Clericalism: Church’s Silent Poison

 The priest — once the shepherd among his flock — turned into a ruler standing above it.

 For centuries, the Church has proclaimed itself as the living body of Christ — humble, serving, compassionate. Yet beneath that sacred calling lies a shadow that has corroded its spirit from within: clericalism. It is not a new disease. It is ancient, subtle, and persistent — a mentality that elevates the clergy above the laity, power above service, institution above people. Pope Francis once called clericalism a “perversion of the Church,” and rightly so. It has distorted the meaning of priesthood, alienated believers, and silenced the prophetic voice of the Gospel.

 Clericalism is not merely about the abuse of power; it is the spiritual arrogance that makes priests feel they are somehow superior, more sacred, more entitled to authority than the rest of God’s people. It manifests in small gestures and grand abuses — from priests refusing to listen to lay voices, to the systemic shielding of wrongdoers in the name of protecting the Church’s image. It thrives wherever hierarchy replaces humility, and wherever titles matter more than truth.

The Roots of a Disease

 The roots of clericalism lie deep in the Church’s institutional structure. Over time, the priesthood became associated less with service and more with power, less with washing feet and more with being served. The priest — once the shepherd among his flock — turned into a ruler standing above it. This distortion grew as the Church acquired wealth, influence, and political muscle. The vestments, the rituals, the distance — all began to reinforce a sense of separation. The clergy became a class apart, and the laity, passive spectators.

 Yet, the Gospel was never about hierarchy. Jesus overturned the very idea of domination. He said, “The greatest among you must be your servant” (Matthew 23:11). He washed the feet of his disciples and rebuked the Pharisees for loving places of honour. But today, in many parishes, the same spirit of the Pharisee lives on — priests treated as untouchable elites, their word unquestionable, their comfort unquestioned.

 Clericalism is not just an internal issue; it has devastating consequences for believers. It creates a culture of fear and submission. It turns faith into formality and community into compliance. Many believers today feel spiritually orphaned — attending Masses led by priests who preach humility but live in arrogance, who quote the poor but dine with the powerful. It is this hypocrisy that drives countless souls away from the Church.

Pope Francis and the War Against Clericalism

 Since his election in 2013, Pope Francis has been one of the most vocal critics of clericalism. His apostolic exhortation Evangelii Gaudium (The Joy of the Gospel) is not just a pastoral document — it is a manifesto for reform. In it, Francis writes, “Clericalism leads to a functional distortion of the priesthood; it reduces the laity to passive recipients and keeps them from growing in responsibility.”

 He warns that clericalism “nullifies the grace of baptism” by treating lay people as second-class members of the Church. The Pope sees the Church not as an institution of ranks but as a community of missionary disciples. The priest’s role, he insists, is not to dominate but to accompany — to walk with the faithful, not rule over them.

 In his many addresses, Pope Francis has not minced words. He has called clericalism “a plague,” “a form of elitism,” and “a betrayal of the Gospel.” He believes it breeds corruption, fosters cover-ups, and turns pastoral ministry into a career path rather than a calling. “The priest who becomes a bureaucrat,” he said once, “ends up being a mere functionary of the sacred.”

 For Francis, the Church must rediscover the radical humility of Christ — the God who emptied Himself to serve humanity. The priesthood, he says, must return to its true identity: a service rooted in love, not a privilege guarded by status.

The Impact on Believers

 The toll of clericalism on ordinary believers is profound. It has led to alienation, distrust, and spiritual fatigue. Many Catholics have quietly drifted away — not because they stopped believing in Christ, but because they stopped believing in His representatives. The scandals of abuse and cover-up were not just moral failures; they were the rotten fruit of a clerical culture that protects its own instead of protecting the vulnerable.

 In many parishes, lay people — especially women — are treated as helpers, not partners in mission. Their gifts are confined to flower arrangements, choir practice, and parish cleaning, while decisions are monopolised by a handful of clerics. The irony is striking: the same Church that preaches the “universal call to holiness” often silences the very people who live it out daily.

