I get some of my best ideas in the shower.
There. I said it.
Maybe it’s because the shower is one of the few places where nobody is asking me a question, my phone isn’t demanding my attention, and there’s nothing I can really do except stand there and think.
For years, the shower was also a place where I would play worship music and let the Word of God wash over me. It became a quiet place where I felt like God met me.
And then I would get out.
I’d get dressed, start my day, and somewhere between the shower and breakfast, I’d forget the brilliant thought I was absolutely certain I needed to remember.
Recently, I was telling my daughter about this, and she said, “Mom, you should just write it down.”
Of course.
Sometimes the obvious answer is the one we need someone else to say out loud.
So today, I captured the thought.
And it led me somewhere I didn’t expect.
What does it mean to be real online?
Lately, there’s been a lot of conversation about authenticity online.
Filters.
Makeup.
Lighting.
Angles.
People presenting polished versions of themselves.
There’s a growing push toward being “real”—and I understand why.
We don’t want people believing that everyone else’s life is perfect because they saw a carefully curated picture on Instagram.
We don’t want to create an image that makes someone else feel like they’re failing because their life doesn’t look like ours.
And certainly, we don’t want our online presence to become an idol.
But as I thought about it, I realized something:
Being real and being unfiltered are not necessarily the same thing.
And I think Christians especially need to be careful about confusing the two.
If the filter is becoming the focus, that’s a problem.
Here’s where I land on it.
If the way you present yourself online is getting in the way of your relationship with Christ, there’s a problem.
If you’re spending more time worrying about how people perceive you than actually becoming the person God is calling you to be, there’s a problem.
If your appearance has become your identity, there’s a problem.
If you’re constantly comparing yourself to everyone else, editing yourself into someone you think people will love, or measuring your worth by how you look on a screen, then yes—something needs to change.
And if all that attention on yourself leaves little room for serving, encouraging, loving, or actually connecting with another person, we’ve missed the point.
But I don’t think putting on makeup automatically means you’re being fake.
I don’t think good lighting means you’re hiding.
And I don’t think using a filter to soften a scar or brighten a picture means you’ve abandoned authenticity.
Sometimes we’re simply accentuating the positives.
We do this in almost every other area of life.
We decorate our homes.
We put on clothes we like.
We comb our hair.
We choose flattering colors.
We clean the house before people come over.
We prepare before we give a presentation.
We edit our writing before we publish it.
We don’t necessarily call those things dishonest.
We’re simply presenting something with care.
Imagine if movies had always been completely unfiltered.
I had another thought while standing there.
How long have we actually been “filtering” what people see?
Because this isn’t new.
Movies have been glamorizing people for as long as I can remember.
Lighting.
Makeup.
Wardrobe.
Camera angles.
Editing.
Special effects.
There has always been an effort to present people and stories in the best possible light.
And honestly?
There’s nothing inherently wrong with that.
Most people want to look their best when they’re in front of a camera.
I know I do.
The question isn’t whether we present our best.
The question is why.
There’s a difference between presenting your best and creating a false identity.
This is where I think the conversation gets interesting.
You can have a scar and still look beautiful.
You can have wrinkles and still be radiant.
You can have imperfections and still take a good picture.
You can use good lighting.
You can wear makeup.
You can choose your best angle.
You can even use a filter.
None of those things determine your identity.
Your identity is something much deeper.
And for me, as a Christian, that question always comes back to Christ.
Who am I when nobody is watching?
Who am I when the camera is off?
Who am I when someone doesn’t like my picture?
Who am I when my business isn’t growing as quickly as I hoped?
Who am I when I don’t feel attractive, successful, productive, or impressive?
That’s the real work.
Because you can remove every filter from your face and still have a deeply distorted view of yourself.
You can post the most “authentic” picture imaginable and still be desperately seeking approval.
You can show every flaw and still make yourself the center of the story.
So perhaps the goal isn’t to become completely unfiltered.
Perhaps the goal is to become secure.
Secure enough in Christ that you don’t have to hide.
Secure enough that you don’t have to perform.
Secure enough that you can take care of yourself without worshiping yourself.
Secure enough to present your best without believing your best is what makes you valuable.
I learned something about this in my marriage.
When I first got married, I had what I called my “old clothes.”
House clothes.
You know the ones.
The clothes you wouldn’t necessarily wear out in public but were perfectly acceptable because you’re just going to be around the house.
I remember my husband asking me one day, “Why is it that when you’re going out with your friends, you get dressed up, but when you’re here with me, you put on those clothes?”
And I couldn’t really argue with him.
I had to think about it.
Because he had a point.
Why was I giving my best presentation to everyone else but treating the person closest to me as though he got whatever was left over?
So, probably twenty-three years ago now, we changed something.
We started getting dressed for each other.
Not because we were going anywhere.
Not because someone was coming over.
Not because we needed to impress anybody.
We simply decided that when we got up and came together, we would give each other our best.
I would get dressed.
I’d do my hair.
I’d put on makeup.
I’d wear the clothes I liked.
And he would do the same in his own way.
It wasn’t about perfection.
It was about value.
You are worth the effort.
And something about that small shift changed the way I thought about showing up.
Our children grew up with the same mentality.
They’re twenty-three and eighteen now, and around here, “house clothes” aren’t really a thing anymore.
We get up.
We get ready.
We come together.
And we present ourselves as best we can.
Not because we’re pretending to be something we’re not.
But because we believe the people in front of us are worth showing up for.
Maybe that’s the mindset shift we need online, too.
What if we stopped asking, “Am I being authentic enough?”
And started asking better questions?
Is my identity rooted in Christ?
Am I hiding because I’m ashamed?
Am I presenting myself because I want approval?
Am I so focused on how I look that I’ve forgotten the person I’m supposed to serve?
Am I taking care of myself because I value myself as someone created by God?
Am I showing up prepared because I value the people I’m serving?
Those questions tell us much more about our hearts than whether or not we used a filter.
Because the goal isn’t to make ourselves smaller.
And it’s not to pretend our imperfections don’t exist.
It’s also not to make ourselves the center of everything.
The goal is to know whose we are.
And from that place, to show up well.
There is nothing wrong with putting your best foot forward.
There is nothing wrong with wanting to look good.
There is nothing wrong with taking care of yourself.
There is nothing wrong with presenting something beautifully.
Just don’t confuse the presentation with the person.
Your face isn’t your identity.
Your business isn’t your identity.
Your followers aren’t your identity.
Your accomplishments aren’t your identity.
And neither are your imperfections.
Christ is where your identity is found.
That’s the foundation.
And when that foundation is secure, you can put on the makeup, adjust the lighting, choose the best photo, straighten your shirt, step in front of the camera—and then get on with the real work.
Serving.
Creating.
Building.
Encouraging.
Loving.
Showing up.
Because at the end of the day, people don’t need a more perfect version of you.
They need you—secure enough in Christ to show up and serve them well.
And maybe that’s what being real actually looks like.
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