Redeeming Christian Hypocrisy

What if failure - both your own and others’ - could actually draw you closer to Christ?

This is part of a weekly series called The Questions We All Carry: In Search of God, Truth, Beauty, and Meaning.

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It’s one of the most common and cutting critiques of Christianity:

“Christians are such hypocrites.”

And the truth is, many of us – whether we sit in church pews, linger on the edges of belief, or walk away entirely – feel the weight of that observation. For some, it’s intellectual; for others, it’s more personal. A wound. A betrayal. A bonafide reason to step back, or actually walk away.

If that’s you, this isn’t a defense piece.
Instead, it’s an acknowledgment:
You’re probably not imagining this.

The disconnect between the teachings of Jesus and the behavior of many of us who claim Him as our Lord and Savior is real – and, for some, it’s devastating. Jesus preached love, humility, mercy, and integrity. Yet we Christians have sometimes been proud, cruel, divisive, and dishonest. Some of the deepest hurts have been inflicted not in spite of religion, but under its presumed banner. Consider this honest, gut punch from bestselling author, Anne Rice:

“For those who care, and I understand if you don’t: Today I quit being a Christian. I’m out. I remain committed to Christ as always but not to being 'Christian' or to being part of Christianity. It’s simply impossible for me to ‘belong’ to this quarrelsome, hostile, disputatious, and deservedly infamous group. For ten years, I’ve tried. I’ve failed. I’m an outsider. My conscience will allow nothing else.”

If your experience resonates with Ms. Rice, there’s a good chance that your grief is justified.

There are stories – maybe even yours – of spiritual figureheads who damaged trust through sexual or financial misconduct, churches that prioritized marketing and landscaping over the vulnerable and poor, communities that prized appearances over justice, mercy, and faithfulness. The pain that comes from religious hypocrisy is not minor. It cuts deep because it involves not just people, but sacred things: hope, identity, belonging, and promises made.

Hypocrisy puts lipstick on a pig and calls it pretty.

What might surprise you is that the Bible itself aligns with your grief and misgivings. Jesus, far from ignoring hypocrisy, condemned it more fiercely than anyone. He called out leaders who “clean the outside of the cup” while remaining full of greed and self-indulgence on the inside. He likened them to whitewashed tombs – beautiful on the outside, decaying within (Matthew 23).

If hypocrisy is upsetting to you, you might be closer to Jesus than you think.

Still, it’s important to clarify what we mean and what we don’t mean by “hypocrisy.” Hypocrisy isn’t just moral failure; it’s active and premeditated fakery laced with personal agenda. It’s pretending. It’s putting on a show of virtue while knowingly hiding wrongdoing. It is when life puts on a mask and becomes theater. Not every Christian failure fits that mold; in fact, most don’t. Often, it’s someone sincerely trying to be faithful and still falling short – stumbling, but not scheming.

Even so, there is always impact, and it’s usually not good. Some misrepresentations are malicious. Others are the byproduct of spiritual immaturity, pride, unaddressed wounds, insecurity, or fear. Either way, when we Christians fail to resemble Christ, it distorts the message we claim to carry.

And yet – this is precisely where Christianity offers a compelling paradox:
Pure Christianity doesn’t deny hypocrisy; it diagnoses it.

Christianity, at its core, assumes that people – each of us and all of us – are deeply sinful and flawed. It does not demand that we measure up in order to belong. Instead, it says we are loved in our imperfection – and then slowly, over the course of a lifetime, are transformed.

When the church forgets this – when it becomes a place for performative showmanship… and unforgiving grudges… rather than humility, faith, repentance, worship, connection, and service – hypocrisy thrives. But when it remembers, something radical happens:

People pretend less, confess more, and experience change.

The Christian story isn’t centered on moral or spiritual superheroes. It’s about people like Peter, who denied Jesus three times, and David, who committed unthinkable sins like abusing power, committing sexual assault, even orchestrating murder. Their redemption didn’t come through defensiveness, denial, or damage control, but by facing their failure – and then receiving a surprising grace from God.