 Clericalism also kills accountability. Priests, insulated by status, often escape scrutiny. Parish finances are opaque. Parish councils, where they exist, are advisory at best, cosmetic at worst. Criticism is branded as rebellion; questions are dismissed as disobedience. The faithful are told to “pray and obey,” as if conscience and discernment are privileges reserved for the ordained.

 In such an environment, the priest becomes the centre of attention rather than Christ. The altar becomes a stage, the homily a monologue. The parish becomes dependent on one man’s personality — his whims, his mood, his ideology. The people of God become spectators in a drama that was meant to be communal and participatory.

The result? The Church ceases to be a living organism and becomes a bureaucracy with sacraments. The Spirit is suffocated by control.

Evangelii Gaudium: The Gospel Against Power

 In Evangelii Gaudium, Pope Francis articulates a vision diametrically opposed to clericalism. He calls for a Church that goes forth, that is “bruised, hurting and dirty because it has been out on the streets.” This is not a call for cosmetic reform; it is a spiritual revolution. The Church, he says, must abandon “self-referentiality” — the inward gaze that obsesses over protocol and purity while ignoring the cries of the poor.

 Francis warns that clericalism thrives in comfort zones. It grows where pastors prefer control over compassion, where the institution becomes an idol. He envisions a Church of the people, where every baptized person is a missionary disciple, and where the priest is a servant-leader, not a master of ceremonies.

 Evangelii Gaudium also demands that the laity take up their rightful role in evangelization and decision-making. “We need to create broader opportunities for a more incisive female presence in the Church,” Francis writes — a clear jab at the male-dominated clerical culture that has suffocated creativity and compassion.

 His message is radical: the Church cannot renew itself without dismantling the structures — both psychological and institutional — that perpetuate clerical superiority.

A Church at a Crossroads

 Despite the Pope’s consistent warnings, clericalism remains deeply embedded. In seminaries, young men are often trained to “behave like priests” rather than to live like shepherds. They are taught theology but not empathy, obedience but not dialogue. By the time they are ordained, many see themselves as a class apart, not as fellow pilgrims.

 Even bishops — successors of the apostles — sometimes perpetuate this disease by surrounding themselves with flatterers, not truth-tellers. They fear losing control more than losing souls. And so, clericalism reproduces itself — quietly, efficiently, generation after generation.

 Meanwhile, ordinary believers grow weary. They see priests living comfortably while preaching poverty; they see the Church protecting its image while ignoring its victims. The spiritual damage is immense. Clericalism breeds cynicism among the faithful and fuels the growing exodus of Catholics, especially the young, who seek authenticity elsewhere.

 The Way Forward: Servant Leadership or Irrelevance

 The only antidote to clericalism is conversion — not of the laity, but of the clergy. Priests must rediscover that they are first and foremost disciples, not administrators. They must listen more than they speak, and serve more than they command. The parish must cease to be a fiefdom and become a field hospital, as Francis describes — a place where wounds are healed, not where rules are enforced.

 Lay empowerment is not a threat; it is the Church’s salvation. The Spirit speaks through all — through mothers, teachers, workers, youth — not only through the ordained. Decision-making must be shared, transparency enforced, and humility institutionalised.

 Priests must live among their people, not above them. They should smell of their sheep, not of perfume and privilege. When authority loses its humility, it loses its legitimacy. And when the Church becomes obsessed with control, it loses its soul.

A Final Reckoning

 The tragedy of clericalism is that it mocks the very Christ it claims to serve. Jesus emptied Himself — kenosis — yet His ministers often fill themselves with self-importance. He welcomed sinners; they guard doors. He washed feet; they demand kisses on the ring.

 Pope Francis’s relentless fight against clericalism is not just a personal crusade; it is a cry for the Church’s survival. A Church enslaved to hierarchy cannot preach freedom. A Church drunk on power cannot speak credibly about humility. And a Church that protects its clerics more than its people has ceased to be the Church of Christ.

