Self Pity

I invite you to turn in the word of God this evening to 1 Kings 19. 1 Kings 19. I was reflecting as I was preparing this week in relation to the subject matter for those who are visiting or dealing with a topical theme in the evenings, looking at what we’ve titled Bible Answers for Inner Battles—addressing things like anxiety and other aspects of things that we feel within ourselves, things like doubt and so on—and trying to consider them biblically and address them. And I was noting how I was trying to wonder about my own logic. I’m not sure I figured it out. In some instances, I’ve taken a text that is more the positive—this is what you need to hear. In other instances, I’ve gone to, like, “Here’s what we shouldn’t be. Here’s a negative example.” And so when I dealt with regret, for example, we looked at Peter and his sin and him feeling that repentance and regret within his soul. And then on other occasions, looking at more positive texts and using them as really the platform. But it’s more topical. We’re not really giving much exposition on one particular text. But then I find myself going to the negative example again this evening, as we look at the subject of self-pity, self-pity.

And so, we will read a few verses here from 1 Kings 19. Elijah has come really out of nowhere onto the scene in Israel, and has been praying for his nation for some time, and has seen God answer prayer—bringing a famine, bringing the people and the nation to its knees, seeing it all culminate on Mount Carmel, where the prophets of Baal are exposed, and the rain then comes—and yet there’s little real sign of significant change. And so, overwhelmed, weary, tired, when we come to 1 Kings 19 verse 4, we read the following:

“‘But he himself, on a day’s journey into the wilderness, came and sat down under a juniper tree, and he requested for himself that he might die, and said, it is enough now, O Lord, take away my life, for I am not better than my father’s. As he lay and slept under a juniper tree, behold, then, an angel touched him and said unto him, arise and eat. And he looked, and behold, there was a cake baking on the coals, and a cruise of water at his head. And he did eat and drink and laid him down again. And the angel of the Lord came again the second time and touched him and said, Arise and eat, because the journey is too great for thee. And he rose and did eat and drink and went in the strength of that meat forty days and forty nights unto Horeb the mount of God. And he came thither unto a cave and lodged there. And behold, the word of the Lord came to him, and he said unto him, What doest thou hear, Elijah? And he said, I have been very jealous for the Lord God of hosts, for the children of Israel have forsaken thy covenant, thrown down thine altars, and slain thy prophets with the sword. And I, even I only, am left, and they seek my life to take it away. And he said, go forth and stand upon the mount before the Lord. And behold, the Lord passed by, and a great and strong wind rent the mountains and brake and pieces the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. And after the wind, an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. And after the earthquake, a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire, a still small voice. And it was so when Elijah heard it that he wrapped his face in his mantle and went out and stood in the entering in of the cave. And behold, there came a voice onto him and said, what doest thou hear, Elijah? And he said, I have been very jealous for the Lord God of hosts. Because the children of Israel have forsaken thy covenant, thrown down thine altars, and slain thy prophets with the sword, and I, even I only, am left, and they seek my life to take it away.’

The Lord said unto him, Go, return on thy way to the wilderness of Damascus, and when thou comest, anoint Hazael to be king over Syria. And Jehu, the son of Nimshid, shalt thou anoint to be king over Israel, and Elisha, the son of Shaphat, of Abel, Meholah, shalt thou anoint to be prophet in thy room. And it shall come to pass that him that escapeth the sword of Hazael shall Jehusley, and him that escapeth from the sword of Jehu shall Elishasley. Yet have I left me seven thousand in Israel, all the knees which have not bowed unto Baal, and every mouth which hath not kissed him.”

We’ll end the reading there—the 18th verse of that chapter. What you have heard is the infallible Word of the living God. There’s no greater privilege than to hear the very Word of God read in your presence for you to respond to in faith before the Lord. And so you’re to receive it and believe it. And the people of God said, Amen.

Let’s pray.

