Good Shame Bad Shame

Title: When Shame Brings You Home Text: Luke 18:9–14

Goodness or Grace

When goodness gets in the way of grace.

If you’ve been around church long enough, you know the story — The Pharisee and the Tax Collector.

You’ve probably even caught yourself saying, “Thank God I’m not like that Pharisee.”

Which, of course, is exactly what the Pharisee said.

Luke tells us up front who Jesus is aiming this story at —

Luke 18:9 NRSV

9 He also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt:

Now, that’s a pretty accurate description of most church folk on a bad day.

We don’t mean to be self-righteous. We just can’t help comparing. “Thank God I’m not like those people… the corrupt politicians, the lazy neighbours, the gossiping crowd.”

Jesus tells this story not to the wicked, but to the good. To people like you and me — the ones who come to worship, who try to do right, who would never dream of skipping the collection plate.

He tells it because sometimes our goodness is what gets in the way of grace.

He contrasts - I think - two types of shame.

Good shame.

And bad shame.

“What we call Original Sin in Genesis perhaps could be better called Original Shame ... Shame is not about what we have done, but where we abide.” - Richard Rohr

In the garden story, Adam and Eve hide — not because God has changed, but because they can’t bear to be seen. Rohr is saying that the human problem begins not with wickedness but with disconnection — with hiding from love.

So before shame was ever about what we did wrong, it was about forgetting where we belong.

That’s what’s happening in this parable. The Pharisee and the tax collector both come to the temple, but only one abides in love. The Pharisee’s shame is hidden beneath his goodness; the tax collector’s shame is laid bare before God. One is hiding behind virtue; the other is coming out of hiding into mercy.

When Rohr calls it “original shame,” he’s reminding us that every one of us begins life trying to find our way back home to that place where we are fully seen and still loved. And that’s what Jesus is offering here — the way home from hiding.

Bad shame - is the kind that the Pharisee has - or rather doesn’t know he has. He would only have it if he was exposed for tithing less than 10% - for being discovered as a bit of a fraud.

Bad shame is the kind of shame that people can bully you with - making you feel bad about your identity - and not about the ways in which you have hurt others.

First: Trusting in your Righteousness

Two men go up to the temple to pray. One’s a Pharisee — the gold standard of moral living in Israel.

The other’s a tax collector — the lowest of the low, despised as a traitor who made his living from Roman oppression.

When Jesus first said those words, his audience knew who the good guy was supposed to be.

If this were a movie, the Pharisee would enter to a soft and soothing piano melody - and the tax collector would be accompanied by scratching violins.

But Jesus loves flipping the script.

The Pharisee stands tall, right up front, maybe near the altar.

He prays a prayer that sounds good at first:

Luke 18:11–12 NRSV

11 The Pharisee, standing by himself, was praying thus, ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. 12 I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income.’

It sounds like gratitude. But it’s actually comparison in religious disguise.

He’s praying at God, but really talking about himself.

Thank you God that I have nothing to be ashamed of.

As one scholar points out, his prayer has five “I’s” in it. It’s less a prayer, more a spiritual résumé.

He is giving God his Linked In / Facebook / Instagram / WhatsApp Profile - a projection of who he is.

And he is doing quite well. He’s doing everything right.

He fasts twice a week — more than Moses asked for.

He tithes meticulously. He’s faithful. He’s disciplined.

But he’s also lost.

Because he’s using righteousness like a shield — protecting himself from the need for mercy. Using righteousness like a shield to hide hiself from bad shame.

He is using righteousness like a mask to hide his own eyes from all the brokenness that is underneath it.

He’s not thanking God for forgiveness; he’s thanking God for not needing forgiveness.

Thanking God that he can make it on his own.

That’s bad shame.

Bad shame isn’t always about feeling inferior — sometimes it’s about feeling superior.

It’s the fear of being found ordinary, weak, dependent, human.

So we puff up our faith like armour. We compare ourselves to others. We hide behind religion to avoid the vulnerability of grace.

“The church is full of good people who’d rather be right than be redeemed.” - Will Willimon

That’s the Pharisee’s tragedy — he’s so busy proving his worth that he never discovers his need.

And here’s the kicker: his prayer works. He is righteous — morally, socially, religiously.

The problem is not his goodness. The problem is what he uses it for — self-protection.

He thanks God for being different instead of thanking God for being merciful.

In other words, he’s right — and wrong — at the same time.

That’s what makes him dangerous.

Second: The Doorway to Grace

Now look at the tax collector.

He’s not even pretending. He knows he’s despised. He stands far off — maybe in the temple courtyard, near the gate, where the pious people can keep their distance.

He can’t even look up to heaven. He beats his chest — a gesture of mourning, like someone grieving at a funeral.

This is good shame — the kind that wakes you up to your own need for grace.

It’s his own soul he’s mourning for.

And then he prays:

Luke 18:13 NRSV

13 But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even look up to heaven, but was beating his breast and saying, ‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner!’

“God, be merciful to me, a sinner.”

No fancy words. No excuses. No “I promise to do better next time.”

Just a plea for mercy.

This is good shame — the kind that wakes you up to your own need for grace.

Not the shame that says, “I’m worthless.”

But the shame that says, “I’ve gone wrong, and I want to come home.”

You see, good shame tells the truth about us.

Bad shame hides from the truth.

Good shame humbles us and opens the door to mercy.

