English Sermon Manuscript for Sunday, October 26

Luke 18:9–14

Humble Faith!

The passage we read today continues the parables that Jesus spoke last week. Last week, I said that prayer is something we must do constantly—to keep from losing heart and to remain steadfast.

It would be wonderful if our hearts were strong, but we often experience discouragement even in the church. No matter how long we have believed in Jesus, we still find ourselves hurt by small things.

I said last week that even when we say, "But I've gone to church for years," discouragement still comes our way. Jesus tells us that we must always pray—that is, through prayer, we overcome discouragement.

Today's passage also talks about prayer, but through the prayers of two completely different people, it asks: Who offers the kind of prayer that is right before God? And who can be called righteous through true prayer?

As the title of today's sermon suggests, the answer lies in one word: "humility." In short, Jesus teaches through this parable that a humble person is the one whose prayer leads toward righteousness.

In today's passage, verse 9 clearly states who the audience of this parable is—who Jesus is addressing with this story.

Verse 9 says, "To some who were confident of their own righteousness and looked down on everyone else, Jesus told this parable."

We naturally assume that this refers to the Pharisees or the teachers of the Law. However, the text says that Jesus spoke this parable to "some people," not to a specific group.

That means it is not just for a particular class of people long ago, but perhaps for some of us—ordinary, everyday people we might know personally.

In short, Jesus is speaking to those among us who live in this world—people who "trust in themselves that they are righteous" and who "look down on others." And when we read this passage, we must remember that it is possible that we ourselves may be included among them.

Jesus presents two people in this parable. According to verse 10, both went up to the temple to pray—one was a Pharisee, and the other was a tax collector.

Bringing these two people together in one story creates a striking social contrast. Because the social divide between them was so clear, the story seems at first quite simple. The social stigma surrounding these two figures was already fixed, so their differences were easy for everyone to see.

Yet, as is often the case, when a story seems simple and easy to interpret, that very simplicity can hide a trap. Things are not always as easy to divide as they first appear.

Verse 11 says that the Pharisee stood and prayed to himself: "God, I thank you that I am not like other people—robbers, evildoers, adulterers—or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get."

This Pharisee appears to be perfect in every way. He doesn't steal, he isn't unjust, and he lives carefully and conscientiously. On top of that, he fasts and tithes faithfully.

In today's terms, we would call him an exemplary believer. He fulfills everything that the church requires. But there is one troubling phrase: "I am not like this tax collector."

As I've mentioned before, tax collectors at that time were Jews who collected taxes on behalf of Rome. The more they collected, the more personal profit they made. They were therefore despised by their fellow Jews—regarded as greedy traitors.

So when the Pharisee says, "I am not like this tax collector," he is really saying, "I am not someone who does the kind of work that people despise."

In this light, the Pharisee's life seems flawless. Yet somehow, his prayer does not move us. There is nothing wrong with what he says—so why doesn't it touch our hearts?

Let's turn now to the tax collector's prayer. In verse 13 it says, "The tax collector stood at a distance." Right from the beginning, this posture is different from that of the Pharisee.

In verse 11, the Pharisee is simply described as "standing," but here the tax collector is "standing far off." That distance shows that his relationship with God is of a different kind.

Both men went up to the temple to pray before God, but the Greek verbs used for "standing" are different. The Pharisee's "stood" is σταθείς (statheis)—an aorist passive participle—which literally means "having been set up" or "having stood on his own."

It implies that he "stood himself up," that he established his own position, rather than humbly standing before God.

The tax collector, on the other hand, uses the form ἑστώς (hestōs)—a perfect active participle—combined with the adverb μακρόθεν (makrothen), meaning "from afar."

This expression conveys a humble attitude and a spiritual distance, showing reverence and fear before God.

In other words, one "stood by his own strength," while the other "barely managed to stand before God."

The tax collector, barely standing before God, prayed like this: "He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast."

The verbs here, combined with "from afar," are in the imperfect tense, indicating continuous action—he kept standing far off, unable to lift his eyes toward heaven.

And then, summoning all the courage he had, he prayed: "God, be merciful to me, a sinner."

Beating the breast, in Jewish culture, was a physical act expressing deep repentance, grief, and self-blame. This prayer, offered with trembling humility, was his desperate cry: "God, have mercy on me, a sinner!"

The tax collector's prayer was a plea to be filled with mercy—the grace that only God can give to a sinner like him.

Here, we can see the difference between the Pharisee, who felt full and complete in himself, and the tax collector, who knew he could only be filled and forgiven through grace.

Jesus clearly explains which of the two was justified: verse 14 says, "I tell you that this man, rather than the other, went home justified before God. For all those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted."

The message of the passage is now clear and simple. We must pray with the heart of the tax collector. But is that all? Let us take a step further and consider how prayer and righteousness are connected.

If someone as complete as the Pharisee were to pray humbly like the tax collector, that person could also be righteous. Conversely, if the tax collector had acted arrogantly like the Pharisee, he would not have been justified.

