When Worship Becomes Pretending: What Ananias and Sapphira Reveal About the Modern Church

There are days when I look at the state of the church and feel a sorrow I can’t quite name. It isn’t anger, and it isn’t bitterness. Loving something that no longer resembles what it was meant to be causes this ache. I walk into churches hoping for truth, hoping for clarity, hoping for the simplicity of Christ, and instead I find leaders imitating other leaders, worship teams imitating other worship teams, and entire congregations imitating whatever is trending in the Christian world. It feels as though everyone is trying to sound like someone else, move like someone else, and create an atmosphere rather than cultivate holiness.

This situation recalled the biblical story of Ananias and Sapphira, which I hadn’t previously connected with church culture. It wasn’t the harshness of their verdict or the money they withheld, but their dishonesty that bothered me. They attempted to emanate a deeper spirituality than they possessed. What’s troubling is my doubt about whether they realize how incredibly apparent these flaws are to those with keen insight. They desired the outward show of devotion, but not the commitment it demanded. Suddenly, the connection became painfully clear.

Acts 5 tells us they sold a piece of property and brought part of the money to the apostles while pretending it was the full amount. Peter’s words cut straight through the performance: “You have not lied to men but to God.” Their sin wasn’t the amount they gave; their sin was the image they projected. They desired the image of sacrifice but not the practice of obedience. Without being honest, they desired to appear holy. They wanted the applause of the church without the integrity that God requires, and that is where the modern church feels eerily familiar.

What makes their story even more sobering is that Ananias and Sapphira were blind to their own blindness. They truly thought they could conceal the truth from God and still seem righteous to others. They failed to notice the contradiction, didn’t see the danger, didn’t see the gap between their image and their reality. Spiritual blindness rarely looks like rebellion; most of the time it looks like sincerity without surrender, activity without honesty, devotion without truth, leadership without humility. The situation is that people appear to truly believe they are serving God, even though their lifestyle contradicts His teachings. A prevalent trend in many contemporary churches sees leaders convinced of their spiritual righteousness (which is human, and only God is righteous) even as their actions contradict this belief.

To understand how we arrived here, we must look back at the charismatic waves of the 1970s and 80s. Those movements began with a sincere hunger for the Holy Spirit, but over time they shifted the church’s focus from Scripture to sensation. Emotional intensity became proof of God’s presence. Dramatic experiences became the measure of spirituality. Leaders became performers. Worship became a production. Atmosphere became the goal. And imitation became the norm. Churches learned to copy whatever seemed powerful, whatever drew crowds, whatever created a feeling. Decades later, many congregations are still living in the aftershock of that shift, unaware that they are following a tradition of emotionalism rather than the example of Christ. They are blind to their blindness, convinced that their expressions are biblical simply because they have been told so for generations.

A profound sorrow fills me when I consider the state of the church. Like Joseph’s weeping when he forgave his brothers, this evokes a profound, overwhelming sorrow stemming from love rather than anger. It pains me to think of the church’s current direction for the same reason: I do not want anyone to be lost. It is important that noise is not mistaken for the Spirit, atmosphere for Christ’s presence, or imitation for obedience. I don’t want people to face God having worshipped in a way that lacked truth throughout their lives. Those are the reasons supporting my statement. This is not about judgment. It is the ache of someone who sees the drift and longs for the people she loves to return to the simplicity and purity of devotion to Christ.

And this is where the grief deepens. They call it worship and insist it is biblical. They defend it with passion and confidence, pointing to isolated verses, referencing David dancing, quoting phrases out of context, and building entire systems of practice around emotion and expression. Yet when you hold their actions up to the life of Christ, to the teaching of the apostles, to the simplicity of Scripture, the disconnect becomes impossible to ignore. What they call worship is often nothing more than a learned performance, a cultural expression inherited from movements and personalities rather than shaped by the Word of God. Despite their sincere actions, sincerity does not equal truth, and devastating consequences can result from their most sincere actions if they lack obedience. They do it with conviction, but conviction is not the same as surrender. They do it with emotion, but emotion is not the same as worship.

There is a deeper tragedy beneath all of this, and it is the way-called leadership that has exempted itself from the very humility Scripture commands. Outwardly, they nod their heads and agree but never stop long enough to examine themselves. The Word may never confront them, never considering that the warnings might apply to them. They have elevated themselves to a place where correction feels beneath them, where humility feels unnecessary, where repentance feels irrelevant. They carry themselves as though they are spiritual guides, spiritual authorities, spiritual voices — almost like gurus — and yet they are blind to the pride that has taken root beneath their confidence. The lack of fruit confirms it. Inconsistencies confirm it. Are we not to notice or remember?