Lord, give us grace to respond to thy Word. Give us the help we need. We plead, oh God, that we would not be found in the number that only hear the word but do not do it. We ask that we would be those that experience faith rising up as the word is heard. Oh, help us. We are so weak and frail. We have no strength. We try so hard at times to be devout and sincere and godly, and yet we are filled with inconsistency, with ill thinking, from biblical practice. I know how we need to be straightened out—not by our own strength, but by the Word of God and the Spirit of God. And so now, in faith, we surrender our hearts as a congregation. We bring ourselves to the living God and we throw ourselves at Thy mercy and ask, Lord, speak to us, change us, make us like Thy Son. Should there be one here still with the pride of unbelief in their hearts, we pray that they might be struck down in conviction, brought to a knowledge of Christ this very night. We pray in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Sometimes we throw out a term like self-pity with little thought or any meaningful consideration about what it is that we mean by the term, and sometimes without really thinking in relation to the real unchristian nature of what it is that we are describing. Broadly speaking, self-pity can be described as a self-absorbed unhappiness or sorrow over one’s own hardships, accompanied by a sense of being unfairly treated or uniquely burdened. While moments of sadness and frustration are a natural part of life, self-pity represents a prolonged dwelling on one’s misfortunes and a perception of oneself as a victim. It’s subtle, you know, but it’s very destructive. It masquerades in some form, usually trying to present itself as a posture of humility at times, but really, it’s pride turned inward. It’s an inflation of the self that rises up, magnifies our suffering, and isolates our souls away from others, and more to the point, away from God. We begin to question the goodness of God. And it needs to be distinguished from things like real lament—biblical lament. There are times when you see a real lament in the soul of God’s people, when something has happened, tragedy in the nation, tragedy in the home or the family, and it is expressed in lamentation. But the distinguishing factor between biblical or spiritual lament and self-pity is that real biblical or spiritual lament turns to God, looks to God, recognizes the sovereignty of God, and begs for the help of God, whereas self-pity immediately looks inward—starts wondering, “Why me?” and reflecting upon the misfortunes of self without expressing faith toward God. It is often paralyzing—a kind of slow-working poison that will, again, if not checked and repented of, be devastating to the soul of those that feel it. It can lead to forms of bitterness and even to despair.

And we have in our portion tonight, as I said, I’ve taken more of the negative, where we have an example of one who reflects a kind of self-pity, especially looking at verses 9 and 10, when Elijah finds himself in a cave and the Word of God comes to him: “What doest thou hear, Elijah?” And he said, “I have been very jealous for the Lord God of hosts. The children of Israel have forsaken thy covenant, thrown down thine altars, and slain thy prophets with the sword, and I, even I only, am left, and they seek my life to take it away.” In this expression, which comes twice, there is an undercurrent of self-pity. The Lord very gently and patiently deals with His servant, but ultimately brings him to remember the fact, in verse 18, that He has left 7,000 in Israel, all the knees which have not bowed unto Baal, and every mouth which has not kissed him. There are 7,000. Don’t be so focused on self. Don’t be imagining you’re the only one. I am at work and 7,000 others—they also are faithful and are looking to me. But Elijah, so overcome again by looking inward to himself and his own circumstances, reflects this kind of self-pity, questioning God, wondering about His providence. And it’s not harmless. This kind of attitude is not a harmless thing; it is a real disease that is destructive to the soul. It needs to be seen, it needs to be understood, and it needs to be weeded out when it rises up. And there’s not one of us here that can avoid this. I think this is one of those things that definitely is more dominant broadly. Some of the things we’ve been dealing with—all will find some expression in us, but some of them are more pervasive. I think you can say this is a general problem among the vast majority, even of the people of God. We murmur, we feel this murmuring rising up in our souls: “Why me? Have I not been faithful? Have I not suffered enough?” And such language is not the fruit of faith. It is a corruption. It is distorting the truth. It is attacking God, elevating the self, accusing God of injustice. And we need to be freed from its grasp, delivered from its power. And the remedy, of course, is the gospel. The gospel allows us to look at ourselves and God and be at rest. I mentioned it—I wasn’t intending to say it again, but we sang that 44th Psalm this morning. I mention it frequently whenever we sing it. It has one of those tunes that isn’t exactly the uplifting theme or song of the soul. It’s not like you enter in, you want to be made and to be encouraged, and you have this tune that sort of has this morose, despondent kind of sound to it. But it goes with the words— that’s a lament; that’s a psalm where there’s a lamentation, lamenting what’s going on in the nation, lamenting what feels like God turning away, God allowing His own people to be devastated and destroyed. And the question rises, “Why?” It cries out that God who delivered generations in the past might do so again, and as I said this morning, it’s that Psalm where we’re led as lambs or sheep to the slaughter that Paul hones in on and quotes in Romans 8: “Who shall lay anything to the charge of God’s elect? What can separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord?” And even though we be those led like lambs to the slaughter, seemingly destroyed, God permitting devastation to His people, there’s a triumph—we are more than conquerors, more than conquerors through Him that loved us. That conquering then is not seen always in everything, in the outward going the way we might want. That conquering is not always expressed in life panning out exactly as we hoped. That conquering is something that transcends the circumstances, transcends the pain and the suffering. And it’s real. Oh, child of God, it is real.

