Formation Over Performance – Practicing a Faith That’s Real

We live in an age of constant visibility. Every moment can be posted, filtered, and shared. But not everything that’s visible is real. And not everything that’s real is seen.

Jesus had something to say about that.

In the middle of his most famous sermon, he turns his attention to how we practice our faith—not just what we do, but why we do it. He takes three deeply spiritual practices—giving, praying, and fasting—and gives a warning: even these sacred habits can become performances. And when they do, we miss the point entirely.

“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.” (Matthew 6:1)

That’s the tension, right? Doing good things… but doing them for the wrong reasons.

Take giving. Jesus imagines someone making a show of generosity—blowing trumpets to announce their donation. While that might be a bit of hyperbole, the point lands. Generosity, which is meant to reflect God’s self-giving love, can be hijacked to build status or gain influence. And Jesus says if that’s why you give—if it’s to be seen or praised—then enjoy the applause. That’s all you’re going to get. You’ve already received your reward.

He says something similar about prayer. For first-century Jews, daily prayers were built into the rhythm of life. You’d stop what you were doing to recite the Shema—“Hear O Israel, the Lord is our God…” It was a good, communal practice. But it could be twisted. Some would time their day to make sure they ended up in a crowded street corner just as prayer time arrived, saying the right words in the most visible place.

Jesus doesn’t criticize the practice itself—he critiques the motive. He invites his followers to find a quiet place, shut the door, and pray in secret. Not because secrecy is magic, but because it strips away the temptation to perform.

The same goes for fasting. Jesus warns against looking somber and disheveled just to signal how spiritual you are. If you fast, he says, wash your face. Go about your day. Let your hunger be between you and God. Let your spiritual longing be real—but don’t turn it into a public identity badge.

And this is the thread that runs through all three: if you’re using spiritual practices to impress people, you’re missing the presence of God.

Let that sink in.

You can give generously, pray regularly, and fast consistently—and still miss what your soul most deeply needs. Because it’s possible to look like you’re following Jesus while actually chasing applause, control, or comfort.

But Jesus isn’t offering a guilt trip. He’s offering freedom. He’s inviting us to trade performance for presence. To let go of curated righteousness so we can receive the real reward: being known, loved, and formed by the Father who sees in secret.

This is a deeply countercultural invitation. In a world that rewards visibility, Jesus calls us to a faith that’s rooted in the unseen. In a culture addicted to image management, he invites us to honesty, humility, and trust.

So maybe this week, take Jesus up on his offer.

Give something anonymously.
Pray where no one will hear you.
Fast without a post or a story about it.

Not because you’re trying to earn anything—but because you want to become someone. Because you want to know the joy of doing something just for God. And because you’re tired of the pressure to perform.

You don’t have to be impressive.
You just have to be real.

And in the quiet, away from the noise, you might just hear the voice that changes everything:

“You are my beloved. I see you.”