Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! You clean the outside of the cup and dish, but inside they are full of greed and self-indulgence. Blind Pharisee! First clean the inside of the cup, so that the outside of it may also become clean. [Matthew 23:25-26 (CSB)]
When I put my mug under the hot water tap, I saw the stain. Fresh out of the dishwasher, the mug was clean on the outside but had a dark tea stain inside. As I applied some elbow grease and Bon Ami, I thought of Jesus’ criticism of the Pharisees. Like my mug, their exterior looked spotless but their interior was soiled. Unlike my tea-stained mug, however, it would take more than scouring powder to correct their problem. Rather than stained by tea tannins, the Pharisees were tainted by a host of sins starting with hypocrisy and moving right through to pride, judgment, self-righteousness, and more.
More interested in their external righteousness than God’s holiness, the Pharisees developed ways of appearing godly without being godly. Conspicuous in their strict adherence to both the oral and written law, they made a show of their piety. With their focus on external purity and cleanliness, like my mug, they looked good on the outside. But, as we know, looks can be deceiving! Appearing to be godly isn’t the same as having God in our hearts!
While scouring the mug, I wondered if I, like the Pharisees of old, had some internal stains that needed removing. Is there a disconnect between my head and heart—a discrepancy between my external behavior and my internal thoughts and motives? Am I seeking to glorify God with my words and actions or am I pursuing the approval and admiration of people? Could I be I more interested in looking good than being and doing good?
For that matter, am I ever easily offended or overly critical of others in small matters? Do I nitpick about things of no consequence, assume the worst about other people, or pass judgment on them? Have I been known to profess knowledge of God’s law without practicing obedience to it? Do I ever justify my behavior while condemning the same thing in others or think of myself as more devout or virtuous than someone else? Are there times I boast of my accomplishments or diminish those of others? Like the Pharisees, could I be spiritually blind when it comes to my faults but the possessor of 20/20 vision when it comes to the faults of others?
Guilty as charged; my head and heart are not always on the same page. I’m as stained on the inside as were the Pharisees. Clearly, the Spirit and I have some work to do that has nothing to do with scouring powder!
Just because we’re not ancient Pharisees who enlarged the phylacteries on their arms, lengthened the tassels on their robes, and stopped in the middle of the road to make a show of bowing low during their prayers doesn’t mean we’re not like them. The weeks of Lent are a good time to take a hard look at the inside of our cups (not the ones we use for coffee and tea) and do some serious scrubbing! For the Pharisees of yesterday and today, godliness, like beauty, is only skin deep. True godliness, however, should go through and through into our innermost being.
Sometimes we emulate the Pharisees more than we imitate Christ. [R.C. Sproul]
A Pharisee is hard on others and easy on himself, but a spiritual man is easy on others and hard on himself. [A.W. Tozer]
We tend to think of fasting during Lent as abstaining from certain foods, drinks, or activities. Several years ago, however, I was asked, “What if you fasted regret? What if your friends fasted comparison? What would be the fruit of fasting stinginess?” Those questions proposed an entirely different kind of fast than refraining from sweets or social media. In truth, fasting from things like self-righteousness, discontent, and criticism is probably harder (and more meaningful) than giving up energy drinks or dining out.
In a cartoon drawn by Paul Noth, an enormous political billboard overlooks a pasture inhabited by a flock of sheep. Looking up at the picture of a grinning wolf in coat and tie saying, “I am going to eat you!” one sheep tells another, “He tells it like it is.” Would that all politicians were so forthright!
A certain amount of discontent seems to be built into us, which isn’t all bad since discontent can be the incentive to make improvements. Dissatisfaction with the harpsichord’s inability to vary the intensity of its sound led Bartolomeo Cristofori to invent the piano around 1708. Benjamin Franklin’s annoyance at having to switch between two pairs of glasses led to his invention of bifocals and it probably was his discontent with a cold house that led to his invention of the metal-lined Franklin stove. The invention of the “ballbarrow,” with its rust-proof plastic bin and ball-shaped wheel that won’t sink into soft soil, is the result of James Dyson’s discontent with the traditional wheelbarrow. As Thomas Edison said, “Discontent is the first necessity of progress.”
Many years ago, my two boys were playing at their grandparents’ house. While Grandpa worked in the garden, the brothers climbed up into the apple tree and started to throw apples at him. A patient man, their grandfather told them to stop and, when more apples came whizzing at him, he offered a sterner warning. After briefly stopping their barrage, the rascals were unable to resist the temptation and chucked more apples at Grandpa. To their surprise, this gentle and loving man turned around, picked up some apples, and returned fire. Having played ball as a boy, Gramps had a strong throwing arm and excellent aim. He didn’t pull any punches as he pitched those apples back at his grandsons. The boys, unable to maneuver easily in the tree, quickly learned the meaning of “as easy as shooting fish in a rain barrel.” When they called, “Stop, Grandpa, it hurts!” he replied, “Yes, I know it does, but you needed to learn that!” It wasn’t until those hard apples hit their bodies that the youngsters understood how much their disobedience hurt their grandfather (both physically and emotionally).
Many years ago, while my son and his pals were playing baseball in the field next to the Miller house, the ball ended up going through the Miller’s window! When my son returned home, he asked me to call Mrs. Miller and ask for the return of his ball. Once I knew how the ball came to be in her possession, I told him he had to pay for the broken window before getting back his ball. So, for the next few weeks, the boy worked extra chores to pay off his debt.
