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There is no Heaven for good people
Luke 18:9-14
May 3, 2009
This morning we’re going to take a “Goodness Test.” I’m going to name several famous people and I want you to think about this question: How does my morality “measure up” to the morality of that person’s morality? Are they a better, more moral person than I am or am I better, more moral than they are? So how would you measure up against Mother Theresa? What about Hitler? Are you more moral or less moral than say, Miley Cyrus? What about another pop singer, Amy Winehouse? How do you measure up against Billy Graham? One more, are you more or less moral than, Hugh Hefner?
Most of us, if we measure our “morality,” our “goodness” against the standards provided by a list like this find that some of people make us feel pretty good about ourselves and some make us feel like we’ve still got quite a few rungs to go on the old morality ladder. Now, this kind of activity is not a very healthy way to go about measuring how good or moral or righteous we are. Measuring your goodness by the goodness of other people won’t get you any closer to an actual understanding of who you really are, yet that’s exactly what someone in one of Jesus’ stories does. My Bible is open to Luke 18:9-14 (p. 742).
Jesus’ story is about two men who were as different as they could be. One man had everything. He looked good and appeared to be on his way to heaven, but he never made it. The other man appeared to have nothing to recommend himself to God. He looked bad, but he ended up justified by God. The man who looks so good ends up looking bad; the man who looks so bad ends up looking good. How can that be?
We’ll never fully grasp the answer to that question until we understand why Jesus told this story in the first place. Look again at vs. 9, “To some who were confident of their own righteousness and looked down on everybody else, Jesus told this parable.” The key to this parable is not in the story but in the audience. Jesus was speaking to people “who were confident in their own righteousness.” What kind of people are like that? They have two primary qualifications: 1) Because of their “goodness” they think that they’re better than everyone else. 2) Because they think they’re better than everybody else, they look down their noses at everyone else.
Evidently, this was a major problem in Jesus’ day. It’s certainly a major problem today. Those who reason this way foolishly do not realize that there is There is no Heaven for good people
Can I warn you about something very important this morning? Please do not think this story is for someone else. It’s not. This story is for you and it’s for me. In fact, the more religious you are, the “gooder” you appear, the more you need to ponder this parable. Jews thought that being Abraham's descendants and obeying the Law of Moses separated them from the Gentile "dogs." They thought they were a notch above others and would be accepted into heaven because of their Jewish heritage and their moral lives. But Jesus upends that view with this parable. He shows that…1. The wrong way to approach God is by your own good works. Jesus sets the scene in vs. 10. Two men go to the Temple to pray. One was a Pharisee; the other a tax collector. It doesn’t take a genius to figure the story out. The Pharisee in this story is supposed to be the good guy; the tax collector is supposed to be the bad guy. When you read the first part of this story, you’re supposed to cheer for the Pharisee because he’s the one you’re supposed to want to be like. When you read about the tax collector, you’re supposed to boo and hiss because you know that he’s the bad guy.
The amazing thing about this story is that Jesus starts with a good guy and a bad guy but by the time we get to the end of the story, the good guy has become the bad guy and the bad guy has become the good guy.
Let me make two comments about this story. First, the good man in this story is genuinely good. He’s a Pharisee. Today the word Pharisee is a dirty word. If somebody calls you a Pharisee, you’ll probably be offended. It’s an insult to our way of thinking, "You Pharisee!” We don’t like it when someone calls us that. But in Jesus’ day to be a Pharisee was anything but an insult. To be a Pharisee was to be in the highest rank of religious people. Historians tell us that there were never very many Pharisees—a few thousand or so, but not more than that. They were a small group of men who were widely admired for their sincere devotion to the Law of God. So when you read this story and it says, “the Pharisee went to pray,” you’re supposed to say, “Wow! All right! A Pharisee!” You’re not supposed to think, "Ugh! A Pharisee.”
But when you read about the tax collector, you’re supposed to turn up your nose because they were government sponsored thieves who got rich ripping others off. He’s a selfish, dishonest, greedy man who has no qualms about ripping off his fellow countrymen for his own advantage. Publicans cheated the common man and were considered spiritually unclean because they did business with the hated Romans.
