Is it possible for a Christian to be more concerned about the appearance of godliness in their own lives, rather than the existence of it? To sound like they love God, but deep down actually fear man? To talk of virtuous deeds yet be substantially empty of them? I am living proof that the answer to those questions is yes. The worst part is, I find myself obsessed with projecting virtue not just in the secular spaces in which I operate, but in the stomping ground of my local church. The one place where virtue ought to be developed in a real and substantive way has instead become a home for shallow and performative signalling. Rather than being a place of willingly obscure sacrifice, it has devolved into a venue for not-so-subtle humble-bragging.
The House of Virtue Signals
Of course, one can be hypocritical and boastful in all contexts, but for me, the church is the context in which I am most tempted: it is the space in which I truly care about my reputation, how I am perceived. It also houses some of my dearest friends and family, whom I am often anxious to please, and by whom I am eager to be loved. Having spent countless hours in church, I also know the right words to say to elevate other people’s opinion of me. I describe my activity using words that I know carry spiritual currency: running a Bible study, doing my daily devotions, and even writing for the Gospel Coalition.
Combine ungodly anxieties to please, and a knowledge of things that carry spiritual clout, with the Christian message that exhorts us to always be rich in good works, and a combustible environment is formed, where Christians like me seek to do good not for the glory of God and service to others, but in order to be seen to be doing so.
Good Deeds, Bad Heart
Well, Jesus says that when I am seen by others for good deeds done with that motivation, I have received my reward (Matt 6:1–2, 5, 16). The danger is not that I am committing bad deeds, but that I am doing good deeds out of a self-righteous heart, with a desire to trumpet my goodness to the world. Jesus doesn’t seem to think that the latter is less evil than the former. Throughout Scripture, he reserves his firmest warnings for the Pharisees, who were rich in outward displays of righteousness, but poor in genuine acts of love. He condemns them for using tithing, ceremonial cleaning, and ostentatious efforts to evangelise as a cover-up for hard, proud, and self-centred hearts: ‘Everything they do is done for people to see’ (Matt 23:5).
Furthermore, in his Sermon on the Mount, he points out that the standards of kingdom righteousness encompass not just our hands, but our hearts too (Matt 5:21–22, 27–28). ‘[The] LORD sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the LORD looks on the heart’ (1 Sam 16:7). In order to be perfect, our good deeds need to come with an attendant heart of faith, love and purity.
We should be careful that we are not merely ‘whitewashed tombs’, that appear godly and righteous to the church, but have hearts full of pomposity and pride (Matt 23:27). Such hearts are ripe for judgmentalism, devoid of grace, and empty of true virtue; underneath my signals of holiness is the assumption that I consider myself the standard for a faithful, righteous, and virtuous Christian life, and that you have fallen short of this standard.
We fall into the same trap as the Pharisees, who were condemned by Jesus. How do we escape it?
Living for an Audience of One
What if, from today onward, no one were to ever witness a single good deed that you do? Not your partner, your parents, your pastor, or your children. What if, in the eyes of the world and your church, your reputation were that of a slothful, useless, and slovenly person? What if you live your life completely misunderstood?
What if your only comfort were that God sees you and your good deeds? All the hours you sacrifice for church, the times you hold your tongue with your spouse or parents, the money you donate anonymously to charities, and the unseen labour of raising your children?
I am training myself so that I can, with a sincere heart, say that this would be sufficient for me; that it is only God’s approval of me that matters. I am aiming to live for an audience of One, so as to not to fall into the same trap as the Pharisees, moving away from my first love and entangling my good deeds with sinful motivations to please people. In doing so, I am learning to trust that God is my good Father, and my fair judge. He sees what is done in secret, and will know how to reward me (Matt 6:4, 6, 18).
In walking this way, we follow the single-minded focus that Jesus had. Amidst the pressures of the crowd, and even his disciples, to exalt himself, grab the throne, and evade the cross, Jesus sought to live his life only for the approval of his Father, submitting his will, his reputation, and his life to what he knows would please him (Lk 22:42). This obedience was costly and ungratifying, at least in the immediate sense. And yet we know that Jesus did receive rewards for his obedience: his Father’s joy and approval (Matt 3:17) and the right to rule at his right hand (Matt 22:43–45; 26:64).
In my own small ways, I am seeking to live in the same manner, so that I too may be received with joy by the Master in due course (Matt 25:21). I am seeking to commit my energies not to being seen to do good works, but to actually do them; to be diligent in developing true virtue—the kind that doesn’t mind obscurity and misunderstanding, promotes the good of others, and rests in the knowledge that God has all the facts, and knows how to reward his servants (1 Cor 4:5).