So, self-pity—following the same headings that we’ve done before—we look first then at the character. What’s the character of self-pity? How do we understand self-pity and the various ways in which we see it? Well, first we might say self-pity is a distortion of reality. Self-pity is a distortion of reality. It has a way of twisting our vision so that what we perceive, what we believe to be true, isn’t the truth. So, self-pity has a way in which we can’t fully see the way we ought to see. It magnifies the hardships, often doing so in a way that minimizes the difficulties of others. You think of Jonah—Jonah 4, the record there—you see a kind of self-pity expression in Jonah as well. He doesn’t like what God has done. He’s not in agreement with what God has done. And he feels his self-pity within his soul, and you see it expressed for us. And what it tends to do then is to breed a false sense of uniqueness, as if no one has ever suffered the way I am suffering now, which conflicts with 1 Corinthians 10:13, “There hath no temptation taken you but that which is common to man.” Self-pity magnifies it, uniquifies it, if I can make up a word. This is unique to me. We have this temptation to believe that our trials are unparalleled, and it leads us to this self-imposed, exilic mentality. It puts us outside, makes us distinct. Instead of coming into the body of the saints, instead of coming into the compass of Scripture and saying, “Look at these believers who suffered even more greatly than me,” and learning from them and being strengthened by them, we put ourselves out as exiles beyond the pale of what normally is experienced by the people of God—and there’s no answer for us. No answer in Scripture. No answer found in the body of Christ. It forgets the blessings and the faithfulness of God, dwelling only on what we perceive as missing. As soon as any believer turns his gaze away from God to himself, self-pity is at the door. Already it’s lurking, knocking there.

I quoted it already: “Psalm 103, bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all His benefits.” The implication being that the believer, the believer who has a song of redemption in his soul, cannot forget the benefits of God to him. So self-pity is a distortion of reality.

Also, self-pity is self-centered rather than God-centered. Again, it’s important to see the difference between biblical lament that you find in many of the Psalms and other portions of Scripture that acknowledge the suffering but lift the eyes toward God, looking to Him for His help. I think at some point we will come to Psalm 42 for a different challenge. But Psalm 42: “Why art thou cast down, O my soul, and why art thou disquieted within me? hope thou in God.” And there’s a lot in that Psalm that shows that the danger of self-pity is right there. And the discouragement—we might say even the melancholy that we would call today depression—is expressed in Psalm 42 in a very vivid way, and yet he is turning his eye toward the Lord. “Hope thou in God,” he says to himself. But self-pity doesn’t look up. It looks inward. It feeds on self, gets consumed with thoughts about self, which extinguishes the natural impulse of the Spirit within the life of the believer to offer thanksgiving and praise. And Philippians 2, in verses 3 and 4, tells us, “Let nothing be done through strife or vainglory, but in lowliness of mind let each esteem other better than themselves.” And so we’re encouraged there, in the way we look at one another, to have this recognition of who they are and esteem them—not be so focused upon elevating ourselves, but elevating them, seeing them in a right sense. But there’s a sense in which self-pity twists this. Instead of esteeming others, it esteems self and does so with respect to personal troubles. Instead of looking at others and esteeming them, we look to ourselves, we esteem ourselves, and especially in the time of trouble, then we elevate the troubles that we’re going through. We’re not thinking about others; we’re thinking about me, myself, and I.

Also, self-pity leads to spiritual paralysis. You can see it here in Elijah, in the context. What’s he doing at this time in his life? Nothing. Nothing. He’s isolated. He’s paralyzed. And he’s not crying out to God—and God is coming very graciously as He does to minister to him, to help him, to lead him, to bring him to where he needed to be out of where he presently was. But he finds himself inactive and therefore ineffective at this point. I think you see something similar in David’s life as well. It’s hard to find a time in David’s life where you could say David sits still and does nothing. But there is an occasion where, actually later on, quite a lot has unfolded. I mean, he’s been chased by Saul, he’s gone through a lot, he’s had all of his triumphs—they’re singing songs about him—now Saul’s turned against him. God has delivered him on a number of occasions. I think even before this, there’s probably at least two occasions where he could have taken Saul’s life. And he’s had encouragement from Saul’s son. Jonathan is in full support, saying, “You’ll be king.” He has all these words of encouragement in relation to his future, and yet something overtakes him. You come to 1 Samuel 27, and we find there he says, “David said in his heart, I shall now perish one day by the hand of Saul.” And what this does actually lead him to is this despair—which wasn’t just a moment, this is the problem. As Spurgeon said with regard to certain sins, it’s like, “I can’t stop a bird landing on my head, but I can stop it building a nest there.” And there’s a certain way in which the thought of self-pity, that inward thought, is very easy. It comes into our souls very readily. And if we let it dwell there—that’s the problem. That obviously happened to David. He’s dwelling on this thought despite everything God had said to him and all that had transpired, all God’s deliverances from the hand of Saul and His help, and yet he’s saying, “I shall now perish one day by the hand of Saul.” Based on what? David, based on what do you make that claim? Based on God’s promise that you’ll be king on your anointing? Based on all the times that Saul has killed you or whatever? No—you’ve been delivered every single time. You’ve been preserved powerfully. You could have taken him on numerous occasions, more times than Saul could have taken you. What are you thinking about? But self-pity overcomes him. He then heads to the Philistines, goes to Achish. You read the story there for yourself. It’s not one of the bright points in David’s life. But I think you could see an element of self-pity governing in his heart. And so it whispers things like, “There’s no use in trying.” It drains us of resolve, paralyzes us of action, and so we become spectators sitting there only observing one thing—our own misery.

