I lived a life of confirmation bias for thirty years.
I’ve always been gifted at watching people, picking up their frequency, and faking my way through the basics with amazing believability. I didn’t just observe the “Christian life”; I mimicked it.
I became an expert at the religious masquerade. On the outside, I had an enviable existence:
- A nice home.
- A steady relationship.
- On top of the latest trends
- An image that was nearly impossible to argue with.
But behind closed doors? I was drowning. I was empty, exhausted, and running on a spiritual tank that had been dry for a decade.
Learning to be a “High-Level Fraud”
Here’s the scary part: I learned how to be a high-level fraud from other Christians.
I learned it by watching people who looked holy and “blessed” in the foyer while their real lives told a different story. I saw “perfect” religious families with perfectly behaved kids and excellent attendance records, who would suddenly collapse, wiped out by a secret addiction or a hidden struggle.
I realized that if you just hide the mess well enough, you can keep the “peace” without ever actually having to change.
The Double Life of Good Enough
It started when I was a teenager. The friction in my house wasn’t about my heart; it was about my “to-do” list. The strife I felt didn’t come from my internal sexual identity crisis, It came from the music I blasted, the people I hung out with, the parties I stumbled home from and the church services I skipped.
I learned the lesson early: as long as I played the part and scheduled my “extracurriculars” around church attendance, I could live a peaceful double life. I didn’t have to change a single thought or habit. I just had to wear the correct costume.
I see the same thing in the modern church today, it has just gotten much more subtle. More compartmentalized. We’ve turned church into a professional association. We’ve traded “prayerful cries for healing” for “acceptable social performance.”
Is Authentic Christianity Still Real?
Now, let’s be clear: I’m not saying everyone in a pew is a fraud. Not even close.
There are a lot of good, Godly people out there who aren’t pretending. There are many strong, rock-solid churches, bastions of light that teach a life of repentance. They preach the true Gospel message: that we are more sinful than we ever dared believe, yet more loved than we ever dared hope. But they are increasingly scarce. These communities don’t trade in “social costumes”; they trade in truth. If you’ve found a place where the presence of God summons raw cries for transformation, hold onto it. That’s the Kingdom of Heaven breaking through.
The Historical Trap: Rules vs. Reign
For many Christians, we tend to treat the Kingdom of God like a VIP club. But the Greek word basileia isn’t about a place; it’s about a reign. It’s the active, sovereign rule of God breaking into our messy history.
Historically, we see two traps people fall into:
- The Pharisees: Thinking perfect rule-following “forces” God to show up.
- The Zealots: Thinking the Kingdom comes through political hustle and anger.
We are still doing this today. We manage our sin instead of laying it down to be restored. We feed the flock, but we fail to extend grace to our neighbors.
Finding God in the “Messy Middle”
In Matthew 13, Jesus shares the parables of the mustard seed and the leaven. These aren’t just cute lessons; they are mysteries. They show us that God’s rule doesn’t arrive with a polished trophy. It’s hidden. It’s messy.
I used to believe the lie that I was too far gone. But at 40, when I was finally broken enough to stop the act, I encountered a King who didn’t want my credentials. He wanted my honesty.
Transformation happens in the “messy middle,” not in the pristine pews of our performance.
How to Stop the Religious Grind
If you’re scrolling at 10 PM feeling like a fraud, listen to me: the old you that could “fail” is already dead. Religion says “try harder,” but Jesus says “it is finished.”
One Practical Shift for Today:
Stop asking God to help you “be better.” That’s just more performance. Instead:
- Tell Him exactly where you’re failing. * Take off the social costume. * Admit you’re exhausted from managing a double life.
The miracle isn’t the finish line; it’s the starting gun. You’re not too far gone. You’re right on time.
Good, timely words!