If Jesus were telling the story today, He might use a Baptist preacher and a child molester. The contrasting affect those two individuals have on today’s audience is exactly what the Pharisee and the Publican had on Jesus’ audience. But things aren’t always what they seem to be.
a) Those who try to come to God by their good works are trusting in themselves. When you read the story about the Pharisee, a number of specific statements are made about his piety. Please note that everything the man says about himself is true. For instance, when he says, "I thank you that I am not like other men," he was telling the truth, he wasn't like other men. He had a standard of morality that was far above the standard of that day. When he said, "I fast twice a week;" that’s really true. Pharisees fasted on Monday and Thursday of every week. When he says, "I give tithes of all I possess," he means he tithes on the gross and not on the net. He went beyond the Law of Moses. That's no big deal; all the Pharisees did that. When he says, "I am not a crook," he really isn't a crook. When he says, "I am not like this filthy tax collector," he's really not like that guy. When he says, "I do not commit adultery," he really doesn't commit adultery. He’s faithful to his wife. When he says, "I am honest, I am faithful, I am zealous for my religion," he means it and every word of it is true. He’s truly a genuinely good man. It reminds me of that old Mac Davis song, "Oh, Lord, it's hard to be humble, when you're perfect in every way."
What we’re to understand is this, when he prayed he was telling the truth. When he said, "Lord, you're lucky to have a guy like me, because I'm one of the best guys I know," it was really true. He really was a wonderful guy. While he prayed, people would be standing around watching. And they would say, "He's a fine man." While he prayed, they probably applauded. He was the kind of guy you'd want living next door to you, a good citizen, a law-abiding, religious kind of person. If he were to come to this church today we'd love him because he’d be faithful, loyal, and give us a lot of money. We might even make him a pastor or a deacon. He's just that kind of guy. He looks really good on the outside. Everything he says about himself is true. He’s a good guy.
Tragically, the majority of “Christians” in this country believe that if people are generally good, or do enough good things during their lives, they’ll earn a place in heaven? Some 54% think that if people are good enough, they’ll earn a place in heaven regardless of their religious beliefs. One-third of all professed born again Christians accept this false notion. No wonder Martin Luther said, "The most damnable and pernicious heresy that has ever plagued the mind of man was the idea that somehow he could make himself good enough to deserve to live with an all-holy God."
To trust in ourselves is to distrust in God; the two are mutually exclusive. A person may protest, "I am trusting in both God and myself," but the truth is, he’s trusting in himself, not in God.
Let me illustrate that. Suppose you and I both had bad cases of debilitating arthritis and I’d been healed. You asked me, "What healed you?" and I said, "I drank a bottle of Pepto Bismol every day for a month." But just as you're running out the door to buy your Pepto Bismol, I shout after you, "And I also took ten Excedrin every day that month." Suddenly, you're not so sure about the Pepto Bismol. Did it cause the cure or did the Excedrin cause it, or some combination of the two? Adding anything to the Pepto Bismol detracts from its testimony, that it alone cured me. The makers of Excedrin could boast their product had a part in the cure as well.
Scripture declares that we are saved by grace through faith apart from works (Eph. 2:8-9). Because if we add just a tiny amount of human works to what God has done, we will boast in our works and detract from the finished work of Christ. To try to come to God by our good works is to trust in ourselves, even if those works are mingled with faith.
Did you catch this about the Pharisee's prayer? “The Pharisee stood up and prayed about himself,” meaning that he was praying so as to be heard only by himself. He’s praying to himself, not to God! His prayer mentions God once, but "I" four times! Godet in his commentary notes that “It was less a prayer in which he gave thanks to God, than a congratulation which he addressed to himself.” Though a good man in many ways, he’s heading down the wrong road. It won’t get him into heaven, because he’s trusting in his own goodness which can’t save anyone.
b) Those who try to come to God by their good works are looking down on others. Someone said that "Pride, the idolatrous worship of self, is the national religion of hell." MacArthur says, “Some people get so caught up in their own holiness that they look at the Trinity for a possible vacancy.” Luke is very clear about this in vs. 9. Invariably, the person who trusts in his own righteousness looks down on others who have not achieved his level of holiness. He may couch his pride in religious language, as this man does: "I thank You that I am not like other people." He tips his hat to God, but he’s still boasting in himself as being fundamentally different than these sinners that he mentions.
Pride is a damnable sin. It’s the original sin of Satan and of the human race, who thought that they knew better than God. It’s safe to say that every sin we commit is rooted in pride. If you think that you’re somehow better than others, you’re trusting in your own good works, not in the grace of God. One preacher put things into perspective when he said, “If you ever start to feel proud, just remember that soon after your body has been lowered into the grave, your family and friends will be eating potato salad and telling jokes, and you’ll be history.”
c) Those who try to come to God by their good works are comparing themselves to others, not to God. The reason this Pharisee thought he was so good was that he was comparing himself with swindlers, perverts and greedy rip-off artists. We all can find those who outwardly are more wicked than us. and then congratulate ourselves on our own holiness. Yet, if we looked the other direction, we also could find many who are far better than we are, people who’ve given their very lives for others. But those who try to come to God by their good works rarely, if ever, compare themselves to those who are better than they are. And they never compare themselves to God and His perfect holiness!