So it leads to spiritual paralysis. Self-pity also accuses God of unfairness—accuses God of unfairness. Again, I mentioned Jonah, and you see this with Jonah. “I do well to be angry,” he says. What are you saying, Jonah? Are you trying to justify your feeling here, arguing against God, making accusations against God’s very character? The Israelites as well—they’re delivered by God—and again you see them wandering in the wilderness. Even at the time when they have crossed the Red Sea (Exodus 16), when they went to God because they had died by the hand of the Lord in the land of Egypt, there’s an element of self-pity there. So you see it, and what it ends up doing is bringing up this kind of rebellion, because in the questioning, you can’t help but be rebelling against God, as if He’s done something wrong. So it’s not just weakness. This isn’t just a trifling thing that you say, “Well, it’s no big deal.” It’s hugely destructive.

Self-pity is often rooted in pride—self-pity, you can see, I think, even in the elder brother in the parable our Lord gave in Luke 15. And the focus, of course, is on the prodigal. Most of the narrative is given to him—sometimes to the detriment of not really thinking about the significance of the elder brother. If anything, actually, when you are assessing that parable, there’s at least equal emphasis and significance on the elder brother than there is on the prodigal himself. The prodigal depicts Christ going after the sinner, but the whole message of those parables is directed towards the religious. They’re looking on at the ministry of Jesus Christ and finding fault, and what He does in the parable isn’t so much focused on those whom He’s accused of helping—the sinners that He eats with and so on. The purpose of the parable is to actually shed light on the religious leaders. But not only does He go after them, but He’s still extending mercy to the religious leaders as well. And so you have the older brother—and of course then when the prodigal comes back and there’s a great party and celebration at his return—the elder brother shows again the sense of self-pity, though he never said, “Give me a kid that I might marry with my friends.” Again, he’s looking at his context and assessing others and saying, “I was never treated this way.”

I think you see also in Cain, in Genesis 4, his response to God—there’s where you see the element of bitterness that self-pity can lead to: bitterness. As he assessed God’s acceptance of Abel’s sacrifice and the rejection of his own, instead of falling in repentance and correcting his way, he felt a sense of self-pity within his soul, was angry at his brother, and slew him. But also self-pity robs joy and thankfulness—that’s the last thing of its character. The self-pitying heart cannot rejoice. It doesn’t see the blessings. It’s struggling to express real, meaningful gratitude. “In everything give thanks.” This is the will of God and Christ Jesus concerning you (1 Thessalonians 5:18). No matter what—no matter what—and everything, give thanks. We touched on it in relation to anxiety in Philippians 4, and the importance of gratitude. Gratitude is part of the deliverance from anxiety. When we’re caused to reflect, to look back, we consider what God has done for us; but what self-pity does is it takes away that backward look to what God has done, makes us blind to the mercies that we have experienced. And so we wallow in self-pity, forgetting the goodness of God.

So this is as we reflect on the character of self-pity. What’s the cause? What are some of the causes of self-pity? Why does this exist? Why does it rise up? Why is it something that we struggle with? There’s a number of ways in which I’ve categorized this. The first main idea is the theological causes.

