As there is nothing pertaining to holiness which renders us more like our Lord Jesus Christ than lowliness of mind, so there is nothing pertaining to sin which approaches nearer to the image of Satan than pride. This appears to have been the transgression for which he himself was first condemned, and by which he seduced our first parents to follow his example. It was insinuated to them that they were kept in ignorance and treated as underlings, and that by following his counsel they would be raised in the scale of being: “Ye shall be as gods, knowing good and evil.”

All the evil that is in the world is comprehended in three things—“the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eye, and the pride of life.” Each of these cardinal vices implies that man is alienated from God, and that all his affections and thoughts centre in himself; but the last is the most subtile in its influence. It consists in thinking more highly of ourselves than we ought to think. It is a mental flatulency that pervades all the soul, and and puffs it up with vain conceits. It is visible to all about us, but to us invisible. It seizes those revenues of glory which are due to God, and applies them to selfish uses. Strength, beauty, genius, opulence, science, the success of labour, and the achievements of enterprise, all are perverted to its purpose. Finally, It renders man his own idol; he worshippeth the creature more than the Creator; he sacrificeth to his own net, and burneth incense to his own drag.

But the particular species of pride which I shall attempt to delineate is that which is spiritual, or which has religious excellence, real or supposed, for its object.

Religion is not the only object by which religious professors may be elated; but the elatedness occasioned by it is that only which is denominated spiritual pride.

Though a considerable part of the following remarks will have respect to the faults of good men; yet not the whole of them; spiritual pride is not confined to spiritual men. The subject of it indeed must needs be, if not a professor of religion, yet a religious man in his own esteem, but that may be all. One of its principal operations is in a way of self-righteous hope, which is the reigning disposition of millions who have no just claim to the character of religious; and as this is a species of spiritual pride which appears at a very early period, it may be proper to begin with this, and proceed to others in the order in which they are commonly manifested.

The likeness which is drawn by our Saviour of the Pharisees in his time bears a minute resemblance to the character of great numbers in every age: all their works are done to be seen of men, and constitute the ground of their hope of acceptance with God. The sentiments of their hearts in their devout addresses to their Maker, if put into words, would be to this effect: “God, I thank thee that I am not as other men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even as this publican.” It is not common for those who pay any regard to the Scriptures expressly to arrogate to themselves the honour of making themselves to differ. Most men will thank God that they are what they are; and the Pharisee did the same. Many will now acknowledge, in addition to this, that their hopes of being accepted of God are “through the merits of Jesus Christ;” but it is not by such language that a self-righteous spirit is to be disguised. Nor is it peculiar to those whom we call decent characters “to trust that they are righteous and despise others;” for the same spirit may be seen in the most profligate of mankind. Judging of themselves by others, they derive comfort; for they can always find characters worse than their own. Reprove a common swearer, and he will thank God he means no harm; for he is frank and open, and not as that liar. Convict a liar, and he will argue that in this wicked world a man cannot live if he always speak truth; and he is not a thief. The thief pleads that he never was guilty of murder; and even the murderer was provoked to it. Thus they can each find worse characters than their own: the motto of each is, “God, I thank thee that I am not as other men.”

A minister of the Church of England was some years since appointed chaplain to a certain charitable asylum,* where his constant business would be to visit and converse with persons who, by their own misconduct, were reduced to the most deplorable condition. On receiving his appointment, he thought within himself, I shall have one advantage however: I shall not have to encounter a self-righteous spirit. But on entering upon his office he soon perceived his mistake, and that there was no less pharisaism in these dregs of society than among the more refined and sober part of mankind.

Much of this spirit is seen under the convictions and alarms of awakened sinners. The conflicts of mind by which many for a long time are deprived of all peace and enjoyment, are no other than the struggles between the gospel way of salvation and a secret attachment to self-righteousness. When terrified by the threatenings of the word, or the near approach of death, the first refuge to which the sinner usually betakes himself is the promise of amendment. He vows to reform, and this affords him a little ease. For a time it may be his gross vices are relinquished; he carefully attends to religious duties; and, while this lasts, he flatters himself that he is a better man, and supposes the Almighty is no less pleased with him than he is pleased with himself. If he rest here, his pride proves his eternal overthrow.