Line up the very best humans who’ve ever lived and they’ve all sinned and fall hopelessly short of the glory of God. God cannot and will not tolerate any sin in heaven. It’s useless to compare ourselves with one another. God's perfect righteousness is the only standard.
d) Those who try to come to God by their good works are looking at things outwardly, not at their hearts before God. The Pharisee was thinking of all of his good deeds, the fasting, the giving, plus probably a whole lot more things he’d done. But he wasn't looking at his own heart, which was filled with pride. God looks on the heart. Outwardly, we can smile and be friendly toward someone, while our heart hates him and is plotting revenge. Outwardly, we can give a million dollars, if we had that much, and people would say, "What a generous person!" But God is looking at our motives before Him. Did we give it to please God or to receive the applause of men?
No one who honestly examines his heart before God can hope to come before God on the basis of his own good works. We may clean up our outward behavior, but we can’t clean up our hearts. Only God can do that through the power of the new birth. That leads us to the second lesson here, exemplified in the tax gatherer…2. The only way to approach God is as an unworthy sinner pleading for mercy. One very lost, wicked, and rebellious man decided it would be good for business if he went down to the church and joined it. He was an adulterer, an alcoholic, and had never been a member of a church in his life. But when he went down to join the church membership, he gave public testimony to the church that there was no sin in his life, and that he’d grown up in the church. And they readily accepted him as a member.
When he went home he told his wife what he had done, and his wife, a very godly lady, exploded. She condemned him for being a hypocrite, and demanded that he go back to the church the next week and confess what he really was. Well, God used his wife to really break him, and he took it to heart. The next Sunday he went back to the church, walked down to the front again, and this time confessed to the church all of his sins. He told them he was dishonest, an alcoholic, an adulterer, and that he was sorry…and they revoked his membership on the spot. He walked out of the church that day scratching his head and muttered to himself: "These church folks are really strange. I told a lie and they took me in; and when I told the truth they kicked me out!"
That’s not the way it is with God. If you exalt yourself by presenting your good works to God, you’ll be humbled on judgment day. But if you humble yourself now before God and plead for His mercy, you’ll be exalted into His presence on that day. That means that…
a) To be accepted by God, we must approach Him as we are…unworthy sinners. If the Pharisee is genuinely good, the tax collector is genuinely bad. When it says he was a tax collector, we should read between the lines words like "dirty, rotten, no-good tax collector." That's what it means. He was no good. He’d rob you blind. Give a little money to the Romans, keep the rest himself. There wasn't anyone who was more hated than a tax collector. He’d done a lot of people wrong. He was a crook. When I say he was a dirty, rotten sinner, I'm not saying anymore than he said himself in this prayer. What was his prayer? "God be merciful to me a sinner."
There's something in the original text you ought to know. The Greek renders it this way: "God be merciful to me the sinner." As if he were saying, "I am the chief of all sinners. I am the worst of all sinners. I am as bad as bad can be." So when he said, "God be merciful to me the sinner," those around him who heard him pray that said, "Amen. That's right! You are the worst of all possible sinners."
Here’s the paradox of this story: A man as good as you can be on a moral basis. A man as bad as you can be in terms of the morality of this world. It's as if Jesus told a story and said, "Over here we have a Supreme Court Justice and over there we have a rapist. Over here we have the president and over there we have a prostitute."
The publican wouldn't even come as far into the temple as the proud Pharisee did. He stood back at some distance, unwilling even to lift up his eyes to heaven. He beat his breast, showing his true sorrow for what he’d done. But he didn't plead with God on the basis of his contrition. He didn't plead that he’d now reformed his life by turning a new corner. He didn't promise that things would be different in the future. He simply came to God as he was, an unworthy sinner, with no basis or merit in himself for laying hold of God. He asked God for mercy.
And that’s the only way any of us can come to God, because that’s what we all are, unworthy sinners who deserve His judgment. We must come honestly and say, "God, I’m a sinner who deserves nothing but Your judgment." The more you grow as a Christian, the more God shows you the utter sinfulness of your own heart. Charles Simeon observes, "Never are you higher in God's esteem than when you are lowest in your own."
b) To be accepted by God, we must approach Him as we are…pleading for His mercy. "God, be merciful to me, the sinner!" Please notice he approached God Himself, not via a priest or a minister. That’s how we all must come. God is the one you’ve sinned against; go directly to Him with your confession.
