Most of us spend our lives building a spiritual resume. We check off the boxes: we don’t cheat on our taxes, we try to be kind to our neighbors, and we show up to church when the doors are open. We have a quiet, nagging hope that when we finally stand before God, He will see our “good person” badge and let us into heaven. This is the great curiosity of the human heart—we want to be our own saviors. But John Bunyan, in his book A Discourse Upon the Pharisee and the Publican, suggests that this is actually the fastest way to hell. As a pastor who holds to the Westminster Confession, I see this same struggle every Sunday. People think they are fine because they aren’t as bad as the guy on the news. Bunyan takes a single story from the Gospel of Luke and uses it to strip away our masks, showing that a “good” man can be a disaster in God’s eyes, while a “notorious” sinner can walk away perfectly justified.

Your Good Deeds Are an Insult to God

The most shocking thing Bunyan argues is that our best works can actually be a high affront to God. We often think of our sins as the things that keep us from Him and our good deeds as the things that bring us near. Bunyan flips this. He explains that if you try to bring your own righteousness to God to buy His favor, you are mocking Him. He uses a vivid image of a king who invites his friends to a massive, expensive feast. The table is loaded with the best food imaginable. But instead of enjoying the king’s gift, some guests pull “mouldy crusts” out of their pockets and start eating them instead, as if the king hadn’t provided enough.

This is exactly what the Pharisee did in the temple. He bragged about his fasting and his tithes, essentially telling God that His grace wasn’t necessary. Bunyan shows that the moment you trust in your own behavior, you reject the righteousness of Christ. If you think you are “better” than others, you aren’t actually looking at God; you are looking at your own shadow.

“A lord invites his friends to a sumptuous banquet, the provision is bountiful and in rich abundance, when some of the guests take a few mouldy crusts out of their pockets and lay them on their plates… would it not be a high affront to, a great contempt of, and a distrust in, the goodness of the Lord.”

You Might Just Be Talking to the Mirror

Bunyan points out a terrifying detail in the Pharisee’s prayer: he “prayed thus with himself.” While the man used God’s name and stood in the temple, he wasn’t actually talking to God. He was his own audience. He was performing for himself, praising himself, and enjoying the sound of his own religious voice. His prayer was “extempore,” or made up on the spot, but it was done in the strength of his own pride rather than the breathing of the Holy Spirit.

This is a warning for everyone who loves the “form” of religion without the power. You can pray for half an hour, use all the right theological terms, and even give thanks for your “blessings,” but if your heart is focused on your own advancement above your neighbor, God isn’t even in the room. Bunyan reminds us that a prayer made of praise can still be a “downright hypocrite” act if it is grounded on the lie that we are naturally better than others.

“God and the Pharisee were not together, there was only the Pharisee and himself… Paul knew not what to pray for without the Holy Ghost… But the Pharisee had no need of that, it was enough that HE and HIMSELF were together at this work.”

God Justifies the Wicked, Not the Improved

One of the most impactful takeaways from Bunyan’s work is his explanation of when and how God makes a person righteous. Many people believe they need to clean up their lives first, then God will accept them. They think sanctification (becoming holy) comes before justification (being declared right). Bunyan, following the logic of Romans 4, insists this is a “damnable error.”

He argues that God justifies the “ungodly.” Christ’s righteousness is put upon us while we are still “naked” and “unclean” in ourselves. If you wait until you are “good” to come to God, you will never come. The Publican didn’t wait until he had quit his job as a tax collector for the Romans—a job Bunyan compares to a Dutchman joining a French invader to rob his own countrymen. He came as he was, in his “filthy garments,” and was made righteous by an act of God’s grace before he ever performed a single good deed.

“Righteousness by imputation must be first… forgiveness is extended by God, then when we lie in our blood, though to us it is manifested afterwards… For God for Christ’s sake hath forgiven you.”

The Wisdom of Being a “Crafty” Beggar

We usually think of wisdom as being smart, successful, or well-behaved. Bunyan says the Publican was “cunning” and “crafty” because he knew exactly where the help was. While the Pharisee was wasting his time with a “sandy foundation” of ceremonies and “ragged remnants” of moral laws, the Publican went straight for the only thing that works: mercy.

Bunyan notes that the Publican’s prayer—”God be merciful to me a sinner”—is heavier than the earth. It is the prayer of a man who knows he is an “evil tree” that cannot produce good fruit on its own. He didn’t try to negotiate. He didn’t say he would “do better next time.” He simply fell before the judge and asked for a pardon. Bunyan shows that this “low” posture is actually the highest form of spiritual wisdom because it engages the only thing in the universe that can actually save a soul.

“And is this thy way poor Publican! O cunning sinner! O crafty Publican! thy wisdom has outdone the Pharisee, for it is better to apply ourselves to God’s mercy, than to trust to ourselves that we are righteous.”

Shame Is a Spiritual Beauty Spot

The Pharisee stood boldly, head held high, looking around to make sure everyone saw him. The Publican, however, “stood afar off” and would not even lift his eyes to heaven. Bunyan calls this “blushing” a virtue. In a world that tells us to be proud and bold, Bunyan reminds us that holy shame is a sign of a heart that actually sees God’s majesty.

When a man sees God as He really is—a “consuming fire”—and sees himself as he really is—a “bit of carrion”—he cannot help but hang his head. This isn’t just about feeling bad; it’s about an honest acknowledgment of the infinite distance between the Creator and the creature. By smiting his breast, the Publican was “quarrelling with his heart” for leading him into sin. Bunyan teaches us that this inward “sorrow for something done” is a necessary evidence that the Holy Spirit is actually working in us.

“To stand… before God in prayer, with blushing cheeks for sin, is one of the excellentest sights that can be seen in the world… Shame for sin is a virtue, a comely thing; yea, a beauty-spot in the face of a sinner that cometh to God for mercy.”

Why You Should Read This Book

You should read A Discourse Upon the Pharisee and the Publican because it is a spiritual mirror that refuses to lie to you. If you feel like your religious life is a performance, or if you are tired of trying to be “good enough” for a God you don’t even know, Bunyan’s words will bring you a peace that is “satisfied though guilty.”