Our Sunday Table

Stop Grading Sin: Heaven Is Not Earned

This week’s scripture: Romans 3:19-20 | James 2:10 | Luke 18:9-14.

This week, during Bible study, Pastor Ben led us into a conversation that I believe every one of us needs to have from time to time. We were talking about sin, righteousness, and salvation. And somewhere in the middle of that conversation, a question came up that really made me think: Are we going to heaven because of how good we have been, or because of what Jesus Christ has done for us?

Now, before you answer that question too quickly, I want you to think about something. Have you ever heard about something someone did and immediately thought, ‘Oh my goodness! How could they do such a thing?’ Maybe it was someone who committed adultery, betrayed a friend, stole money, abandoned their family, or did something that you simply couldn’t imagine yourself doing. And perhaps you didn’t say anything out loud. Maybe you even prayed for them. But somewhere deep inside, there was this quiet thought: ‘I could never do that.’ Or perhaps something a little more subtle. ‘I know I’m not perfect, but at least I’ve never done THAT.’

Can we be honest with each other for a moment? I think many of us have been there. We may not consciously believe we’re better than anyone else, but sometimes our hearts begin making comparisons without our permission. We look at someone else’s sin, measure it against our own, and somehow walk away feeling just a little more righteous. And the interesting thing is that we may not even recognize what we’ve just done. We’ve started grading sin.

We’ve created a little scale in our minds. Some sins go at the top because we consider them terrible, while others sit comfortably near the bottom because, well, those are the ones we’re more familiar with. We might never cheat on our spouses, but perhaps we harbor unforgiveness. We might never steal someone’s money, but perhaps we gossip about them. We might never publicly humiliate someone, but perhaps we privately look down on them. And because our sins don’t look quite as shocking as someone else’s, we begin to feel a little safer in our own righteousness.

But here’s the problem. God never asked us to establish our righteousness by comparing ourselves to another sinner. He calls us to examine our hearts before Him.

When the Mirror Becomes a Window

There’s a passage in Luke 18 that comes to mind. Jesus tells the story of two men who went to the temple to pray. One was a Pharisee, a man who was very familiar with God’s law and religious practices. The other was a tax collector, someone society generally regarded as a sinner. The Pharisee stood and began thanking God that he was not like other people. He wasn’t a thief. He wasn’t an adulterer. He fasted. He tithed. And then he did something that I think should make all of us uncomfortable. He pointed out the tax collector. Essentially, he said, ‘Thank God I’m not like him.’

Meanwhile, the tax collector couldn’t even bring himself to lift his eyes toward heaven. He simply cried out for God’s mercy. And Jesus said it was the tax collector who went home justified before God. Isn’t that something? The Pharisee had an impressive religious résumé, but somewhere along the way, his good works had become a reason to elevate himself above another person. The tax collector, on the other hand, understood something the Pharisee had forgotten. He needed mercy.

And perhaps that is where we sometimes get into trouble. We spend so much time looking through the window at what everyone else is doing wrong that we forget to look into the mirror of God’s Word.

But Surely Some Sins Are Worse Than Others?

Now, I think it’s important that we understand something. Not every sin carries the same gravity or consequences. Scripture itself recognizes differences in responsibility, knowledge, and the seriousness of wrongdoing. And we should never minimize the harm caused by serious sins, especially when innocent people have been hurt. But that’s not really the point of our conversation. The question isn’t whether one person’s actions may be more serious than another’s. The question is whether someone else’s sin somehow makes us righteous. And the answer is no.

James 2:10 reminds us that whoever keeps the whole law but stumbles in one point becomes accountable for breaking the law. And Romans 3 teaches us that the law reveals our sin rather than providing us with a way to boast about our righteousness. In other words, none of us gets to stand before God and say: ‘Lord, I know I wasn’t perfect, but did You see what everybody else was doing?’ Because salvation was never supposed to be a competition between sinners. It is a gift of God’s grace through Jesus Christ. And the more we understand that grace, the less interested we should become in proving that we’re better than somebody else.

That Quiet Voice That Says, ‘I Would Never’

There’s something else I want us to consider. Sometimes the very thing we condemn most strongly in another person is something we have never had to struggle with ourselves. And because we’ve never faced that particular temptation, we assume we never could. But how much of our ability to resist certain sins has been shaped by God’s grace, our circumstances, our upbringing, or even the opportunities we have never encountered? I’m not saying that circumstances excuse wrongdoing. They don’t. But I am saying that we should be very careful about the confidence with which we declare what we would never do.

Remember Peter? Peter loved Jesus. I don’t think we can reasonably question that. And when Jesus told him that he would deny Him, Peter was certain it could never happen. Even if everyone else fell away, Peter insisted that he would remain faithful. Yet before the rooster crowed, Peter had denied knowing Jesus three times. The same man who confidently declared his loyalty discovered just how weak human strength could be when tested.

