Religious Entitlement

“When you talk about what we deserve, that rings of entitlement. It’s a big ask, and I know we have nothing coming,” said inmate Jessie Milo, who’s serving three life sentences for attempted murder.

Christianity Today reported on Milo’s story, recorded on YouTube during a frank discussion between prisoners and correctional officers.

The group debated a difficult topic: Does everyone in prison deserve a second chance regardless of the crime they committed?

Milo shared that his victims had extended forgiveness and supported efforts to secure his release. This gave Jessie, who has served more than two decades of incarceration, renewed hope for a fresh start.

However, he admitted he does not deserve freedom; he seeks grace and mercy.

Reading the inmate’s story is a reminder to all of us, including Christians, who have committed sins against God. We cannot claim God’s forgiveness as something we have earned. The feeling of entitlement isn’t limited to the rich, famous, and successful.

We may approach God feeling entitled because of our good works, church involvement, and moral choices. We may feel our human effort, sacrifice, and self-discipline make God indebted to us.

Yet, the Bible reminds us that all have sinned and fallen short of God’s glory (Rom. 3:23). In fact, writing to Christians, the apostle John bluntly writes:

“If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness. If we say that we have not sinned, we make Him a liar, and His word is not in us” (1 Jn. 1:8–10).

Self-deceived. Without the truth. Making God a liar. Strong words from the apostle of love. Yet they speak to an attitude that fails to see ourselves the way God sees us, doesn’t appreciate the seriousness of sin, and doesn’t express contrition and confession for our wrongs.

The classic biblical example of entitlement appears in Jesus’ parable of the tax collector and the Pharisee (Luke 18:9–14), who both went to the temple to pray. Luke tells us Jesus addressed this parable to those “who trusted in themselves that they were righteous, and despised others.”

The Pharisee confidently recited his virtues:

“God, I thank You that I am not like other men—extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even as this tax collector. I fast twice a week; I give tithes of all that I possess.”

The tax collector would not so much as raise his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast and pleaded, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner!”

Jesus’ response tells us all we need to know about religious entitlement:

“I tell you, this man went down to his house justified rather than the other; for everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted.”

Matthew Henry captured the spirit of religious entitlement when he described the Pharisee as acting “as if hereby he had merited at the hands of God, and made him his debtor.”

Like the Pharisee, we may approach God with our résumé and recite our many merits. Yet the tax collector serves as our example: he approached God in repentance, requesting mercy.

Too often we may secretly feel, as Tim Keller expressed it, “Yes, God loves me, and I deserve it because I’ve worked very hard.” We may feel entitled because of our religious heritage, credentials, accomplishments, or the time and money we’ve sacrificed and the talents we’ve used.

When life disappoints us, do we catch ourselves thinking, “After all I’ve done for the Lord, why is this happening to me?”

However, like Jessie Milo and the inmates in the CT story, we stand guilty before the Judge of the universe. Yet God offers each of us a second chance. His great grace and life-changing mercy, spurred by His unfathomable love, offer us freedom from the bondage, burden, and blame of sin.

Instead of entitlement, we should feel tremendous gratitude, expressed in reverence, praise, and humility.

We come before God with grateful hearts, knowing His mercy is a gift we could never earn.

–Ken Weliever, The Preacherman.

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