The Tribune

By IVOINE INGRAHAM

Religion, a timeless facet of human civilisation, is a testament to our collective yearning for the divine. From the majestic stone temples of Mesopotamia to the resplendent cathedrals of Europe, from the soul-stirring chants in the East to the uplifting gospel choirs in the West, religion has always been a beacon of stability, meaning, and solace. It serves as the scaffolding upon which communities construct their identity and moral framework.

Yet, for all its sacred allure, religion has a shadow side — a propensity to solidify into control, to elevate hierarchy over humanity, and to oppress rather than emancipate. It has used the “godlike” images to manipulate and even exploit the downtrodden. This potential for exploitation should be a cautionary note, reminding us constantly to question the motives behind religious actions and teachings. Don’t be fooled!

Christianity was never meant to be just another religion. It is centred not on human striving but on divine grace. The claim that God stepped into human history in the person of Jesus Christ, offering salvation not as something earned but as something already accomplished, is a radical departure from the religious norms of the time. This transformative power of Christianity, which declares “It is finished”, rebuking every religious ladder humanity has tried to climb, is a source of hope and inspiration for all who seek a truly liberating faith. And yet, somewhere along the way, even Christianity has often been twisted back into the very kind of religion it sought to transcend.

The tension between religion and Christianity is not just a matter for theologians; it’s a cultural fault line that still shapes societies and individuals today. Many are exploited because of their low self-esteem, because they seek a higher human being to look up to, which is why they move from church to church seeking God. Pastors play on the vulnerability of members and use them as pawns. Broken women are the greatest prey and are moulded into disciples who hang on the pastor’s every word and follow his direction, even if he leads them to his warped mindset.

The pros and cons of religion

Religion, at its best, meets deep human needs. It provides rituals that mark life’s passages: birth, marriage, and death. It instils a moral compass, teaching people to treat others with dignity, honesty, and respect. Religious communities provide belonging in a fragmented age, offering solidarity when life feels chaotic. In times of suffering, prayer and ritual can give hope and peace where secular answers fall flat.

However, the same structures that comfort can also lead to enslavement and brainwashing. Religion too often becomes rigid, demanding unquestioning obedience and loyalty to the pastor rather than genuine reflection. Leaders become gatekeepers of the divine, positioning themselves as indispensable mediators, as if they alone have the direct hook-up to God himself. They skilfully manoeuvre their grip, applying plenty of pressure for obligation, eventually leading to dedicated service and consistent monetary contribution

In other jurisdictions, entire movements have justified violence in God’s name, from crusades and jihads to caste systems and inquisitions. Instead of binding people to God, religion can bind people to fear. It becomes less about love and more about control. The pastor tells you how to dress, what he will tolerate, and who can enter his elaborate edifice. It pressures you to pay through the nose and become obligated to the pastor’s lifestyle. Religion has become a rat race, but the rats are winning. Come “just as you are” is not tolerated.

Churches are so money-driven that there is a cost for everything: baptism, weddings, and burials. Many religious establishments would not bury anyone who did not pay tithes or was not a member of the church. Pastors have become CEOs and demand that the bottom line be met. That is why several collections are taken, not to mention a “love offering” for the pastor. It is business as usual. It’s theatre! That is why people leave churches because they claim, “it’s too dead”, not emotionally charged enough, no heavy perspiration, no one falling over themselves, no pandemonium.

Christianity’s radical promise

Christianity, at least in its original message, offered something shockingly different. While religion says, “Do more, strive harder, obey the rules to reach God,” Christianity says, “God has come down to reach you.” The gospel message is not about human achievement but divine grace. That is why Christianity has historically birthed hospitals, orphanages, abolition movements, and humanitarian work — it unleashed a vision of love rooted not in human merit but in divine generosity.

At its pinnacle, Christianity is not about rituals for the sake of rituals, but about forging a relationship with a living God. It proclaims that forgiveness is not a result of endless sacrifices, but a consequence of one ultimate sacrifice — Christ’s. This kind of faith is emancipating, not enslaving.

