Are You Here to Save Your Face or Save Your A**?

Are You Here to Save Your Face or Save Your A**?

Let’s dive into a question that cuts deeper than a Thanksgiving turkey—Are you here to save your face or save your ass? It’s a blunt, almost comical way to frame a profound spiritual challenge, and it’s rooted in a story that’s been rattling cages for centuries. Picture this: Jesus, the master storyteller, drops a parable in Luke 18:9-14 about two guys heading to the Temple to pray. One’s a Pharisee, the polished poster child of religious perfection. The other? A tax collector, the societal equivalent of a pariah—despised, dirty, and desperate. The contrast is stark, and the lesson hits like a ton of bricks.

The Pharisee struts in, head high, thanking God he’s not like “those sinners” (read: the tax collector). He’s all about image management—external appearances polished to a shine. Meanwhile, the tax collector can’t even look up to heaven. He beats his chest and cries, “God, have mercy on me, a sinner!” No pretense, no polish—just raw, unfiltered need. And here’s the kicker: Jesus says the tax collector, not the Pharisee, goes home justified. Why? Because he wasn’t there to save face; he was there to save his soul.

The Mirror of Our Motives

This parable isn’t just ancient history—it’s a mirror. Author and therapist Dr. Larry Crabb, in his book Inside Out, nails it when he writes, “We’re often more committed to looking good than to being real.” Sound familiar? I once knew a guy—let’s call him Mike—who joined a recovery group after a DUI. He showed up every week, spouting the right lingo, nodding at the right moments. But after months, his sponsor confronted him: “Mike, you’re here to look good, not to get well.” Mike’s face-saving act crumbled, and it wasn’t until he admitted his mess that real healing began. The tax collector’s humility wasn’t an act—it was the real deal.

The Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous echoes this truth. In its pages, it notes, “Many of us balked at these steps. We thought we could find an easier, softer way.” Step 5—confessing our mess to another person—feels like walking a tightrope without a net. But the book insists that without this vulnerability, we stay stuck. The tax collector didn’t care about the crowd’s opinion; he cared about God’s mercy.

Real Life and a Dash of Humor

Let’s be honest—saving face is a human sport. I remember my friend Sarah, who once showed up to a church small group with a rehearsed testimony. She talked about her “struggles” with a smile so bright it could blind you. But when someone gently asked, “Sarah, are you here to save face or save your ass?”—yes, they really said that—she laughed, then cried. Turns out, her polished story hid a drinking problem she’d never faced. That blunt question, inspired by the parable’s spirit, broke through her defenses. Today, she’s two years sober and swears it was the best wake-up call she ever got.

Humor helps here. Imagine the Pharisee on Instagram, posting selfies with captions like, “#Blessed #NotLikeThatGuy.” Meanwhile, the tax collector’s post would be a blurry, tear-streaked selfie with, “#HelpMeGod.” One’s a performance; the other’s a plea. Which are we?

The Wisdom of the Ages

The idea of choosing authenticity over image isn’t new. C.S. Lewis, in Mere Christianity, warns, “We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us.” The tax collector chose that infinite joy over his finite reputation. And Brene Brown, in Daring Greatly, adds a modern twist: “Vulnerability is the birthplace of innovation, creativity, and change.” The tax collector’s vulnerability opened the door to God’s grace—something the Pharisee’s pride couldn’t touch.

Application: Your Turn to Choose

So, where does this leave us? The book “Steps” by John Ortberg asks a diagnostic question: Are you here to save your face or to save your soul? (I’ll keep it polite but pointed.) Turns out, you can’t do both. We each must choose.

If you’re clinging to a polished image—like the Pharisee or my friend Mike—take a cue from the tax collector. Find a trusted friend, a sponsor, or even a journal, and let it all out. Step 5 isn’t about airing dirty laundry; it’s about letting the light in. As the Big Book promises, “We are not punished for our sins, but by them. Unless we let go, we will be stuck.”

Start small. Admit one thing you’ve hidden—maybe to yourself first. Then, share it with someone who won’t judge but will listen. It’s not easy; it’s terrifying. But it’s the path to freedom. The tax collector didn’t leave the Temple the same man—he left forgiven. You can too. So, what’s it going to be? Face or soul? The choice is yours.






About the author:

Roy Joshua is a global ministry leader, educator, and communicator with over 20 years of experience in cross-cultural discipleship, theological instruction, pastoral ministry, and spiritual formation. He has served in a variety of leadership roles across nonprofit organizations, churches, and international ministry initiatives. Roy currently serves as an adjunct faculty instructor and mentors emerging Christian leaders around the world. His work includes raising awareness for persecuted Christians and equipping the global Church to respond with faith, courage, and compassion.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Spare the Rod, Lose the Soul: A Christian Parent’s Encounter with British “Compassion”

Spare the Rod, Lose the Soul: A Christian Parent’s Encounter with British “Compassion” A Shocking Welcome to England When our family moved from the United States to England, we expected the usual challenges — new accents, new roads, new routines. What we didn’t expect was a visit from the police and social services because of how we discipline our children. A few weeks after we arrived, my daughter’s teacher taught a lesson on consequences. In childlike honesty, my daughter said she sometimes gets “consequences” at home — in the form of spanking. When she added that it sometimes involves a wooden spoon, the class froze. That single word — spoon — triggered a cascade of events that changed our week. My wife got a call just before school pickup. She was told not to come; the children would be dropped off later by someone else. Two hours later, a social worker and a police officer arrived at our home, escorting our children. They inspected their rooms, checked the cupboards, and evaluated...
Read more

When the Ground Shifts: Towards A Biblical Understanding of Restructuring

Image
  When the Ground Shifts: Towards A Biblical Understanding of Restructuring Seasons of restructuring—especially when driven by financial constraint—can feel like loss. Fewer projects, fewer opportunities to serve, and difficult decisions about what not to do. Yet Scripture consistently reframes moments like these, not as failure, but as refinement. 1. God Works Through Pruning, Not Just Expansion Jesus says in John 15:2, “Every branch that does bear fruit he prunes, that it may bear more fruit.” Pruning is not punishment—it is preparation. In ministry and organizational life, we often equate growth with faithfulness. But pruning reminds us that fruitfulness sometimes requires subtraction . What is being cut back may actually be what enables deeper, more sustainable impact later. This echoes what Jim Collins writes in Good to Great : great organizations are disciplined not just in what they pursue, but in what they stop doing . The “stop doing list” is often more strategic th...
Read more

Caring vs. Calling: Why One Fades and the Other Endures

Caring vs. Calling: Why One Fades and the Other Endures In a world filled with causes, movements, and endless needs, it is easy to confuse caring about something with being called to something. Both matter. Both are good. But they are not the same. Caring can ignite the heart. Calling can anchor the soul. Caring may move us to action for a season. Calling roots us in obedience for a lifetime. The difference often becomes clear when difficulty, confusion, or suffering enters the journey. When the weight feels unbearable, caring alone rarely sustains a person. But calling—God-given, God-breathed calling—keeps a believer walking forward even when the road is steep, lonely, or dangerous. 1. Caring Has Limits, Calling Does Not Caring is compassion. It is empathy. It is the stirring in the heart when we encounter injustice, pain, or need. It is good and biblical. Jesus Himself was “moved with compassion” (Matthew 9:36). But caring, by itself, does not always endure hardship....
Read more