I Don’t Like Organized Religion Because It’s Become a Business

(But I Love Jesus More Than Ever)

I’m just going to say it out loud: I don’t like organized religion when it starts to feel more like a business than a relationship with God.

And before anyone misunderstands me—I love Jesus. I believe in the church. I believe in community, accountability, worship, teaching, and serving. What I struggle with is when the structure becomes more important than the Spirit, when the brand becomes louder than the Bible, and when people start to feel like customers instead of souls.

Somewhere along the way, in many places, church became polished, packaged, and monetized. Growth is measured in attendance numbers. Success is measured in revenue. Influence is measured in social media reach. And quietly, unintentionally, people can start to feel like products in a system instead of individuals in a family.

Jesus never ran a business model.

He never charged admission.

He never upsold the gospel.

He walked.

He listened.

He healed.

He served.

He loved.

He flipped tables when money corrupted worship:

“My house shall be called a house of prayer, but you have made it a den of robbers.” — Matthew 21:13

Yet today, it’s easy for churches to mirror corporate America—leadership hierarchies, performance metrics, marketing strategies, and revenue goals. And while structure is not inherently bad, when structure replaces sincerity, something sacred gets lost.

I’ve also struggled with how organized religion can sometimes prioritize image over integrity. We polish the outside while people are quietly falling apart on the inside. We smile through pain. We hide doubts. We pretend we’re fine so we don’t appear “weak” in our faith. Instead of becoming a hospital for the broken, the church can sometimes feel like a stage for the strong—or at least those who look strong.

“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.” — Psalm 34:18

And then there’s the pressure.

The endless programs.

The expectations.

The unspoken rules.

The burnout.

Many well-meaning believers end up exhausted, carrying spiritual guilt instead of spiritual freedom. Serving becomes obligation. Giving becomes pressure. Attendance becomes performance. And God—beautiful, personal, intimate God—gets lost in the machinery.

But here’s the truth that keeps me grounded:

I didn’t walk away from God.

I walked closer to Him.

Because my faith is not meant to be driven by a building, a budget, or a brand. My faith is meant to be lived out in everyday obedience, quiet surrender, real repentance, and genuine love for people.

“God is spirit, and those who worship Him must worship in spirit and in truth.” — John 4:24

Jesus didn’t die to build organizations.

He died to redeem hearts.

He didn’t call us to create empires.

He called us to make disciples:

“Go therefore and make disciples of all nations…” — Matthew 28:19

He didn’t promise comfort or popularity.

He promised truth, freedom, and eternal life.

“You will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.” — John 8:32

I still believe in gathering.

I still believe in teaching.

I still believe in worshiping together.

But I believe we must always ask ourselves:

Are we building the Kingdom of God—or our own?

Because the Kingdom is not about profit.

It’s not about platforms.

It’s not about popularity.

It’s about the lost.

The hurting.

The forgotten.

The addicted.

The weary.

The ones sitting in the back feeling unseen.

“For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost.” — Luke 19:10

It’s about love that costs something.

Service that is inconvenient.

Faith that is real, not rehearsed.

Because Jesus never measured success by crowds—He measured it by hearts.

He never asked people to join a system.

He invited them into relationship:

“Come, follow Me.” — Matthew 4:19

Not “sign up.”

Not “subscribe.”

Not “register.”

Just—follow Me.

“My kingdom is not of this world.” — John 18:36

His Kingdom doesn’t run on profit.

It runs on surrender.

It doesn’t grow through marketing.

It grows through love.

And love always costs something.

“By this everyone will know that you are My disciples, if you love one another.” — John 13:35

Real faith shows up in quiet places—

in kitchens and hospital rooms,

on front porches and prayer walks,

in tears, forgiveness, restoration, and unseen obedience.

“Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress…” — James 1:27

Not because it looks good.

Not because it grows fast.

But because it reflects Him.

So I choose relationship over religion.

Presence over performance.

Obedience over optics.

Love over labels.

I will gather.

I will serve.

I will worship.

But I will never confuse structure for salvation—

or success for sanctification.

Because Jesus didn’t come to build a brand.

He came to rescue hearts.

And I will always follow Him.