I know I have, only to later find myself humbly confessing those very sins. If there’s one thing the Bible is clear about it’s that we’re all capable of great evil, and that despite our attempts to rank sins from bad to really really bad, God views our sin much in the same way. Our pride is direly misplaced.

Our Daily Bread reminds us today that our response to someone else’s sin should be alertness rather than smug pride that we haven’t done the same:

It has become so commonplace to hear of the misconduct of a respected public figure that even though we may be deeply disappointed, we are hardly surprised. But how should we respond to the news of a moral failure, whether by a prominent person or a friend? We might begin by looking at ourselves. A century ago, Oswald Chambers told his students at the Bible Training College in London, Always remain alert to the fact that where one man has gone back is exactly where anyone may go back . . . . Unguarded strength is double weakness.

Chambers words echo Pauls warning to be aware of our own vulnerability when we see the sins of others. After reviewing the disobedience of the Israelites in the wilderness (1 Cor. 10:1-5), Paul urged his readers to learn from those sins so they wouldnt repeat them (vv.6-11). He focused not on past failings but on present pride when he wrote, Let him who thinks he stands take heed lest he fall (v.12).

The devotional above reminded me of the parable that Jesus told in Luke 18:9-14 about the Pharisee and the tax collector. In it, Jesus tells the story of the Pharisee and the tax collector praying at the temple. The Pharisee thanks God for everything he’s not, the tax collector merely asks for mercy for his sins. Jesus concludes by saying that the tax collector was justified before God, not the Pharisee.

Have you been comparing your “goodness” to others? What would it take for you to spend some time today humbling yourself before God?

How would you behave in a similar situation, upon discovering that a painful truth you tried to keep secret was actually plain for all to see? Does your reaction change when it’s God and not other people who can see through your mask? That’s the question A Slice of Infinity asks in this devotional:

Imagine finding out that the one thing you have desperately attempted to keep veiled in secrecy was not actually veiled at all. The thought bears the unsettling sense of finding yourself unclothed before a crowded room. Would you feel foolish? Would you run and hide? Or would you insist the veil was still there? [Hans Christian] Andersen ends with a glimpse into the mind of the king: “[The words of the child] made a deep impression upon the emperor, for it seemed to him that they were right. But he thought to himself regardless, ‘Now I must bear up to the end.'” Idols are not easy to own up to; how much more so, when what we idolize is not really there in the first place….

Perhaps Paul’s instruction to “put off falsehood” is sometimes a call to “put off” what is not even there. The call of Christ is no different. He calls us unto himself and requires that we give him everything, but we must come without costume or pretense. We must come as much ready to be honest with ourselves as with him. In the journey of the Christian pilgrim, we walk with Christ through crowds of lost and deceived sheep toward the Cross, and like the disciples on the road to Emmaus our eyes are opened to our own lost and deceived ways. It is as if Jesus himself is a mirror and we are inspecting our new clothes. But he will take from our shoulders our robes of self-importance and false security. He will tear from our grasp our garments of self-pity and shame. Then he will clothe us with garments of salvation and array us in robes of righteousness, and he will remind us that we are his bride.

Have you struggled to relinquish a long-held way of thinking about yourself in the face of Jesus’ call? Is it comforting or terrifying to know that Jesus sees us exactly as we are, no matter what masks we put on to fool ourselves or others?