#156: On Moral Consistency and the Consequences of Hypocrisy
Opening a time capsule.
Prologue
From 2010 to 2020, I was a contributor to and editor for the Helwys Society Forum, a website devoted to fostering discussion about theology, ministry, spirituality, and culture, particularly from a Free Will Baptist/Arminian perspective.
I remain very proud of being involved in launching this site, and doing it with some of my best friends. (You can visit the HSF and subscribe for free by providing your email address.)
The HSF team kindly invited me to publish a guest essay in February 2021. It was entitled, “Specks, Logs, and the Need for Consistency.” I want to observe one main contextual point about the timing of this essay. We were barely a year removed from the onslaught of COVID-19, and in many areas of life, still under a type of “pandemic regime.” Ministries, schools, businesses, and more were recuperating from the immediate impacts of the pandemic, while also trying to navigate ongoing restrictions. It was a difficult time that most of us rather forget.
However, I have been thinking recently about that season. Different memories from that two-year period have surfaced and caused me to revisit much of what I thought and felt at the time—and how I see things now.
Moreover, we are now in the earliest days of a transitional period in American politics. A former president has returned to office, and there are a lot of developments in the political arena more generally.
As in 2016 and 2020, a great number of Christians voted for President Trump in 2024. Some did so enthusiastically, others in sober resignation, and a great many with a more nuanced perspective.
The connection between the COVID-era and current dynamics in American politics is this: evangelical Christians have to face some difficult realities about what they stand for, and whether they still stand when it’s inconvenient.
Thus, I want to republish my guest essay for Churchatopia readers, the vast majority who I have probably never read it. I do so because I think it still speaks to our present circumstances, especially the challenges to Christian moral witness in a dynamic cultural and political moment.
Opening a time capsule is always telling. It conveys something of what people thought, felt, and valued at a particular moment in time. For writers, revisiting older work forces us to consider how we have grown in our thinking, writing ability, and more. So, it’s with a sober and earnest spirit that I offer up this past guest essay for your consideration.
Judge not, that you be not judged. For with the judgment you pronounce you will be judged, and with the measure you use it will be measured to you. Why do you see the speck that is in your brother’s eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye?
I serve as an adjunct instructor in philosophy at a local community college. Of late, I’ve been teaching World Religions, a course that many students take to satisfy a humanities course requirement for their degree. While many take the course out of necessity, some actually express interest in religion. Some even appear to be committed religiously themselves, whether Catholic, Protestant, Mormon, or otherwise. But I would describe the preponderance of them as nominal followers of a childhood faith, or as Nones, that is, “no religious affiliation.” Yet they all seem to have at least one thing in common: They despise religious hypocrisy.
Hypocrisy is a diverse phenomenon. While we could identify many examples of saying one thing while doing another, let’s distinguish two related but distinct forms of hypocrisy. A first form is the standard version in which a follower of a particular religion asserts a principle, truth, or moral precept (presumably taught by their faith), while ignoring that principle, truth, or moral standard when push comes to shove. Maybe one finds himself in a position where maintaining the courage of his convictions is inconvenient or may bring ridicule, embarrassment, or professional loss. Or even more basic, a person is compromised by an egregious sin. Let’s say a believer (perhaps a religious leader) is caught in adultery. Regardless of the circumstance, this manifestation is the main form of religious hypocrisy that probably comes to mind for most people. Inconsistencies in one’s life reveal inconsistencies within the heart, the ultimate source of hypocrisy.
A second form of religious hypocrisy is related to the first, but it’s the one my students seem to have as much distaste for and frustration toward: cherry-picking. Call it “buffet spirituality.” I’m referring here to choosing selectively which elements of a religion one will buy into from the outset. I’m surprised that this phenomenon bothers irreligious students. One would think that standard-fare hypocrisy would be distasteful enough.
While Generation X, Millennials, and Generation Z have often mixed and matched elements from various faith traditions, I’m noticing that more of my students—at least more than I would have imagined—have less respect for the Muslim who prays three times a day instead of five, the Jew who doesn’t keep Kosher, the Christian who makes loud assertions about religious liberty but doesn’t attend worship, or the Catholic who believes in heaven and purgatory but not hell. These inconsistencies are related to the first kind of hypocrisy but slightly different. While people have their own reasons for their choices, it’s sometimes nothing more than the inconvenience of wholehearted devotion to one’s stated religion. And of course, this largely engenders similar scorn from skeptics.
Inconsistency Matters
We shouldn’t be surprised that moral or intellectual inconsistencies generate distrust, disdain, and disrespect from people. Choosing to be a person of faith, an intellectual, or both, is a decision to stand for moral and metaphysical principles. It follows that we talk about these, write about them, spread them, and try to persuade others of their validity and value. But there is a cost.
Jesus, sometimes characterized as a “free-love, do-gooder, judgment-free” sage, was of course nothing of the sort. His calls to “judge not” mean something quite different when we study the context of Matthew 7 and the broader use of the krima/krino word group (judgment/judge) in the New Testament. Simply put, “judgment” means different things in different places. Certainly Jesus warns about a hypocritical, judgmental spirit in Matthew 7. But to what end?
