In the modern public square, both digital and physical, the church often stands accused. From trending hashtags calling out religious hypocrisy to viral exposés of fraudulent preachers, the institution of the church is increasingly seen as tainted, corrupt or obsolete. But underneath this storm of criticism lies a more complex truth: Much of the condemnation directed at the church arises not from the church as Christ envisioned it but from the actions of impostors, fake pastors, manipulative leaders and nominal members whose behaviours distort its true essence.
To understand the mislabeling of the church, we must first revisit what the church is intended to be. The church, in its biblical design, is not a hall of perfected saints but a hospital for the spiritually wounded, a place where broken people gather to be healed by grace and transformed by love. Christ did not call the righteous but sinners to repentance (Mark 2:17). The early church, as seen in Acts, was a fellowship of believers committed to mutual care, teaching, prayer and worship, not a social club for the morally superior.
While some criticism of the church stems from misunderstanding, much is fuelled by the very real problem of false teachers and exploitative leaders. Throughout history, there have always been those who don the vestments of faith for personal gain. The Bible itself warns of them, wolves in sheep’s clothing (Matthew 7:15), men who exploit the flock for shameful profit (Titus 1:11), and those who hold a form of godliness but deny its power (2 Timothy 3:5).
In recent decades, the proliferation of prosperity gospel preachers, cult-like ministries, and self-anointed apostles has intensified. These figures often rise to prominence through charisma rather than character, building followings based on spectacle, promises of material wealth, and emotional manipulation. When their scandals inevitably surface, ranging from financial embezzlement to sexual abuse, the entire church bears the brunt.
However, to equate the entire church with these impostors is to mistake the counterfeit for the real. Just as a forged currency note doesn’t invalidate a nation’s legitimate currency, so too fake pastors do not discredit the true shepherds labouring faithfully and quietly across the globe.
One of the most glaring paradoxes in how society judges the church is its selective outrage. In almost every other sphere, politics, business, and education, moral failure is expected, even normalised. A politician caught in corruption might trend for a week, but rarely shakes the public’s faith in the political system. Celebrities who engage in scandalous behaviour are often rewarded with greater fame. Corporate fraud, sexual misconduct, and personal dishonesty are treated as the cost of doing business in a flawed world.
Yet when a pastor falls or a church member sins, the collective response is often one of existential condemnation: “This is why I don’t go to church,” or “They’re all the same, hypocrites.”
This reveals a troubling double standard. Society expects the church to be different, more moral, more accountable, more authentic. But when the church fails (as humans inevitably do), it is not granted the grace that it preaches. This contradiction exposes more about society’s disillusionment and disorientation than it does about the church.
Much of the vitriol aimed at the church is also rooted in personal disappointment and unhealed wounds. For many, the church represents a hope that was betrayed, a promise of belonging, love, and truth that did not materialise. Perhaps a leader failed them, a congregation excluded them, or a teacher wounded them. These experiences are real and painful. They deserve to be acknowledged and addressed with empathy, not dismissed.
However, pain does not always lead to clarity. It can also lead to projection, where personal betrayal is magnified into universal condemnation. “I was hurt by a church” becomes “The church is corrupt.” But this is akin to saying, “A doctor misdiagnosed me; therefore, all medicine is a scam.”
There is another layer to the misunderstanding: the expectation that the church exists apart from society rather than within it. Critics often accuse the church of reflecting the same flaws found in the broader culture, materialism, tribalism, nationalism, or misogyny. These are valid critiques, but they miss the point that the church is composed of people who are products of their culture; they did not drop from outer space.
The church is not a pristine enclave hovering above society; it is embedded in it, shaped by it, and constantly reforming in response to it.
This is not an excuse for compromise but a recognition of reality. The same social, political and economic forces that affect the world affect the church. The difference lies in how the church responds, whether it assimilates blindly or seeks to be a prophetic voice within the culture.
For every viral video of a pastor’s disgrace, there are thousands of untold stories of quiet faithfulness. There are pastors in rural villages, preaching without salary, feeding their congregations from their gardens. There are churches providing sanctuary and counselling to the broken and shelter to the homeless. Some believers show up week after week to teach children, visit the sick or simply pray with a neighbour in pain.
These stories rarely make headlines because they lack scandal, spectacle or celebrity. But they are the heartbeat of the true church. If the public narrative were more balanced, acknowledging both failure and faithfulness, it would be harder to dismiss the church as merely a factory of hypocrisy.
What is needed, then, is not blind defence of the church, nor blanket condemnation, but discernment. Just as Jesus instructed his followers to be “wise as serpents and harmless as doves” (Matthew 10:16), so too should society learn to separate the wheat from the chaff.
Discernment means holding leaders accountable while still honouring the sacredness of the institution. It means challenging heresies without abandoning the hope of transformation. And it means remembering that the church, like all divine-human partnerships, is a work in progress.
The mislabeled church is not a new problem. It is as old as the New Testament, where even the earliest congregations struggled with division, hypocrisy, and sin. Yet the church endures, not because it is perfect, but because it is being perfected. It endures because Christ, its cornerstone, is faithful, even when his followers are not.
And so the invitation remains: Not to judge the church by its worst examples, but to seek its truest expression, to find the community of broken people who are being made whole, not by pretending to be better, but by clinging to a grace that is greater than all their sin.
Nevertheless, this mislabeling flows from a derelict, deluded few in the modern age of hyper-individualism and spiritual relativism, whose popular mantra is embedded into Christian vocabulary: “Church is in the heart.”
At first glance, it sounds humble, perhaps even spiritual. After all, didn’t Jesus say the kingdom of God is within you (Luke 17:21)? But like many half-truths, this phrase has been weaponized against the very foundation of what the Church is meant to be, a visible, tangible, and holy assembly of God’s people, distinct from the world.
Today, this vague sentimentality has contributed to a slow erosion of the Church’s identity. In the name of being “relatable,” “inclusive,” or “non-religious,” many Christians have become virtually indistinguishable from the culture in which they live. They consume the same media, celebrate the same ideologies, chase the same ambitions, and then retreat into the idea that “God knows my heart” or “church is personal.”
This mindset must be confronted, not coddled.
Those tarnishing the image of the church through their worldly conduct must be warned that the Church is called for an exemplary lifestyle. It is not supposed to reflect the world; it’s meant to reflect Christ to the world. That means hard choices: not going where the world goes, not laughing at what the world laughs at, not worshiping what the world worships. When we erase the difference, we erase our witness.
So, let’s stop hiding behind sentimental slogans. The Church is not just a feeling or in the heart, as some claim; it’s a formation. Not just a personal conviction; it’s a public calling. And unless we recover our holy distinction, we will have nothing left to say to a dying world.
The choice is clear: Be set apart, or be sold out. But you cannot be both.