 The hour of reckoning is here. Clericalism has robbed the Church of moral authority, credibility, and compassion. It has turned sacred trust into institutional control. Unless it is uprooted — through confession, reform, and courageous laity — the Church will continue to hollow itself from within.

 The future belongs not to those who dominate the altar, but to those who kneel at it. The priesthood must return to its essence — a life poured out in service, not preserved in prestige. Only then can the Church rediscover her true beauty: not in vestments or hierarchy, but in the humble radiance of love.

 

Life and Times of Father Gabriel Amorth and the Need for Exorcism in the Church

 A Priest in Battle with Demons

 Few priests in the modern era have stirred as much fascination and controversy as Father Gabriel Amorth, the legendary exorcist of Rome. In an age dominated by science, psychology and scepticism, Amorth stood out as a man who spoke unabashedly of demons, possession and spiritual warfare. To some he was a relic from the medieval past, clinging to superstition. To others he was a courageous warrior who confronted a darkness most people would rather deny.

 For nearly three decades, Amorth served as the chief exorcist of the Diocese of Rome. By his own estimate, he performed tens of thousands of exorcisms before his death in 2016. He was tireless, outspoken, and unafraid of ridicule. In a world increasingly allergic to talk of sin and evil, Amorth insisted that evil was not a metaphor — it was a presence. He became both a prophet and a provocateur, forcing the modern Church and secular society alike to re-examine what it really believes about the devil, the soul, and the mystery of human suffering.

  Gabriel Amorth was born on May 1, 1925, in Modena, Italy, into a devout Catholic family. His early life unfolded during turbulent times — Mussolini’s fascist regime, the chaos of World War II, and the moral disillusionment that followed. As a young man, he joined the Italian resistance and later studied law at the University of Rome. He was gifted, articulate and politically engaged, even joining the Christian Democratic movement led by Alcide De Gasperi.

 But Amorth’s true calling was not politics or law. In his twenties, he entered the Society of St. Paul, a religious congregation dedicated to evangelization through modern media. Ordained a priest in 1954, he began his ministry as a writer, editor and spiritual director. For decades he worked quietly, producing devotional books and teaching the faith.

 It was only later, in his sixties, that he was appointed as an exorcist — a role that would define the rest of his life. In 1986, Cardinal Ugo Poletti, the Vicar of Rome, authorized him to assist Father Candido Amantini, then the city’s principal exorcist. Under Amantini’s guidance, Amorth learned the ancient rites, the theology of deliverance, and the spiritual discernment needed to confront what the Church calls “extraordinary demonic activity.” When Amantini died, Amorth succeeded him as Rome’s official exorcist.

 From that moment on, the modest Paulist priest became one of the most famous — and sometimes feared — clerics in the world.

The Ministry of the Battle

 Amorth’s work was relentless. Day after day, people came to him from across Italy and beyond: men and women tormented by strange voices, uncontrollable behaviour, depression, addiction, or an overwhelming sense of evil. Some were victims of trauma or mental illness, others claimed to be under curses or diabolical attack. Amorth listened to them all with compassion, but also discernment. Not every cry of distress, he insisted, was demonic. He estimated that only a small fraction of those who came to him were truly possessed. Yet even for the rest, the rite of prayer and blessing often brought peace.

 The exorcism ritual itself is neither magic nor superstition. It is, in essence, a solemn prayer of the Church, invoking the authority of Christ to drive out evil. It includes Scripture readings, the Litany of the Saints, the sign of the Cross, and specific prayers commanding the spirit to depart. Amorth followed the official Rituale Romanum — but he also drew deeply on his own experience, faith and intuition. “It is not the words that drive out the devil,” he often said, “but the faith of the priest and the power of Christ.”