“With the measure you use it will be measured unto you” sounds ominous. The standards we apply to others will be applied to us, so be careful which standard you use. Yet who will be doing the judging? Scripture teaches that Christ will judge both the living and the dead (2 Tim. 4:1), and that we will all appear before His judgment seat (Rom. 14:10). But I don’t think either are what Jesus meant here. The logic of that interpretation is this: Jesus will judge us based on the standard by which we judge others. “Great! I’ll judge everyone less severely, which will result in less judgment for me.” But is that how God judges?
A more coherent interpretation makes all the difference to our public witness for Christ: We will find ourselves judged by our neighbors in the same way we have judged them. So, judge carefully. The speck in their eye won’t be too appalling whenever the log in yours is knocking people down.
Identifying Inconsistency
These Scriptural cautions are especially relevant right now for two main reasons: First, with the prevalence of social media and the ubiquity of media coverage (available 24/7); and second, with the tumultuous dynamics of 2020 still with us, everyone is at the mic. It’s there, or at least we feel pressured to speak into it. There’s so much to comment on! And even if you don’t feel that pressure individually, having others who speak for you (officially and unofficially) heightens the sense that many eyes and ears are on us. What do they see and hear?
This is an especially vulnerable moment for our churches. Everyone’s passions are heightened, and the moral impulses that God implanted in every human heart refuse to ignore perceived wrongs around us. People are wrestling with the tensions between the “mental health epidemic” that public health officials have decried for years, alongside the widespread counsel of the same officials to stay home, away from loved ones and other human beings, away from work and school, for an uncertain period of time. Such counsel may strike some as inconsistent, leading them to doubt its sincerity. This interpretation is especially plausible when some of the loudest proponents of stay-at-home orders themselves refuse to stay at home.
Politically, many candidates campaigned on one set of principles, and then began operating by a different set once elected. This is nothing new, of course. But we all find it unsavory and infuriating when calls for “principled, courageous leadership” are followed by the complete opposite, kowtowing to the most vocal voting bloc. Of course, voters aren’t above these “tensions” in their positions either.
And no discussion of inconsistencies would be complete without considering mainstream journalism. Indeed, words like “unprecedented” and “controversial” apply to one set of political policies, while the inverse set of policies are dubbed “historic” and “bold.” (Which adjectives would you prefer to describe your preferred policies?)
Yet the church looms largest in my mind. I fear that many of us have told ourselves that our churches were doing a good job on personal growth, spiritual formation, and discipleship because we talk about them a lot and have solid curriculum and teachers, but then a pandemic pushed everyone’s life online. Suddenly, politics, Netflix, and Amazon Prime seemed to matter a lot more to many Christians than reaching out to those in distress (and this is quite aside from the issue of those vacationing, shopping, and having large family gatherings, while remaining absent from worship services due to “safety concerns”).
Inconsistency Explained
Such examples may strike some as cringe worthy, yet they point to things that we see, hear, and feel. And I think they do have some bearing on the church’s ability to form sincere disciples in this present evil age. First Peter 4:17 reminds us that “it is time for judgment to begin at the household of God; and if it begins with us, what will be the outcome for those who do not obey the gospel of God?” Finger-pointing won’t profit us rhetorically, politically, and certainly not spiritually. Grievance is a powerful political tool, but it doesn’t help people see Christ. We can’t claim to be motivated by high-minded arguments about principles if we’re busy sweeping our own hypocrisy under the rug. At the very least, inconsistencies have to be scrutinized honestly and accounted for truthfully—to each other, yes, but to the world as well.
We must also be charitable, for not all apparent inconsistencies in our brothers or our neighbors are actual hypocrisy. We need to resist either/or thinking since it’s possible to hold a belief but to express that belief differently than someone else. As someone who once aspired to political office and who follows politics closely, I confess that I’m willing to give legislators a little bit more leeway than many because the legislative process is complex. (Making a campaign promise, even when it’s sincerely meant, still requires circumstances to allow one to pass those policies.) Yet ultimately we must apply the same standards to “our side” that we apply to others, especially when comparing words, deeds, and what they may reveal about motives.
Sometimes perceived inconsistencies are just that: perceived inconsistencies. But when we perceive inconsistencies, we tend to demand confession and repentance—from unbelievers and believers alike. More urgently, when others perceive inconsistencies in us, that inevitably leads to situations where our witness is potentially compromised. God, help us to be sure that the moral and intellectual certitude we have in our heart and on our lips doesn’t leave us with our foot in our mouth when Jesus returns.
In Newsletter 135, I reflected at length about the strange bedfellows (if you’ll pardon the crass image) that our current cultural mess has created between traditional Christians and some on the cultural left, including gays and lesbians. To put it bluntly, some of those standing strongest against the excesses and lies about transgenderism are gays and lesbians. It’s an odd time to be alive…
I say all of this as a preface for my recommendation of a recent piece at the LGBT Courage Coalition. (I never thought ten years ago I’d be positively citing an organization with a name like that!) The authors call attention to a Newsweek article which beggars belief, one in which the readers are invited to a sympathetic reading of a rapist and murderer who happens to be trans.
