Faith, Fractured: Confronting Cracks and Complexities of Christianity

“I wouldn’t leave religion over just that. The reason you’re struggling is because you’ve only really had good experiences with religion. Most people haven’t.”

At the time, I was in a coffee shop with a close friend, explaining how I was personally struggling with Christianity despite my firmly held convictions that had inspired me to convert. While the accumulation of recent negative experiences led me to regret the choice I had just made, my friend’s words opened my eyes to something far deeper, forcing me to fully remove the rose-tinted glasses that had been gradually slipping off.

Growing up, my initial motive for conversion was moulded by a genuine respect for the Christian leaders in my community, ones who effortlessly embodied the values of service, compassion, and humility. They were the kind of people who focused on educating the poor, empowering their charges, and providing material and financial support for the impoverished. They could garner the respect of anyone who crossed their path, no matter their background. Over time, the virtue of these leaders in my community profoundly impacted me. The desire to embody the values I witnessed in these religious leaders became a strong motivator for my eventual conversion, as I strove to find the source of integrity and compassion I saw in them.

However, after my conversion, I quickly became disillusioned with Christianity, as the pieces did not seem to quite fit. While I had once seen Christianity’s “good” side, I was now beginning to notice a darker side among some of its members: self-righteousness, a romanticised view of the past and an obsession with perceived persecution due to the erosion of Christian influence and power in society, alongside an ever-present, though often subtle, focus on authority, obedience, and control. Bragging that one cared for the poor felt more important than a genuine love of and concern for the poor, and narrow, rigid definitions of religion and spirituality became more damaging to my relationship with the divine than strengthening. I was only left further isolated by individuals who lamented the evils of the “secular world,” while being too arrogant or prideful to recognise their faults.

The straw that broke the camel’s back occurred when I was told that I was unable to serve in a certain position of service because I am a woman. I became entirely disillusioned with Christianity’s integrity and found it difficult to participate in a religion that diverged from my values and nature. I wondered if haste, stupidity, and blindness had clouded my earlier judgements. Furthermore, I grappled with the realisation that my motive for conversion, shaped by my admiration for Christian leaders who exemplified the values of selflessness and love at the time, might be misguided at best and unjustifiable at worst.

In that tiny cafe, I reflected on my struggles with a close friend. Her insights sparked a moment of clarity, allowing me to step back and understand more deeply the broader plurality and complexity of organised religion. I began to realise that religion was not monolithic and was not inherently good or bad but rather was a tool that could be used for good or evil, reflecting the beliefs and actions of those who practice and experience it. I soon began to realise that religion’s complexity originates from the complexity of the individuals behind it and that religion itself often just serves as a mirror to the human soul. Religion reflects the intrinsic virtues and vices of individuals, functioning as a tool that manifests their underlying nature and authentic self.

My early understanding of Christianity was clouded by the good I experienced, just as others’ understandings of religion are clouded by the negatives they have experienced. The good – integrity, service, and compassion – of Christian individuals in my community profoundly moved me. However, others have been profoundly moved by the evils – self-righteousness, judgement, bigotry, exclusion, hypocrisy – of Christian individuals too, ones that have worked only to alienate them. This juxtaposition of good and evil within Christianity underscores its complex influence, revealing how its essence is moulded by each individual who practices it. The plurality within religion makes it a reflection of both the virtues and flaws of those who wield it – beautiful and ugly at once, and a powerful tool to be used wisely.

While I have personally made the choice to remain within my own religion, for years, I was blind to the struggles many endure within religion as a whole. Reflecting on my own path in religion, I have only now come to understand why many people choose a different route. The same religion that both sparked my conversion also jump-started my disillusionment. This same duality of religion is why some individuals stay and why others leave. Going forward, thus, it is vital to embrace an honest, balanced view of religion. This balanced view of religion is contingent upon setting aside judgements clouded in over simplicity and recognising how religion is a powerful tool, wielded by its people, with the potential for both harm and good.