Most people repent their sins by thanking God they ain't so

The words of Josh Billings, “Most people repent their sins by thanking God they ain't so wicked as their neighbors,” ring with both humor and judgment, carrying the sting of satire wrapped in wisdom. Billings, a 19th-century American humorist, often cloaked truth in laughter, but beneath the jest lies a piercing critique of human pride. His quote reveals a tendency as ancient as humanity itself: to mistake comparison for repentance, and self-righteousness for humility. Instead of confessing their own failings, many comfort themselves by declaring they are not as bad as others.

To say that people repent their sins in this way is to expose the hollowness of much so-called repentance. True repentance requires self-examination, contrition, and the desire to turn away from wrongdoing. But the false repentance Billings describes is built on comparison — measuring oneself against a neighbor rather than against the standard of truth. The Pharisee in Christ’s parable embodied this spirit, boasting in prayer, “God, I thank thee that I am not as other men are.” Meanwhile, the tax collector, with bowed head, simply begged for mercy. It was the latter, not the former, who went away justified. Billings’ sharp humor unmasks the Pharisee’s spirit still alive in us all.

The irony of thanking God for not being as wicked as others is that such a prayer is itself wicked, for it turns gratitude into pride. Instead of humility before the divine, it becomes arrogance disguised as piety. This kind of “repentance” does not cleanse the soul but hardens it, for the one who believes himself superior will never truly see his own faults. The ancients taught that pride was the root of downfall. Proverbs declared, “Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.” Billings, in his rustic humor, reveals the same eternal danger.

History is filled with examples of this spirit. Consider the Puritan colonies of New England, where zeal for righteousness sometimes turned into merciless judgment. During the Salem witch trials, many thanked God that they were not like the accused, seeing themselves as pure defenders of truth, while condemning innocent neighbors. Their repentance was not of their own sins, but of others’ supposed wickedness. The result was tragedy: fear, injustice, and blood on their hands. In this, we see Billings’ satire come alive as warning.

Yet Billings’ humor also carries a call to true repentance. For if false repentance looks outward to neighbors, true repentance looks inward and upward. It is not concerned with whether one is “better” than others, but whether one is becoming better than one’s former self. It is the courage to stand naked before truth, without excuse or comparison. The ancients praised such honesty. Socrates declared that the unexamined life is not worth living, while the prophets of Israel cried that God desires contrite hearts, not outward shows of superiority.

The lesson for us is clear: beware of measuring your righteousness against the failings of others. That path leads only to pride disguised as holiness. Instead, measure yourself against the light of truth, and confess honestly where you fall short. Do not thank God that you are not like your neighbor; thank God that you are still given time to change, and that mercy remains available to you. Gratitude should not be for superiority, but for the chance to be transformed.

As practical action, practice self-examination daily. Ask not, “Am I better than others?” but, “Am I better than I was yesterday?” When tempted to judge your neighbor, pause and remember that comparison is not repentance. Cultivate humility by acknowledging your own faults before the faults of others. And when you give thanks, let it not be for the wickedness of others, but for the mercy that allows you to turn from your own.

Thus, Josh Billings’ words, though humorous, carry the fire of prophecy: most people repent by looking outward, but true repentance begins within. To laugh at his wit is to recognize ourselves in the mirror he holds up. To heed it is to walk the harder but nobler path — the path of humility, honesty, and transformation.