But it may be his rest here is short. It commonly proves that the vows and resolutions thus made are like the morning cloud and the early dew that goeth away. A new temptation to some old sin, which was not mortified, but had merely retired during the present alarm, undoes all. Now remorse and fearful apprehension take possession of the soul, not only on account of its having sinned against greater light than heretofore, but for destroying its own refuge. The gourd is smitten, and the sinner, exposed as to a vehement east wind, fainteth. Yet even here spiritual pride will insinuate itself and offer a species of false comfort. While he is weeping over his sins, and bemoaning the unhappiness of his case, that he should thus undo all his hopes, a soothing thought suggests itself, Will not the Almighty have compassion on me for these penitential tears? surely my mournings will be heard, and my lamentations go up before him! Many have stopped short here, and, it is to be feared, have missed of eternal life!

But it may be he is disturbed from this repose also. Conscience becomes more enlightened by reading and hearing the word. He is convinced that neither tears nor prayers, nor aught else but the blood-shedding of the Saviour, will take away sin; and that there is no way of being saved by him but by believing in him. Yet a thought occurs, Can such a sinner as I believe in Christ? Would it not be presumption to hope that one so unfit and unworthy as I am should be accepted? This thought proceeds upon a supposition that some degree of previous fitness or worthiness is necessary to recommend us to the Saviour, which is repugnant to the whole tenor of the gospel, and so long as it continues to influence our decisions will be an insuperable bar to believing.

Self-righteousness, at some stages, will work in a way of despair. The sinner, finding that no duties performed in impenitence and unbelief are any way available, or in the least degree pleasing to God—that no means are pointed out in the Scriptures by which a hard-hearted sinner may obtain a heart of flesh—and that, nevertheless, he is told to repent and believe in Jesus, or perish for ever—sinks into despondency. Hard thoughts are entertained of God. He thinks he has taken all possible pains with himself; and if what he possesses be not repentance nor faith, he has no hopes of ever obtaining them. God, it seems to him, requires impossibilities, and can therefore be no other than a hard master, reaping where he has not sown, and gathering where he has not strawed. The religious efforts of some, like those of the slothful servant, end here. All is given up as a hopeless case, and the things which their hearts, amidst all their convictions, have been lingering after, are again pursued.

To come to Jesus as a sinner ready to perish, justifying God and condemning self, suing for mercy as utterly unworthy, as one of the chief of sinners, pleading mercy merely for the sake of the atonement, is a hard lesson for a self-righteous heart to learn. The shiftings of pride in such cases are fitly expressed by the sinner’s “going about” to establish his own righteousness, and not submitting to “the righteousness of God.” Like the priests of Dagon, he will set up his idol as long as he can possibly make it stand. But if ever he obtain mercy he must desist. There is no rest for the soul but in coming to Jesus. And if he be once brought to this, all his self-righteous strivings, and the hopes which he built upon them, with all his hard thoughts of God for requiring what in his then present state of mind he could not comply with, will appear in their true light, the odious workings of a deceitful and deceived heart.

Such, and many other, are the workings of spiritual pride in the form of a self-righteous spirit under first awakenings; but it is not in this form only, nor at this period only, that it operates. You may have obtained rest for your souls in the doctrine of the cross; you may have communicated your case to others, joined a Christian church, and may purpose to walk in communion with it through life; but still it becomes you to be upon the watch against this as well as other evils to which you are exposed.

The apostle, in giving directions for the office of a bishop, objects to a “novice,” or one newly converted to the faith; and for this reason, “lest, being lifted up with pride, he fall into the condemnation of the devil.” It is here plainly implied that the early stages of even true religion, in persons possessed of promising gifts, are attended with peculiar temptations to high-mindedness. Alas, what numerous examples of this are daily apparent in young ministers! The transition, in many instances, is great: from a dejected state of mind to become guides of others, or from obscure circumstances to be elevated to the situation of a public teacher, attracting the smiles and applauses of the people, is what few young men are able to bear. When alone, conversing with God, or with their own souls, they can see many reasons for self-abasement; but when encircled with smiling crowds, and loaded with indiscreet applause, these thoughts evaporate. Every one proclaims the preacher’s excellence; and surely what every one affirms must be true! In short, he inhales the incense, and becomes intoxicated with its fumes.