In other words, neither the title "Pharisee" nor "tax collector" automatically determines who is righteous. What matters is whether one humbly stands before God. Only those who do so will be declared righteous by Him.

Here we find another important direction for prayer.

We must always pray—unceasingly and without losing heart—but that prayer must also be humble.

The passage tells us that before Jesus began the parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector, He addressed it to "some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and looked down on others."

The phrase "trusted in themselves" uses a perfect tense verb, meaning "they had already placed their trust in themselves and continued to do so." In other words, they didn't just momentarily rely on themselves—they were settled in that self-trust. And where did that trust come from? From themselves alone.

Up to that point, such confidence might seem healthy or even admirable. In today's world, having self-confidence is often considered a virtue, and I personally think that if Jesus told this parable today, He might even allow for that kind of self-assurance.

The problem arises when that self-confidence turns into contempt for others. Jesus is pointing out that excessive self-trust often leads to the sin of looking down on others.

The word "despise" literally means "to treat as nothing." It's the attitude of regarding others as insignificant—of recognizing no one's worth but your own.

Jesus says that such a person is like the Pharisee in today's passage—one who is not righteous, and who, in exalting himself, ends up being brought low.

As we go through life, we meet people who are self-centered and dismissive of others. As a pastor who spends most of my time in the church, I sometimes see even among clergy those who act this way—who look down on others.

If such people exist among pastors, how much more likely are they to be found elsewhere? I'm sure many of you have encountered such people as well. We all have.

That means both you and I could fall into the same trap—living self-centered lives, confident in ourselves, and despising others. That is why I constantly try to keep myself in check—to see myself objectively.

My mother still attends the church where I grew up. This year, that church celebrated its 50th anniversary and asked pastors who came from there to send a 40-second video greeting.

I thought about it for a while. Knowing that the other pastors would probably send videos looking very formal—wearing suits, holding their Bibles, standing behind pulpits even if it wasn't their own church—I decided to record mine casually, in my office, wearing just a simple shirt.

Since I left that church as a young adult, I wanted to appear youthful, like when I had been part of the church's youth group. I imagined that others would all appear solemn and holy, so I intentionally filmed my message lightly dressed, in a way that felt more natural to me.

When I arrived in Korea, my mother met me at the airport. The moment I got into the car, she started scolding me: "Why didn't you wear a suit? Why didn't you film it in front of the church—it's so beautiful! What's with that white wall and that shirt?"

I listened to her scolding for a while and finally said, "Mom, I just didn't want to pretend to be holier than I am. That's not my style." I justified myself that way.

Appearances matter. People often judge by what they see.

While I was in Korea, I spent a lot of time at Kyobo Bookstore. As the year-end approached, there were many books on display with titles like "Trends for 2026."

Among them, I saw one called Trends in the Korean Church 2026. Out of curiosity, I opened it. It said that in the past, when churches sought new pastors, they would collect hundreds of résumés, select ten candidates, and have them each preach on a Sunday.

Then the congregation would score them, almost like a singing competition, to decide who would become the senior pastor.

But now, the trend is shifting. Instead of auditions, churches are asking for recommendations, checking a candidate's reputation, and preferring not the younger, more dynamic pastors in their 40s, but those in their 50s with more maturity and experience.

The meaning, of course, is that those who shine for a short moment often turn out, over time, to have many problems.

Whether this directly connects to today's text or not, we can say this: people are deeply sensitive to social labels, and it is not easy to change the stereotypes we hold.

When we think about America today, we sometimes feel disappointed, yet we still hold on to hope—perhaps because we believe that the America we once admired cannot have changed so completely. We expect that something of that greatness remains.

When I was in Korea, I sensed people's anger toward America. After the recent Georgia incident, many felt betrayed by what America—once trusted—had done. It stirred deep resentment among the public.

There may be many reasons for this, but I think this "new America" has revealed a side of itself that has become too self-assured—seeing others as if they do not matter.

The experiences I've just shared connect directly with today's text. Jesus is dealing here with "the deeply human drive to be right above all else" and how that drive causes us to look at our neighbors with contempt.

Jesus frames this issue in terms of righteousness. But in simple terms, the act of believing oneself to be right while looking down on others is something we still experience in our daily lives.

It is natural to be drawn to things that look impressive. We are used to making judgments based on what we can see. But if we are people of prayer, we must learn to perceive the unseen—the depth and beauty within.

True righteousness is revealed through humility, and humility is cultivated through prayer. Prayer is something we must always do; and if, through prayer, we can keep from losing heart, then we can grow one step further—no longer focusing on outward appearances, but becoming people of inner strength through humble prayer.

Then we will all be declared righteous before God.

Dear beloved congregation, please take a moment to reflect: Are you living with the heart of the Pharisee, or with the heart of the tax collector? Where do you place your strength?

We must deliberately choose humility, and consciously guard ourselves against becoming like the Pharisee. When I say "deliberately," I mean this: pray.

Then, by keeping watch over ourselves and living with humble faith, we will grow into mature believers—people who respect others and live graciously in this world. That is the life of faith that is needed from us today.