Theological causes—because I think we need to look at the theology that can cause this kind of spirit and attitude within us. So, for example, distrust in God’s providence. We distrust God’s providence. Self-pity comes in because there’s a lack of trust in what the Bible says concerning the providence of God. Romans 8:28 says, “And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.” All things—no exceptions, no escape, everything. And so we’re to read that and we say, it is true. And God is making my focus, my position—the question for my soul is, do I love Him? Do I love Him? And if you can say before God, as feeble as that love may be, that there’s a real, sincere, servant-like love—the Spirit of the Son toward a Father of love—there’s a real love. Love that has happened because you’re regenerate, because you’ve experienced real life, you recognize the pardon of your sin, you live an expression of amazement that Jesus Christ would go to the cross for you. Then you realize, well, I love Him because He first loved me. Then you don’t have to worry about the rest. Do I love Him? And if you love Him, all things work together for good to them that love God. But self-pity is a failure to trust that God’s ways are good. It is an inward mutiny against divine sovereignty, fighting against what Scripture has revealed. Whereas the man who believes that all things work together for good knows it’s all in God’s hand—He’s done all of this—and he believes that; he’s not questioning, he’s not wasting his time over thoughts, lamenting his lot. God’s in control of this. When I say that, I’m not discarding that there can be a kind of pressure, a point of pressure, to get from the immediate thought of dealing with your circumstances and transitioning into a place where you come out the other side and say, “I know God is in control of this.” I’m not denying that there can be a battle there. And that’s where you get so many of the Psalms—that’s the lament. It’s an expression of one who’s being real honest with God about how they feel. But again, self-pity is different. It sets aside what God has said entirely. It starts whispering, “God has abandoned me. God doesn’t care about me.” That Psalm I mentioned already—Psalm 42. As I say, we’ll get to it in due course, I think, God willing. But you see the challenge of the psalmist there, and the language he uses: “I shall yet praise him. I shall yet praise him.” Despite what I’m going through, despite what I’m feeling, I shall yet praise Him. And that’s the expression of real faith. Circumstances haven’t changed, but I shall yet praise Him. “Though He slay me, yet will I trust Him.”

So, part of our problem is a theological one: distrust in God’s providence. Also, idolatry of comfort. Idolatry of comfort—you’re going to feel self-pity. It’s definitely going to be something you’re struggling with if you believe comfort is what you deserve. If a man makes comfort as God, then suffering will be his greatest torment. So self-pity is the groan of a soul when its idol has been toppled. So if you expect a life of ease, if you have this, “I deserve comfort and ease. That’s my lot. I live in America. You promised me this.” This idea of some kind of life where you can make all your dreams come true—there is more opportunity in this land than perhaps any other land in the world, and for that we should be exceedingly thankful. But you well know, despite that, that God has a way of making sure you’re not under the illusion that every day of your existence is going to be a comfortable one. So, we have this—maybe you’ve done this—maybe you have to assess your own heart. Have I? An idol of comfort—I kind of expect that’s the way it should be—so that when it doesn’t happen that way, when things don’t turn out according to plan, immediately then there’s this drive and impulse of resentment: “How dare this happen to me?” Well, the advice of the apostle to you, Colossians 3:5, “Mortify therefore your members which are upon the earth.” He goes on to say, covetousness, which is idolatry. And so you covet—covetousness, that spirit of covetousness—it clamors for something. In this case, it’s comfort. You’re clamoring for comfort. I mean, really—even that’s the desire for material success, in some ways tied into the whole feeling of comfort. I mean, you feel it within yourself. I know you feel it. I know you feel it. You feel a drive—even in your aspirations for material success, you’re trying to make things comfortable where you live, for the future in relation to the options you have in regards to health and so on and so forth, the obligation a man might feel in terms of what will be the situation of his wife and children. Why does he get life insurance? Why does he save? Why does he try to do it? In some way, he is trying to create and manage the expectations of those that he cares for so that he might create comfort for them. We feel it. If we don’t feel it within ourselves, we certainly feel the pressure of a world around us that promises comfort, sells comfort to us. I’m all for working hard, and I’m all for laying up in store, and I’m all for all these preparatory, necessary, important aspects that are biblical and right. But Job did all that—he did it better than anyone. He worked hard, laid up right up for his home, his family; his entire community benefited from his wealth. He was able to help others around him. His multiplied means he distributed to the encouragement and aid of those within his vicinity—a mighty man of God. But he said, “The Lord gave, the Lord taketh away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.” You need to crush that idol. I’m not saying that you crush it and say, “I’m never going to make plans or prepare.” I’m not saying that. Don’t misunderstand me. I’m saying you pursue, you live in accordance with the revealed will of God. If it says to provide, if it says to work hard, if it says to do these things, you do it. And you sweat, and you work, and you do everything you can—but always holding it at arm’s length, knowing at any moment God may have decreed to take it all away. Instead of you going through the experience of self-pity, I’m trying to spare you that waste of your life and energy, and to more readily and quickly be able to come and say, like Job, “He gave, He’s taken away, blessed be His name.”

As we think of the causes of self-pity, pride and self-love—there’s no doubt pride and self-love is there as well. These self-sins, these inner sins, essentially are always a too high view of oneself. So pride is there—we’ve dealt with this across the board in different aspects that we’ve looked at. It’s true here as well. Pride—why do we think this? Why do we expect something else? Again, it’s pride, love of self. And all of this is wrong. I’ve already mentioned Philippians 2, esteeming others better than ourselves. You can’t do that if you’re filled with self-love. You’re not going to do that. The humble man who’s under God’s domain, who recognizes a sovereign plan and purpose, has been stripped of this self-love and pride.