  What made Father Amorth so polarizing was not merely what he did, but what he said. He spoke about the devil not as an idea but as a real, intelligent being bent on destroying souls. He warned that modern society, by rejecting God, was unwittingly opening itself to demonic influence. In interviews and books such as An Exorcist Tells His Story and An Exorcist: More Stories, he recounted chilling cases — levitations, voices, sudden knowledge of hidden things — and insisted that evil spirits were active not only in individuals but in systems and ideologies.

 “Wherever God is denied, the devil takes his place,” he declared. He blamed the rise of occult practices, the obsession with horror entertainment, and even certain forms of political corruption on a spiritual vacuum that demons eagerly fill. He was particularly severe toward those who mocked the idea of evil as superstition. “Satan’s greatest victory,” he said, echoing Charles Baudelaire, “is convincing the world that he doesn’t exist.”

 For the secular press, such statements were irresistible. Here was a priest of the late twentieth century speaking like a medieval inquisitor — but with disarming sincerity. The result was both fascination and ridicule. Skeptics dismissed him as delusional. Believers hailed him as a prophet in a disbelieving age. Whatever one thought, Father Amorth forced people to confront the uncomfortable possibility that the unseen might still shape the seen.

 The Church’s Cautious Embrace

 The Catholic Church, for its part, walked a careful line. The Vatican has never denied the existence of demonic possession — it is embedded in the Gospels themselves, where Christ casts out unclean spirits. The Catechism affirms the reality of Satan as a fallen angel and recognizes exorcism as a sacramental. Yet, official Church policy has long urged prudence: every case must be investigated, medical and psychological causes must be ruled out, and exorcism should only be performed by authorized priests.

 Amorth respected this caution but often lamented what he saw as institutional neglect. He complained that bishops were too timid, that seminaries stopped teaching about spiritual warfare, and that the number of trained exorcists was woefully small. “When the shepherds are silent,” he warned, “the wolves come.”

 He was instrumental in forming the International Association of Exorcists in 1990, which sought to train priests, standardize practice, and give moral support to exorcists worldwide. The group, eventually recognized by the Vatican, continues to function today. Amorth’s efforts revived interest in a ministry that had almost disappeared after the Second Vatican Council, when emphasis shifted toward psychology and social analysis of evil rather than metaphysical forces.

 To his credit, Amorth did not reject modern science. He worked closely with psychiatrists and medical doctors and insisted that many people who believed they were possessed were in fact suffering from illness or trauma. Yet he maintained that there are cases where no psychological explanation suffices — where voices speak unknown languages, where objects move independently, where the afflicted exhibit supernatural strength or knowledge. In such cases, he believed, the Church must intervene not as therapist but as exorcist.

 The distinction is delicate. Modern psychology tends to interpret possession phenomena as manifestations of dissociative identity disorder, hysteria, or extreme suggestibility. Amorth countered that while some cases fit those patterns, others do not. He saw the two fields not as enemies but as complementary. Medicine treats the mind and body; exorcism, the soul. The mistake of modernity, in his view, was to pretend that the soul does not exist.

 By the 1990s and 2000s, Father Amorth had become something of a cultural figure. His interviews appeared in major newspapers; documentaries were made about him; filmmakers sought his advice. Even The Exorcist — the 1973 Hollywood film that both terrified and scandalized audiences — gained renewed attention because of his real-life work. Amorth watched the movie once and declared it exaggerated, yet accurate in its portrayal of the struggle between good and evil. “The devil is not afraid of holy water,” he  quipped, “but of the faith of a priest.”

  He was also blunt about the infiltration of evil in modern institutions. He warned that Satan worked not only in the hearts of sinners but within the Church itself, sowing division, scandal and heresy. Some found his tone alarmist; others found it refreshingly honest. Either way, he became a moral mirror for a Church grappling with its own crises — from clerical abuse to secularization.

 When he died in September 2016, at the age of 91, tributes poured in from those who had known him personally. Many described him as humble, humorous and deeply compassionate — a man who prayed for hours daily, who loved the Virgin Mary, and who often wept with those who came to him. Behind the public legend stood a simple parish priest convinced that the world is a battleground between light and darkness.