The inability to serve as Christ did

Yet here lies the rub. Even Christians struggle to embody Christ’s radical selflessness. Jesus washed His disciples’ feet, including the one who would betray Him. He ate with outcasts and offered forgiveness to His executioners. He modelled a kind of sacrificial service that runs counter to human instinct. He befriended a former prostitute, much to the chagrin of his followers.

If we’re honest, most of us can’t sustain that humility. Pride, selfishness, and self-preservation creep in. We serve when it’s convenient, forgive when it’s easy, and love when it costs us little. Christ’s example is perfect; our imitation is flawed. The inability to serve as He did is not a failure of the message but a reflection of human limitation. And it is precisely why Christianity emphasises grace over performance. Without grace, Christianity devolves into just another religion of guilt and striving — a religion indistinguishable from all the others.

The exploitation of faith

If the inability to serve selflessly is one problem, exploitation is another. Wherever there is deep spiritual hunger, there are opportunists ready to profit. Religion has long been used by kings, colonisers, and cult leaders to maintain power. Tragically, Christianity has not been immune.

History is filled with abuses committed under the banner of the cross: indulgences sold to fund cathedrals, missionaries who became agents of empire, pastors who built personal empires on the backs of the faithful. In modern times, we see televangelists who promise miracles for money, leaders who twist Scripture to silence victims, and churches that demand loyalty to the pastor above loyalty to Christ.

Religion talks about being unequally yoked as if some people are better than others, or dismisses the notion that all have sinned, which is where brainwashing enters the picture. It rarely begins with overt demands. Instead, it starts with subtle conditioning: Do not question authority. Obedience equals holiness. Your doubts prove your lack of faith. Over time, devotion to God becomes conflated with devotion to leaders. The freedom that Christianity proclaims — “the truth shall set you free” — gets buried under manipulation and fear.

The tragedy is that exploitation and brainwashing are not mere footnotes in history; they are recurrent themes. They rear their heads whenever faith becomes less about Christ and more about control.

Christianity’s own cons

Christianity has its own “cons”, even apart from exploitation. The claim of exclusivity — that salvation is found in Christ alone — has bred division and conflict. Denominations split over doctrine, sometimes violently. The call to live differently can slide into judgmentalism, creating insiders and outsiders. And hypocrisy remains Christianity’s Achilles’ heel. For every hospital built in Christ’s name, there has been a scandal that undermined His message. The problem is not the message itself but the human delivery system. Imperfect people represent a perfect God, and the gap between the two is glaring.

The crossroads of faith

So where does that leave us today? At a crossroads. On one side stands religion-as-control, offering comfort but demanding conformity. On the other side stands Christianity-as-grace, offering freedom but vulnerable to distortion.

The choice is not simply whether to believe or disbelieve. The deeper choice is whether faith will be allowed to return to its essence: love, grace, and freedom. Will churches reclaim Christ’s radical humility, or will they continue miming the hierarchies of power and wealth? Will believers learn to serve with authenticity or settle for empty ritual?

Religion tells us to climb higher. Christianity tells us we are carried, but too often, even Christianity is co-opted, rebranded, and sold back to us as just another religion of performance and fear.

The challenge for modern faith is to strip away the manipulation and rediscover the scandal of grace. Because in the end, the difference is not abstract. It is convenient: religion enslaves; Christianity, when lived authentically, sets free.

What we must remember

Religion will always have its place. It structures communities, guides consciences, and offers rituals that connect us to something greater. But when religion becomes about control rather than compassion, it betrays its purpose.

Christianity was never supposed to be just another religion in the marketplace of beliefs. It was supposed to be good news — that grace cannot be bought, earned, or manipulated, that freedom is found not in obedience to men but in the love of God revealed through Christ.

The tragedy is that this message is hijacked time and again. The hope is that it can still be reclaimed. Because if Christianity loses sight of grace, it becomes indistinguishable from religion. And if religion becomes merely a tool of exploitation, it fails the very people it was meant to serve.

It is said that the Bahamas is a Christian nation. Is it talk or action? Christians are supposed to be “Christlike”, are we? Do we love each other, help the least among us, and turn the other cheek? No, we are judgmental, unforgiving, and hoard rather than share. We are lovers of self more than lovers of God.

Faced with reality, the choice is ours: to be ruled by fear or liberated by grace.