But there are also not only theological, but emotional and even social causes—certain emotional and social causes that play into the reasons why we battle with self-pity. One of them I’ve mentioned before: unmet expectations. We have expectations. All of us—I think it’s almost impossible to navigate through life without some measure of expectation. “Hope deferred maketh the heart sick.” We had an expectation. So many of us had expectations, and we brought ourselves to self-pity because those expectations were not realized. There’s some here getting married soon. My advice to every married couple—a couple about to get married, and those of you who have gone through it—I’ve underlined this over and over again: unmet expectations. Most of your issues, the vast majority of them, are going to be tied back to unmet expectations. And you had an expectation that she would be like this, but she’s not. And she had an expectation that you would be like that, but you’re not. And it devastates. It devastates. If it’s not addressed, if there’s not communication, then it can totally destroy. Marriages end because they say it’s this, that, and the other, and I look at it and go, “I’ll meet expectations. You need to realign. You need to talk.” There needs to be communication. What can be expected? What is reasonable here? And so when we find ourselves there—and especially when, since I’ve mentioned it, it’s not the only expression of it—but in a marriage, since that’s such a key relationship that many of us deal with, it can be true in the place of employment, you know, what you expected from your boss, what your boss expected from you, misaligned expectations—we can begin to feel, especially when there’s no communication, that self-pity is creeping in. Instead of talking to the other party, we talk to ourselves, we lament, we feel wronged, and we ask questions about it, even querying the providence of God again: “Our plans have been thwarted. We imagined a crown and we received a cross, envisioned success, met with hardship.” Instead of yielding to the wisdom of God—God is in control—and all of this we collapse into self-pity. We imagine in some way God is our debtor. But shall not the judge of all the earth do right? God may withhold, and you have to deal with that. You have to address the fact that He may withhold things from you. Or you can respond like a petulant child, wallowing in your self-pity. “No. Not my will but thine be done.” That’s the language of the believer.

Envy of others’ prosperity—not just unmet expectations, but one of our challenges emotionally and socially in our context—is envy of the prosperity of others. You know, Psalm 73 is a passage that first comes to mind. You have the psalmist there struggling with what’s going on, envying the prosperity of the wicked (Psalm 73:3). And he needed to be taught—he needed his soul to be taught; he needed truth to be bedded into his heart—and he felt that way and struggled with that until he went into the sanctuary of God. Then he understood their end, he says in verse 17 of that Psalm. But the self-pitying man doesn’t get there. The self-pitying man, even as a believer, might find himself staying at home, not going to church, again wallowing in this. And Asaph—he realized that the very tonic form was in the public worship of God. I went there, and all of a sudden, all that time I’d been thinking about it, all that energy in pondering these things—and it just, I get clarity immediately as I go to do what? Get my eyes off myself. I go to worship, to look to God, to lift the psalter and sing unto God, to hear His Word read and preached and taught. And all of a sudden, my eyes are forced out of the woe of self-pity to see God. Then, then, then we understand. We get clarity.

Don’t forget that the next time you’re overwhelmed with something going on and you’re saying to yourself on a Sunday morning, “I don’t feel like going,” there are times we can’t get to God’s house—I get it. But you know when you’re making an excuse and you know when you should be there. Isolation and loneliness—you see it again in Elijah: “I, even I, only am left.” This has an effect on you—this isolation, being alone, feeling isolated. We begin to lose context of what God is doing and what actually is happening. So we find ourselves either by our circumstances isolated, or we isolate ourselves intentionally, moving away. And you know this—you know how easy this can happen, this feeling of just wanting to be alone. Of course, what does that do? It helps you to do the very thing you need deliverance from—just looking at yourself. It’s a whole lot easier to stay focused on yourself when you’re the only one in the room, or in Elijah’s case, in the cave, when you’re the only one there.

Oh, beloved, I preach these things not because I am immune to them. Every single thing that we have addressed so far—and every single thing we will address here, to some degree—I know from personal experience. If you ever sense the call to preach, this is just a, by the way, if you ever sense the call to preach, ask yourself, “Have I made a study of my own heart?” No man has any business preaching if he has not made a study of his own nature. Having made that study, I would say every Christian should do that, but I’m saying for the preacher, it is a must. It’s essential. Because by studying self—not everyone out there, not the church—and seeing the fault everywhere else, seeing it in your own soul, the proclivities, the tendencies, the temptations, being able to correct mid-thought, “Something’s coming in, and look, what is that? Why am I thinking that way? Where does that stem from?” Understanding self enables you to preach to others, enables you to understand and even sympathize with those you preach before.

