches smothered in Chick-fil-a sauce and waffle fries, and I start thinking:

What’s the matter with these people?
How can they eat all this stuff?
Don’t they have any self-control at all?
They’re just a collection of appetites worshiping at the altar of fried chicken.
What’s wrong with these people?

Even though I was eating the same stuff yesterday… and I’ll probably be eating it again tomorrow.

And there’s a lot of stuff I don’t think about when I start passing judgment for whatever reason.

I don’t think about the person I’m judging as maybe having had a more difficult background than I’ve had.
I don’t think about the fact that I might have had a whole lot of spiritual, emotional, personal assets on my side that they never had.
I don’t think about their genetic predispositions and that they might be battling wiring problems that I don’t battle.
I don’t think about a thousand other ways in which they are far more virtuous and much better people than I am.

I just focus on this one area.

And I get all self-righteous — that’s pride taking the wheel over something as small as lunch.

What a noble thing I’m attempting to do.
How come other people can’t be more like me?

You see, the Pharisee is not really praying at all.

He’s saying these words publicly… and this is part of the darkness in this story. He’s saying these words publicly so they can be heard by as many people as possible.

He’s deliberately humiliating this tax collector.
He’s doing this because it makes him feel good to have thoughts like that.
He looks at this tax collector, and his life looks pretty good in comparison.
And it makes him feel a little stab of joy inside to think, “I’m better than that guy; I’m more pleasing to God.” That feels good.
He keeps comparing himself to this guy.

Not only does he not like him, but he says, “I fast twice a week.”

That’s an interesting statement.

According to Leviticus law Israelites were required to fast only one time a year on the Day of Atonement.

This guy fasts two times every week.

Those of you who are math majors, about how many times a year would that be?

Take a wild guess.

104

He’s doing some serious extra credit work, this Pharisee.

And he says, “I give a tenth of all I get.”

According to the Old Testament, tithing was to have been already observed on wine, grain, and oil by those who produced it — by the farmers and so on — and so it wasn’t necessary when you would acquire these goods to tithe, because they had already been tithed.

But he goes ahead and tithes on them anyway.

And then he pays an additional tithe on anything else that comes into his possession.

For whatever reason, you were not required to tithe on other products, other types of produce, in that era.

Like celery — you didn’t have to tithe celery.

I’m not making this up.

I guess they figured even God doesn’t like celery.
No one likes celery, so you don’t have to tithe on it.

This guy — he tithes on everything.

Stuff that should have already been tithed on, he does that anyway.
Stuff you don’t even have to tithe on, he tithes on.

He’s not just observing the law; he’s doing serious extra-credit work.

And he uses the low spiritual reputation of the tax collector to make himself feel better.

But he didn’t have to.

Here’s what he could have done.

He could have seen that tax collector — with all these people around the temple — and he could have run over to him and thrown his arms around him and said:

Man, I’m so glad you’re here.
What a great choice for you to make, to come to the temple, to be reminded during the service that we serve and follow a merciful God — a sin-forgiving, gracious God.
What a great choice you made.
I’m so glad you’re here because you know what? You and I, we’re just a couple people who need God’s mercy. That’s what we are.
And I’ll make you a deal. I’ll pray for you. You pray for me. This atonement thing — it’s for both of us.”

And that Pharisee could have opened the door of everyone’s heart in that community for this tax collector.

He could have been a vessel of grace.

And if the Spirit was flowing in his life, as the Spirit is available every moment to you and to me, that’s the kind of thing the Spirit would have prompted him to do.

But he didn’t do that. He didn’t do that… because he was too devoted to his own pride.

It made him feel good inside to say, “I’m better than you.”

Self-righteousness, judgment — Jesus goes after this stuff harder than anything else…

Because it cuts me off from the Spirit like nothing else.

Because it puts “Me” in the center of my universe. And the moment “Me” is in the center, pride has the wheel.

Because it prompts me to violate love.

You know, a lot of the sins of the appetite — they’re bad. They’re devastating. They wound souls.

But people sometimes pursue gluttony or other sins of the appetite… and they’re still capable of a certain kind of love.

Pride is utterly and completely incompatible with love.

It’s like the opposite of love.

The irony here is — this Pharisee thinks he’s praying. He thinks he’s pleasing the Spirit of God.

People who are full of resentment, where anger is just flowing out of them like lava…
People who are anxious and scared and don’t trust God because they’re afraid… so they disobey him…
People who have all kinds of addictions and impulse control problems…

They at least know they have problems.

They generally know they’re in serious spiritual trouble.

But if you asked this Pharisee how his spiritual life was going, what do you think he would have said?

“Great! My spiritual life is great.”

I went to the temple today.
I was praying.
God is so pleased.
I’m fasting.
I’m tithing.
I’m doing extra credit work.
My spiritual life is tremendous.

And the reality is, he was sinning the whole time.

He was attacking another person.
He was violating love.
He was damaging community.
He was poisoning his soul.

And he didn’t even know. He didn’t have a clue.

His practices looked really good to him and to other people around him… but his life was a mess.

And what matters to Jesus… and what matters to the Father… is your life.

So let me ask you —

Do you have any of that Pharisee in you?

Do you ever find yourself passing judgment on someone?

Do you ever get a little twinge of joy out of being critical?

Do you ever find out someone messed up… and feel a little superior?

Will you just look at this real honestly?

I was talking to a friend some time ago.

I was talking about someone who I know pretty well… and he knows somewhat.

I was talking about this person in a very judgmental way, just expressing all kinds of anger and indignation over this person’s character flaws.

And my friend made an interesting comment to me. He said, “I learned recently that when we feel really judgmental towards someone, it’s often because, at some level, we envy them.”