The man approached God personally. "Be merciful to me." He doesn't lump himself with others: "We all have done wrong." He didn't assume he’d get into heaven on the group plan, because he was a Jew or because his parents had been faithful synagogue members. He deals with God on a personal basis. That's the only way into heaven. You must come to God personally, just you and Him.
This man approached God asking for mercy, not for rewards based on his merits. He didn’t say, "Be merciful to me because I was humble enough to come and confess my sins." He didn't say, "Be merciful to me and I'll work hard to pay You back." He just said, "Be merciful to me, the sinner."
The word translated "be merciful" has in it the idea of propitiation, which refers to God's wrath being appeased because the proper penalty has been paid. Although this man, living under the Jewish sacrificial system, probably didn't understand Jesus would offer Himself as the perfect and final Lamb of God for the sins of the world, he did know that without the shedding of blood, there was no forgiveness for sins. Yet, it wasn’t the blood of bulls or goats or sheep that atoned for sin. They merely pointed ahead to what God's Savior would ultimately do in offering Himself in the place of sinners. They illustrate the principle of substitution, that God would accept the death of an acceptable substitute in place of the sinner's own death.
God can’t just shrug off our sins or He wouldn’t be just and righteous. The penalty for sin must be paid. Either we pay it or we trust in God to pay it for us through the acceptable sacrifice of His Son. To cry out to God for mercy is to trust in the only provision God has made for the penalty of our sins, the death of the Lord Jesus (Rom. 3:21-26). And there’s good news…3. When a sinner approaches God for mercy, He graciously, instantly justifies him/her. Look at vs. 14, "I tell you, this man went down to his house justified rather than the other." To justify means that God bangs the gavel at His judgment bench and declares, "Not guilty!" Not only does He remove the guilt of our sins, He also credits to our account the perfect righteousness of Jesus Christ, the substitute who suffered the penalty of God's wrath.
Why was the bad man saved? The bad man was saved because of what he said when he prayed. He prayed “God be merciful to me a sinner.” God—he prayed to the right person. Be merciful—he made the right request. To me a sinner—he made the right confession. It’s a simple prayer, just seven words in English. Someone called it a “holy telegram” from a sinner to the Lord. It’s short and to the point. He doesn’t even add any adjectives, such as “penitent,” though surely he felt sorry for his sins, or “reformed,” though surely his life would never be the same, or “honest,” though surely he was more honest than the Pharisee. He clings to nothing but the naked mercy of God. If that can’t save him, he has no other hope.
Notice his request: “God be merciful to me.” The phrase refers back to Old Testament times when on the Day of Atonement the High Priest would enter the Holy of Holies and sprinkle the blood of a goat on the “mercy seat,” the golden lid of the Ark of the Covenant. By the sprinkling of blood the High Priest demonstrated that God’s way of forgiveness always involves a blood sacrifice. The tax collector was praying, “God, be to me as you are when you look down and see the blood shed on the Mercy Seat.” He was praying, “O God, be merciful to me not on the basis of what I have done but on the basis of the blood shed by the substitute.”
What does that blood on the Mercy Seat point to in the New Testament? It points to the Lord Jesus Who died on the Cross and shed His blood so that the sins of the world could be forgiven. By virtue of the blood of Jesus Christ, you and I can have our sins forgiven. That’s what that bad man was praying for.
That bad man who’d wasted his life, that scoundrel, crook, cheat, that truly bad man came to God and asked for mercy. Looking back from our perspective, he was praying like this: “O God be merciful to me on the basis of the sacrifice of your Son, the Lord Jesus. Be merciful to me a sinner. Forgive me, not because of what I have done, not because I deserve it, but by virtue of the sprinkled blood of your Son, the Lord Jesus Christ.”Conclusion: Jesus gives us the shocking end of the story in verse 14: "I tell you that this man, rather than the other, went home justified before God."
This bad man, this sinful man, this scoundrel, this thief, this sinful tax collector went home justified. What about that other man-the good man, the Pharisee, the moral man, the law-abiding man? He went home still in his sin. The bad man went home justified and forgiven. He went home with his sins washed away. He went home in possession of eternal life. The tax collector went home justified on the basis of the mercy of God expressed in the bloody sacrificial death of Jesus Christ.
