I’m tired of religion— and I mean that in the sense that Baptists use it. Baptists love Jesus but they hate religion. I used to make fun of that, now I get it.
I’m disgusted by social media Christianity with its over the top religious zeal and false confidence which manifests itself as arrogance and judgement towards the “wrong” kinds of Christians— I don’t mean actual heresy either; I mean Protestants (Baptists, Lutherans, Anglicans, Presbyterians, etc.) and Ecclesialists (Roman Catholics, Eastern Orthodox, Oriental Orthodox, etc.) all fighting with and damning each other to hell for believing the “wrong” things, as if they’re God and they really know who’s right. The sheer arrogance! It’s infuriating.
I open Facebook and see a few little gems of wisdom and truth sandwiched in-between massive amounts of poison containing nothing but toxic, confident religious infighting that provokes (especially ecclesial) anxiety, fear, and anger.
My takeaway from all this is that the devil loves Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, TikTok, etc. If he can’t make us fall for some other vice through these platforms, he’ll make us fight amongst ourselves, which is certainly his utmost delight. The greatest deception too is that these supposed “Keyboard Warriors for Christ” spending all day bashing “heretics” think they’re actually doing His work and not the enemy’s. It’s all such bullcrap, holier than thou influencers who think they have THE truth and everyone needs to join their One True Church (whichever one that happens to be). I’m sick of it.
And maybe that anger is partly of the devil too, right? Maybe not in its origin which is righteous anger at sin but in the way the devil takes hold of it trying to take me from one extreme to the other, from being lost in the sauce and a bit of a religious zealot to the opposite extreme of despair, atheism, agnosticism, or lukewarm cultural Christianity. That’s always the danger isn’t it? Always going to the opposite error, the opposite extreme.
I just want to detox from the bullcrap, the only thing really any good here anyways is Christ himself. I’m never leaving Him. And in Christ you have those people in the church who really just love God and their neighbor as themself and tend to avoid all this infighting. That’s where you have the divine side of the church, and the love of God which is the only thing keeping me in.
In-person Christianity is so much better anyways than any of the bullcrap online. Going to church is genuinely probably my favorite time of the week, I love church, I love liturgy, I love singing, I love sermons, I love the people, I love taking holy communion, I love God. It’s when I go home that I can’t stand it when I open social media and see the infighting or get lost in my own thoughts and worries about who’s right and the “what if’s” that torment me. I think only the Holy Spirit can give that peace that transcends all understanding which many have. Reason says you “oh you must consider all the possibilities including the one that you’ve got the Gospel or church itself wrong and are hellbound for not being in the One True Church” and it can be paralyzing. Yeah, I don’t think that’s God’s voice.
My therapist once said something along the lines of “I don’t really have a ball in the game (he’s not religious) but if I subscribed to this religious worldview I’d say this stuff you’re going through would be exactly what the devil would want.”
And I know exactly what he meant— these thoughts making me anxious about what church I’m in which necessarily negate the promises and assurances of Christ and the Gospel in the scriptures under the pretext of a kind of false humility; which is really just worry about “what happens if I’m wrong”. The “what if’s” here can really make a person go crazy. And of course you have to take truth claims seriously. I’m not saying just ignore questions of why you believe what you believe. But it can be so insidious and convincing that a change in understanding of history seems to potentially nullify a plain understanding of scripture that gives assurance and peace to wearied consciences (John 5:24 and Romans 5:1 come to mind). Is this not truly the same error condemned by the Jerusalem Council in the Book of Acts— in substance if not in form? And when you aren’t rooted in those promises, that confidence, that simple, childlike trust in Jesus, these kinds of spaces can destroy you and make your life a living hell on earth. “What if”, “what if”, “what if”. Stop it. Get behind me satan.
It’s a funny trick my brain played on me in making me think that this obsessive, often anxiety fueled (and in some instances anxiety fueling) study of church history and theology was somehow the same “kind of thing” as prayer, reading scripture, of going to church. But it wasn’t. It was a distraction from those things. Yes there is a time and place for those things, but you should discern if they are what you need right now by their fruits. I don’t mean occasionally feeling convicted and anxious by a verse in scripture that seems to challenge your beliefs or sins, I’ve felt that on both sides of the ecclesial fence. I mean overall— what are the fruits of this?
Ignatius of Loyola has inspired some wonderful, (perhaps surprisingly) scriptural writings on spiritual discernment that anyone in this place can benefit from. I know Protestants who use and apply his principles— good spiritual discernment is actually denominationally agnostic.
One of the best things I did for my mental health was creating a new YouTube account and moving my Premium subscription to it. Setting rules on my iPhone to make Instagram and Facebook open in grayscale (or periodically uninstalling it) also worked wonders. The rules of the new YouTube account were simple: no religion, no politics. Now, I’ve made a couple exceptions, but as a rule this account is far better to use generally than the former. Snooze that Facebook for 30 days, or better yet leave it. Talk to someone in real life who you trust. Read the Bible, pray the Psalms. The voice you hear there is very different from the voice of Ecclesial anxiety. That alone should tell you something.
(I thought the photo provided a bit of comic relief)












