There are two types of people I’ve met who are terrified of doing something wrong. First, those who know the repercussions of their mistake and don’t want to face the consequences. Second, those with an undercover or overt sense of self-righteousness.
The first isn’t necessarily a bad thing. For example, I met a neighbor many years ago who refused to drive with an open bottle of alcohol in his car – he knew if he was pulled over, he’d either lose his license or face similarly devastating consequences. So there was no chance he was going to risk it. Similarly, if we know we’re walking a tight rope or otherwise facing massive implications if we fail, we will likely do everything within our power to not misstep.
The second goes deeper. The self-righteousness means our perception of ourselves, our ideals, and even our spiritual standing is on the line if we as much as say a bad word or run a traffic light. We have to keep up the manufactured appearance of perfection, usually in our own strength. Otherwise, our view of our righteousness crumbles, and we’re left knowing what we should have known all along: It’s not by righteousness that we stand, but by the grace of God (Titus 3:5).
The trouble with self-righteousness is that it can present itself as so holy. It’s church culture to pressure us to do the right things all of the time. Through doing the right things, we gain acceptance with church members and we avoid being told we are wrong. Perhaps we’re admired for our “spiritual maturity.” We also feel that by doing the right things we can avoid condemnation from Jesus. I’m all for doing the right things, but if we do it to avoid the pain of being corrected, that’s not the essence of Christianity. According to the Apostle John, fear of punishment means we have not yet been made perfect in Love – and therefore have not been made perfect in God, because God is love (1 John 4:18, 1 John, 4:8).
Self-righteousness is also exhausting. You’re always afraid you’ll make a mistake. You’re always looking for cracks in your righteousness so you can patch them up before anyone sees them. You might very well live a double life – one inside that knows your weakness and another for everyone to see. To combat the exhaustion, it’s tempting to make rules for yourself: I don’t do this, I don’t this, I don’t do that. I don’t even do this innocent thing because it might let me get close to something else that might tarnish my righteousness. The Pharisees were experts at this type of self-righteousness. Jesus said they, “crush people with unbearable religious demands and never lift a finger to ease the burden” (Matthew 23:4)
What’s the antidote to self-righteousness? It’s not self-depreciation and only looking at the sin in your life and how horrible you are. (Despite what church culture might have taught you, that’s denying God’s power to save you and transform you – the old is gone, the new has come! (2 Corinthians 5:17)) The opposite of self-righteousness is humility, and one of the quickest ways to humility is living your genuine self. This is not cussing and dishonoring and otherwise being obnoxious because “this is who I really am.” That’s not who you are; it’s the pain inside you trying to find an outlet because you haven’t yet allowed Jesus to heal that pain (or the healing just hasn’t come… yet.)
Living a genuine life means you don’t try to protect your ugliness, your secrets if you will, from the light of God’s love. It means you don’t put up a facade to pretend you’re something you’re not (as much as there are situations where you should absolutely be “on best behavior.”) It means you tell the truth. It means you trust God enough that if you should make a mistake, you believe He will forgive you.
Give up your right to presenting yourself as righteous, and you might be amazed how much more peace enters your life. Instead of striving for impossible perfection, you can allow the Holy Spirit to direct you – and you know you’re accepted and cleansed by God even if you do run that red light.
