We live in an age when even humility has a photographer.
A meal is given to the hungry, but first the hungry must face the camera. A prayer is offered, but the phone has already found its angle. Scripture is opened, the lighting is adjusted, and devotion reports for content duty.
None of this proves hypocrisy. A good act does not become evil merely because it is seen. Christ also told His followers to let their light shine before others. The question is not whether people can see the deed. It is whether being seen has become the reason for the deed.
That distinction is thin enough to ignore and sharp enough to divide the soul.
In Matthew 6, Jesus warns against practising righteousness in order to be noticed. He speaks of charity, prayer and fasting: three sacred acts easily converted into theatre. The hypocrite is not condemned for doing nothing. He is condemned for doing holy things before the wrong audience.
That warning has acquired a front-facing camera.
Digital platforms reward visibility. They cannot measure sincerity, so they count what they can: views, reactions, shares and followers. Soon the believer may begin with a desire to glorify God and end by checking whether God’s glory performed well.
The danger is not merely public religion. It is dependence upon public confirmation. Once applause becomes proof that the work matters, silence begins to feel like failure. A prayer no one praises appears weak. A sacrifice no one records feels wasted. We start asking the crowd to issue receipts for things heaven has already seen.
Jesus offers a severe cure: enter the room, close the door and pray to the Father who sees in secret.
Secret devotion is difficult because it leaves the ego unfed. There is no audience to impress, no comment section to harvest and no reputation to polish. Only God remains. That is precisely why secrecy reveals whom the act was for.
This does not require Christians to disappear from public life. Faith must speak, serve and sometimes confront power openly. Testimony can strengthen others. Public charity can invite participation. But witness points beyond the witness. Performance keeps turning the camera back.
The Pharisees widened their religious garments. We improve the thumbnail. The fabric changed. The hunger did not.
Perhaps the question before posting is not simply, “Is this true?” It is also, “Would I still do this if nobody knew?”
If the answer is no, the problem may not be the platform. The altar may have quietly changed its god.
Abraham Ikongshul Ashindortiang
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