Humble Exaltation
By Anthony Casperson
8-2-25

A pair of boys had grown up together as neighbors and friends. They did everything together. And were nearly inseparable. A person could hardly say the name of one without having the other’s name quickly upon their lips.

Interests and dreams matched about as nearly as they could between the two friends. Together, they viewed a problem with their world that they wished to fix. Thus, they chose the same college and career. It would be possible to solve this problem, if they did it together.

But around that time, a few differences in approach revealed themselves.

One friend felt as if the solution to the problem was of such importance that any limitation in their process was lesser. They ran through, around, and over any barrier. Speed bumps were just the invention of people who benefited from the problem. This friend began to do whatever he could to solve the problem, even if it hurt others.

However, the other friend looked more into what the pair had considered to be a problem. Time and perspective taught him that, while the problem still had to be solved, the solution that the pair of men had come up with as boys was too simplistic in its assumptions. There was greater nuance required. He needed a greater posture of humility to solve the issue.

The men still worked with each other for a while as these differences of perspective arose. But they eventually realized that they couldn’t work together anymore. They hadn’t even been working on the same solution for a long time anyway.

When the pair split up, the first friend held the second with contempt. “You’ve become just like the rest of them,” he said. “Refusing to take the solution that’s been in front of you this whole time. You know it’s there, for crying out loud. We’ve tried working on this solution forever.”

The second friend tried to explain, “We’re not kids anymore, man. Look and realize how many people that methodology will hurt.”

“But think how much good it’ll do,” said the first.

“At what cost?” the second shot back.

Before the argument could continue, the first man sighed in disgust, shook his head, and left the room. Reverberations from the door’s slam were heard in the next building over.

The truth was that the second friend was correct. The solution they’d come up with as younger men held disastrous consequences. But because the first man self-righteously believed that he was the one without error, he failed to recognize the fault in his approach. Instead, he looked down on another who failed to believe and do exactly what he was doing.

In essence, the first man had become one more in a long line of good-intentioned people who made things worse, despite claiming to solve the problem.

The second man, however, recognized the need for humility and a reevaluation of the way they’d been doing things for so long. This new perspective helped him come to understand the error of his previous ways, and his need for a different solution. His was more correct. Or, at least, it moved him closer to the right direction.

This idea of self-righteousness blinding us from our need for humility is central to this week’s passage from our summer series “Mysteries of the Kingdom” as we look through the parables of Jesus and how they teach us the ethic of the Kingdom of God.

In truth, the parable shows us how self-righteousness is a method of self-exultation that will only lead to much-needed humility. Meanwhile, a humble perspective that rightly places one’s own level of righteousness is rewarded by God with a proper exultation.

Our parable this week is the one immediately following last week’s, both from Luke 18. While verses 1-8 taught us the need for confident persistence in justice, here in verses 9-14 we see Jesus speaking to people who were too confident in their own self-righteous version of justice.

Verse 9 immediately shows us Jesus’ purpose from teaching this parable. (Again, the lesson comes right before the story, just to make sure we understand the point.) He noticed that the crowd held a number of people who—wrongly—thought themselves righteous over and above the rest of the gathered individuals. As always happens, the self-righteous comforted themselves through proud comparison to others.

And such comparisons proved to willfully blind the self-righteous from any of their own failings, especially those which refute their theory of righteousness.

To this crowd, Jesus tells a story of two men. They certainly weren’t friends, like the men from my introductory story. Rather, the two men couldn’t be more opposed from one another. The first was a Pharisee, the social and religious elite of Jewish culture at the time. These were the men put on a pedestal due to their “rigorous piety.” On the opposite side of the spectrum stood a tax collector. These were the traitors to their Jewish brethren. People who “sold their souls to Rome” in order to gain some financial benefit.

We today, have heard this parable—or one like it—so often that we know who the actual good guy and bad guy are right away. But remember that to the Jewish crowd, including any tax collectors actually in the audience, the Pharisee would be the culturally-acceptable good guy in the story. He’s supposed to be the one that we all know is the righteous one.

