I remember as children my brother, sister, and I would tumble across the grass and call out, “Watch me, Daddy,” and “Watch me, Mommy.” It seems that instinct never quite leaves us. As we grow, the audience changes, but the desire remains. We still want someone to notice, to approve, to applaud. Jesus speaks directly to that tendency in Matthew 6:1: “Beware of practicing your righteousness before other people in order to be seen by them, for then you will have no reward from your Father who is in heaven.” The issue is not the good deed itself but the motive behind it. Are we doing what is right because it is right, or because someone is watching? That question has a way of following us quietly through life, even when we would rather not answer it out loud.
This becomes very personal when we begin to examine our own hearts. Am I more concerned about what God thinks than what others think? Would I still pray, give, or serve if no one noticed? I ask those questions carefully, because I do not always like my answers. There are moments when I suspect I might be glancing sideways to see if anyone is paying attention. Jeremiah’s words come to mind: “The heart is desperately wicked and deceitful above all things. Who can know it?” That is not an encouraging diagnostic report. It explains why motives can be so difficult to untangle. If I waited until every intention was perfectly pure, I might never move at all. There have been times when I hesitated to do something good because I questioned my own reasons. Yet even David faced criticism about his motives when he approached Goliath, and he went forward anyway. Sometimes the best we can do is act rightly while admitting that our hearts still need work.
The New Testament points us toward the only place where pure motive is fully found. John Stott observed, “Only one act of pure love… has ever been performed… namely the self-giving of God in Christ on the cross for undeserving sinners.” Jesus did not act to gain approval or recognition. He acted out of perfect love. Paul writes, “Christ loved us and gave himself up for us” (Ephesians 5:2), and again, “If I were still trying to please man, I would not be a servant of Christ” (Galatians 1:10). Through Him, our motives are not only exposed but also reshaped. We begin to live less for the approval of others and more in response to the love we have received. It is a gradual work, often uneven, but it is grounded in a Savior whose motives were never mixed.