Jesus continues His teaching from Matthew 6:1 by expanding on the example of giving to the needy, showing how easily it can be distorted by the desire for human recognition. The phrase “Therefore when thou doest thine alms” assumes something important right from the start. Giving isn’t optional for the believer. Jesus doesn’t say if you give, but when. In other words, generosity is expected as a natural expression of a heart shaped by God.
But then He immediately addresses the danger: “do not sound a trumpet before thee.” Whether or not people literally blew trumpets, the picture is unmistakable. It’s the kind of giving that makes sure everyone notices. It’s loud, attention-seeking, and carefully positioned to be seen.
Jesus connects this behavior to “the hypocrites.” That word originally referred to actors on a stage. It’s a fitting description. These individuals aren’t necessarily refusing to give. They are giving, but they’re playing a role. Their outward act looks righteous, but the motivation underneath is something else entirely.
Notice where they do this: “in the synagogues and in the streets.” Both religious and public spaces. This isn’t accidental. These are the places where visibility is highest. The goal is stated plainly: “that they may have glory of men.”
And here’s the sobering part. Jesus doesn’t say they get nothing. He says, “They have their reward.” That human recognition, that fleeting approval, that moment of being admired, that’s it. That’s the full payment. No further reward from God remains.
This builds directly on Matthew 5, where Jesus described a righteousness that surpasses the external show of the scribes and Pharisees. Now He exposes how easily even good actions can be emptied of their spiritual value when they’re driven by the wrong desire.
It also answers a subtle objection someone might raise: “Isn’t doing good still good, regardless of motive?” Jesus doesn’t deny that the act itself may benefit others. But He makes it clear that God evaluates not just the deed, but the heart behind it. Scripture consistently teaches this. God “looketh on the heart” (1 Samuel 16:7). So, while the world may applaud the action, heaven measures something deeper.
This also guards against a common distortion. Some might take this passage to mean all public giving is wrong. But that would contradict other teachings where good works can be seen and glorify God (Matthew 5:16). The issue isn’t visibility. It’s intention. Are we pointing to God, or quietly pointing to ourselves?
At its core, this verse confronts a universal temptation. We don’t need a literal trumpet. A subtle mention, a carefully timed comment, or even a social media post can do the job just as well. The heart is creative when it comes to seeking recognition.
And Jesus, with remarkable clarity, draws a line. You can have the applause of people, or the approval of God. But you can’t aim for both at the same time.
When God’s Approval Is Enough
This teaching cuts deeper than it might seem at first. It doesn’t just challenge obvious hypocrisy. It presses into the quieter, more respectable ways we can drift into the same mindset.
If we’re honest, there’s something in us that wants to be seen doing good. Not always in a loud or obnoxious way, but just enough to be noticed. Just enough to feel appreciated. That desire isn’t new. It’s part of our fallen nature. Jesus isn’t surprised by it, but He refuses to let it go unchallenged.
So, what does this look like in real life?
It means learning to do good without needing credit. Giving without dropping hints. Serving without expecting acknowledgment. And yes, sometimes that feels a little unnatural at first. We’re used to feedback loops. We give, we get affirmed, we feel validated. Jesus gently but firmly redirects that pattern.
He invites us into something better. A life lived before God, not for the crowd.
This has huge implications for the life of the Church. Imagine a community where generosity isn’t driven by recognition, but by genuine love. Where people give quietly, serve faithfully, and trust God to see what others may never notice. That kind of culture produces humility, unity, and sincerity. It also guards against comparison and competition, which can quietly creep into even well-meaning ministries.
It also frees us personally. When we’re not chasing approval, we’re no longer controlled by it. We don’t need to measure our worth by how others respond. We’re not discouraged when no one notices. We’re not inflated when they do. There’s a steadiness that comes from knowing God sees.
And that’s really the heart of it. Jesus isn’t just warning us away from hypocrisy. He’s drawing us toward a deeper relationship with the Father. A relationship where His approval matters more than anything else.
There’s also a practical way this reshapes our thinking. Instead of asking, “Will anyone see this?” we begin asking, “Is this honoring to God?” That shift changes everything. It brings clarity to our motives and steadiness to our actions.
At times, this will mean doing things that no one else knows about. Quiet acts of generosity. Hidden sacrifices. Unseen service. And while that may not earn applause, it’s never wasted. Scripture consistently affirms that God remembers and rewards what’s done for Him.
And perhaps one of the most beautiful outcomes of this kind of obedience is this: it cultivates a genuine love for others. When we’re not using good deeds as a platform for recognition, we’re free to truly care about the people we’re serving.
That’s the kind of righteousness Jesus is calling us into. Not performance, but authenticity. Not self-promotion, but God-centered faithfulness.
The Only Cure for a Divided Heart
If you’re reading this and thinking, “My motives aren’t always pure,” you’re not alone. That’s something every honest person eventually has to face.
And that’s exactly where the gospel meets us.
If you’ve never personally trusted in Jesus Christ, this passage gently but clearly points to something deeper than behavior. It points to the condition of the heart. We don’t just struggle to do the right things. Even when we do them, our motives are often mixed. We seek recognition, approval, and validation in ways that reveal a deeper problem.
The Bible calls that sin. Not just outward actions, but inward corruption. And Scripture tells us that sin carries a real consequence: separation from God and, ultimately, judgment.
But God didn’t leave us there.
In His love, He sent Jesus Christ to do what we could never do. Jesus lived a perfectly righteous life, not just in action, but in motive. Every act He performed was done for the glory of the Father. He never sought empty human praise. He never acted out of selfish ambition.
And then He went to the cross, where He took the penalty for our sin. He died in our place, bearing the judgment we deserved. Three days later, He rose from the dead, defeating sin and death once and for all.
That’s the heart of the gospel.
And the invitation is simple, but profound. Turn from your sin and place your trust in Him. Not in your good works, not in your efforts to clean up your life, but in Christ alone. When you do, God forgives your sin, gives you a new heart, and begins to transform you from the inside out.
That includes your motives.
You won’t become perfect overnight, but you will begin to change. The desire to please God will grow. The pull of human approval will start to lose its grip. And you’ll find yourself living more and more for God’s approval.
If that’s something you’ve never done, there’s no better time than now. Come to Christ as you are. Trust in Him. And begin a new life that is rooted not in performance, but in grace.
Reflection and Response
- When I do good things, what am I hoping to receive in return, God’s approval or people’s recognition?
- Are there ways I subtly “announce” my good deeds, even if I wouldn’t call it that?
- What would it look like to serve or give in a way that only God sees?
- How does remembering that God sees the heart change the way I approach obedience?
- In what ways can I encourage a culture of humble, God-centered service within my church or community?

