Jesus and the Pretenders: Why We All Start as Imitators
Before you're a mystic, you're just trying not to fart during meditation.
The Spark Behind This Scroll
This scroll was sparked while working through Cynthia Bourgeault’s Practicing Living Presence: Discovering the Mind of Christ Within. In her dialogue with Kabir Helminski’s Living Presence, Cynthia points out that every great tradition admits what we’d rather deny: we all start as pretenders. Apprenticeship comes before authenticity. The “pretender stage” isn’t a failure—it’s the scaffolding that lets the soul grow. Hearing her describe this helped me laugh at my own clumsy beginnings and see imitation not as hypocrisy, but as holy rehearsal for Presence.
Let’s be honest. The first time you sat down to “meditate,” it wasn’t cosmic—it was gastrointestinal. You weren’t gazing into the eternal light of God. You were bargaining with your intestines:
“Please, not now. Not in the silence. Not in this crowded yoga studio.”
And that, beloveds, is the real beginning of the spiritual path. Not enlightenment. Not visions of Jesus in the clouds. Not levitating like a Jedi monk. Just the awkward shuffle of trying to look holy while hoping nobody heard the squeak escape your cushion.
Before you’re a mystic, you’re a pretender. And that’s not a bug. That’s the program.
The Pretender Stage: A Holy Knockoff Factory
Every tradition admits it—though they hide it behind robes and incense. We don’t start out radiant. We start out ridiculous.
Copying how our teacher sits, even though our legs scream like tortured rubber bands.
Mimicking the way they bow, even though we almost faceplant.
Repeating phrases we don’t understand, like karaoke monks.
The early Sufis called this the phase of imitation. Not fake—apprenticeship. You borrow someone else’s gestures until something inside you wakes up and makes them your own.
Think of it this way: a kid air-guitaring in the mirror isn’t “lying.” He’s rehearsing for the day he plugs into an amp and rips a solo.
Jesus Had Pretenders Too
Look at the disciples. Half the time, they’re trying to copy Jesus like toddlers copying their dad shaving: nicking themselves, bleeding everywhere, proud anyway.
Peter: “I’ll walk on water too!”
Jesus: “Bro, you’re drowning.”
Peter: “Worth it.”
They weren’t enlightened sages on day one. They were cosplaying Jesus until the Spirit finally melted them down and remade them from the inside.
So don’t sneer at your own clumsy beginnings. You’re in good company. The Kingdom of God was launched by spiritual interns who couldn’t sit through a prayer vigil without falling asleep.
Why Faking It Works (Spiritually Speaking)
Modern culture worships authenticity—as if the soul shows up fully formed, ready for Instagram. But the inner tradition says the opposite: you don’t start with a soul, you make one. And the way you make one is by practicing patterns until they carve new grooves in your being.
Imitation isn’t fraud. It’s training wheels for transformation.
The false self wants applause now.
The essential self is still in the workshop, being built plank by plank.
That’s why your early “mystical” attempts feel more like bad improv than revelation. But every stammered prayer, every crooked bow, every forced silence—these are the bricks being laid.
Blessed Be the Clumsy Ones
So here’s the gospel according to Virgin Monk Boy:
Blessed be the ones who look fake, because apprenticeship is holy.
Blessed be the ones who wobble on the cushion, because even their farts rise as incense.
Blessed be the ones who imitate, for they will one day integrate.
You don’t graduate to mystic by skipping the pretender stage. You stumble your way there, tripping on your teacher’s hems, until Presence finally takes root and you stop imitating gestures—and start radiating Being.
Until then, keep pretending. God sees through the knockoff and is delighted anyway.
Takeaway: Before you’re a mystic, you’re a mess. Don’t despise the early awkwardness. Apprenticeship is the path. Pretending is practice. Every crooked bow is a rehearsal for the moment when the light doesn’t just shine on you—it shines through you.
If you just want to vibe and not worry about being a mystic, take a listen to this 70s classic. Norman Greenbaum might as well have been the original frontman of Jesus and the Pretenders.
✦ Before You Slip Back Into the Illusion ✦
If this stirred something in you—if it poked that holy ache or reminded you that your life is more than autopilot—don’t just click away. Tap the like or share button like you’re hammering another brick into your soul’s foundation.
And if you want to keep walking this path with me, consider a paid subscription or even a one-time donation. It keeps the scrolls unrolling, the incense smoldering, and the Magdalene movement caffeinated. ☕🔥
Great stuff! Thanks! I have always found "Acting as if" to be a very effective strategy in many areas of life including faith.
One thing, among many, I appreciated when I was working a 12-Step program was the phrase, fake it till you make it. That community understands that we have to struggle with spirituality. While we may be, a C. S. Lewis describes us in *The Screwtape Letters* as "amphibians" half-human half-spiritual, that humaness is strong. 12-Step folk understand that no matter how deeply you have worked the steps, on any given day, you might be back at Step 1 and you life has become unmanageable. Faking it isn't a problem. There's always someone else's program you can try on for a bit until you can work thr steps for yourself.