After an intense argument, my adult son cut his visit short and stormed out to his car. As I watched him back out of the driveway and drive off, it suddenly hit me.
Just the day before I had turned in a book manuscript, warning people about the very attitudes and behaviors I had displayed in the argument. Only five minutes earlier, I had been so completely convinced that I was right. But now I could see that I was clearly wrong—with the fresh ink on my manuscript proving I knew better. If this was a hidden camera test, I had just failed and I felt so ashamed. How could my teaching and life be so far apart? I quickly apologized to the Lord, then called my son to apologize before he had even left the neighborhood.
He forgave me. All was well. But for days a question lingered in my heart: Was I in any position to be doing this work?
Have you ever felt like a hypocrite? Do you spiral into shame after giving in to temptation? Do you quietly wonder if someone with your marriage, family dynamics, addictions, or habits should really be leading or teaching others?
Thankfully, our credentials are rooted in Christ’s righteousness—not our own. He alone perfectly lived what He taught. Yet Scripture also reminds us that those who shepherd God’s people are held to a higher standard (James 3:1). God cares deeply about the message our lives proclaim about Him (Ezek. 36:22).
Leaders are especially prone to hypocrisy—a pattern Scripture highlights repeatedly and one we still witness in our own generation. So how can we be women who not only know and teach the Bible but also live like it’s true? Let’s consider two warnings Jesus gave the shepherds of Israel.
Clean the Inside of the Cup
I am sobered by the Pharisees. As someone who spends entire days with her Bible open—preparing to teach and lead women who love God—I can’t help but notice that they, too, were devoted to the Scriptures. They were passionate about people living according to God’s ways. Yet as they looked up from pages that all pointed to Jesus, they completely misidentified Him. They thought the Holy One was from the evil one. How could they have been so blind?
Jesus repeatedly connected their blindness to pride. Pride ran beneath nearly every conflict they had with Him. It has a dimming effect—convincing us that others are wrong while assuring us that we are right. Pride blinds us to the truth. This is what happened to these religious leaders, and Jesus did not shy away from saying so.
On the Tuesday before His crucifixion, Jesus turned from teaching the crowds in the temple to publicly confronting the Pharisees—right there on their own turf (Matt. 23:13–36). His message to them was primarily diagnostic. As He exposed their corruption, He offered just one imperative: “First clean the inside of the cup, so that the outside of it may also become clean” (v. 26).
Hypocrisy begins with neglecting what’s inside. The word hypocrite originally referred to an actor wearing a mask—someone pretending. Jesus expanded on this image with a cup washed on the outside but filled with grime. The inside and outside do not match. His instruction to the Pharisees still applies to us today: First clean the inside. This is the priority.
Jesus once asked some Pharisees, “Didn’t he who made the outside make the inside too?” (Luke 11:40). God created us to be whole people—with no distinction between the outer and the inner—what is seen and what is unseen. We may fool others or even ourselves, but God sees who we truly are. Psalm 51:17 says, “The sacrifice pleasing to God is a broken spirit. You will not despise a broken and humbled heart, God.”
Here’s how this plays out in my own life: a message delivered from a platform or a page must first do its work in me. The message is never only for others—it is always first for me. God wants to use His Word to scrub the grime of greed and self-indulgence (Matt. 23:25) from my own heart before I pour myself out and into the lives of others.
Stop and consider:
- When was the last time God used His Word or a sermon to deeply convict you of sin? How open are you to confessing your sin to God and others?
- How much of your time in Scripture is spent preparing to shepherd others versus being shepherded by the Lord? Consider designating different spaces or chairs for these two purposes as you open your Bible.
- What passage of the Bible are you preparing to teach or lead others through next? Pray through that passage and ask God where transformation must first take place in you.
Resist the Temptation to Whitewash
Each spring, the tombs outside Jerusalem were whitewashed so Passover travelers wouldn’t accidentally come too near and become ceremonially unclean (Num. 19:11). Jesus compared the Pharisees to whitewashed tombs—and it was not a compliment. They appeared beautiful on the outside but were filled with ugly impurity and unrighteousness (Matt. 23:27–28).
We have our own forms of whitewashing. We post glimmering highlights on social media. We publicly express gratitude for God’s blessings on our church or ministry. We project perfect-looking families, homes, and churches—while dead, rotting places remain beneath the surface. Just like in ancient Jerusalem, our whitewash keeps people at a safe distance. We resist vulnerability because we’d rather be admired from afar than risk our hidden struggles being exposed. What if people knew what was really inside?
But God already knows—and He sent His Son not to condemn us but to bring our sin into the light so He could remake us as living members of His Body (John 3:17, 20–21; Rom. 12:4–5).
A while back, I stepped away from serving in the usual ways at my church. I loved teaching in children’s ministry and leading a small group, but invitations to teach outside my church had eclipsed my involvement inside. After a couple of years, I felt lonely, and I noticed my heart drifting. Was it wise to serve primarily from platforms—among people who didn’t know me in real life?
Then I attended a Revive Our Hearts luncheon, where the speaker shared how God doesn’t necessarily see “bigger” as better. The broader ministry God had entrusted to her began with something small, personal, and unseen—like mentoring a young girl or quietly serving toddlers at church. In God’s kingdom, the big is always rooted in the small.
I went home with deep conviction. I hadn’t meant to whitewash anything, but by serving only in public ways, that’s exactly what I was doing. I was building a perimeter that put my spiritual health at risk. Today I’m even more convinced: those of us who serve publicly need people close enough to notice—and lovingly speak up—when something is decaying beneath the surface. If we never encounter conflict or accountability with fellow believers, we may be living behind whitewash.
I still love serving God publicly—like writing to you now. But I’m also committed to serving in close, personal ways—like having a young mom from church over for coffee, or working through conflict with a dear sister in ministry who sees things differently. Those relationships keep my life aligned with my teaching.
Stop and consider:
- If your ministry role brings more eyes to you, are you tempted to hide your flaws? How might you be whitewashing your life to create distance?
- Think back over the past year. Who has loved you enough to challenge you or enter into conflict with you? If no one comes to mind, could it be that you’re only known on a surface level?
- If God has entrusted you with “bigger” ministry influence, how are you also investing in small, hidden acts of service that keep you grounded and known?
The day my son walked out the door, I had a choice to make. Would I leave a wedge between what my manuscript proclaimed and what my life revealed? Or would I humble myself and allow God to transform not only my thinking but my actions? Pharisees love to be admired from a distance. True disciples welcome Jesus to clean the inside of the cup—and invite others into that process. This is how we guard against knowing the Bible like hypocrites and instead live like the gospel we proclaim is true.