There is no sin as sticky as self-righteousness. And that’s because self-righteousness springs from a sense of our own rightness. With clenched fists, we hold tight to it, because rightness is bound up with our view of ourselves.
I know this from sad experience. To admit I’m wrong—to acknowledge that wrongful actions aren’t canceled out by good intentions, or that in the heat of conflict my wife or my kids may be more often right than I am—would drive a spear into the heart of my self-estimation. So I deflect. I defend. I explain. I justify. I need to prove I’m right to stay upright, elevated over those closest to me. I thrash around, trying to keep myself afloat above the waters of selfishness that would otherwise drown me.
Self-righteousness is the defense we erect so we won’t be knocked off-balance. It’s our attempt to preserve the pristine picture we have of ourselves, to keep our self-image from shattering.
Baggage of Self-Righteousness
One of the most memorable episodes of Everybody Loves Raymond centers on a suitcase sitting on the staircase landing. After returning home from a trip, Ray and Debra each assume the other will eventually haul it upstairs. Days pass. No one moves the suitcase. Both husband and wife begin to seethe, rehearsing all the reasons why it’s only right for the other to carry the load, pleading their case to other family members. Every time they see the suitcase, they grow more entrenched in the rightness of their cause, more determined not to give in.
The best moment comes at the end of the episode, when Ray returns home early from a business trip and apologizes for his stubbornness. Just when it looks like reconciliation has arrived, it becomes clear that Ray’s action is still self-motivated. He came home early as a display of remorse intended to impress his wife with his goodness. With pursed lips, Debra sighs and then announces she’ll move the suitcase: “I’ll be the one who got it.”
In an instant, the dispute flips. It’s unacceptable for Ray that Debra be the reasonable and mature one. “No, no, no!” he cries. “Let the record show that I got it!” After an entire episode devoted to arguing over who won’t move the suitcase, the couple now battles over who will.
On the surface, the episode resonates because it captures the low-stakes absurdity of family conflict. But the deeper reason it shines is that it exposes human nature. Ray and Debra both feel the need to safeguard their elevated view of themselves, to be morally superior to the other. Whether it’s “I’m the better person, so I shouldn’t have to move it” or “I’m the better person, so I’ll be the one to move it,” the conflict is ultimately about preserving each person’s high self-estimation from being punctured.
This passion for keeping our vision of ourselves intact explains so much. It’s why we reflexively defend ourselves when criticized. It’s why people of one political persuasion struggle to acknowledge when the other side makes a good point. It’s why we excuse the failures of leaders we admire while condemning, without qualification, those we oppose. It’s why, on contested matters, we jump to the interpretation that best confirms our priors and reinforces the rightness of our tribe. It’s why so many of us struggle in marriage, or fail to connect with our kids, or fall out with people in church who disagree with us. We do whatever we can to hold the high ground, to steady ourselves on a perch of moral superiority.
Self-righteousness is insidious and pervasive, extending its tentacles, trapping and blinding us. Often, our motivations remain hidden even from ourselves. In Confessions, Augustine observes how God upends human assessments of behavior: “Your witness condemns many deeds that receive human praise,” he writes. “For it often happens that the appearance of an act belies what the agent has in mind.”
Holiness and Grace That Topple Us
The only way out of the trap of self-righteousness is a renewed encounter with both God’s holiness and God’s grace.
God’s holiness, first. Because the blazing purity of divine perfection upends our claims to our own rightness. Self-righteous people may appear “holier than thou,” but that illusion only works when we compare ourselves to other sinners. Held up to the light of God’s holiness, every rag of righteousness is stripped away.
And then God’s grace. Because a heart-level grasp of grace leaves no room for boasting. Grace knocks us Humpty-Dumpties off the wall, shattering our self-image and destroying the self-righteous facade. But grace doesn’t leave us in pieces. It restores and renews us. We no longer need to cling to an image of ourselves as less sinful, more perceptive, or more “right” than others. We’re free to take in the true picture of ourselves in light of the holiness that reveals our need for grace.
An encounter with true holiness and true grace is the first step toward growing in real righteousness. And yet the danger of self-righteous pollution remains ever-present. Remember: The distance between righteousness and self-righteousness is a chasm, but crossing it takes just a step.
Law-Keeping vs. Grace-Giving
Self-righteousness poisons relationships. So does defensiveness and the instinct to excuse ourselves. What keeps relationships alive is the opposite: humility, confession, repentance. When you fail (and you will), you don’t spin or deflect. You tell the truth. You allow the carefully curated image of your “best self” to collapse in front of another person.
And when others fail you, you face a choice. You can play the law-keeper, holding them to a standard you’ve never managed to keep yourself. Or you can be a grace-giver, forgiving freely, the way the Father has forgiven you. One way reinforces your pride. The other topples it . . . and then leaves room for love to grow.
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