The Pharisee in Me

The uncomfortable truth about our instinct to gatekeep God’s grace—and the better way of Jesus

📷: Henning Kesselhut

A Gentle Confrontation

Let me begin with what might feel like a gentle confrontation.

Here it is: I believe every one of us is more like the Pharisees than we want to admit.

That’s uncomfortable to hear. Most of us don’t identify with the Pharisees. We think of them as self-righteous villains in robes—judgmental, elitist, and out of touch with their own need for grace. But if we’re honest, the very seed that grew in their hearts still find soil in ours.

We may not wear robes, but we’ve all wrestled with the temptation to gatekeep God’s grace. We all have lines we’re tempted to draw around who belongs at the table of Jesus. But in Luke 5, Jesus paints a different picture. It’s one that challenges our assumptions and invites us to make space at the table for more than just ourselves.

Jesus Welcomes the Unwanted

Luke tells us that as Jesus was walking one day, He saw a man named Levi sitting at a tax booth (Luke 5:27). To most people, Levi would have been invisible—or worse, despised. Tax collectors were seen as traitors. They worked for Rome and padded their own pockets by overcharging their own people.

But Jesus didn’t pass Levi by. The text says He “saw” him. The original Greek word suggests something deeper than a glance. Jesus identified Levi, singled him out, and offered him two simple words: “Follow me.”

Levi got up, left everything, and followed.

Now, it’s easy to sentimentalize this story. We might cheer for Levi as the underdog who finally gets his moment. But imagine this scene from the perspective of the crowd. Jesus didn’t just call a misunderstood guy with a bad reputation. He called someone everyone resented. Someone who had taken advantage of them. Someone who didn’t deserve to belong.

So here’s the uncomfortable question we need to ask: Who are the people we don’t want Jesus to welcome?

Who’s the person, real or imagined, that, if they walked into your community of faith, you’d quietly hope wouldn’t come back?

These questions aren’t meant to shame us, but to surface something important: the subtle but powerful ways we can slip into the same posture as the Pharisees— protective of our space, cautious with our welcome.

But Jesus? Jesus welcomes the unwanted. Always.

Levi Invites His Friends

Not long after his calling, Levi throws a party for Jesus and invites all his tax collector friends (Luke 5:29). Picture the scene: a table full of outcasts, people with bad reputations, sharing food and laughter—and at the center of it all is Jesus, fully at ease.

This wasn’t just a dinner party. It was an act of radical hospitality.

And Levi wasn’t content to keep Jesus to himself. His natural response to being welcomed was to extend that same welcome to others. He wanted his friends to meet the One who had made room for him.

That’s a picture of what grace does—it multiplies.

But let’s be honest: extending that kind of welcome can feel risky. Maybe you’re comfortable with your community just the way it is. You know the people. You feel safe. And change, even the kind that comes with new people, can feel threatening.

But just like in a growing family, each new addition can bring something beautiful. Each new person welcomed at the table has the potential to enrich the whole.

So let me ask: Who in your life might never expect to be welcome at Jesus’ table? And what would it look like for you to invite them in?

Jesus Clarifies His Heart

Of course, not everyone was thrilled with Jesus’ hospitality. The Pharisees caught wind of Levi’s banquet and were deeply offended (Luke 5:30). From their perspective, eating with “sinners” was more than poor taste—it was dangerous. They believed that if the people of Israel could just maintain ritual and moral purity, God would send the Messiah to rescue them.

In their minds, Jesus was delaying divine rescue by befriending the impure.

But Jesus made it clear: He wasn’t building a spiritual country club for the clean and qualified. He was running a field hospital for the sick and seeking.

He said, “It is not those who are healthy who need a doctor, but those who are sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance” (Luke 5:31–32, CSB).

Jesus isn’t interested in preserving appearances. He’s interested in healing hearts.

And that changes the entire posture of a community. It shifts the question from “Who’s in and who’s out?” to “Who’s moving toward Jesus?”

What Kind of Community Are We Building?

There are two common ways churches and communities organize themselves: as a “bounded set” or a “centered set.”

A bounded set defines belonging through firm boundaries—often based on beliefs, behaviors, or background. The focus is on who qualifies. The risk is that we end up guarding lines more than opening doors.

A centered set, on the other hand, defines belonging by proximity to Jesus. The only question that matters is, “Are you moving toward Him?” This way of being honors grace over gatekeeping. It makes room for people in all stages of life and all parts of the journey—as long as their hearts are pointed toward Christ.

That’s the kind of community Jesus modeled. One where there’s always room for one more at the table.

Let’s Fill the Table

So, let’s bring this home with a couple of questions:

• What might make you hesitant to welcome new people into your community of faith?

• Where might God be nudging you to extend an invitation—to share your table, your time, or your spiritual journey?

Maybe it’s a coworker who’s been curious about your faith. Maybe it’s a family member who’s walked away from church. Maybe it’s someone who feels like they’d never belong.

Don’t wait for the perfect opportunity. Just start with an invitation.

Because here’s what I hope we never forget:

There is always room at Jesus’ table.

Let’s be people who fill it.

You can subscribe to The Lighthouse below—and if this encouraged you, consider forwarding it to someone who needs the reminder: Jesus still welcomes, still invites, and still heals.