Take heed that you do not do your charitable deeds before men, to be seen by them. Otherwise, you have no reward from your Father in heaven.” — Matthew 6:1 (NKJV)
Sometimes we help people and expect nothing in return, or at least that is what we tell ourselves. But if we are being honest, some part of us still quietly hopes for a sign of appreciation, a smile, a thank you, or even just a moment of acknowledgment. I once helped someone I truly cared about. I gave what I had, and it wasn’t about the money or material things. It was about time, presence, effort, and the willingness to be there in a moment when it mattered most. I didn’t make a show of it. I didn’t announce it. I didn’t ask for anything. But when all was said and done, there was silence. Nothing. No text. No message. No thank you. No mention. Just that heavy, awkward silence that slowly makes you wonder if you did too much or if you should have done anything at all.
At first, I convinced myself it didn’t matter. I told myself that my heart was in the right place and that it was enough to know I had helped someone. But as the silence stretched on, I began to feel something in my chest. It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t regret. It was just a quiet kind of sadness that makes you sit with your thoughts a little longer than usual. I started asking myself questions. Did I help them because they needed help? Or did I also help them because I wanted to feel useful, appreciated, and remembered? Did I give out of love alone, or did I also hope that in some way, they would see me in a better light? Maybe I wanted them to see that I still cared. Maybe I wanted them to feel that I was still someone worth holding on to.
I don’t think I’m the only one who has felt this way. Many people have helped others and ended up feeling disappointed, not because they didn’t get a gift in return, but because they didn’t even get the smallest acknowledgment. And that can be painful. You give your energy, your time, your attention, and sometimes even your peace, hoping to make someone’s life a little easier, and when it is all done, you are left with nothing but your own thoughts and questions. And though you try to act strong and pretend it didn’t bother you, deep down, it does. It stings in places you cannot explain. It makes you second-guess your kindness.
But maybe the bigger lesson is this. If the reason we do good is only to be seen, to be clapped for, or to be mentioned, then maybe our giving was not as pure as we thought. That is a hard truth, but it is a necessary one. Real kindness should come from a full heart, not a hungry one. Real love should give without needing to be chased or praised. And real support should not be tied to recognition. There is nothing wrong with wanting to be appreciated. That is human. But we must not confuse appreciation with motivation. must never be driven by the need to be noticed. It must flow from a place of peace, not pride.
And sometimes, we forget that the person we are helping might be going through a personal battle that they have no words for. Some people are silently drowning. Some are tired, not just in their bodies but in their minds. They may not even know how to say thank you, not because they are ungrateful, but because they are still trying to keep themselves together. For some, you are the only one who showed up. For others, your act of kindness is the only thing keeping them from giving up completely. You may be the last bit of hope they are holding onto. So when they stay silent, it might not be disrespect. It might be exhaustion. It might be pain. It might be the heaviness of trying to survive another day.
I have come to a point where before I offer help or give of myself, I pause and ask one question: “If this person never says thank you, will I still be happy I did it?” If the answer is yes, then I go ahead. If the answer is no, I take a moment to reflect. Not because the person does not deserve help, but because I want to make sure I am giving from a clean place. Giving should not leave you feeling bitter. It should leave you feeling free. That is when you know your heart is in the right place.
Think back on your life. How many times have you forgiven someone who never apologized? How many times have you shown up for people who never showed up for you? How many times have you given even when your own hands were empty? And after all that, how many times did you walk away feeling unseen? That is not weakness. That is strength. That is love in its purest form. But it should also be a reminder that we must check our hearts often. It is not just what we do that matters, but why we do it.
There will be times when the people we help forget us. There will be days when our kindness goes unnoticed. There will be seasons when our giving is not returned. But none of that takes away from the goodness of what we did. The act still counts. The love still stands. The memory may fade for others, but it remains in the heart that gave. You do not need applause to be a good person. You do not need to be mentioned to know you mattered. You do not need to be thanked to know you did what was right.
So if you are hurting because someone never said thank you, I understand you. If you feel like your effort went unnoticed, I hear you. And if you are wondering whether your kindness was wasted, I am here to remind you that it was not. The good you do always matters, even when no one says so. The seeds you plant in silence still grow. Maybe not where you expected. Maybe not when you hoped. But they grow, and they bloom in ways you may never fully see.
Today, ask yourself quietly: When I do things for people, who am I really doing it for? Is it for the applause, the validation, or the quiet peace of knowing I did what was right? Let that answer shape your giving. Let it guide your love. Let it teach your heart to be full even when others are silent.
You have nothing to prove. Your goodness is not measured by how many people clap. It is measured by the honesty of your heart and the peace you feel when you lay your head at night. Keep doing good. Not for show. Not for recognition. But because it is who you are, and that alone is more than enough.
By Victor Raul Puobabangna Plance from Eggu in the Upper West Region of Ghana
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