There was a moment in my life that revealed this so clearly. I once described myself as a simple person — not small, not worthless, not insignificant, just simple in the way Scripture calls us to be: honest, uncluttered, without pretense. Before I could even finish the sentence, someone cut me off and scolded me, said, “No, you’re not. You’re made in the image of God,” as if being made in His image required me to be impressive, elevated, or spiritually grand. As if humility contradicted identity. But that is the confusion so many leaders live in. They think more of themselves than they ought, and they use Scripture to justify it. They elevate themselves while believing they are honoring God, not realizing that the very humility they reject is the humility of Christ Himself embraced.

A deeper, more somber truth exists beneath the surface: leaders chosen by the public often secretly believe their authority needs no external validation. They behave as though their role, their influence, their platform, or their spiritual image is something they achieved, or something given to them by God through another person. But Scripture is unmistakably clear: only God appoints. Men do not. No committee, no title, no ministry structure, no emotional display, and no human affirmation can make a person a shepherd in the eyes of God. Yet many carry themselves as though their authority is unquestionable, as though their insight is superior, as though humility is optional for them but required for everyone else.

There is another wound in the church that cannot be ignored, and it is the quiet but deadly presence of favoritism and partiality. Scripture could not be clearer that God shows no partiality, yet many leaders behave as though their preferences are divine. They elevate certain people because they like their personality, their story, their style, their emotional expression, or their ability to fit the culture they’ve created. They dismiss others because they are quiet, steady, simple, or unwilling to perform. As if the ground at the foot of the cross were not level, they deem some spiritually significant and others insignificant. And the tragedy is that they believe this is biblical. They believe their favoritism is discernment. They believe their partiality is spiritual insight. But the fruit is not there. What is there — for those who will see it — is inconsistency, pride, and a lack of Christlike humility. People are listening to human voices as if they were revelations from God, mistaking dreams and impressions for divine authority, and elevating those who seem “anointed” while ignoring the ones who walk in quiet obedience. Not perfection, which is unattainable, but in human likeness. God cannot be mistaken. His voice is unmistakable, His character is consistent, and His truth does not bend to human preference. Favoritism exposes the heart of man, not the heart of God.

There was another moment that revealed just how deeply this elevation runs. I once said out loud that the Word of God is the Bible — not a small still voice inside my head, not a dream, not an impression, and not an inner whisper. Scripture is the Word of God. But he looked at me as though I was missing something, as though I were spiritually beneath him. I asked him if anyone could bring the Word of God forward. He answered yes, then said, “even women like you,” as if my non-standing position disqualified me from clarity. As if his dreams and impressions carried more authority than the written Word. As if his position made him closer to God than I could ever be. But that is the deception of self‑appointed leadership — they validate themselves into a higher level and then decide who God can and cannot use. They treat their inner voice as revelation and dismiss anyone who holds to Scripture alone. Their dismissal of me did not reveal my lack; it revealed their blindness.

And flowing right out of that elevation comes another quiet deception: the way people treat their dreams, impressions, and inner thoughts as if they were divine revelation. Just because a person has a dream does not mean it came from God. Scripture never tells us to assume that every dream is holy or prophetic. If God speaks, He makes it unmistakably clear. There is no confusion, no guessing, no decoding, no symbolic scavenger hunt. God does not mumble. He does not hide His voice behind emotional noise. He does not leave His people wondering whether something came from Him. But many have treated their own subconscious as if it were the Spirit of God, and they back themselves with confidence, calling it biblical when the fruit is nowhere to be found. What is present, for those willing to see it, is inconsistency — a lack of clarity, a lack of humility, a lack of alignment with Scripture. And yet they cling to these impressions as if they were revelations, elevating their own inner world to a place God never allowed.

There are feelings or impressions that do not replace the clarity Scripture gives, which can: Jesus is the living Word, and the Bible is the God‑breathed written Word that points to Him. The gospel is not a collection of inner whispers or private revelations; it is the testimony God Himself breathed out so that we would know Christ. The written Word reveals the living Word, and the living Word fulfills the written Word. Anything that claims to speak for God but does not align with Scripture cannot be from Him. God does not contradict Himself. He does not speak in circles. He does not hide His voice behind emotional noise. Knowing His Son was the purpose of His Word, and knowing His heart was the purpose of His Son.

The enemy can deceive anyone who will trust their own thoughts, their own emotions, or their own spiritual impressions more than the Word of God. That is why Scripture warns us to test everything. Deception takes root when people elevate themselves, when they treat their own feelings as revelation, or when they twist Scripture to support their own position. Scripture protects the person who humbles themselves beneath its authority. They refuse to rely on inner voices or emotional impulses and test every thought against Scripture. The enemy cannot deceive someone who refuses to step outside the truth God has already spoken.

