We Are All Imposters. And That’s Enough.

Owning Our Inadequacy. Trusting His Sufficiency.

Dear Missionaryish Family,

There’s a heavy kind of weight that comes with sharing the Gospel. It’s not unlike investing in assets like I mentioned a few posts ago. In fact, its much harder because its often tied to your identity if you are a Christian. You put in time, energy, emotion, and love, not knowing what kind of return you’ll get. Maybe none. Maybe loss. There’s the risk of losing friendships, the risk of being misunderstood, the risk of pouring into people who take far more than they give. Much to fear about. And it’s hard, because sharing the Gospel isn’t just a task it’s a spiritual act. It's not powered by eloquence or intellect, but by a heart tethered to God. And that’s where the imposter syndrome creeps in.

I feel it deeply. There are so many days I feel unqualified. Inconsistent. Broken. I fail in ways that make me question if I’m even worthy to speak about God. The way I parent, the way I love my wife it’s imperfect. I look at myself and, instead of seeing the image of God, I see mess. I wonder, Who am I to share anything?

If you want to say 'Amen,' this message is for you—but it's also for me.

celebrating my bday this past week! was just feeling pho

Reagan and I talk about this often. Before we were married. Now that we are, with kids and ministry and life layered in, we still wrestle with the feeling that we’re not doing enough. And if you’ve grown up in the church, you probably know what I mean. There’s this pressure to get it right: to love people well, to clearly present the Gospel, to have that one defining conversation. And if you don’t if the moment passes and the cross never gets mentioned you wonder if the time you spent even mattered.

Some friends may not have said it outright, but they lived like doing ten years of work in ten minutes was the mark of evangelistic success. But I’ve come to question that. I don’t think that’s what God is asking of us. I think that’s insecurity disguised as zeal. It’s the voice of the culture Christian and otherwise telling us our worth is tied to what we do, how quickly we do it, and how impressive the results are.

And so we hustle. We strive. We spiritualize our exhaustion. We think if we’re not moving mountains, then we’re not close to God. If we’re not leading revivals, then maybe we’re just wasting space. But that’s not how God works. That’s how the world works.

Paul tells us in 2 Corinthians 3:4-5:

“Such is the confidence that we have through Christ toward God. Not that we are sufficient in ourselves to claim anything as coming from us, but our sufficiency is from God.”

Let that sink in: Our sufficiency is not in ourselves.

But that’s hard to believe when you're tired and feel like you’re barely keeping it together. The world preaches self-sufficiency, self-protection, self-curation. If you’ve been burned, betrayed, or disappointed, the natural impulse is to close up shop. To hoard what little strength you have. But the Gospel calls us to something different. It calls us to give to pour out. And that’s terrifying when you feel like you have nothing left to give.

And here's the kicker: when we try to bear the full weight of ministry, parenting, and loving others without resting in God's provision, we end up feeling like frauds. Deep down, we know we don't have it in us. And that’s exactly where the enemy wants us: discouraged, ashamed, and isolated. That’s when he swoops in, slaps us around with our addictions and distractions, and kicks us while we’re down—until we bleed. And in our pain, we make others bleed too. He whispers that we need to get it together or else God won’t love us.

But we don’t have to manufacture the plan or even listen to such dumb lies. Ephesians 2:10 reminds us:

“For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.”

We walk in the work He prepared. Not what we dream up. Not what we think we should be doing to look like “successful” Christians. The Gospel isn’t a performance. It’s a surrender.

And even more sobering: just because someone has great gifts—preaching, teaching, leadership—doesn’t mean they’re close to God. Gifts can remain operative without divine intimacy, which, to be honest, is rather terrifying, because I tend to use them as a false litmus test all the time. It’s certainly true in the secular world—just look at how many doctors and chefs are able to serve and bless others despite not knowing God. We’ve also seen that story play out too many times in the church.

Matthew 7:22–23 comes to mind:

“Many will say to Me on that day, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in Your name, and in Your name cast out demons, and in Your name perform many miracles?’ And then I will declare to them, ‘I never knew you; depart from Me, you who practice lawlessness.’”

