Exposing the Hypocrite

Lesson: Learning That Hypocrisy Damages Deeply

Hypocrisy is a sneaky thing. Now before you think I’m about to go in on all the hypocrites I know, let me just say, this blog will always be about me. I have been affected by the hypocrisy of people around me, and if you stick it out, you’ll hear about that in this post; however, I have also been the hypocrite, and that’s a far more gracious place to start. If we’re honest with ourselves, in some way or another, we’re all hypocrites. 

We’re All Hypocrites

I remember when I was in college taking 18 units and working three jobs. Like you’d imagine, I was consumed with work. I’d been blessed with a small friend group that I resonated with quite deeply, but I “never had time” for them. Then, I became hurt when they stopped inviting me to things. I was known as the busy friend, but I wanted to be known as a friend who cared enough to be present, to move mountains for them if needed, to become whatever or whoever they needed me to be as far as my humanity allowed (just like Paul said in 1 Corinthians 9:22). So God very straightforwardly taught me the phrase “make time.” Honestly though, three jobs and 18 units is a dang good excuse to not have time. It’s a good excuse, but it was still an excuse.

Another time, I’d found myself sitting on a bench frantically typing away to finish an essay I’d forgotten about, and class was in an hour. As this random girl starts to walk by, I ask how she’s doing, expecting the very American, “I’m good. How are you?” But that’s not how she responded at all. She said, “I’m not good,” then, she proceeded to tell me everything that was going on in her life. Because I love people so much, all I could think was, “Tick, tick, tick, tick! Clearly, I’m busy. Let’s wrap this up!” But as I was listening, I heard God tell me three times, “Pray now. Pray now. Pray now.” When she’d finished talking, I very dismissively told her, “Well, I’ll be praying for you.” And in the most frail voice, she asked me, “Can you pray now?” 

Those words felt like a dagger being driven directly into my heart. I’ve told this story a million times, and it still makes me emotional that I was so cold. I wrapped my arm around her shoulder and prayed. Then, two things happened. God told me verbatim, “You don’t care about people the way you think you do.” That hurt to hear, but I can’t argue with him. He’s God! Then, the second thing: I’d promised God that “my work will always come second to the people I do it with and the people I do it for.” God challenged me, and I changed.

The Pain of Changing When Others Don’t

So I understand hypocrisy. I understand it very well. It has sadly defined me in various instances of my life. What I do not understand, however, is the normalcy of Christians refusing to learn, grow, or change.

The other day, someone called me a friend. They’ve referred to our relationship in this way many times — usually after I’d done something that a friend would do. However, this has never felt mutual. I’ve known this person for quite some time and have not felt known, cared for, sought after … anything I’d feel from a friend who minimally asks questions about me or my life and seek to be a part of my life in some way (even if not in the deepest fashion). This person asked how I was doing considering Mother’s Day is coming up, and I was so shocked to be asked that from them that I couldn’t even answer the question well.

Recently, I’d been challenged by both a mentor of mine and my pastor separately to identify 2-3 people who I care for, enjoy being around, and would like to spend more time with. The challenge was to be very forward with an honest admittance of my struggle to find connection, a sincere expression of how I enjoy being around them, and a direct ask to spend more time together (even if that doesn’t mean formal meetups every week because people are busy). 

I HATE being vulnerable, unshielded, and weak in front of people. Not because I don’t like to show that I’m human, but because it has always backfired. But I chose to accept the challenge because I LOVE to grow, and most people won’t shoot straight with you and challenge you. 

Well, I identified three people, one of whom was the aforementioned, and, per the usual, it backfired. They were not interested in a real friendship (neither a biblically defined or dictionary defined friendship) despite calling me friend a number of times. So I had to say something I’d been holding onto for quite some time. Something I haven’t said because my hope was for things to mold into a true friendship. I had to ask them to stop calling me friend.

The conversation didn’t go well, but to protect myself, I cannot continue to allow people to hold an inaccurate view of the relationship we share and thus do far more damage to me than they know as I come to realize that I cannot place a single expectation on them that models their own description of our relationship.

A Moment of Apology and Sorrow

I’ve done this church thing my entire life. I believe in God’s church. I believe that the church is the hope of the world because we know the one who died and rose to save the world, and we’re supposed to be a community of people … a family that chooses to give everything we have to express that love to one another in such a way that allows people to experience Jesus — the savior. 

This idea captivated my heart at a very young age, and I felt a calling to become a pastor and have been in pursuit of that call for a long time. But if I’m honest, I’ve been plagued by the thought of giving my entire life, my entire mind, my entire body, my entire being to caring for and leading a people who by and large are not very likely to live a life where they consistently learn, grow, and change. Nothing would stop me from giving my all — when I feel God call me to something, I’m all in. But as depressing as this thought is, it makes me wonder if depression will always be the thorn in my flesh (another Paul reference from 2 Corinthians 12).

To all my friends who I haven’t successfully convinced to join this community, I believe this is a spiritual family that’s just as messed up as our biological families because it’s made up of people. But it’s a family God’s called us all to, and I stand by that. He’s called us to this family, in part, because both the beauties and imperfections can shape us into a better image of God. 

But I’m desperately sorry that this has the be the case, and I’m sorry for the pain that this refusal to learn, grow, change … to love … for the pain that this hypocrisy brings. I’ve been in church my whole life. I work full time at a church. I feel it too. Sadly, oftentimes, Christianity can be such a great faith and such a bad community.