Imperfect Motives, Faithful Actions

Devotionals, as a category of Christian literature, are religious writings designed for personal spiritual growth and edification. These works—often in the form of daily readings, short meditations, or entries—typically include a Bible verse, a brief reflection, practical application, and sometimes a prayer to help believers deepen their relationship with God and apply faith to daily life.

One of the earliest books in this genre, published in 1486, was The Imitation of Christ by Thomas à Kempis. When I read it some forty years ago, I was struck by a statement that stuck with me since that time. Kempis wrote, “It is better to do the right thing for the wrong reasons than to do the wrong thing.” 

There was something strange about this statement to me. As a result I spent a lot of time pondering whether this was true or not.

What I was stumbling over, as a young Christian, was the notion that if we were to be like Christ our motives should be pure like his. How could it be right to do anything for the wrong reasons? Isn't this hypocrisy of sorts?

As I reflected on this, it became apparent (to me) that the statement was quite brilliant. Human motives are rarely pure. Pride, fear, self-interest, and the desire for approval often mingle with genuine goodness. If moral action required perfect intention, very little good would ever be done. I'll say that again. If moral action required perfect intention, very little good would ever be done.

Kempis suggests that obedience to what is right has a formative power of its own. Right action, even when imperfectly motivated, can train the will, discipline desire, and slowly purify intention. In contrast, doing what is wrong—even with sincere feeling or passion—reinforces disorder and bends the soul away from truth.

This is not a dismissal of intention, but a refusal to let flawed motives paralyze moral responsibility. The good must still be done. Over time, action shapes the heart as much as the heart shapes action.  

This statement has another liberating feature. Overmuch introspection is a serious trap. We're always looking at ourselves instead of the needs of others. It's a variation of navel-gazing. This is not to deny the importance or value of reflecting on our actions to see what they reveal about what's inside us. Rather, the key is balance: healthy self-examination, guided by Scripture, leads us to repentance and greater reliance on Christ, while excessive or morbid introspection turns us inward in a self-absorbed way that breeds discouragement, despair, and neglect of loving others. Ultimately, true spiritual growth comes not from endless self-focus but from fixing our eyes on Jesus and turning outward in service, as the gospel frees us from the prison of over-analyzing ourselves.

Kempis reminds us that virtue is learned by practice. The path toward integrity often begins not with pure motives, but with choosing the good anyway. 

Applications are many. Here are some starter examples: Showing kindness despite mixed or reluctant feelings. Doing one’s duty when enthusiasm is absent. Practicing generosity before generosity feels natural. 

Doing what's right is a choice, even when we don't feel like it.