And I wonder whether there is a lesson there for us. Sometimes the difference between the person who fell and the person still standing is not that one is inherently better, but that one has not faced the same test. That’s why Paul tells us in 1 Corinthians 10:12: ‘Therefore, whoever thinks he is standing secure should take care not to fall.’ What a reminder. Perhaps instead of saying, ‘I would never do that,’ we should learn to say: ‘Lord, thank You for Your grace. Keep my heart close to You, because I know I cannot stand without You.’

So, Does That Mean Our Good Works Don’t Matter?

Absolutely not. And I think this is another place where we need to be careful. Salvation is not something we can purchase through enough prayers, church attendance, charitable donations, or good behavior. We cannot place our good works on a scale and demand heaven as our payment. Everything begins with God’s grace. But grace is not an invitation to continue living however we please. It is an invitation to be transformed.

When we truly encounter Jesus, that encounter should begin changing how we think, how we love, how we forgive, and how we treat others. Our obedience matters. Our choices matter. The way we respond to God’s grace matters. But we must understand the order. We do not love and obey God to make Him owe us salvation. We love and obey Him because His grace has reached our hearts and is teaching us to become more like Christ. Good works are meant to be the fruit of a life transformed by grace, not trophies we display to prove our superiority over others. And perhaps one of the greatest signs of that transformation is the humility with which we begin to regard other people. Because the closer we draw to Jesus, the more aware we become of how desperately we need Him.

Let Me Bring This a Little Closer to Home

I want to invite you to think about the last time you heard something unpleasant about another person. Maybe it was someone you know personally. Maybe it was a public figure, a church leader, a family member, or even a complete stranger. What was the very first thing that happened in your heart? Not necessarily what you said. Not what you posted. Not even what you prayed afterward. I’m talking about that first, quiet reaction. Was it compassion? Was it sadness? Was it a desire for truth, justice, repentance, and restoration? Or was there a small part of you that felt reassured because, at least in that particular area, you were doing better?

I think these are the kinds of questions we need to be willing to ask ourselves. Not because we should stop recognizing sin for what it is. And certainly not because we should excuse harmful behavior or abandon accountability. But because we can recognize that something is wrong without allowing pride to convince us that we are somehow above the person who did it. Jesus never asked us to pretend sin doesn’t matter. He calls us to confront it with truth, humility, and love. And before we become too comfortable examining someone else’s failures, perhaps we should invite the Holy Spirit to examine our own hearts. Because sometimes the most dangerous thing about self-righteousness is how easily it disguises itself as holiness.

A Little Something to Take Into Your Week

This week, I want to leave you with three questions. First: Is there someone whose sin I have quietly used to make myself feel more righteous? Second: Have I become so comfortable identifying the failures of others that I’ve stopped paying attention to the areas where God is still working on me? And finally: Am I living as someone who is grateful for God’s mercy, or as someone who secretly believes I have earned it? You don’t have to answer these questions for anyone else. Just bring them before the Lord.

And perhaps the next time you hear about someone else’s failure, before you say, ‘I would never,’ allow your heart to whisper something different: ‘Lord, have mercy on them. And Lord, have mercy on me too.’ Because at the foot of the cross, there is no room for boasting. There is only room for grace, repentance, and the transforming love of Jesus Christ.

Let’s Pray Together

Heavenly Father, Thank You for Your mercy, Your patience, and the gift of salvation through Your Son, Jesus Christ. Lord, forgive us for the times we have quietly elevated ourselves above others because their sins looked different from ours. Forgive us for the judgments we have made in our hearts, even when our lips remained silent. Give us the humility to recognize that apart from Your grace, we are all in need of Your mercy. Teach us to hate sin without despising the sinner. Help us to recognize wrongdoing without becoming self-righteous, and to extend compassion without compromising truth. Father, search our hearts. Expose the pride we sometimes disguise as holiness, the judgment we disguise as discernment, and the self-reliance we disguise as righteousness. Remind us that our hope is not in how much better we appear to be than others, but in the saving work of Jesus Christ. May our good works flow from hearts transformed by Your grace, and may our lives reflect the humility, mercy, and love of Christ. And when we are tempted to say, ‘I would never,’ remind us to pray instead, ‘Lord, keep me faithful.’ In Jesus’ name, Amen.

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Well, that’s a little of what we took away from our Sunday Bible study. And before we leave the table today, I want to ask you something. Have you ever caught yourself quietly judging someone else’s sin, only to realize that God was inviting you to examine your own heart? I’d love to hear your thoughts. Until we gather again at our Sunday Table, may the Lord keep nourishing you with His Word, softening your heart with His grace, and drawing you ever closer to Him. With love and prayers,