“At the end of the day, I try my best to be good to anybody I come into contact with. If I died today, I think I could feel very comfortable standing in front of the pearly gates, knowing all the stuff I do tries to assist people.” — YouTube Commentator

It sounds noble, doesn’t it? Who wouldn’t admire someone trying to be kind and helpful in a broken world?

 But something about that statement made me pause. Not because kindness is wrong — far from it — but because of where the confidence is placed:

 In the self.

 In our own goodness. Our own effort. Our own record.

That may sound humble. But Biblically, it’s actually a subtle form of pride — the kind that whispers, “I’ve got this,” while politely telling God that He should be wowed by our goodness.

The Dangerous Lie of “I’m Good Enough”

In Luke 18, Jesus tells a parable about two men who go to the temple to pray. One is a Pharisee who thanks God that he’s not like other sinners. The other is a despised tax collector who won’t even look up to heaven, but simply says, “God, have mercy on me, a sinner.”

 Jesus concludes: “I tell you that this man, rather than the other, went home justified before God” (Luke 18:14 NIV).

The Pharisee checked all the religious boxes: he fasted, he prayed, he tithed everything that passed through his hands. But his confidence was in his performance. The tax collector, on the other hand, was painfully aware of his need for grace.

One trusted himself. The other trusted God.

A Word, Please: Dikaioō — “To Justify”

The Greek word used in Luke 18:14 is dikaioō — often translated to justify, or to declare righteous. It’s a legal term that means to be pronounced “in right standing” with God — not because you earned it, but because the Judge grants it.

Paul picks up on this in Romans 3:28:

“For we hold that one is justified [dikaioō] by faith apart from works of the law.”

In other words: you’re not made right with God because you tried really hard to be good. You’re made right because God, in Christ, has done the work on your behalf — and you received it through simple faith.

Virtue Without Grace Still Falls Short

Don’t misunderstand: doing good matters. We’re called to love our neighbors, feed the hungry, and walk in compassion.

But when we use our good deeds as a bargaining chip for Heaven, we’ve missed the heart of the gospel.

It’s like trying to buy your way into an exclusive club with Monopoly money. You may be sincere, but sincerity doesn’t change the currency.

A Different Kind of Confidence

If you want to know whether you’re ready to stand before God, don’t ask how many people you helped. Ask who you’re trusting.

Is your hope in your résumé? Or in Christ’s work?

Paul puts it this way in Galatians 2:21:

“If righteousness could be gained through the law, Christ died for nothing!”

Ouch.

If we could be “good enough,” then salvation is a wage — not a gift.

But it wasn’t.

Christ didn’t come to polish up the already decent. He came to rescue the lost, heal the broken, and justify the humble.

The Invitation

Maybe you’ve said something similar to that commentator. In my pre-Christ days, I thought the same thing: I’m a pretty decent human being. I try to be polite to others. I haven’t swindled or killed anyone. If there is a God, surely that’s enough.

But the gospel doesn’t say, “Rely on your goodness.” It says, “Come empty-handed.” Not “Look what I’ve done,” but “Look what Christ has done.”

You don’t need to earn your place at the gate. Jesus already opened it. All that’s left is to walk through in faith.