Take some time to read Psalm 51. The heading offers sobering context: “A Psalm of David… after he had gone in to Bathsheba.”

Then turn to Matthew 1:6 and note how the lineage of Jesus refers to “David… the father of Solomon by the wife of Uriah.” Sit with that.

Remarkably, many of David’s Psalms were written after his darkest failure with Bathsheba and Uriah. It’s as if God looked at him and said, 'You’ve hit rock bottom. You’ve fallen hard. But now – precisely because of that – you’re ready. Let’s get back to Kingdom work. You’re more equipped now than you ever were before.

Have you ever marveled at how the New Testament – also breathed by God – labels Jesus as “the Son of David” and David himself as “a man after God’s own heart.” If not, maybe now is a good time to start.

In this fallen world of ours, both then and now, one thing seems clear: God has no interest in canceling failed, fallen leaders like Peter and David. Instead, He redeems, restores, and even entrusts them again with His platform of grace.

It’s been said that the church is not a museum for saints, but a hospital for sinners. If that’s true, then the presence of messed-up people, including messed-up and unfinished spiritual leaders, shouldn’t surprise us. The real question is: Is this a place where repentance, forgiveness, and healing happens among us? If not, then we’ve forgotten what it means to be the church and to live like the people of God. We’ve taken our cues from the world, not from Christ.

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Throughout my almost thirty years of pastoral ministry, I’ve often been asked a thought-provoking question by those who have found sobriety through Alcoholics Anonymous. After experiencing the raw honesty, mutual support, and non-judgmental atmosphere of AA meetings, they ask, “Why can’t the church be more like an AA meeting?”

Recently, I came across a compelling answer to this question from a wise and seasoned pastor—my friend, John Ortberg:

“Why can’t the church be more like an AA meeting? The short answer is that it can, as long as the people who attend it are willing to be more like alcoholics. Too desperate to hide, too humbled to judge, too weak to solo, too needy to skip.”

The New Testament doesn’t expect perfection – but it does invite transformation through raw honesty, mutual support, shared faith, meaningful repentance, and the blood-bought pledge of forgiveness, reconciliation, and peace.

“Faith without works is dead,” James wrote. Genuine belief, over time, ushers us into the joy of bearing real, lasting, and contagious fruit. Often, that fruit shows up more tangibly in church basements where recovery groups meet than in some sanctuaries where things are more polished than they are real, more surface-level than deep, and more addicted than they are sober.

Jesus said, “By their fruits you will know them.”

If Christians behave worse than others, and if we lack the honesty that comes from the security of being forgiven, we end up hiding the very light we say we carry under a bushel. While the headlines often focus on scandal and hypocrisy within the Church, that’s not the whole story… not even close.

There are also countless believers quietly living out their faith with sincerity and sacrifice. They care for the weak and the poor, speak up for the voiceless, extend kindness to strangers, give generously of their time and resources, and bring integrity into every corner of their lives - in all the places where they live, work, and play. They do this not to earn favor from God, but as a grateful response to the One who loved them and gave Himself for them.

When they fall short, they repent. They seek help from fellow travelers on the journey. And they keep striving - imperfectly but earnestly - to honor and reflect Christ.

These precious saints may not trend. They may never go viral. But they are everywhere. And they’re part of the story, too. They’re actually right there in the center of it.

How wonderful it would be if, one day, these humble, faithful souls became the story.

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Coming This Week:
Companion Teaching Videos

A three-part video teaching series will release this week, expanding on this essay's themes.

• Available Now:
  When We Retreat, God Pursues

• Releasing Monday, June 9:
  Christians Fail, Jesus Doesn’t

• Releasing Thursday, June 12:
  Are Most Christians Really Hypocrites - or Is There More to the Story?

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