With this in mind, Jesus subverted the audience’s expectation, while leaning into ours.

The Pharisee stood in the middle of the temple in the perfect prayerful posture of the day, upright with head directed up to the sky. And I’m sure the guy pushed those words out with the full force of his diaphragm. Those words appeared to be humble, because he started with a thankful word to God, but proved themselves to be prideful in the end.

Look at verse 11 and see the comparisons he uses to fuel his self-righteousness even in the middle of his supposed thankfulness to God. “Thank you for not making me like those other men. Not like those extortioners, or the unjust, or the adulterers.” Well, who wouldn’t look good in that comparison, Mr. Pharisee? Any other low-hanging fruit you wanna step over?

His answer to that question would’ve been “Yes.” He looked over and saw the tax collector. Then, fully expecting to get a laugh from the temple crowds, who could undoubtedly hear the Pharisee’s word, he exclaimed, “OH AND THANK YOU GOD FOR NOT MAKING ME LIKE THAT TAX COLLECTOR OVER THERE.”

And the guy didn’t stop after his tirade of comparisons. With everyone listening, the Pharisee listed off the various good deeds that he’d done throughout the week. “I’m not like those sinners because I do everything right all the time. And even go above and beyond in my righteousness. I fast on Mondays and Thursdays, like all Pharisees do. Regular people might occasionally fast, but we prove the rigors of our faithfulness through those weekly fasts. And I give my tithe perfectly from everything I own. There’s no skimming off the top, like I’m sure those traitorous tax collectors do.”

Can I just ask, who does this Pharisee think he’s praying to? He gives lipservice to God, with thankfulness in his name. But the rest of his words look like he’s basking in his own glory instead of the glory of the God in whose temple he stands.

Anyway, back to Jesus’ story, we see Jesus turn the narrative camera over to the other man. The tax collector bows in such a humble posture that he wouldn’t even look up to God. His stance was like a supplicant before a king, laid low with his nose as close to the ground as it could go.

In lament, the tax collector beat his breast. He grieved over the dire nature of his sin. His words showing that he was only comparing himself to God, the righteous judge who stands perfectly holy. When taking that comparison, the man could only call himself a sinner. The Greek speaks even more to this humble posture because the tax collector calls himself the sinner, as if he were the chief of sinners.

In verse 14, we see that Jesus flipped the script because he said the tax collector went home as the one who was justified—made righteous—while the Pharisee remained fully in his own self-righteousness.

The one whom God exalts is the one willing to humble himself before God. But the one who exalts himself without humility will be humiliated.

Oftentimes, we willingly blind ourselves to the truth about our own self-righteousness. Instead, we compare ourselves to others, especially those against whom we could never fail. Thus, we consider ourselves amazingly good and godly people. We have to be with all of those sinners out there.

But what we don’t realize is that our methodology is hurting others. Not only hurting ourselves because self-righteousness will never allow true righteousness in. But also we’re hurting others because we’re selling a level of self-made righteousness that’s impossible to produce.

All we end up doing is making a list of dos and don’ts while we hold in contempt those who fail to live up to our self-imposed standards. When we do this, we’re calling others to strive after the impossible and making them feel bad about it when they fail, as if we could ever live up to it all the time ourselves.

Rather, true righteousness is about humility. Comparing ourselves to the perfect God, and realizing how much we need him to overcome our sinfulness. The righteous person realizes their sin and seeks God’s help, instead of ignoring that sin and hoping that our good deeds cover it up.

The only thing that can cover our sin is the blood of Jesus. The pure gift of God who sacrificed himself to bring us back to right relationship with him. The Lamb of God who humbled himself so that he could die on the cross for us.

Let’s follow the example of the tax collector and Jesus himself. Humbly admit that we are sinners in need of God’s mercy. When we make that comparison, we will be humbly exalted by God. That’s much better than lifting ourselves up with a self-righteousness that will only lead to our eventual fall.