When Jesus walked the dusty roads of Judea, He didn’t just confront behaviors—He exposed hearts. And two of the most serious warnings He gave were against the leaven of the Pharisees and the leaven of the Sadducees (Matthew 16:6, Luke 12:1). These weren’t just ancient theological disagreements. They were spiritual infections—heart conditions—that creep in quietly and corrupt everything. They didn’t die in the first century. They’re still with us today—in pulpits, in pews, and if we’re not careful, in us.

The Pharisee heart is marked by spiritual pride—a form of self-righteousness disguised as holiness. It studies Scripture carefully (John 5:39), yet rarely allows the Word to pierce the soul (Hebrews 4:12). It performs well, fasts publicly, and tithe scrupulously (Matthew 23:23), but leaves justice, mercy, and faithfulness undone. It values outward image more than inward change (Matthew 23:25–28). This heart knows how to correct others but forgets how to confess its own faults (Luke 18:11–12). It wants to be seen as righteous but resists repentance. It uses God’s law as a badge of honor instead of a mirror of need. And perhaps worst of all—it forgets the mercy it once needed and now denies it to others (Matthew 9:13).

In contrast, the Sadducee heart is religious in appearance but secular in function. It denies the supernatural—no angels, no resurrection, no spiritual warfare (Acts 23:8). It reads Scripture selectively, accepting only what fits its intellectual framework (Matthew 22:23–29). This heart is cool, polished, politically connected, and comfortable with power. It manages religion, but it does not believe in the power of God (2 Timothy 3:5). It would rather align with Rome than be disrupted by the Messiah (John 11:48). It dismisses divine encounters and shrinks God down to a safe idea. It replaces surrender with strategy and trades revelation for relevance.

Both of these heart conditions are deadly—and still active today.

You’ll find Pharisaical hearts in legalistic churches, online platforms filled with religious gatekeepers, and even missions that measure worth by performance. These are people who defend truth fiercely but love little (1 Corinthians 13:2). They fast and pray—but often for recognition, not renewal (Matthew 6:5–18). They know how to rebuke but rarely weep. They resist correction, seek applause, and use theology as a tool for control rather than transformation.

You’ll also find Sadducean hearts in pulpits where sin is never mentioned, where hell has been erased, and where miracles are quietly dismissed. These hearts sit on boards and committees that slowly drain Scripture of its authority. They say “Lord, Lord” with their mouths, but their theology is hollow, and their prayers are symbolic at best (Isaiah 29:13, Titus 1:16). These are leaders who reinterpret Scripture to fit modern culture and silence the Holy Spirit in favor of social credibility.

But here is the greatest danger: these spirits can live in us—even in the faithful, the devoted, the once-humble. Jesus didn’t warn the crowds. He warned His disciples: “Beware the leaven…” (Matthew 16:6). Leaven starts small. It hides in the dough. But over time, it alters the whole loaf. This is how spiritual pride and dead religion spread—quietly, inwardly, powerfully.

So how do we guard our hearts?

We must ask honest questions:
• Do I long to be seen as righteous—or to be truly changed by Christ (Psalm 139:23–24)?
• Do I believe in the resurrection not just as a doctrine—but as a power that shapes my daily life (Philippians 3:10)?
• Do I weep for souls or only win arguments?
• Do I still tremble at God’s Word (Isaiah 66:2)?
• Do I truly believe God moves today—or have I grown comfortable with a faith that requires no fire?

The heart Jesus desires is different. It’s the tax collector who beats his chest and cries, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner!” (Luke 18:13). It’s the woman with the issue of blood who pushes through the crowd just to touch His garment (Mark 5:27–34). It’s the child who believes without pretense (Matthew 18:3). It’s the thief who dares to whisper, “Remember me” (Luke 23:42). These hearts are not perfect, but they are tender. Not proud, but desperate. Not self-assured, but full of faith.

Let us not settle for the performance of religion or the polish of public image. Let us watch ourselves closely—for the greatest danger is not out there in the world. It’s in here, when we stop trembling at His voice and start loving our position more than His presence.

Closing Prayer: Guard My Heart, O Lord

Father in Heaven,
I come before You not with pride, but with need. Search me, O God, and know my heart. Try me and see if there be any Pharisee or Sadducee leaven in me. Strip away the layers of performance, pride, and pretense. Deliver me from dead religion and revive me with living faith.

Help me tremble again at Your Word. Help me believe again in Your power. Let me walk in mercy, in love, and in truth. Let my prayers be pure. Let my doctrine be humble. Let my witness be real.

Forgive me for every time I’ve craved recognition more than righteousness. Forgive me for every compromise of truth in the name of comfort. Make me like the child, the sinner, the desperate one who simply longs for You.

Keep me from becoming what You came to confront. And let me become more like You—full of grace and truth.

In Jesus’ name I pray, amen.