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Pride is a sneaky thing that can infiltrate anybody’s attitude, if we’re not careful. It’s as
simple as a self-assuring voice trying to soothe our insecurities by saying, “Well, at least I’m
better than they are.” Pride often does not—at first—look like an arrogant snob who puts others
down with insults and declares themself the best, smartest, or strongest. It looks like quiet
contempt for someone we feel just isn’t quite as good as we are.

There is a difference between being proud of an accomplishment and being prideful. I
think we often lose this nuance because we take the word “pride” to mean all forms of being
proud of something we’ve done ourselves. It’s okay to be proud of something you’ve done. For
example, I am proud that I have been able to write and have published multiple books. But to be
prideful about it would be to say that because I’ve done that, I’m better than all the writers who
have not yet had their works published.

You might be proud to score a winning touchdown at a game or get straight A’s. You
might be proud to be recognized as employee of the month or to receive a promotion. That’s
well and good. Pridefulness, though, is when that makes us say, “No one on the team is as
good as I am! No one in class is smarter than I am!” or “I’m the best person at my job; no one
else can compare!”

One can be proud of their accomplishments while still being humble. That humility might
sound like, “I only scored that touchdown because the rest of the team had my back” or “I only
got straight A’s because I worked really hard and I had good teachers.” It might sound like, “I am
honored to be employee of the month, because I know there were so many other people who
deserved it, too.” Being proud and humble can go hand in hand. Being prideful and humble
cannot, and this is a distinction Jesus spoke about in Luke 18:9-14.

He was apparently surrounded by people who were prideful. The passage says they
“trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt.” In other
words, they were confident that they were following the law so perfectly that their righteousness
had earned them favor with God. And at the same time, they looked down on those who were
not keeping the law as well as they were, condemning them for their failures. Jesus chose to
address this issue with, as He often did, a parable.

The story featured two men who went to the temple to pray. One was a Pharisee. A legal
and religious powerhouse. The Pharisees knew all the facets of the law and kept every one.
Nobody could compare to the righteousness of a Pharisee. The other man was a tax collector.
Tax collectors were hated for being sellouts to Rome. They were Jewish citizens who took
money from their own people to give to Rome, and they often had a reputation for stealing extra
and pocketing it for themselves. In contrast to the Pharisee, whom the average Jewish citizen
would strive to be like, the tax collector was someone no one wanted to be around.
In the Pharisee’s prayer, he chose to elevate himself. He told God how thankful he was
that he wasn’t like other people. He wasn’t a thief. He didn’t commit sexual sins. He wasn’t even
“like this tax collector.” Keep in mind that this very public prayer was spoken out loud, so the
Pharisee was shaming the tax collector with his words. He spoke of his own good deeds: fasting
and giving his tithes. The Pharisee’s prayer was all about himself. He lifted himself up, telling
God about how good of a person he was.
In contrast to this boastful attitude, the tax collector was standing at a distance, away
from the masses gathered in the temple, and he had his head down in shame. As he prayed, he
beat his chest—a sign of repentance and remorse. He felt the full weight of the guilt of his sins,
and he was ashamed. The tax collector was probably rich; he could have chosen to rely on his
wealth and allowed it to make him as prideful as the Pharisee. Instead, cognizant of his wrongs,
he admitted his faults to God and begged for mercy.

Jesus said that the tax collector, not the Pharisee, was the one who left the temple
justified. Why? Because of his humility. He was not seeking to prove himself to God. He was
humble. Jesus said “all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves
will be exalted.”
It’s important to note that God can’t be fooled by false humility. We shouldn’t try to make
ourselves seem more humble than necessary to try to please Him. If you’ve lived a relatively
good, moral life, you don’t need to begin all your prayers with “Oh, God, I’m such a horrible and
terrible person and I hate myself and I don’t deserve your love!” But we should all recognize that
it is by God’s grace we can live a good life. And that when we do sin, we should admit it and not
try to justify it away.

The point of the tax collector’s humility was its genuineness. He knew he’d done wrong
and was ashamed of it. He sought mercy, and he found it. The Pharisee didn’t see any need for
mercy because he saw himself as a righteous paragon. He had no concept of his own place in
God’s intended order of the world. A better prayer might have sounded like, “God, I am doing
my best to honor you in my life and with my actions. I pray that you would forgive me when I fail
to do so and I pray that any righteousness within me benefits those around me.”
Whereas the tax collector had hurt people—and recognized it—the Pharisee had no
place for other people in his prayers save for elevating himself above them. They were
trivialities to make himself look better, not image-bearers of God deserving of his love and
attention. He spoke of his accomplishments, fasting and tithing, but those offered no benefit to
those around him. Fasting might have brought him closer to God, if done properly, but clearly he
was doing it for the sake of his own pride, rather than allowing it to draw him nearer to God.
Tithes went toward the temple, improving the lives of the already-wealthy Sadducees who
maintained it, but doing nothing for the benefit of Jerusalem’s poor.

And that’s what pride does: it singles us out, elevating us above everyone else. And in
doing so, we forget that Jesus said the command that is “like unto” the First Commandment, loving God with all is to love our neighbors as ourselves. Pride says we’re better than our neighbors. Humility says “I’m on the same level as everyone else.” And when we recognize that, we can acknowledge that we are beloved recipients of God’s mercy, but have not earned His favor through self-righteousness, and we can recognize that it is our duty to keep our ego in check, see everyone around us as our equal, and go forward loving them as God loves us.

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