You Don’t Have to Fake It Until You Make It

I have heard a phrase twice recently in Christian circles that has bothered me both times: “Fake it until I make it.”

I understand what people usually mean when they say it. Keep going. Put one foot in front of the other. Maybe your feelings will eventually catch up with your actions. In ordinary life, someone may find that advice useful. Maybe you walk into a new job feeling completely unqualified, so you act confident until you actually become confident.

But as a Christian philosophy, I have a problem with it — a serious one.

Christianity is not about becoming better at pretending. It is about becoming more truthful.

Jesus did not call us to create the appearance of spiritual maturity until eventually something real develops underneath it. He called us to come into the light. That includes the parts of us that are afraid, the parts that doubt, the angry parts, the parts that are tired, and the parts that still do not have it together.

God already knows they are there anyway.

One of the strangest things we can do as Christians is try to fool a God who already knows us completely. Psalm 139 tells us that God knows when we sit down and when we rise. He knows our thoughts before we speak them. There is nowhere we can go where He is not present.

So who exactly are we faking it for?

Certainly not Him.

Maybe that is part of the problem. Sometimes we become more concerned with appearing faithful in front of other Christians than actually being honest before God. We learn the vocabulary. “I’m blessed.” “God is good.” “I’m trusting Him.” And those things may all be true, but sometimes they become answers we give because we think Christians are supposed to give them.

Meanwhile, underneath all of it, we may be scared to death. Or angry. Or confused. Or wondering where God is.

Scripture does not teach us to hide those things from Him. It teaches almost the exact opposite.

The Psalms are filled with people crying out to God in confusion, grief, frustration, fear, and sometimes bewilderment. “How long, O LORD?” appears again and again. That is not fake faith. That is real faith speaking from a painful place.

David did not pretend everything was fine. Jeremiah certainly did not pretend everything was fine. Job did not pretend everything was fine. And one of my favorite prayers in Scripture came from a desperate father who told Jesus, “I believe; help my unbelief!” (Mark 9:24).

Think about that prayer for a moment.

He did not say, “I have perfect faith.” He did not pretend. He brought Jesus the faith he had and admitted the faith he lacked.

And Jesus did not turn him away.

This is where I think we need to make an important distinction. There is a difference between faking faith and acting in faith when our feelings are somewhere else. Those are not the same thing.

There will be mornings when I do not feel like praying, but I pray anyway. That is not fake. There will be times when I do not feel like forgiving someone, but I choose to forgive because Christ commanded me to. That is not fake. There may be days when I feel afraid, but I still obey what God has put in front of me. That is not pretending to be brave. That is courage.

Faithfulness does not mean our emotions always cooperate.

Jesus Himself prayed in Gethsemane while deeply distressed. He did not hide His anguish. He did not pretend the cross was easy. He prayed honestly, “Not My will, but Yours be done.”

There was no pretending there. There was surrender.

Sometimes obedience happens while our knees are shaking. Sometimes worship happens through tears. Sometimes trust sounds less like, “I know everything is going to be fine,” and more like, “Lord, I do not understand what You are doing, but I am staying with You.”

That is not fake Christianity. That may be Christianity at its most real.

The Bible describes Christian growth as fruit, and I think that matters. Galatians 5 speaks about the fruit of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.

Fruit grows.

It is not taped onto the branches.

Jesus said in John 15 that we bear fruit by remaining in Him. That changes the whole picture. I do not have to manufacture a Christian personality and hope that someday my heart catches up with the performance. I remain in Christ. I listen to Him. I obey Him. I repent when I sin. I confess when I fail. I keep coming back.

And the Spirit of God changes me.

Sometimes slowly. Sometimes painfully. Sometimes in ways I do not recognize until I look backward and realize I am no longer the person I was several years ago.

Philippians 2:13 says that it is God who works in us, both to desire and to do what pleases Him. That gives me tremendous hope. My Christian life does not depend upon my ability to impersonate a mature Christian long enough to become one.

God is actually at work in me.

I wonder how much healthier our churches would become if Christians felt safe enough to say, “I am struggling.” “I am afraid.” “I am angry with God right now.” “I am having trouble believing this.” “I fell again.” “I need help.”

Not as excuses for sin. Not as permission to remain where we are. But as truth.

First John 1 tells us that if we claim to be without sin, we deceive ourselves. But when we confess our sins, God is faithful and just to forgive us and cleanse us.

Notice the direction.

Not hiding. Not performing. Confessing.

Christian maturity is not reaching the point where nobody can see our weaknesses. Christian maturity is learning what to do with them.

We bring them to Christ.

Again and again and again.

Paul begged God to remove what he called his “thorn in the flesh.” God did not tell Paul to pretend it did not hurt. He told him, “My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Corinthians 12:9).

That is almost the opposite of “fake it until I make it.”

Paul learned that he did not have to create the appearance of strength. He could admit his weakness because Christ was strong.

There is tremendous freedom in that.

I do not have to pretend to have arrived. I haven’t. I do not have to pretend that I never doubt. I sometimes do. I do not have to pretend temptation has disappeared. It hasn’t. I do not have to pretend that following Christ has made every part of life easy. It hasn’t.

But I can tell the truth about all of those things and still follow Him.

In fact, telling the truth may be part of following Him.

Jesus said He is the truth. So our journey toward Christ should make us more honest, not better actors.

I do not want to “fake it until I make it.” I do not think I ever want that to describe my Christian life.

Maybe something closer to the truth would be, “Trust Him while He changes me.” Or, “Obey while He grows me.”

Or maybe simply, “Keep following Jesus.”

When I am confident, follow Him. When I am confused, follow Him. When I feel strong, follow Him. When I feel weak, follow Him. When my faith feels enormous, follow Him. When all I can manage is, “Lord, I believe; help my unbelief,” follow Him.

There is no need to fake something for Jesus.

Bring Him what is actually there.

The fear. The doubt. The failure. The questions. The weakness. The tiny amount of faith you are almost embarrassed to call faith.

Bring Him the truth.

Because Jesus has always been able to do far more with an honest, broken person than we can ever do with a polished imitation of one.

You do not have to fake it until you make it.

You just have to keep coming to Him.