I said, “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

No, I didn’t say that.

I said, “Ouch.”

Because I have some of that pharisee in me.

There are times when it’s so easy for me to go to that place.

Now, the other character in this story is the tax collector.

Tax collectors were universally hated in Israel… for good reason — they were collaborators with Rome.

Israel was occupied by an enemy, and tax collectors sold out their own people for a profit to their people’s enemy.

And they were understood to be quite corrupt.

Well Jesus says this tax collector, “stood at a distance.”

He separated himself from the people… but not for the same reason as the Pharisee.

He did it because he was aware of what was inside of himself.
He knew he was dangerous to other people.

And his awareness of his own fallenness and brokenness produced a deep humility in him.

Jesus says, “He wouldn’t even look up to heaven.”

Heaven is often a Jewish way of speaking about God.

You know, we’ll sometimes say if someone is real shameless, not only do they do something wrong and tell you they’ve done something wrong, but they’ll look you right in the eye.

And we’ll say, “How can you look me in the eye and say that? How can you not at least have the decency to hang your head?”

Well, the tax collector can’t bring himself to look God in the eye… not because he mistrusts God’s goodness, but because he’s fully aware of his fallenness.

Jesus says in Luke 18 this next phrase:

He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast. (Luke 18:13)

This is an extraordinary act.

The breast was a part of the body that was regarded as particularly significant in ancient times… because it housed the heart.

It was considered the location of that which is truest and deepest in you — the core.

The act of beating on the breast was an expression of extreme anguish.

It was never done in the Old Testament… not mentioned there once.

It’s recorded only twice in the New Testament.

Once is here.
The other time is at Golgotha during the crucifixion of Jesus.

The tax collector is making a cry of desperate agony here:

My heart is wrong.
My heart is wrong at the deepest level.

I don’t know the truth about anyone else’s heart.

The reality is I can only see a tiny, little bit about other people.

I have access only to my own mind — to my own secret thoughts and desires — and sometimes, to be honest, they frighten me.

I heard that someone I used to compete with professionally didn’t get the promotion they were going after.

And first of all — the fact that I even think in categories like “compete with professionally”… as a pastor… probably tells you something about my heart.

But somewhere along the way, I turned it into that.

And when I heard the news, I hate to admit it… but there was this tiny flicker inside me.

Not compassion.
Not sadness.

Relief.

Relief that they wouldn’t move ahead of me.

That’s in my heart.

I’ll get a very clear prompting: “Don’t say that. It is self-serving. Its only goal is to promote yourself. Don’t say that.”

But I say it anyway.

I get mad at someone, and I find, without even wanting to, in my imagination, I’m having this conversation — this fantasized conversation where I make these real brilliant, bold statements and arguments that make the other person just crumple up in guilt and shame.

Anyone here ever do that kind of thing in your imagination?

But then in real life I may say nothing at all… and just live with that inner resentment… because it’s easier to do that… or because I’m afraid.

I have things like that, and sometimes worse things, that go on in my heart.

There’s only one person whose depravity I have full access to… and that person is me.

That’s why pride is so lethal — it blinds me to the truth about myself.

It doesn’t just influence me. It hijacks my self-awareness.

Then I’m not able to repent.
Then I’m not able to love.

But here’s what I’m learning… and this is where the good news comes in.

All I have to do when I have dark thoughts — is do what the tax collector did — I just need to stop and say the tax collector’s prayer.

That’s how you take the wheel back.

And the tax-collector’s prayer is: “God, I’m a mess.”

It’s not the whole truth about me, but it is the truth about me.

And if you don’t remember anything else from this message, it would be a good thing to remember that prayer… because you’ll need it sometimes.

“God, I’m a mess.”

Make sure you get the pronoun right. “God, I’M a mess.”

Not — “God, he’s a mess… or she’s a mess.”

It’s just about me.

“God, have mercy on me. I need help.”

And God will say, “I know — I know all about you. Now I extend to you my grace which will give you the power to live in humility.”

You know, we live by grace.

Grace isn’t just something that happens when you become a Christian.

Every moment, when you mess up, you need grace.

When you’re not messing up and you’re getting it right, it’s because God’s sending the Spirit to partner with you, to flood you with ideas and power and strength. And that’s grace too.

It’s all grace.

The tax collector throws himself into the grace of God.

And Jesus says the service is over.
The atonement has been offered.
The prayers have been prayed.
And these two men go home.

And this Pharisee who has spent his whole life in the spiritual winner’s circle… goes home blind and unloving and a million miles away from God… and he doesn’t even know it.

Because pride had been driving the whole time.

And this tax collector, who has spent his whole life despised and rejected in the spiritual loser’s circle — this tax collector goes home living in the presence and power and grace of God.

Humility put God back in the driver’s seat.

And things are okay.

Things are right between him and God.
He’s justified.
He’s forgiven.
He’s living in the Spirit.

So which circle do you want to be in?

I know there are so many gifted people in this church.

But I sometimes think… if I were the Evil One and I wanted to damage this community, the first weapon I would choose would probably not be resentment or anxiety or desire.

It would be pride. That’s what I would use.

So I want us to take a few moments now before God.

Allow the Spirit to work in your mind.

If there’s anything you need to talk to God about.
If there’s any part of this Pharisee inside you.
If there’s any pride
Any judgmentalism
Any superiority
Any critical spirit inside you
Any enjoyment in you… thinking about some flaw in another person
Any attempt to compare yourself to someone else

Just let God know — just pray:

God, I don’t want to be that kind of person.
God, I don’t want to do that to your Church.

If there’s any of that inside you… tell God right now and ask him to give you a humble spirit.

Would you pray with me as the worship team comes to lead us in a closing prayer.