LET ME SAY it right up front: it’s perfectly natural to want the approval of others. We were created for relationship. Right from the very beginning, as infants, what we need in order to thrive is others who can be depended upon to love and care for us just as we are. When that kind of early foundation has been securely laid, we grow up with a greater sense of freedom to be ourselves, warts and all, and even to learn from our mistakes.

When that foundation is lacking, however, we may grow up feeling insecure about ourselves. When love and approval are withheld unless we perform up to parental standards, we may develop a need to do whatever it takes to earn a smile or a compliment. But the good feeling of that reward is only temporary and may do little to change how we think or feel about ourselves. Soon, it’s on to the next anxious performance, the next attempt to win the love which should have been ours in the first place. And that kind of performance mentality can carry over into other contexts, including work, including the church.

Think, for example, of the kinds of conversations we have at church. Some of these are like conversations we might have anywhere else: how the kids are doing in school, where we went on vacation, who we’re rooting for in the Super Bowl. But others slip in subtle or not so subtle references to our piety. Instead of simply asking someone how they’re doing, for example, we add, “I’ve been praying for you every day.” Or we find ways of slipping in something we learned from Scripture, not because it fits the flow of the conversation or would be helpful to others, but because we want people to know that we’ve been reading our Bibles.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that we should never tell people that we’re praying for them; sometimes, they need that encouragement. Nor am I saying that we should never tell people what the Holy Spirit has been teaching us through God’s word. Again, it’s not simply about behavior but the motivation and heart behind it. And we should never underestimate the extent to which, for whatever reason, we may be trolling for the admiration and approval of others.

AT THE BEGINNING of Matthew 6, Jesus warns his hearers against the kind of public piety that is done for the wrong reasons. Wanting others to see good deeds in our lives so that they’ll glorify the Father is not the same as doing outwardly religious things so that others will glorify us. And again, if we’re going to take Jesus seriously, we can’t afford to underestimate how easy it is to kid ourselves into thinking we’re doing the former when we’re really doing the latter. Or to make the point even finer: it’s not either-or. We frequently have mixed motivations, and need to be honest with ourselves and mindful of why we do what we do.

Here again is the way the chapter begins:

Be careful not to practice your righteousness in front of others to be seen by them. If you do, you will have no reward from your Father in heaven. (Matt 6:1, NIV)

In chapter 5, Jesus told his hearers that if they wanted to be in the kingdom of heaven, their righteousness would have to surpass that of the scribes and Pharisees — and then went on to give several practical examples to illustrate the difference between a legalistic kind of righteousness and a righteousness of heart and character.

Similarly, then, here in chapter 6, he again warns about a superficial kind of righteousness. This time, though, it’s about acting the part of a good religious person in order to get noticed and admired by others. And he will again go on to illustrate, using almsgiving, prayer, and fasting — all behaviors with which the Jews would have been very familiar — as examples.

In each case, he will repeat the same admonition. In verse 1, he warns that those who perform religious acts to be seen by others will receive no reward from their heavenly Father. That same theme plays out in each of the three illustrations. Listen, for example, to what he says about giving to the poor and needy:

So when you give to the needy, do not announce it with trumpets, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and on the streets, to be honored by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full. But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving may be in secret. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you. (Matt 6:2-4)

Notice that Jesus doesn’t say that people who behave this way are evil or sinful. His words are matter-of-fact: If the reward you really want for pious behavior is to be honored by other people, fine, you’ll have your reward. But that’s all you’ll have. Don’t expect any reward from the Father.

Instead, he teaches, be pious in private, where only the Father knows what you’re doing. That’s the kind of piety that’s worth rewarding. And as we’ll see shortly, he says exactly the same thing about prayer and fasting: those who are publicly pious for selfish reasons have already “received their reward in full,” and should instead orient themselves toward pleasing their Father, who both sees and rewards what is done in secret.

AT THE BEGINNING of this post, I suggested that there are emotional reasons why we need and seek the approval of others. That, of course, is only one dimension of the issue, and I imagine that Jesus would have great compassion for those who were poorly loved as children, and later, as adults, looked to earn some much-needed approval through conspicuous piety.

Were the Pharisees insecure? Who knows? That’s not Jesus’ point, nor is it mine. The larger issue is a social one. Yes, we all start with a basic need for the approval of others as children, and grow up with varying degrees of hunger for that approval as adults. We then create relationships, groups, and communities that reward people for approved behavior. Whatever the intrinsic value of those behaviors, we sometimes end up doing them for the social reward instead, the accolades, the applause.

That doesn’t make us evil people. But if what we want is the approval of our heavenly Father, we may have to rethink our motivations for doing what we do.