What does real faith look like when everyone's faking it?

We live in a world that's completely absorbed with managing how we look to other people. We curate the perfect photos of our kids—deleting the ones where they're trying to strangle each other and keeping only that half-second when everyone actually smiled. We Photoshop. We filter. We control the narrative about our lives, our families, our success.

But what if there's a better way? What if, instead of exhausting ourselves trying to appear good, we could just... be good? And what if authentic faith means being real about who we are and Who we're following, even when it's not Instagram-perfect?

The Situation in Corinth

The Apostle Paul—the guy who used to hunt down Christians before Jesus dramatically changed his life—had planted a church in the city of Corinth. Think of Corinth as the Las Vegas of the ancient world: wealthy, influential, with a reputation for having incredibly low moral standards. The ancients had a phrase that was close to, "What happens in Corinth stays in Corinth."

Paul started a church there, which couldn't have been easy. But after he left to plant other churches, some new teachers showed up. We might call them influencers today. They saw that the church in Corinth was growing and passionate—not to mention wealthy—and they thought, "If we can get them to pay us instead of listening to Paul, we’ll be set for life."

These "super apostles" (Paul's sarcastic name for them) were smooth talkers who built themselves up by tearing Paul down. They said things like, "Paul? Oh, he wasn't even that good of a speaker. But you should support us because we're way more eloquent than him."

Sound familiar? It's like the ancient version of people who get popular by saying outrageous things just to stir everyone up and make sure you like and subscribe because they have more crazy content coming tomorrow.

When No Answer Is the Right Answer

Here's something fascinating: Paul was trying to respond to people who refused to accept any answer. It didn't matter if he was gentle or aggressive, kind or firm—they were determined to twist whatever he said.

Have you ever been in that situation? Where no matter how you respond, the other person is going to take it the wrong way? The Bible actually addresses this in Proverbs 26:4-5—two verses right next to each other that seem to contradict. One says "don't answer a fool" and the next says "answer a fool." It's like the Bible is saying: sometimes you're in a situation where you're stuck either way, and you just need to pray about it.

A Divine Jealousy

In 2 Corinthians 11, Paul gets really personal. He says, "I feel a divine jealousy for you since I betrothed you to one husband to present you as a pure virgin to Christ."

He leans into using wedding language to describe his feelings! In Paul's culture, when a couple got engaged (betrothed), it was a legal contract. The bride's father had a responsibility to protect her and make sure she stayed faithful to her future husband during the engagement period—usually about a year.

Paul is saying, "I'm like that protective father. Church in Corinth, I introduced you to Jesus. You're not married to me—you're engaged to Christ. And I'm jealous for Him because I see you getting distracted by other voices, other messages, other loyalties."

His concern? That just like the serpent deceived Eve in the garden, their own thoughts were being led away from sincere devotion to Jesus. Notice that: Paul doesn't just blame the false teachers. He says the problem lies in what the Corinthians already wanted to think — the temptation was connecting with a wicked desire already inside of them.

The pompous attitude of these super apostles was being mimicked by the church and so Paul was worries that they'd already been compromised.

Openly Practicing Faithful Love

Here's the counter-cultural principle: In a world absorbed with manipulating appearances, we openly practice faithful love.

Think about it: if you actually do what's right, you don't have to convince people you do what's right. You just do it. If you do what's wrong but want people to think you do what's right, you've got a lot of exhausting work ahead of you. You have to lie, cover things up, remember your string of lies.

But if you simply do the right thing? You can sleep well at night. If people think you did something wrong, that's on them—they were confused.

We love Jesus, we love Jesus' family (the church), and we love our neighbors. That's it. No performance necessary.

The Danger of Tolerating Everything

Paul points out something troubling: "If someone comes and proclaims another Jesus than the one we proclaimed, or if you receive a different spirit... or if you accept a different gospel... you put up with it readily enough" (2 Corinthians 11:4).

The Corinthians were happy to listen to anyone and everyone—except the person who actually brought them the true message in the first place.

Here's the reality: we have instant access to every bad idea in human history. Every. Single. One. And we hand smartphones to our kids and say "good luck."

We can be gracious in conversations with people who disagree with us without adopting every opinion as equally valid. Paul says he's "unskilled in speaking" compared to these flashy super apostles, but he's not inferior in knowledge (2 Corinthians 11:5-6).

Here's what Paul did differently: he spoke the mystery of Christ crucified—how the God of the universe became human and allowed Himself to be executed in the most disgraceful way possible to restore rebellious people back to relationship with Him. Then he trusted the Holy Spirit to convict people's hearts.

He didn't use inflammatory tactics. He didn't get popular by being outrageous. He just spoke the Truth and let God work at changing people’s hearts and minds.

Working With His Hands

Here's where it gets really interesting. Paul refused to take money from the Corinthians. He preached the gospel to them for free and supported himself by making tents (leather working) on the side.

The super apostles twisted this: "Paul won't take money from you because he doesn't really love you. He doesn't want to be connected with you. He likes those churches in Macedonia, but he doesn't want crazy Corinth on his ministry receipts."

But Paul's motives were pure. In Roman culture, gifts always came with strings attached. If you accepted a gift, you were expected to repay it—either with another gift or with public honor. Paul didn't want the Corinthians to feel socially obligated to him. He wanted them free to follow Jesus without any burden.

Even more striking: when Paul ran out of money while in Corinth (yes, apparently the apostle's check bounced), he accepted help from the churches in Macedonia—churches that were poor and persecuted—rather than become a burden to the wealthy Corinthians.

He worked with his hands to demonstrate genuine love. And he kept doing it no matter what anyone said about him.

Discerning Disguises

Paul drops a bomb in 2 Corinthians 11:13-15: these super apostles are "false apostles, deceitful workmen, disguising themselves as apostles of Christ." Why is he not surprised? "Even Satan disguises himself as an angel of light."

The false teachers were approachable, entertaining, fun. They seemed harmless. But they were actually building themselves up instead of building up Jesus. Real apostles point to Jesus as the best. Counterfeits point to themselves.

Any of us—because all who put faith in Jesus are ministers of the gospel—who pass off darkness as light or sin as an acceptable lifestyle choice must reckon with God's judgment.

The Question That Matters

So whose kingdom are we building? Whose kingdom are we building on an average Tuesday? Whose reputation are we building on Friday or Saturday night? Whose kingdom are we building our entire lives on?

Are we exhausting ourselves trying to control the narrative, curating our image, making sure everyone thinks we're good people? Or are we simply, openly, practicing faithful love—doing what's right and letting God handle the rest?

In a world absorbed with manipulating appearances, we openly practice faithful love.

If you've never embraced this mystery—that the God of the universe loved you enough to die for you when you still hated Him—today can be the day. You don't have to fully understand it to trust Him. That's what faith is.

And if you've already said yes to Jesus, let this be your encouragement: keep walking faithfully, even when it's hard. Don't get distracted by flashy voices that promise easier paths. Stay devoted to Christ. Be unskilled in cynical sarcasm and snarky social media takes. Be slow to speak, slow to anger, quick to listen (James 1:19).

Just love Jesus, love His people, and love your neighbors.

That's enough. It's always been enough.

Want to explore more about authentic faith? Join us for worship or connect with us—we'd love to walk with you.