Such a man, we sometimes say, possesses talents, but he is aware of it. In one sense a man must needs be aware of it. Humility does not consist in being ignorant of our talents, be they what they may; but in being properly impressed with the end for which they are given. The attention of a vain mind is fixed upon the talents themselves, dwelling on them with secret satisfaction, and expecting every one to be sensible of them no less than himself. Hence it is that the most fulsome adulation is acceptable. Hungering and thirsting after applause, he is ever fishing for it, and the highest degrees of it, when bestowed, strike but in unison with his own previous thoughts. Hence the flatterer, whom others can easily see through, appears to be a sensible and discerning man, who has discovered that of which the generality of people around him are insensible. Not so the humble. His attention is not fixed so much upon his talents as on the use which is required to be made of them. Feeling himself accountable for all that he has received, and conscious of his unspeakable defects in the application of them, he finds matter for continual shame and self-abasement. In this view the greatest of men may consider themselves as the “least of all saints,” and unworthy of a place among them.

Vanity of mind, so far as it relates to our behaviour towards man, will frequently effect its own cure. It is certain to work disgust in others, and that disgust will be followed by neglect, and other mortifying treatment. Thus it is that time and experience, if accompanied by a moderate share of good sense, will rub off the excrescences of youthful folly, and reduce the party to propriety of conduct. And if there be true religion as well as good sense, such things may be the means of really mortifying the evil, and may teach a lesson of genuine humility; but where this is wanting, the change is merely exterior. Though the branches may be lopped off, the root remains, and is strengthened by time, rather than mortified. Youthful vanity, in these cases, frequently ripens into pride and overbearing contempt.

From the earliest ages of Christianity, those who were possessed of spiritual gifts, and official situations in the church, were in danger of being elated by them. Though the eye cannot in truth say to the hand, “I have no need of thee, nor the head to the feet, I have no need of you;” yet if there had not been something nearly resembling it in the church, such language would not have been used. Neither would the primitive ministers have been charged not to “lord it over God’s heritage,” if such things had never made their appearance. The primitive churches had their Diotrephes, who cast out such as displeased him (3 John 9, 10); and such men have not been wanting for successors in every age. This lust of domination has sometimes been formed in preachers, and sometimes in men of opulence among private members; but commonly in persons, whether preachers or hearers, who were the least qualified for the exercise of legitimate rule. The churches of Christ, as well as all other societies, require to be governed, and he has prescribed laws for this purpose; but no man is fit to govern but he that is of a meek and lowly disposition. The greatest of all must be the servant of all. The authority which he maintains must not be sought after, nor supported by improper measures; but be spontaneously conferred on account of superior wisdom, integrity, and love.

There are various other things, as well as official situations, which furnish occasion for spiritual pride. Members of churches being equal, as members, with their pastors, may assume a kind of democratic consequence, and forget that it is their duty to honour and obey them that have the “rule over them in the Lord.” If ministers are called the servants of the churches, it is because their lives are laid out in promoting their best interests; and, when this is the case, they are entitled to an affectionate and respectful demeanour. To be a servant of a Christian church is one thing, and to be a slave to the caprice of a few of its members is another. Whatever it be in which we excel, or imagine ourselves to do so, there it becomes us to beware lest we be lifted up to our hurt. Those differences which are produced by religion itself may, through the corruptions of our nature, be converted into food for this pernicious propensity.