And it was immediate salvation. He prays and he's saved. Just like that. You might say, "It can’t be that easy." Yes it is. "I think you have to do something to be saved." This man didn't do anything. "You've got to promise something." This man didn't promise anything. "You've got to make a deal with God." This man didn't make a deal. He didn't have a deal to make and he had nothing to offer. He didn't promise anything. He didn't do anything. He didn't offer anything. He cried out for the mercy of God and the mercy of God was given to him. He didn't deserve it and yet it was given to him.
The Pharisee thought he deserved it and therefore he missed it. The tax collector knew he didn't deserve it and because he knew he didn't deserve it, therefore he received it. Isn't that amazing? The mercy of God comes to the people who seem to deserve it the least. The mercy of God misses the people who think they deserve it the most.
So why is this story in the Bible? I think that Jesus intends to teach us several crucial truths.
a) This story teaches us about the tremendous danger of religious self-deception. The Pharisee went through all the religious motions and the motions he went through were good. Not a thing he claimed was untrue. The things he was doing were actually good things. But because it was all outward, he walked away deceived and unjustified.
Religion, even good religion, leads you to Hell instead of Heaven if it’s not accompanied by a life-changing relationship with Jesus Christ. Because #1, it makes you focus on the external. #2, it makes you feel spiritually superior. #3, it makes you look down your nose at other people. #4, it draws you away from a total dependence upon God. Religion, even good religion, without Jesus Christ will send you to Hell. Do you know what's so dangerous about it? Without a life-changing encounter with Jesus Christ, religion leads you to Hell while making you think you’re going to Heaven. That's the shocking truth!
b) The worse sinners often make the best candidates for salvation. Why? Because they know they need to be saved. The tax collector knew he didn't have a chance. The Pharisee thought he was doing God a favor by showing up and praying. But the worst sinners often make the best candidate for salvation. Anybody here been sleeping around? You could be saved today. Anybody here use drugs this week? You could be saved today. Anybody here who’s murdered someone? You could be saved today. Anybody here far away from God and you feel like you don't belong in this church? Good news…I have good news for you. The worst sinners often make the best candidates for salvation and if you fit into the general category of sinner this morning, I urge you to run to the Cross of Christ and embrace the cross of Jesus as your only hope for salvation. The worst sinners can be saved.
c) Your only hope of going to heaven is to do what this bad man did. Cry out to God for His mercy on the basis of the blood of Jesus Christ. That's as plain as I can say it. That's a prayer God delights to answer.
In one of his books, John Warwick Montgomery, imagines a scene at the entrance to heaven where St. Peter is manning the entrance desk by the pearly gates. Up comes a fine looking man, all dressed up. When he rings the bell St. Peter says, "Can I help you?" And the man says, "I would like to have entrance into heaven." And St. Peter said, "Excellent. We're certainly glad to have you. We always want more people in heaven."
Then St. Peter says, "In order to enter heaven you have to earn 1000 points. The man said, "That shouldn't be any problem. I have been a very good man all my life. I've been very involved in civic things. I have always given a lot of money to charitable causes. For 25 years I was the chairman of the Community Chest fund drive." As St. Peter wrote it all down he said, "That's a marvelous record. That's one point."
Taken aback, the man added, "I was married to my wife for 45 years. I was always faithful. We had five children—three boys and two girls. I always loved them and spent a lot of time with them and made sure they got a good education. I always took good care of them and they turned out so well. I'm a real family man." St. Peter said, "I'm very impressed. We don't get too many people up here like you. That's another point."
Sweating profusely by now, the man started shaking. "You don't understand. I was active in my church. I went every Sunday. I gave money every time they passed the plate. I was a deacon and I taught Sunday school for 20 years." And St. Peter said, "Your record is certainly admirable. That's another point." Then he adds, "Let me add this up. That's one. That's two. That's three points. Only 997 to go."
Trembling, the man fell to his knees. In desperation he cried out, "But for the grace of God nobody could get in here!" St. Peter looked at him and smiled, "Congratulations, you've just received 1000 points."
Friend, do you want to go to heaven? You've got to get there by the grace of God or you won't get there at all. Salvation begins when a person understands that he cannot save himself. The door to heaven has a sign over the top and the sign says “FOR SINNERS ONLY.” There is no Heaven for good people.
If you qualify, come on in. Jesus died for sinners and for no one else. That's why the Pharisee was lost although he was good and the tax collector was saved although he was bad. One man held on to his good works while the other clung to the mercy of God. There is no Heaven for good people, only sinners. Do you want to be saved? Then, you have to come to God as you are – a sinner in need of His mercy.
