The Modern Cliché
There are few modern clichés as durable as the complaint, “I don’t go to church because it’s full of hypocrites.” Its close relative is never far behind: “I can be a good Christian without going to church.”
These sayings possess the familiar charm of many bad ideas. They sound brave, independent, and morally serious, while in practice serving as a shelter for disobedience. They are like threadbare coats worn for so long that their owners have forgotten how thin they are.
What follows is not a sermon but an examination: an effort to take these objections at face value, to test their logic, to expose their inconsistencies, and to weigh them against the clear instruction of scripture, particularly Hebrews 10:23–27. The object is not to scold, but to think honestly and clearly.
The Charge of Hypocrisy
When someone says, “The church is full of hypocrites,” he is not simply observing that Christians fail. That much is obvious, and no honest reader of the Bible would deny it. The claim goes further: it says that the presence of these failures justifies staying away from church altogether.
But what exactly is being proposed? If the presence of hypocrisy invalidates participation in church, then consistency would require more than avoiding church; it would require avoiding people. Hypocrisy is not a peculiarly ecclesiastical problem. It is a human one.
It flourishes in homes, offices, supermarkets, and social media feeds. It sits at dinner tables, signs contracts, shakes hands across desks, and smiles politely while harbouring grudges. The question is not whether hypocrisy exists in the church, but whether it exists anywhere else less so.
To refuse to attend church on the grounds that Christians do not always live up to Christian standards is to demand a moral purity in others that one cannot and does not demand of oneself in any other sphere. The man who insists he will not sit among “hypocrites” on Sunday has, somehow, made peace with sitting among them on Monday in the staff meeting or on Saturday in the stadium. He shops where hypocrites shop, votes where hypocrites vote, and laughs where hypocrites laugh.
In practice, then, the “hypocrisy” objection is highly selective. It is not invoked to excuse withdrawal from all human association. It is almost exclusively used to justify withdrawal from the one association God explicitly commands:
“Not forsaking the assembling of ourselves together, as the manner of some is; but exhorting one another…” (Hebrews 10:25)
To condemn hypocrisy in the church while tolerating it everywhere else is itself a kind of hypocrisy. It is a display of moral indignation that mysteriously appears only when church attendance is in question and disappears in every other context.
What Hypocrisy Really Is
Part of the confusion comes from a careless use of the word. The term “hypocrite” originally referred to an actor in a theatre, one who wore a mask and spoke someone else’s lines. A hypocrite, in the biblical sense, is not simply a person who falls short of his own standards. If that were the definition, every honest man would be a hypocrite, for every honest man admits that he fails.
The hypocrite is something more deliberate. He is a pretender. He speaks of holiness but has no intention of seeking it. He confesses sin but has no desire to forsake it. He uses the language of morality or faith as a costume to serve some other purpose: reputation, power, approval.
A church that contains such people is not unique. Every institution, religious or secular, has its share of actors. The existence of hypocrites in a church is no more surprising than the existence of hypocrites in politics or business.
But there is a crucial distinction. A church full of people who fail, repent, fail again, and cling to Christ’s mercy is not a church full of hypocrites. It is a church full of Christians. The New Testament standard is not sinless perfection in the pews, but persistent repentance and faith in a merciful Saviour.
To demand a church untouched by hypocrisy is to demand a staging ground for heaven, a congregation composed of saints already temporally perfected before their glorification. It is to demand the finish line at the starting gun. It is to confuse the hospital with the resurrection.
A church that takes sin seriously will, precisely because of that seriousness, be constantly uncovering sin, sometimes in its leaders, often in its members. It will discipline when it must, admonish frequently, and forgive readily. There will be moral failures, but there must not be moral indifference.
If the presence of hypocrites were enough to justify forsaking an institution, Christ Himself would never have named Judas among His twelve. The Lord of the church is not so fragile. He established His church knowing full well that there would be pretenders in the midst of true believers. Yet He still commands His people to gather.
“I Can Be a Good Christian Without Going to Church”
If the “hypocrisy” objection is a complaint about others, its companion claim, “I can be a good Christian without going to church,” is a justification of oneself. It rarely begins as a carefully reasoned doctrine. More often it arises like this: “I have decided I do not want to go to church; now I must find a way to explain why this is acceptable.”
