The Catwalk in Church

Matthew 6:1-2 (NASB 2020)
1 “Take care not to practice your righteousness in the sight of people, to be noticed by them; otherwise you have no reward with your Father who is in heaven.
2 “So when you give to the poor, do not sound a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and on the streets, so that they will be praised by people. Truly I say to you, they have their reward in full.

Every morning, we clothe ourselves before stepping outside. We may be comfortable being naked when we are alone, but before people we cover ourselves—to hide shame and preserve dignity. Clothing was never about display first; it was about covering. Yet what we do with our bodies, we now do with our character. We dress it up. We present a version of ourselves fit for public consumption. The way we speak to loved ones at home is rarely the tone we use in public. The patience we display in church is often absent in private.

And this hypocrisy does not stop at the church door, it often finds its loudest expression there. In the very place meant to be centred on God, many of us perform for one another. The church becomes a stage, not an altar. It is not uncommon to see believers speaking loudly in tongues, weeping openly, displaying so-called manifestations of the Spirit, and offering long, dramatic, emotionally charged prayers. But the question must be asked, and it must be asked honestly: Is this the cry of the Spirit, or the costume of religion? Is this worship, or is it performance?

God is not impressed by volume, length, or theatrics. Heaven does not applaud what is done to be seen by men. What moves people does not move God. Fashion, as we know it, came much later in human history. In the beginning, clothing existed for one reason: to cover shame. Even today, at its best, clothing serves modesty and necessity. But in church, many have reversed this purpose. What should have covered the flesh has become a catwalk for the ego.

We walk into church and turn it into a catwalk, displaying our spirituality, advertising our maturity, and seeking honour from fellow believers. We measure anointing by attention and depth by visibility. We crave to be noticed, recognised, and affirmed. And the most dangerous part? We deceive ourselves. We cloak self-promotion in spiritual language. We tell ourselves we are “edifying the church” or “encouraging others,” when in truth we are projecting ourselves. What we call ministry is often performance. What we call zeal is often pride. What we call the Spirit may simply be the flesh dressed in religious clothing. God is not looking for better performances. He is looking for truth in the inner man.