Those who name the name of Christ are taught to relinquish the chase of fashionable appearance, and to be sober and modest in their apparel and deportment; but while they are renouncing the pride of life in one form, let them beware that they cherish it not in another. We have seen persons whose self-complacency, on account of the plainness of their apparel, has risen to a most insufferable degree of arrogance; and who have appeared to be much more affected by a ribbon or a bonnet on another’s head than by all the abominations of their own hearts. The genuine “adorning” of the Christian is not that of the putting on of apparel; no, not that which is plain, any more than that which is gaudy; but the “ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, which is in the sight of God of great price.” To value ourselves on account of outward finery, which, where it is followed, is commonly the case, is offensive to God, and inconsistent with a proper attention to the inner man; but to value ourselves for the contrary may be still more so. The former, though a proof of a vain and little mind, yet is never considered, I suppose, as an exercise of holiness; but the latter is: great stress is laid upon it, and commonly to the neglect of the weightier matters of religion. In short, a righteousness is made of it, which of all things is most odious in the sight of God.

Those who name the name of Christ are taught also to demean themselves in such a manner as will naturally inspire respect from persons of character, and this may become a snare to the soul. Religion, by changing the course of a man’s conduct, often raises him to a much superior station in society than he occupied before. From being a drunkard, a liar, or in some form a loose character, he becomes sober, faithful, and regular in his conduct. Hence he naturally rises in esteem, and, in some cases, is intrusted with important concerns. All this is doubtless to the honour of God and religion; but let us beware lest a self-complacent thought enter our heart, and we be lifted up to our hurt. This species of pride will frequently appear in a scornful behaviour towards others who are still in their sins, and in a censorious and unforgiving spirit towards such members of the church as have conducted themselves with less regularity than ourselves. A lowly mind will drop a tear over the evil courses of the ungodly, and, feeling its obligations to renewing and keeping grace that hath made the difference, will find matter even in a public execution for humiliation, prayer, and praise. The falls of fellow Christians will likewise excite a holy fear and trembling, and induce a greater degree of watchfulness and supplication, lest we should in a similar way dishonour the name of God; and if called to unite with others in the exercise of scriptural discipline, it will be with a spirit of tenderness; not for the purpose of revenge, but of recovery. Seest thou a man whose resentments rise high when another falls, who is fierce and clamorous for the infliction of censure, and whose anger cannot be otherwise appeased, there is little reason to expect that he will stand long. He “thinketh he standeth;” let him “take heed lest he fall!”

He whose character is established by a steady and uniform conduct is doubtless worthy of our esteem; but if with this he be unfeeling towards others less uniform, there are three or four questions which it might be well for him to consider. First, Whether the difference between him and them be owing so much to the prevalence of Christian principles as to other causes. It may arise merely from a difference in natural temper. The sin which easily besets them may be of a kind which exposes them to the censures of the world; while his may be something more private, which does not come under their cognizance. It may arise from a greater regard to reputation in him than in them. Some men pique themselves much more than others upon the immaculacy of their character. But these are motives which if weighed in the balance will be found wanting. Secondly, Whether a censorious spirit towards those who have fallen does not prove that we arrogate to ourselves the difference, and depend upon ourselves for the resisting of temptation. We may “thank God” in words that we are “not as other men,” and so did the Pharisee; but we may be certain while this spirit prevails that God is not the rock on which we rest. Thirdly, Whether arrogancy and self-dependence be not as odious in the sight of God as the greatest outward vices, and whether it be not likely that he will give us up to the latter as a punishment for the former. We might have thought it a pity that so eminent a character as Simon Peter, one that was to take so important a part in spreading the gospel, should not have been preserved from so shameful a denial of his Lord. He prayed for him that his faith should not fail: why did he not pray that he should be either exempted from the trial, or preserved from falling in it? Surely if this self-confidence had not been more offensive to Christ than even his open denial of him it had been so; but as it was, rather than he should be indulged in spiritual pride, he must be rolled in the dirt of infamy.

Fuller, A. G. (1988). “The Occasions and Objects of Spiritual Pride,” Spiritual Pride. The Complete Works of Andrew Fuller: Expositions—Miscellaneous (J. Belcher, Ed.; Vol. 3, pp. 565–570). Sprinkle Publications.