The usual reasoning moves along familiar lines. Christianity, it is said, is about a personal relationship with God. That relationship can be pursued privately, at home, on a walk, in the car. Therefore, attending a local church must be optional for anyone who wishes to be a “good Christian.”
This conclusion is presented as maturity and liberty. In reality, it is a convenient rupture between what God commands and what the individual finds comfortable. It allows a person to think well of his own spirituality while quietly setting aside a central part of God’s revealed will.
The New Testament, however, knows nothing of a “good Christian” who habitually refuses to assemble with other believers. The Christian may be saved individually, but he is not saved into isolation. He is placed in a body, joined to others, and called to live out his faith in communion, not as a religious freelancer drifting at the edges of Christ’s flock.
Scripture’s Clear Command
Hebrews 10 is explicit on this point. The passage does not treat church attendance as a gentle suggestion for those so inclined, but as part of the basic pattern of Christian obedience:
“Let us hold fast the profession of our faith without wavering; (for he is faithful that promised;) And let us consider one another to provoke unto love and to good works: Not forsaking the assembling of ourselves together, as the manner of some is; but exhorting one another: and so much the more, as ye see the day approaching. For if we sin wilfully after that we have received the knowledge of the truth, there remaineth no more sacrifice for sins, But a certain fearful looking for of judgment and fiery indignation, which shall devour the adversaries.” (Hebrews 10:23–27)
The logic is tightly linked. Believers are to hold fast the profession of their faith without wavering. One of the ways they do this is by thoughtfully considering “one another,” stirring one another to love and good works. That in turn requires assembling together. Therefore they are forbidden to forsake the assembly, and commanded instead to exhort one another, especially as the final day draws nearer.
To look at such a passage and then calmly claim, “I can be a good Christian while I make a settled habit of refusing what God commands here,” is to rename disobedience as virtue. It is not piety; it is moral rebranding.
A “good Christian,” if the phrase is to mean anything more than flattery, is not someone who feels warmly about God in private while disregarding His word in public conduct. It is someone who takes God’s commands seriously enough to obey them even when they cut across personal preference.
To say, “I will obey God in private prayer, but I will defy Him in public assembly,” is not goodness. It is selective loyalty. It is treating God’s instructions as a buffet: take what pleases, leave what costs.
The warning in Hebrews about willful sin follows immediately after the command not to forsake assembling. The writer is not wandering off to a new subject. The flow of thought runs directly from neglecting the gathering to the danger of deliberate, ongoing disobedience in full knowledge of the truth. Persistent refusal to submit to clear commands is not a charming spiritual eccentricity; it is spiritually dangerous.
It would be more honest to say, “I can be a Christian and yet be careless about church,” than to insist, “I can be a good Christian while I am content with that carelessness.” A tender conscience may struggle, but it does not boast about its disobedience.
Why Gathering Matters
If church were simply a religious club, attendance would be a lifestyle choice, a hobby for the devout temperament. The New Testament presents something very different: the church as a God-ordained necessity.
Hebrews 10 ties together three realities: holding fast the faith, gathering together, and the approaching “day” of judgment. Believers are called to remain faithful in their walk with God; one of the ordinary means God uses to strengthen that faithfulness is regular, mutual, accountable gathering; and this need grows, not shrinks, as the last day draws near.
To leave the gathering while insisting one’s faith will remain just as strong is like dismantling the scaffolding while claiming the structure is now safer. It may stand for a time, but it is hardly a mark of wisdom.
The passage also speaks of provoking “one another unto love and to good works.” This is the deliberate stirring, the holy irritation by which believers rouse each other when they grow sluggish. It is something that cannot be performed in isolation. The solitary spiritual life is prone to a kind of comfortable fog in which every personal preference is mistaken for wisdom. In the company of other believers, blind spots are discovered, corrections are offered, and dull affections are sharpened by the zeal of others.
The Christian who claims he will maintain or even increase his zeal while cutting himself off from this mutual sharpening is like a coal insisting it will burn more brightly once removed from the fire. It announces its independence bravely; soon it is cold.