Bad shame closes that door and says, “You’re too far gone.”

Good shame says, “I need help.”

Bad shame says, “Don’t let anyone find out.”

In our world, we’re allergic to shame.

We treat it like a toxic emotion — and sometimes it is, especially when others use it to control or humiliate us.

But in the gospel, shame can also be a teacher. It can bring us to our knees, and that’s where mercy finds us.

The tax collector’s shame is not destructive — it’s redemptive.

He lets himself be seen for who he really is. And Jesus says, that man went home justified.

Now, that’s shocking.

He doesn’t make restitution. He doesn’t pay back the money. He doesn’t even promise to change. He just prays for mercy — and goes home forgiven.

That would have scandalized Jesus’ audience. They believed forgiveness had to be earned.

But here’s the good news: mercy doesn’t wait for you to deserve it.

Mercy meets you where you are.

Grace is not for the deserving; it’s for the desperate.

And if you’ve ever had a night where you lay awake regretting what you said, or what you didn’t say — if you’ve ever felt like you’ve blown it so badly you can’t come back — then this story is for you.

The Pharisee stands tall and goes home empty. The sinner kneels low and goes home forgiven.

Because the kingdom of God is upside down — the humble are lifted up, and the proud are brought low.

When we stop running from our “original shame” — when we stop hiding and finally let ourselves be seen by God again. It’s the moment when our exile ends and we return to the presence we were made for.

Three: Good Shame / Bad Shame

Remember: the moment you say, “Thank God I’m not like that Pharisee,” you’ve become him.

So before we rush to idenityf with the tax collector — because, of course, we know Jesus likes him better —

That’s the genius of this parable. It’s a spiritual mirror.

Every time you read it, it turns toward you and asks:

“Which prayer are you praying?”

Some of us are Pharisees at heart — not because we’re evil, but because we’re good.

We’ve built our lives around doing things right — being responsible, decent, churchgoing.

And somewhere along the way, we forgot that the goal of faith is not perfection but mercy.

Our Christian life is driven by fear of shame. And that is bad shame.

A kind of pride that keeps us going - rather than the motivation of God’s mercy and grace.

On the other hand - there is a positive sort of shame…like the tax collector — full of regret, haunted by failure.

We come to church hoping no one notices how heavy we are inside.

And the gospel says, “That’s okay. You don’t have to look up yet. Just whisper: God, be merciful to me.”

Both men go to the same temple. Both pray. But only one leaves transformed — because only one tells the truth.

Only one takes that heavy coat of shame - and hands it over to Jesus.

While the other - takes the heavy coat of shame - and tries to cover it over with all sorts of other things to make himself look good.

The Pharisee offers God his achievements. The tax collector offers God his heart.

And Jesus says,

Luke 18:14 NRSV

14 I tell you, this man went down to his home justified rather than the other; for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted.”

“All who exalt themselves will be humbled, and all who humble themselves will be exalted.”

It’s a warning and a promise.

If you keep trying to prove yourself, you’ll never be free.

If you let God prove his love instead, you’ll go home justified.

Good Shame in a Bad-Shame World

We live in a culture that’s mastered the art of bad shame.

Social media thrives on it — the public shaming of anyone who says or does the wrong thing.

We’ve even turned confession into performance — “Look how honest I am about my flaws!”

But good shame is different.

Good shame happens in the quiet moment when God’s Spirit says, “You’re better than this — come back.”

It’s the blush that precedes repentance.

And it’s meant to lead not to despair, but to joy.

When was the last time you felt that kind of shame — the holy kind that draws you nearer to God?

When you allowed your heart to be open to your sin - and instead of brushing it away - you felt the weight of your sin and you offered it to God.

Sometimes it’s when you speak too sharply to someone you love, and the Spirit pricks your heart.

Sometimes it’s when you realize you’ve been living for appearances, not for truth.

Sometimes it’s when you finally stop pretending that you’re okay.

In that moment, the gospel invites you to do what the tax collector did:

drop the act, tell the truth, and ask for mercy.

And here’s the miracle: the moment you do, you discover that the mercy was already waiting for you.

Going Home Justified

Jesus ends the parable abruptly. No follow-up conversation. No moral wrap-up. Just the statement:

Luke 18:14 NRSV

14 I tell you, this man went down to his home justified rather than the other; for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted.”

“This man went home justified.”

Justified — made right with God.

Not by doing, but by trusting.

Not by proving himself, but by admitting himself.

That’s what grace does. It sends you home different than you came.

So which way will you go home today?

Standing tall, proud of your virtue?

Or humbled, honest, forgiven?

The Pharisee didn’t need to feel ashamed of being good.

He needed to feel ashamed of thinking he didn’t need mercy.

The tax collector didn’t need to wallow in guilt.

He needed to let his shame drive him to the only One who could lift it.

That’s the difference between bad shame and good shame.

Bad shame isolates you; good shame restores you.

Bad shame says, “You’re too far gone.”

Good shame says, “Come home.”

And that’s the invitation Jesus leaves hanging in the air —

the invitation to stop pretending and start praying.

Because at the end of the day, the Pharisee’s prayer was all about comparison.

But the tax collector’s prayer was about connection.

And that’s the prayer that still opens heaven.

So if you ever find yourself standing at the back of the temple, too tired or too guilty to look up — take heart.

That’s where grace lives.

And when you leave, you too might go home justified.

Amen.