For the last 22 years I've been responsible for the education of at least one (and often three or four) student. Each of those 22 years were different than the one before it and each of those students were different than their classmates.

Most years we participated in a local homeschool co-op where fellow mom-teachers shared the burden of teaching their children with one another. Some years we kept more to ourselves and therefore shouldered our various teaching and learning burdens alone.

Every year though, there was a special kind of burden that had little to do with the homeschool requirements of our state or of understanding and then teaching (or finding someone who could) chemistry and algebra. Don't get me wrong, the burdens of teaching those difficult topics were never light. Most of my teaching career happened before the dawn of easy access to Google and YouTube! Even so, the burden that proved to be the heaviest far outweighed it all.

My burden, and I suspect the burden of most homeschooling moms and dads,

and public schooling moms and dads,

and other schooling moms and dads,

and baseball parents,

and single parents,

and grandparents,

...was the constant wondering if what I was trying to do

as a wife

and a mom

and a friend

and a sister

and a daughter

and a homeschool teacher

and a child of God

was good enough. 

How in the world are we to get an answer to the constant drip of the question,

"Am I enough?"

or

"Is what I am doing enough?"  

In his sermon about the tax collector and the Pharisee entitled "A Tale of Two Prayers," Pastor Jeremiah points to a few ways that we attempt to stop the drip, to answer the question, to relieve our quiet fears, to calm our insecurities. 

We keep score.

I built a beautiful homeschooling scoreboard in my heart. It had bright multicolored lights, and a screen that would provide replays of the glorious events of the school day. It even had a speaker so that I could hear my thoughts as they occurred to me. This scoreboard also had a really great feature: I always had more points than my opponent, always. 

Here's how that worked.

I discover that your kids can write better than mine.

Well!  I say to myself, My kids are better at math than yours! And we all know that math is harder.

I find out that someone else's children are better at math than mine.

Ah, don't get excited, myself reassures, your kids are better at writing than hers. And writing is gonna be vital in college!

Your Awana Clubber knows more Bible verses than my sweet Spark? Well do you spend ANY time with your kid on math and writing? Bible verses aren't gonna be useful in college Algebra.

Does that sound familiar?

The Pharisee standing by himself prayed thus, "God, I thank you that I am not like other men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week. I give tithes of all that I get." Luke 18:11-13

In the sermon, Leon Morris says of the Pharisee, "He comes just short of congratulating God on the excellence of his servant."

I. Have. Been. There. 

We probably don't say it aloud in prayer, but aren't we quietly keeping score?

I'm more responsible than them.

I'm more faithful than them.

I certainly make better decisions than they do.

I would never do what they did.

My heart's magical scoreboard made me feel secure in the moment, but false narratives do not make for real peace.

"Follow the eyes. Instead of looking to the hills where his hope comes from, he side-eyes the room." - Jeremiah Nichols on the Pharisee and his score-keeping.

We build a resume.

Then we are told of what the Pharisee does next. 

"He's already listed the sins he doesn't do. And then he starts talking about all the things he does do. 'I fast twice a week. I tithe everything.' And he's saying for God and everybody in the room to hear, 'Lord! I go above and beyond for you.' 

Jesus said, 'Go the second mile. That's what I'm doing.' Every box on his spiritual checklist is checked and he's added a few extra. He goes beyond what the law requires and pads his spiritual resume and then flaunts it in the room to prove what side he's on.

But where is his trust?  In his own performance in comparison with the resumes of others?

Many, many times when my teenaged math scholars and poet laureates would accomplish a task or be given an award or get out of bed on time, whether it was average or awesome I would tell them, 

This will look great on your resume!

Can you imagine what is on my heart's resume in rough seasons (ok, and in not so rough ones)?

It's not pretty. It's singed around the edges and smells of smoke. It's full of comparison with a specialty in holier-than-thou and it is proof that I've got the perfect qualifications of

a Pharisee.

The Tale of Two Prayers sermon takes it from here:

But the tax collector standing far off would not even lift up his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast, saying, "God, be merciful to me a sinner."

Notice his body language.

He has separated himself too. He's far off. Might be in the outer room of the temple because he knows he's unworthy of a holy God. He's not side-eyed anybody in the room. He won't even look up to heaven, which is what the Jewish people would do. His eyes are in the dirt and he's hammering his chest with every word.

As this church leader rattles off all his accomplishments, the scoundrel in the room can only say seven words.

God, be merciful to me, a sinner.

If you want to know if you've been so pressured in your life trying to perform, trying to do enough good, trying to be right with God, and you just don't know if you're going to make it, cry out to God,  

"Have mercy on me!"

And that will be enough.

When the first day of school comes this fall, I will no longer be under the burden of the responsibility of my kids' formal education. Honestly, that does feel like a relief.

You'd think with that particular burden lifted, I would finally have a clear answer to the question that has been dripping in my ear for years:

Did I do enough?

Did I teach enough?

Did I explain, choose, encourage, and prepare them enough?

Some things are absolutely evident:

We did not do enough geography. 

We worried way too much about chemistry.

We did enough writing. 

We did enough reading but could have done more.

We didn't go on enough field trips. 

I'm most embarrassed about the geography.

Here's the sure fact: I was never gonna be enough. I AM never gonna be enough. 

(Neither are you.)

It's ok, though, because He is! 

Back to the sermon:

Jesus tells this tale of two men to make it universal. He's not talking about two men. He's talking about the only two kinds of men and women. Everyone who lives like the Pharisee, everyone who trusts in themselves, everyone who treats others with contempt will be made low.

And everyone who desperately hopes in the mercy of Christ like the tax collector will be lifted high.

And Luke calls us to this promise because he knows how easy it is to start trusting in yourself. and to forget that your righteousness is just a filthy rag.

You have nothing to brag about. I have nothing to brag about.

When you look in the mirror, when you stand before the Lord, how do you see yourself?

Do you sing the riches of your performance and your track record? Or do you just know you are empty?

Do you soothe your soul with the sweet nectar of comparing your success with their failures?

Do you climb that ladder thinking about all the things you know about God, all the things you've done for God and look down that ladder and wonder when anybody else is going to start climbing?

Christian, at the cross, nobody stands higher than anyone else. And you can't look down on anybody when your eyes are in the dirt.

It is hard to speak with contempt and ridicule when you're choking on your own tears.

Closing Prayer:

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, let me begin by asking for your forgiveness.

Have mercy on me.

Then let me stand in the gap and let me say, Lord Jesus Christ, son of God, have mercy on my brothers and sisters.

Lord, I ask your spirit to use the gospel and the power of salvation to call tax collectors and sinners home.

Let them put their eyes on Christ, trust in his work, and cry out to you and you will  shower them with mercy.

God. Let the hard hearts and the hard ears be softened.

And let the oldest saints who have traveled the most miles and every one of us not quite so far down the road to shed a tear like the tax collector when we look in the mirror.

Lead us to confession. Lead us to repentance. lead us to trust in the righteousness of Christ alone.

Holy Spirit, teach us to pray like this and keep praying for us while we work.

Lord have mercy. Lord have mercy. Lord have mercy. In Jesus name we pray. Amen.

Watch or listen to The Tale of Two Prayers by Pastor Jeremiah Nichols here.

Download the printable Sermon Summary Sheet for The Tale of Two Prayers here.

Find the complete When Jesus Gets in the Way mini-series by Pastor Jeremiah Nichols here.