Confession #1: "Hi, my name is Anna, and I'm a pharisee." (lowercase ‘p’)
does that surprise you? actually, admitting to this is almost as difficult as admitting to being an alcoholic or a sex-addict. It’s about as easy to hide, and you're always one thought away from slipping back into old habits…one of the only differences is…well…I wonder if there's not as much grace for pharisees.
Let me explain.
Confession #2: pharisees need grace.
It’s true. We need it, maybe even more than you do, because we don't even have the grace to know that we need it half of the time, and the other half of the time, we're killing ourselves trying to earn it. We don’t get a whole lot of it from people, because we don’t give a whole lot (to them, or ourselves) and so they must figure we don’t need it either. It makes me think of this girl from one of my favorite movies, "Saved." Her name is Hilary Faye.
Hilary Faye is the quintessential pharisaic blonde. She goes to a Christian school, leads a worship band, and seems to have it all. Her friend Mary gets pregnant (by her gay boyfriend), and the boy that Hilary Faye is smitten with decides he wants to get with pregnant Mary. meanwhile, Hilary's handicapable brother(Mcauly Culkin in a wheelchair) is dating this Jewish chick named Cassaundra, whom Hilary is desperately/hilariously trying to lead to Jesus.
(Hilary Faye, praying for someone else in a publicly humiliating way.)
Throughout the movie, Hilary Faye displays hypocritical, self-righteous, despicable behavior.
(spoiler alert) in the end, her actions catch up with her and she goes completely insane.
(the calm before the crazy storm)
She drives her van through the school parking lot, ranting and yelling at God for everything that went wrong, convinced that she was only trying to do His will.
Then she crashes her van into a gigantic Jesus.
she crawls out of her van and sits on the ground, sobbing. As her brother rushes over to see if she’s okay, she asks the question that breaks my heart, because it is the question that we pharisees need answered most:
“Do you think Jesus still loves me?”
Yes, for all our seemingly self-righteous, hypocritical behavior, we are starving for love, which is why religion is so toxic to us. Like a drug, we keep going back to it, hoping that it will get us to where we want to be with Him. But it never does. Which leads to confession #3…
Confession #3: pharisees are not to be feared (or hated), but pitied (and loved, if you can manage it).
religious people get such a bad rap. When you think religious, the picture comes to mind of a pointing finger, a bible thumper, a “shove my views down your throat till you choke” kind of person. But the truth is…if you think a pharisee is pointing a finger at you, what they’re pointing to is the mirror within you that reflects what they HATE in themselves. They feel like they don’t have the freedom that comes with grace and forgiveness, so why should you?
I see so many people struggling under this religious bondage…and it is BONDAGE. Like helpless drug addicts, they are slaves to their system, to the rules and regulations that promise freedom…if you can just get it right. I have a friend (probably several, but this one actually talks about it) who HATES religious people. She even shared that they scare her. Like they’re some sort of unfeeling, plastic monsters.
can I admit something?
Confession #4: we have feelings (we’re just afraid to tell you.)
pharisees live for their images. We’ve learned that wearing a mask is safer than being seen. But when we’re alone, we cry. A lot.
We cry because we realize that people hate us, and we don’t blame them. We cry because we just want to be better, to be perfect, and we’re scared out of our wits that someone will see us as what we are: depraved sinners. We cry because we’re afraid, deep down, that not even Jesus could love us (after all, He never got along with the Pharisees.)
Confession #5: please forgive me.
This is more of a plea than a confession, but there’s lots of confession that comes with it, so here goes.
I need you to forgive me.
for every time you felt judged by me…for every time I showed you, by my actions, that BEHAVIOR was more important than intention…for every time you felt uncomfortable around me because I was just so “religious…” I’m sorry.
I need the grace from you that I have not been able to give myself. I need you to tell me that it’s okay not to be okay. I am dying to learn more about this freedom that I encountered firsthand at WR Training Camp-dancing, screaming, foolish freedom.
This freedom comes from knowing you are loved without your mask, by Jesus Himself. The freedom that the prostitutes and the adulterers and the murderers grasp so freely-we need that same grace.
Jesus loves the pharisees.
Do you?