That passage shakes me. It reminds me that even in seasons when I am doing a lot, it’s no guarantee that my heart is near Him.

That realization humbles me. It reminds me how much grace I need. Every day. If God didn’t show up, I wouldn’t be able to love my kids, love Reagan, or even love myself. Because when stress, sickness, and suffering hit, I don’t default to holiness I default to self-preservation. But even then especially then God doesn’t leave.

Romans 8:1 says:

“There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.”

There it is. No condemnation. Not a drop. Not even on your worst day.

first mission trip in summer of 2k9 Nicaragua

Galatians 2:20 became a lifeline for me in college, and it still is:

“I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me.”

So even when I feel like an imposter, like I’m faking it Jesus already knew. He knew the depths of my unworthiness, and He still chose to die for me. He chose to live in me. And even on the days when I don’t feel like I’m making progress, I’m still walking in the light. Because I know Him. And that alone separates me from who I used to be.

That means I can repent. And if I can repent, I can renew. And if I can renew, I can return to the place I fell, and stand again.

Lamentations 3:22–23 says,

“The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; His mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness.”

Every. Morning.

So here’s the fight: We remind ourselves that we are not the ones who make ourselves worthy. God is. Jesus paid for it all not when we were trying, but when we were His enemies. The Gospel isn’t about how well we perform. It’s a declaration of our inability, of our need. And that’s why it’s so beautiful.

When we surrender not just our sin, but even our desire to “get it right” God moves. And He uses us. Even in weakness. Especially in weakness.

Levi wanted to say hi, but he was tired.

So if you’re caring for aging parents, and you’ve got nothing left for your neighbors, God sees you. If you’re drowning in diapers, work, and dishes, God sees you. If you’re exhausted from loving someone who doesn’t seem to change, God sees you.

You're not a terrible Christian. You’re human. And you're not alone.

Let me end with this: the moment we realize that our message isn’t about our worthiness, but about Christ’s, is the moment we begin to preach with power. This is when we become the conduit for His reconciliation to a dying world. Because only then do we stop trying to save people ourselves and start watching God do what only He can do.

Keep showing up. Keep repenting. Keep resting in the One who started the work.

And if you're feeling like an imposter today? Welcome to the club.

But in Christ that’s enough. Let’s go love our neighbors.

David & Reagan

In partnership with

We’re thrilled to kick off this month’s newsletter with a special thank you to another new sponsor, The Pour Over. We’re excited to partner with them because they deliver more than just daily news. The Pour Over provides politically neutral coverage while offering a unique, eternal perspective, reminding us that all news rests in God’s hands. Their approach helps us step back from fear and focus on what truly matters—God’s truth.

We encourage you to check out The Pour Over. Every click you provide supports their mission and helps sustain our ministry. You don’t need to sign up (though we highly recommend it!), but each click makes a difference, enabling us to continue our work at no cost to you. If you check out their site within 72 hours of this post it will bring support for our ministry. Thank you for helping us spread awareness about their impactful work while supporting Missionaryish.

poor man’s disneyland ride

On a personal note, this past month has been a time of adjustment since welcoming our son, Levi. I’ve had to step back slightly to balance family and school while continuing to make progress with fundraising and nonprofit updates. We’re grateful for your ongoing support and prayers as we navigate these changes.

Prayer Requests:

  • 501(c)(3) Approval: Please pray for our pending 501(c)(3) status update, which we’re still awaiting.

  • Fundraising Efforts: Pray for continued progress in our fundraising initiatives to sustain and grow our ministry.

  • Family Balance: Ask for strength and wisdom as we juggle family, school, and ministry responsibilities.

  • Nonprofit Operations: Lift up our team as we manage updates and procedures to keep our nonprofit running smoothly.

Looking ahead, we’re excited to share more about the heart of Missionaryish. In the past, we’ve provided brief updates, but now we’re diving deeper, inviting you into the philosophy behind why and how we do what we do. Thank you for joining us on this journey as we continue to serve and share God’s love.

If you’d like to support us directly, click here: www.missionaryish.org/give

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