There is also a responsibility that rests on the congregation, because many people follow what they see without testing it against Scripture. They trust leadership because they believe that is what faithfulness looks like, and they imitate the culture around them because they assume it must be biblical. But when a church environment repeatedly teaches that certain emotions, expressions, or behaviors are the proof of spirituality, people believe that if they do not act a certain way, they are less faithful or less connected to God. This creates a subtle pressure to conform — not because people are trying to perform, but because they genuinely want to belong and to do what they believe is right. Instead of supporting those who don’t conform, many people just pity them, because outward appearances are judged by spiritual growth instead of by sincerity, modesty, and adherence to principles.

These are the very things that are leading people away from the church — not away from Christ, but away from the corrupted structures that no longer resemble the body He intended. The favoritism, the partiality, the self‑elevation, the false revelations, the emotional theatrics, the spiritual hierarchy, the pride disguised as discernment — all of it has exposed the painful truth that there is hardly a church left untouched by corruption. I do not say that as an absolute, because I believe there are still a few — rare, but real — who speak the truth with humility and clarity. But they are not the norm. And the ones who can see this clearly are the ones who refuse to stay trapped under the sun. They look past the sun, past the cycles, past the human systems, past the noise, to the One who stands above it all. They see the church not as mankind has reshaped it, divided it, branded it, and performed it, but as Christ intended — one body, undivided, humble, surrendered, and anchored in truth. The tragedy is that many cannot see this because they are still living under the sun, still caught in the patterns Ecclesiastes warned us about, still trusting the structures instead of the Shepherd. But those who look above the sun see the truth plainly: Christ’s church was meant to be one, and what we have built is a fractured imitation of what He designed.

There are truths Ecclesiastes presses into my heart, and it is this: everything under the sun has already been done. The centuries have seen every pattern, every performance, every attempt at spirituality, and every human effort to reach God repeated. Nothing under the sun can save us or elevate us. If we choose to walk with Christ Jesus, He covers us in His blood—not because of our actions, expressions, or sincerity, but because He faced the cross without theatrics, spectacle, or the noise that many now confuse with worship. He came to confront sin, not to entertain it. He came to redeem us, not to impress us. And because of that, the ground at the foot of the cross is level. No one stands above another, and no one stands below. No title, no gifting, no platform, no emotional display, no spiritual performance can lift a person higher than another in the eyes of God. We are all sinners in need of mercy, all broken in need of grace, all incapable of elevating ourselves. Yet somehow, people have raised themselves to an unhealthy and nonbiblical height, convinced that their expressions or positions place them closer to God. They believe they are acting as God wants them to, when they are drifting in the opposite direction of what He has asked. Ecclesiastes exposes the emptiness of everything done under the sun, and that is why I refuse to stay under the sun. I choose to look past the sun — past the cycles, past the striving, past the human attempts at spirituality — and fix my eyes on Christ alone, the One who stands above it all.

In the middle of all this, I find myself grateful for the rare voices who still teach the Word plainly, humbly, and without performance—steady, honest, rooted in Scripture, unshaken by trends, uninterested in theatrics, unwilling to imitate the noise of the culture. Faithfulness is rare. Humility is rare. Clarity is rare. Simplicity is rare. And when you find it, even from a distance, it reminds you that God still has shepherds who have not bowed to the culture of pretense.

The story of Ananias and Sapphira is not about fear or punishment, or perfection. It is about the truth. Concerning honesty before God, I have something to say. It is about refusing to pretend. And maybe that is the invitation for the church today—to stop performing, to stop imitating, to stop chasing hype, to stop pretending, to stop elevating personalities, to stop building atmospheres, and to return to Scripture, humility, repentance, truth, and Christ. Because the church does not need more atmosphere; it needs authenticity. It does not need more performance; it needs presence. It does not need more imitation; it needs Jesus.

Scripture References

Pretense, Honesty, and Ananias and Sapphira

• Acts 5:1–11
• Psalm 51:6

Humility vs. Self‑Elevation

• Romans 12:3
• Philippians 2:5–8
• 1 Peter 5:5–6

False Revelation & Testing Spirits

• 1 John 4:1
• Jeremiah 23:16–32
• Deuteronomy 13:1–3

Favoritism & Partiality

• James 2:1–9
• Acts 10:34
• Proverbs 24:23

Leadership & Appointment

• Acts 20:28
• 1 Timothy 1:12
• Titus 1:7

The Word of God

• 2 Timothy 3:16–17
• Hebrews 4:12
• Psalm 119:105
• John 1:1–14
• John 5:39

Ecclesiastes and “Under the Sun”

• Ecclesiastes 1:9
• Ecclesiastes 1:14
• Ecclesiastes 12:13–14

The True Church

• John 17:20–23
• Ephesians 4:4–6
• Colossians 1:18