Corporate worship does what private devotion cannot fully duplicate. It draws the believer out of his small interior world and places him among a people, under a preached word, before a public confession of Christ. It reminds him that his faith is not a private therapy session but a shared allegiance. Whispering “Jesus is Lord” alone is one thing; confessing that Lord with a gathered congregation is another. From the earliest days, this shared worship has been the shape of Christian life. To abandon it is not to “go deeper”; it is to reshape Christianity into the image of modern individualism, where “I” towers over “we,” and scripture is bowed to personal convenience.
The Honest Objection and the Convenient Excuse
None of this should be read as a denial that some people avoid church because they have been genuinely harmed there. There are those who have endured spiritual abuse, severe hypocrisy in leadership, or cruelty dressed in religious language. For such people, the threshold of any church building can be an emotional battlefield. Their reluctance is not simply laziness; it is entwined with pain and distrust. They need patience, compassion, and time to heal.
But this is different from the easy phrases thrown about so casually: “They’re all hypocrites.” “I can be a good Christian without church.” These are not, in the main, the cries of the wounded. They are the slogans of the comfortable. They quiet the conscience without changing the conduct. They allow a man to live in tidy disobedience while congratulating himself on his integrity.
If the fundamental problem with church were simply that it contains sinners, then there would be no remedy short of despair. There is no realistic prospect of a sinless congregation before glory. But if the more basic problem is our unwillingness to obey God’s command to join imperfect saints under a perfect Saviour, then the remedy is not escape but repentance.
The honest man does not say, “I can be a good Christian while ignoring what God has commanded,” any more than he says, “I can be a good employee while refusing to show up for work.” He may say, “I am struggling to obey,” but he does not repaint resistance as righteousness.
An Imperfect Church and a Faithful Christ
At its best, the church is not an exhibition hall for flawless saints, but a gathering of redeemed sinners learning, often clumsily, to walk in the light. Its members will disappoint and sometimes shock. They will confess and repent. They will need patience and forgiveness again and again.
Yet in the midst of this imperfection, vital things occur. The word of God is preached, exposing sin and comforting the contrite. The Lord’s Table is set, reminding forgetful hearts that Christ’s body was broken and His blood shed “for you.” Prayers are offered, not only as solitary monologues but as shared petitions. Burdens are carried by more than one pair of shoulders; sins are confessed not only to God but, when needed, to one another; encouragement moves from mouth to ear in real time.
To step away from all of this because others are inconsistent is to embrace a deeper inconsistency: a refusal to receive the very helps God has appointed for one’s spiritual growth. The Christian who is honest about his own heart knows it to be fickle, his resolve to be unstable, his zeal to be subject to sudden changes of weather. He does not need fewer restraints and reminders; he needs more. Church is not a luxury for unusually devout people; it is an ordinary necessity for ordinarily weak people, of whom I am chief.
The Courage to Return
The two popular objections, “The church is full of hypocrites” and “I can be a good Christian without going to church,” collapse as soon as they are asked to bear honest weight. The first condemns in one setting what it quietly tolerates everywhere else. The second takes disobedience and dresses it up as spiritual maturity.
Hebrews 10 does not indulge such evasions. It tells us with calm firmness that God commands His people to assemble, that they need one another to persevere in faith, love, and good works, and that to persistently refuse this command in the face of clear knowledge is spiritually perilous.
A person may continue to stay away, of course. He may decorate his absence with grievances and sophisticated phrases. But he should at least be candid enough to admit that his decision is not heroic purity in the face of hypocrisy, nor superior spirituality rising above “organized religion.” It is, quite simply, disobedience to God’s word.
The harder, nobler path is humbler: to obey God rather than one’s preferences; to take a seat among imperfect saints instead of standing alone in imagined purity; to risk disappointment again for the sake of faithfulness.
The church will not become sinless because one more sinner walks through its doors. But that sinner, by returning to the assembly God commands, will be doing what a truly good Christian actually does, not boasting in private autonomy, but bowing, however falteringly, to the Lord who loved the church and gave Himself for it.
Pastor Thomas Irvin
George County Baptist Church
Lucedale, Mississippi
