Most of us spend our lives trying to look good in the eyes of others and, more importantly, in the eyes of God. We build a religious resume filled with church attendance, private prayers, and decent behavior. We assume that if we can just keep our “good deeds” list longer than our “bad deeds” list, God will be satisfied. We treat our religion like a shield to hide our flaws. But have you ever felt that despite all your effort, God seems distant? Have you ever wondered why your most sincere prayers feel like they are hitting a brass ceiling?

Hugh Binning, a Scottish pastor from the 1600s, addresses this exact curiosity in his collection of sermons, Heart Humiliation. As a pastor who holds to the Westminster Confession, I found Binning’s insights to be a startling wake-up call for the modern church. He doesn’t just point out our obvious sins; he goes after our “goodness.” He argues that the very things we use to cover ourselves are often the things that keep us from the only One who can actually clean us. This book isn’t a light read for a Sunday afternoon; it is a spiritual surgery that cuts deep but offers a real cure.

Your Best Actions Are Polished Sins

One of the most jarring takeaways from Binning is his analysis of what he calls “our righteousness.” We typically think of our sins as the problem and our duties as the solution. Binning turns this upside down. He shows us that when we use our prayers, our repentance, or our moral lifestyle to satisfy God’s justice, we are actually making our situation worse. He points out that if our persons are not already justified through faith in Christ, every single thing we do is defiled by our nature.

He compares our best works to “filthy rags.” This isn’t a slight against doing good; it is a warning about why we do it. If we think our sorrow for sin or our promises to do better act as a payment to God, we are mocking Him. We are trying to buy infinite mercy with a handful of dirty pocket change. Binning makes it clear that until we stop trying to “trim” our own garments and instead accept the robe of Christ’s righteousness, we remain naked in the sight of God’s holiness.

“Therefore I declare, in the Lord Jesus his name, unto you, whose conscience must go along in the acknowledgment and owning of your case, that you have covered yourselves with your own righteousness, that you have taken as filthy rags to cover your nakedness and sin with, as your sins are, and so you have made an addition to your uncleanness.”

The Silent Killer of Religious Security

Binning identifies a specific disease that plagues long-time churchgoers: the “sleep of conscience.” This is a state where we feel at peace with God not because we have actually made peace through Christ, but because we have simply forgotten our sins. We assume that because we aren’t currently being struck by some massive tragedy, God must be pleased with us. This “negative peace” is dangerous because it feels like health when it is actually a spiritual coma.

He warns that many of us carry the “devil’s mark” without knowing it—a heart that is secure while living in sin. We say we have faith, but it is a “dead faith” because it doesn’t move us to change. Binning mocks the person who claims to be a Christian but whose life is no different from a person who has never heard the Gospel. In nature, everything acts according to its kind. A lion roars; a lark sings. But a “secure” Christian often talks like a saint while living like a worldling, a contradiction that Binning calls monstrous.

“A man may sleep soundly, and his enemies round about him, because he knoweth not of it, but he is in a worse estate than he that is in great fear, and his enemies either none, or far distant. The one hath present danger, and no fear, the other present fear, and no danger, and which of these think ye best? Sudden destruction awakes the one from sleep.”

Why Your Prayers Might Be Total Silence to God

It is a common belief that “at least I prayed” counts for something. Binning takes a sledgehammer to this idea. He argues that most people who say they “pray day and night” have never actually called on the name of the Lord. Why? Because their hearts are miles away from their mouths. They treat prayer as a ceremony to be checked off a list, not an immediate meeting with a holy and terrible God.

He points out that if your life is a constant rebellion against God’s commands, He won’t hear your requests. It is a “practical atheism” to stop your ears at His word and expect Him to open His ears to your voice. To “call on His name” requires a heart that is stamped with the knowledge of who He is—His greatness to humble us and His goodness to make us bold. Without this, your prayer is just “babbling” or “howling.”

“There is none that calleth upon thy name, that stirreth up himself to take hold on thee… There are many prayers of men that God counteth no more of than the howling of a dog.”

The Duty of Using Violence Against Your Own Laziness

Binning introduces a concept that feels foreign to our passive, “let go and let God” culture: the duty to “stir up oneself.” He notices that even when we are under the rod of affliction, we often just lie there and take it without actually turning to God. We are like a leaf that fades and lets the wind blow it wherever it will. We are passive when we should be violent—not against others, but against our own spiritual sluggishness.

To “take hold of God” involves a spiritual effort. It is like a man drowning who grips a rope with all his might. Binning argues that we often fail because we never truly feel the hazard we are in. We dream over our days, assuming matters will just work out. But faith, in its maturity, is a “dead grip” that refuses to let go of the promise. It is an active pursuit that requires us to shake ourselves awake from the dream of this world.

“None awaketh himself, as a bird stirreth up itself with its wings to flight; none do so spread out their sails to meet the wind… it is but a weak hold we can take of God. According to the measure of a man’s apprehending necessity, and according to the measure of his seriousness in these things, so will the hand of faith grip, and lay hold with more or less violence.”

God Runs Away So You Will Chase Him

Perhaps the most insightful takeaway from Heart Humiliation is how Binning explains the “hiding of God’s face.” We often view God’s silence as a sign of His permanent rejection or a lack of care. Binning flips the script. He explains that God often withdraws His presence and “comforts” specifically to make us pursue Him more intensely. It is an act of “merciful anger.”

Just as a nurse might step behind a curtain to see if a child will come looking for her, God hides His warm heart behind a frowning countenance to break our security. He wants us to find no satisfaction in the world so that we are forced to find it in Him. When the “sap” of worldly prosperity is dried up, it is so that we might realize our true life is in the root, which is Christ. Hiding is not an end; it is a mean to bring us to a “perfect peace” that can only be found in a total dependence on Him.

“He seemeth to go, that you may hold; because when you think he stayeth, you hold not; as the child, while the nurse is near, will look about it, and take hold of any thing; but when she withdraweth, the child cleaveth the faster to her.”

Why You Should Read This Book

If you are tired of a religion that feels like a hollow shell, you should read Heart Humiliation. Hugh Binning was a man who understood that we are our own worst enemies. He shows us that our “righteousness” can be a bigger barrier to God than our sins because it keeps us from seeing our need for a Savior. This book will strip you of your excuses, but it will not leave you naked. It strips you of your rags so that you can finally be clothed in the only garment that passes the inspection of heaven.