The behavioral consequential causes as well—what happens then? What do we begin to see occur? Well, there’s murmuring and complaining. You see it again in the children of Israel. They murmur, they complain. You can’t help it. It’s just—there’s a Psalm coming to mind, actually. It didn’t come to mind until now—Psalm 39. And there, David, it’s like he’s struggling. If you read that Psalm, you can see David is struggling with what’s going on with his life. And God, with His rebukes—he talks about the rebukes of God and the vanity and the weariness it is to the flesh and everything—and the whole, He’s dealing with hard providence, and he knows it’s God. But at the beginning, you know what he does? He said, “I will take heed to my ways, that I sin not with my mouth.” It’s like he knows—and he knows the world is watching. If you read that Psalm, you’ll see it. He knows the world is watching, and he knows that as he’s dealing with the blows of providence, the tendency to complain or murmur or try to figure out why this is going on could cause him to express in a way that would bring condemnation against him and ultimately against God. And so he says, “Be silent.” And it says, “while I mused, the fire burned.” And in that burning consideration of the circumstances and the providence of God, he begins to pray. Again, you see the difference. He delivers himself from self-pity to spiritual lamentation in prayer. He keeps himself from murmuring and comes before God.

There are those who are governed by their self-pity, who murmur continually. It’s one of those things as well that can be hard for the pastor to see, and for others to really know is going on. People go through challenges and difficulties, and sometimes I wonder—I wonder. You think of the murmuring of the children of Israel. God was— it struck me; I remember years ago seeing that for the first time—these ten times, and I remember thinking about God’s counting. He’s counting; they’re murmuring against Him. “There they go again. There they go again. There they go again.” These ten times. “Really? Ten times? You murmur? Ten times? We’ve gone through this before. We’ve done this already.” I’m your God. I’m guiding you. I’m providing for you. Stop murmuring. Stop complaining. Stop acting like you’ve been left to perish. I’ll take care of you. But repeatedly fighting against God—it did not end well for them.

So one of the other things that we see as well is not only murmuring and complaining, but there can be an avoidance of duty. When we begin to self-pity, we start to—or at least we can be tempted to avoid duty. We start looking at all the problems, and we pull ourselves away from our responsibilities. You think of Proverbs 26, where the slothful man saith, “There’s a lion in the way.” There’s a reason why he’s not gonna go; he finds an excuse. And you see this in self-pity, and you say to someone, “Try to encourage them: Look, go, go and do this, go and do that,” and they just freeze. They’ve been given good counsel, but they won’t move. There’s always an excuse. There’s always a reason why. “I’m not going to do it because X, Y, and Z.” But these are not real reasons. They may feel justified, but it’s not biblical. It’s not spiritual. It’s not obedience. In Elijah, you see a reluctance in Elijah as God deals with him here. He’s not immediately responsive to the Lord, and it takes some time—dealing with him, helping him—to get back in the game, so to speak, living as he should for the Lord.

So what’s the cure? What’s the cure? Well, I think the first thing is to realize it’s a sin. Recognize and repent of it. You’re not going to get deliverance over any sin unless first you acknowledge it to be such. So there has to be a recognition. You have to see it. “Oh, Pastor, it’s not self-pity.” I thought, “This is just spiritually dealing with a problem.” Well, you might convince me, but are you convincing God? Assess it. Make—I’m trying to help you—distinguish between real spiritual lament that is expressed by calling upon God, seeking His help, recognizing His hand, trying to get into His presence where you can understand what’s going on. I’ve said this before, when Job says that statement—when he falls on his face before God and he says, “The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away; blessed be the name of the Lord.” I have a hunch, though I cannot say dogmatically, that between Job falling on his face before God and his expression, “The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away; blessed be the name of the Lord,” there might have been a period of time reconciling all of this in his mind before God—calling out in prayer, being overwhelmed at what has happened, the news that has come to him, everything’s gone, his family gone—Job. And he had to get before God, and it’s there, wrestling in prayer, in the closet, feeling the questions of why, wondering about what is going on, feeling the heart broken and shattered and brought to wit’s end. It’s there. I don’t know. This might not be true at all, but if Job was able to fall on his face and say what he said immediately, God bless Job. But I think, at least for yourself, it will probably take you some time, but the very posture is teaching you something. That’s where you need to be. You only say those things when you get into God’s presence and cry out to Him with an open Bible. There are times in prayer where I’ve gone through nearly the entire book of Psalms—just constantly moving through, seeking answers from God, seeking help from God, seeking language for my prayer—just working through constantly. Finally, you get relief. You need to see it as sin, recognize it as sin, confess it. Don’t hide it away. Don’t shelter it. Don’t make provision for it. Come like David: “I acknowledge my transgressions, and my sins are ever before me.” You can’t mortify a sin that you won’t confess. Then reorient your perspective by looking on to Christ—not just recognizing and repenting, but reorienting your perspective by looking to Christ. We’re going to come to it very soon—Hebrews 12, looking on to Jesus, the author and the finisher of our faith. I’ll just go there and read it to you. You may wish to join me if you like, but it goes on to say, “Who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is set down at the right hand of the throne of God. For consider him that endured such contradiction of sinners against himself, lest ye be wearied and faint in your minds.”

