Follow Jesus Christ

Sometimes you don’t notice it right away. You write something, post it, and close the page. It was sincere, it mattered. You even tell yourself you won’t check for reactions, that it doesn’t matter. But a few minutes pass and your hand reaches for the page again. Is there any response? Who read it? Any comments? Likes? If there’s nothing, a strange emptiness arises inside, as if what you said never happened. In moments like that something usually hidden becomes visible: we find it hard to exist without a witness.

This experience is especially familiar to people in religious environments. There it is normal to speak about God, about faith, about the inner life. Yet dependency on approval often shows up most strongly there. The higher the values, the greater the fear of being wrong. It matters how you pray, how you speak, how you appear to others. You notice that it’s easier to pray in a church than alone at home. Among people there’s a sense that everything is happening rightly, as if the atmosphere itself supports the faith. But in silence it’s different. You’re left alone — the words sound empty, thoughts scatter, anxiety appears. The same thing happens in ordinary life: someone speaks confidently in a group but admits in private that they think otherwise; or does good only while watched, and when there are no witnesses the desire vanishes. Again the same tension appears, like after a post with no response: if no one sees you, it feels as if you yourself don’t exist.

What happens to faith when a person is always watching others’ reactions? This is precisely what Jesus addresses: “How can you believe, when you accept glory from one another and do not seek the glory that comes from the only God?” (John 5:44). This is not just vanity. A person begins to build himself on the gaze of others. His confidence, his thoughts, even his faith depend on how he is received. As long as there is approval, everything seems solid. But leave him alone and emptiness appears. Faith requires an inner support; when the center is the opinion of people, there is no such support. That is why Jesus says that in this state true belief is impossible. It’s not faith; it’s more like a one-man show. It’s the art of being a public parrot.

Jesus condemned priests who loved to dress in luxurious robes, with ornaments and lace. Bright clothing is an attribute not only of religion but of the theater and the stage. In the natural world plumage and coloring are means of attracting mates or attention. As religious thought developed, society began to reject ostentation in religious dress, shifting the focus to the inner life. Yet even dressed in ordinary suits, modern preachers and religious leaders have not entirely freed themselves from dependence on an audience and a thirst for popularity at any cost. Freedom from social recognition and attention requires a subtler spiritual and psychological recalibration.

Today many feel that one dogma, one moral code, one tradition is not enough. We need to understand how the psyche works, why we depend on opinion, why we seek recognition, why we fear silence and play roles. Only then do Jesus’ words about doing things “so that people may see them” become clearer. Without psychology they sound like an obscure demand or mere condemnation. Contemporary Christianity needs a psychology that leads toward the spirituality of the inner world.

Sometimes, noticing this dependence, a person tries to free himself by going to the opposite extreme. He says: I don’t care what others think, I owe nobody anything, I don’t need recognition. Such a person may provoke, argue for the sake of contradiction, pick an unpopular stance, emphasize his independence and rebelliousness. But psychology tells us this is the same tension with a negative sign. His words are still addressed to people — not for approval, but for negation. He still waits for a reaction, even if he pretends it doesn’t exist. After the conversation he may feel the same unease as after a published post: did they notice, did they understand, did they react? Did the piece stir up a storm of negative responses?

Jesus’ teaching offers another way. He did not seek human praise, but neither did he despise people. He could speak before a crowd and could withdraw into solitude. His words did not depend on the listeners’ reaction. Freedom is not about pleasing people, nor about opposing them; it is about living before God, not before an audience. Then one can be among people and be alone without losing oneself.

Does that mean it’s better to be silent all the time? No. There are moments when silence is impossible — not because one craves attention, but because an inner thought cannot be held back. A person writes again, shares again, speaks again — but now for a different reason. He posts words and does not rush to check the response. Not because he is indifferent, but because what was to be said had to be said. There is an inner necessity that does not depend on reaction. Whether the truth is heard by millions or by no one makes no difference.

This connects with Jesus’ words: “For out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks” (Matt. 12:34). This is not only about feelings. When a person speaks, he reveals himself. Words show where his support lies — in the desire to be noticed, in the urge to prove independence, or in inner conviction. Speech always exposes what fills the heart, and it is impossible to speak at length without showing what truly animates you. In every human heart there is both good and evil. Yet the evil person, through his tongue, prefers to bring out his evil treasure; the good person from his good treasure brings forth good. This is the source either of corruption or of blessing.

Jesus’ teaching implies growth. At first a person needs support, seeks approval, and fears silence. He does not yet know that he is a child of God. Then he may swing to the opposite extreme and reject everyone. But maturity begins when the need for both approval and protest disappears. A person can write and not check every minute for responses. He can speak and he can remain silent. He can be among people and he can be alone. And in this state freedom appears: words are no longer needed to prove that you exist. They sound only when the heart is truly full. The person’s life begins to rest on an inner witness — on the Spirit of God within.