Beware of practicing your righteousness before other people in order to be seen by them, for then you will have no reward from your Father who is in heaven.
~ Matthew 6:1
Social media has created look-at-me monsters in our society, birthing the selfie (which was not actually a thing at one point, I promise), as well as this warped need for likes, followers, and digital “communities” that aren’t really communities at all. Whether photos, posts, or shorts, everyone publishes what makes them look good—their highlight reel, so to speak. (Now, in recent years, there’s been a desire to post rants, sobbing sessions, and breakdowns—all with the thought that these are also fabulous ways of making a name for oneself. We won’t go down that road here.)
On our socials, a photo shouts, “Look at my incredible vacation in the tropics!” (With a subtext of “I’m a little better than you.”) And “Don’t my children look perfect and sweet?” (The fact that everyone was screaming at each other moments before the camera clicked is beside the point.) We even want our do-good actions to be recognized—a Thanksgiving at the homeless shelter, a post-hurricane cleanup weekend, even a church mission trip abroad. Humans want to be seen. Acknowledged. Accepted.
I get it, believe me. Although I’ve not had social media for many, many years, a “Look at me!” craving has been a thing in my life. Even though I am the baby of three and only girl of my family of origin, my perception was always that I had to do a little bit more than my brothers to receive accolades (read: love) from my parents. [My parents were amazing, by the way, but we all make decisions through the lens of our own history.] In fact, a huge part of my testimony is me trying to fill a void of identity/acceptance with all kinds of destructive things the world promised me would fill that hole…but it’s the same God-shaped hole we all have, and—praise the Lord—I was able to cease my efforts and accept the grace of Jesus (Ephesians 2:1-10).
Even as a Christ-follower, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that I cannot earn salvation by my good works, there’s still that niggly voice in my ear while I serve during a Sunday service, picking at those old scars created by pre-Jesus destructive habits: “Be sure the staff sees what you’re doing—you’ve got to get those ‘Atta girls’…otherwise, what worth do you have? What good are you?” If you (and I) listen closely, you’ll hear it. It’s a hiss from the enemy. Maybe when tapped to pray aloud in a group, you use big, Christian-y words to impress. Or you give up something during Lent only to bemoan the agonizing lack when given a chance.
During His earthly ministry, Jesus knew we had a propensity for look-at-me attitudes and actions. In Matthew’s gospel (6:1-18), Jesus spoke strongly about doing what is right for God’s accolades alone—not men’s. He calls those who show off their righteousness for men, “hypocrites”. They get what they seek, Jesus says, which is only a meaningless reward of fleeting atta-boys. But when we serve and give and fast and pray, we’re to do so only and always for the Lord—for the reward of pleasing Him. We’re to do good works to glorify God and point others to Him (Matthew 5:16). We love and serve and give because He first loved and served and gave to us (1 John 4:19). In fact, whatever we do—work, eat, drink—we’re to do as unto the Lord with thanks (Colossians 3:17; 23).
Sweet friend, you are seen. You are known—and you are a miracle (Psalm 139). And when you surrender to Jesus as your Lord and Savior, you are no longer slave to sinful desires. You are free, a child of God (Galatians 4:1-7). You do not have to work to earn His love and acceptance—it’s a gift. So, you can drop that heavy burden that weighs you down…trade it for His peace. Yes, we will “do good”—we must! But it’s not to earn the atta-girl or atta-boy. It’s in response to the overwhelming love and ridiculous grace that He has given us.
Lord, how precious also are Your thoughts for me, God! How vast is the sum of them! Were I to count them, they would outnumber the sand (Psalm 139:17-18). Thank You.