What is the apostle saying, surface level? As you go through your struggles and your difficulties that can wear you and make you faint spiritually, the tonic is looking to Christ. He was perfect—no sin—didn’t have to look back and say, “Is this happening to me because I sinned in some way?” No. He stands on a platform of His own perfection, His own perfect obedience. Yet from there, He goes through the most awful course of suffering. Yet instead of self-pity, “the joy that was set before Him”—He saw what was laid up. And then we look to Him, ponder, think about, fill our minds with Him—that keeps us from becoming wearied and faint in our minds. Quickly, renew your mind then with biblical truth. You need to come back to God’s Word, and there’s too much here that I can’t focus on everything, but you need to come back and fill your mind. I mean, I mentioned Psalm 103 already. I mentioned 1 Thessalonians 5:18—“in everything give thanks.” You come back to truths like this. Read them, note them, and when you feel that frame or that feeling of self-pity coming in, come back to it. Come back to the truths that resonate, that minister to your soul, that pull you out of where you find yourself descending.

And then, I’ll just say finally, restore fellowship and service. This is really practical. Self-pity, again, tends to isolate, to look to self, and so on. And one of the things you can do is go from self-pity to service. What does service force you to do? Look at others and their needs. You think of evangelism, of the lost—getting your eyes on the fact that they’re going to hell, and I am not. That can help greatly in reorienting your thinking. Say, “These people are going to hell, I’m not. Why me, Lord? How merciful Thou hast been,” that pulls you away from this woe within the soul towards yourself, and you say, “I am in Christ. I am saved. I’m a child of God.” So you serve—serving the body of Christ, seeing how you can help others, looking at the needs around you—and again, it gets you focused off yourself and onto service. How may I help others who may be going through much worse than you? But that’s not the point. The point is to get the focus off yourself. Serving fills your heart, your hands, your feet, pushing you in a direction of service. That’s our Lord. Our Lord relentlessly served. “Bear ye one another’s burdens.” Self-pity—it’s quite an amazing thing that those who deserve hell—that we, by nature, the children of wrath, who lived in disobedience, lived in rebellion, governed by the loss of our flesh, and through no merit of our own, have been redeemed by the precious blood of Christ—should ever feel self-pity. But we do, and it needs to be fought. It is not a trifling flaw; it is a devastating sin. And if you allow it to take root early—and parents, watch for it in your children—if you allow it to take root early, it will only multiply. Because there are people on this planet, even people that profess faith in Christ, to whom it doesn’t matter what God does in His mercy, it doesn’t matter how lavish His kindness and grace, they wallow in this. It comes out of them. When you talk to them, all they talk about is what they’re going through, what they’re enduring, and they’re enveloped in it.

Now, are there times and seasons when we’re going through intense trial and we are thinking about what we’re going through, and others come and ask about it? Yes, there are seasons. But we cannot stay there. Fight it and go to Christ and realize that every thought of self-pity is rebellion against the living God. May the Lord help us.

Let’s bow together in prayer.

The world is always in need of that bright and shining believer who seems immune to the difficulties of life, who is able to transcend the greatest hardships. The world is watching you, Christian, and they’re watching your response to the things that go on. May what they read in you and me help them to see the great advantage of the gospel of Jesus Christ.

God, we pray, expose the self-pity that may be dormant in our hearts. None of us are above this. We try in our employment, young people try in their studies—aspiring so hard to get the grades they need to move on to the next step—and in other challenges in business, working so hard, yet finding that things don’t go the way we may have hoped. Help us to rejoice in the Lord always. Again, I say rejoice. And should there be a non-converted person here who does not know how to respond in a way that honors God, we pray for them that even this night they will see the emptiness of their stance, devoid of gospel hope and encouragement. May it please Thee to expose the sin of their hearts, lead them to Christ. We thank Thee for them—no self-pity found in them at all, but with joy. What an awful thing it would be to find in the pages of Scripture their reluctance to save our souls, but we find none of it. And so He embraced all the suffering, seeing the reward—the travail of his soul—and saw the great end, that sinners would be saved.

Oh, we bless Thee, Lord Jesus. Make us more like Thee. May the grace of our Lord Jesus, the love of God our Father, and the fellowship of the Spirit be the portion of all the people of God, now and evermore. Amen.