Some of my children tell me (admiringly, I like to think) that I'm a Fraud; my friend unclehyena tells me that I've got a nice little setup going for myself. I can't strictly argue with either point.
I will say, however, that if I'm a Fraud, I'm an honest one: I move most comfortably in the Christian idiom, given that I address the Mystery that surrounds me by the name of Jesus, and have done so for nigh on unto thirty-three years. My son complains that I let people think that they know what I'm talking about, because I use this idiom so freely; I prefer to say that I'm reclaiming the traditional language for its proper use, and respond with the words of the consummate teacher from Galilee, "let the one with ears, hear."
Which is to say, that I am no more a fraud than were so many who precede me, who spoke both from within and beyond the tradition they inherited, whether they be Hebrew prophets or Christian reformers, not to mention, no doubt, many from traditions less closely allied to either.
The real magic, or miracle as it is called within this idiom, is that my actions contribute, in some measure, to the weaving together of a community bound together by something they can't see, actively engaged in taking up, in some way or other, of one another's burdens. Some are eased in their suffering; some may find truth despite me.