Without further ado, “When ‘Representation’ Means Platforming a Child Murderer.”
I’ve recently discovered the writing of Ross Barkan, who the political scientist Shadi Hamid calls the “single best young American writer working today.” High praise, though I haven’t read near enough yet to aver such a claim. However, this recent piece is well-written and expresses what I think many of us “A.I.-critical/concerned/questioning” folks are asking: Do we need A.I.?
Check out Barkan’s take in, “Do You Need A.I.?” Here’s one of the better excerpts:
Artificial intelligence can create. It does this through the theft of already existing work. It “trains” on our language, and I am waiting for the day when Meta or Microsoft just buys a large publishing company to own its backlist and start beefing up its LLM’s with many thousands of books. What great art might be possible once the machines run wild! Until then, the door-to-door knives salesmen will be in our faces, telling us how much we need their product. They don’t care that past technological revolutions filled actual human needs. We had to defecate in outdoor gashes until the invention of indoor plumbing liberated us to live cleaner, longer lives. We had no ability to make magic light from our hands so we invented electricity to do what we could never do on our own. We don’t have wings to fly—airplanes fly us, instead. Penicillin chased away our diseases. The internet made instantaneous communication possible. The Google search made the instant retrieval of information possible. The smartphone, to our detriment, put supercomputers in our pockets. A.I., in theory, is supposed to outstrip all of these advances. In actuality, to tick off the technological leaps of the twentieth and early twentieth centuries is to make A.I. seem rather meager. In this context, it definitely is. It is, fully, a want technology, one its evangelists must manifest to success.
Most children want to play and not to pay attention during family worship, at least not for very long. Since young children cannot concentrate or understand at the same level as older children, families whose children are all quite small should aim for only a very short time of family worship . . . So even if you have a child who is fifteen months old and doesn’t even know what you are saying, be assured that the child is learning. If we could put his or her infant thoughts into adult language, they might be something like this: I don’t know what it is we do here every night—Dad reads things I don’t understand from a big book, then everyone closes their eyes and talks, and after that everyone sings (I like that part)—but whatever it is, it must be important, because we do it every night.
After my talk in October, a woman came up to me and we got talking. She said something then that I think I’ll always remember. ‘It’s a good thing that the Gospels were written down so early, during the lifetime of those who knew Jesus,’ she said. ‘Because otherwise the later Christians, the comfortable ones, would certainly have censored them. They’re just too disturbing.’ I’ve thought about that a lot since. Sometimes I think that if there’s one person we Christians really can’t stomach, it’s Christ. He ruins everything.
Different existential questions call for different ministry approaches. The breadth of Scripture shows in case after case how different ministry contexts generate different messages and actions. Sensitivity to the variety protects us from exaggerating, ignoring, and overgeneralizing. . . It helps a person to know that the Vinedresser is pruning purposefully. It greatly helps all of us to know that God typically works on something specific, not everything at once.
John Piper, Future Grace: The Purifying Power of the Promises of God.
John Dickson, A Doubter’s Guide to World Religions.
Byung-Chul Han, The Crisis of Narration.
Rob Rienow, Never Too Late: Encouraging Faith in Your Adult Child.
Mark Addis, Wittgenstein: A Guide for the Perplexed.
Mark Dever, Discipling: How to Help Others Follow Jesus.
My grandmother, Ann Watts, would have been 95 years old today. She was a very quiet, hard-working woman whose cooking was legendary throughout our community. Fourteen years after her death, people still comment on her skills in the kitchen and beyond. I often remind my wife of some of Grandma Ann’s idiosyncratic pronunciations of words, chaht-lette (chocolate), and tahrcos (tacos), among them.
Here are a few excerpts from my eulogy at her funeral:
Grandma Ann could turn a phrase as well as anyone. Her reserved, melancholy exterior often hid, at least at first glance, the inner sense of humor she indeed had. One of my favorite occasions when her humor was on display was actually in just this last year of her life when she was at Richland Memorial Hospital in Columbia. I was in the room with her visiting when a nurse came to check in. Grandma indicated to the nurse that I was her grandson who had come to visit. The nurse said, “He sure is a good looking grandson.” Grandma responded with her hand to her ear, “What?” The nurse repeated again slightly louder. “What?” Grandma responded once more. The nurse this time, the third and loudest time, said, “He sure is a good looking grandson!” Without missing a beat Grandma tersely responded, “That’s the only kind I got.”
Even in the later difficult years of her life when health concerns multiplied again and again, it was not uncommon to find her hands immersed in a basket, a pot, pan, cooler, or washtub. With these hands she shucked, sorted, shelled, picked and prepared countless foods that had been planted by her family. We often don’t take this to heart in our modern world because we buy so many of our foods pre-prepared. Yet the natural, organic approach to cultivating and harvesting was one practiced in the Watts household, and her hands were central to that enterprise. Another reason why this is significant is because one of the qualities in Scripture we find concerning a virtuous woman relates directly to this very matter. Proverbs 31 says that this type of wife has “willing hands,” and she shrewdly seeks “to provide for her whole household.”
Rest in peace
