Rereading No More Faking Fine: A Return to Honest Lament

I pulled No More Faking Fine off my bookshelf again this week; its familiar underlines and dog-eared pages a reminder of where I once was - and where God has brought me since. The first time I read Esther Fleece Allen’s book, a decade ago, I was desperate for permission to not be okay. Her words, raw and real, gave me that permission. She reminded me that lament is not weakness; it’s worship.

Now, rereading it with a few more miles of healing behind me, I see new layers. Before, I read it through the lens of pain — through tears and exhaustion. This time, I read it through the lens of gratitude. God has met me in the places I once tried to hide, and I can now recognize how He used those seasons to shape my compassion, faith, and voice.

I’ve followed Esther on social media for years because I see so much of my own story in hers. She’s open about the ache of abandonment, the confusion of unanswered prayers, and the beauty that can still bloom in broken places. Her honesty continues to inspire me to stay authentic in my own journey, whether I’m writing, creating, or simply showing up as I am. It’s refreshing to see someone model what it looks like to live faithfully and vulnerably, without glossing over the hard parts.

Her second book, Your New Name, beautifully builds on the message of No More Faking Fine. In it, she explores how God gives us new names—names that speak of redemption, belonging, and identity in Christ rather than shame or past labels. That message struck a deep chord with me. For years, I carried names that were never meant for me: unworthy, broken, too much, not enough. But like Esther writes, God is in the business of renaming us. Through His grace, I’ve begun to embrace the names He’s given me instead: beloved, restored, chosen, free.

Both of her books speak to the rhythm of healing—first learning to lament, then learning to live with new purpose. No More Faking Fine gives you permission to bring your pain to God; Your New Name reminds you that your pain doesn’t define you. Together, they echo the gospel truth: that God meets us in our sorrow and leads us into a new identity.

These aren’t just books I’ve read once and set aside. I’ve reread them four or five times over the years, and each time, something new speaks to me—something that meets me right where I am. I’ve also given away more than two dozen copies of each to friends, family, and even strangers who needed hope. I keep extras on my shelf because I know the message will reach someone at just the right moment, the same way it reaches me every time I read them.

Esther's reminder that “God can handle our honesty” still hits hard. It’s easy to slip back into performing and pretending I’m fine to avoid discomfort or to meet others’ expectations. But honest faith doesn’t fear the truth. Honest faith says, “Here I am, Lord - hurt, hopeful, and still believing.”

If you’ve ever found yourself faking fine, smiling when you want to cry, or showing up when your soul feels heavy, this book is worth reading (or rereading). It’s not a how-to guide on fixing your feelings; it’s a gentle invitation to bring your whole heart to God.

As I close its pages once again, I’m reminded that authenticity is not the absence of pain but the presence of truth, and that’s where real healing begins.

If I could, I’d give Esther Fleece Allen 1,000,000 stars. Her words continue to heal hearts, point people back to Jesus, and remind us all that we don’t have to fake fine to be fully loved.