The Need for Exorcism in the Church Today

 In the twenty-first century, the very word exorcism evokes both fascination and fear. Popular culture turns it into horror entertainment. Sceptics dismiss it as medieval theatre. Yet beneath the sensationalism lies a genuine pastoral need that the Church cannot ignore.

  Across the world, dioceses report a rising number of requests for exorcism or deliverance prayers. Some of this reflects mental-health awareness gone astray — people seeking supernatural explanations for psychological problems. But some of it, exorcists argue, reflects a deeper spiritual hunger in a secular age. When traditional faith collapses, people often turn to the occult, witchcraft, spiritism or pseudo-spirituality. These practices, though sometimes harmless, can also open psychological and spiritual doors that lead to distress.

 Amorth repeatedly warned that abandoning the sacraments and indulging in occult practices — ouija boards, black magic, séances — can have dangerous consequences. “When you invite the devil to dinner,” he said, “he doesn’t leave when you ask him to.” Whether one interprets this literally or metaphorically, the underlying truth is striking: human beings are spiritual creatures, and tampering with unseen powers without discernment can lead to moral and emotional chaos.

 The Church’s ministry of exorcism, when properly understood, is not about theatrics but about pastoral compassion. It is the Church’s emergency room for souls in spiritual crisis. The exorcist’s task is not to terrify but to heal — to restore peace, dignity and freedom. In this sense, exorcism is less about shouting at demons and more about the patient, prayerful accompaniment of those who feel trapped in darkness.

  Amorth’s approach was deeply pastoral. He emphasized confession, the Eucharist, and personal prayer as the ordinary means of deliverance. The solemn rite, he said, was necessary only in exceptional cases. Most people, he believed, can be freed simply by returning to faith, forgiveness and moral integrity. In that sense, exorcism is the Church’s most dramatic reminder that evil is not an abstraction — and that liberation begins with repentance.

 Still, the ministry carries immense responsibility. The Church insists that exorcists must be men of prayer, humility and psychological maturity. They must distinguish between genuine spiritual affliction and mental illness, always collaborating with medical professionals. The greatest danger, as Amorth himself admitted, is fanaticism — seeing the devil everywhere and neglecting human complexity.

 The need for exorcism does not cancel the need for psychiatry. The two must coexist. When handled with balance, the Church’s ministry of deliverance can complement modern therapy by addressing the spiritual dimensions of suffering that medicine cannot reach.

 Pope Francis, like his predecessors, has spoken openly about the devil’s activity and has encouraged priests not to shy away from this ministry. In recent years, Vatican-approved training programs for exorcists have multiplied, and guidelines have been updated to emphasize discernment, compassion and cooperation with science. It is a quiet but significant revival of a ministry that, thanks to figures like Gabriel Amorth, has regained its place in the life of the Church.

 The Legacy of a Relentless Priest

 Father Gabriel Amorth’s legacy is complex but enduring. He was both a man of his time and a man out of time — a twentieth-century priest who carried into the modern world a conviction as ancient as the Gospels: that evil is real, that Christ’s victory is real, and that the Church must never abandon those who feel trapped by darkness.

 Critics may question his numbers, dispute his interpretations, or roll their eyes at his vivid language. Yet his underlying message still resonates. He reminded a complacent world that moral evil cannot be reduced to neurology or social systems. He reminded the Church that its spiritual authority is not symbolic but real. And he reminded every believer that faith is not a comfortable theory but a weapon forged for struggle.

 Father Amorth lived and died believing that love and prayer are stronger than any demon. His daily battles — sometimes exhausting, sometimes misunderstood — were, in his own words, “a continuation of Christ’s healing ministry.” For him, the priest was not a celebrity, not a magician, but a servant. “I am only a poor instrument,” he once said, “but I serve a mighty Lord.”

  In our era of technological triumph and spiritual confusion, the question of evil remains stubbornly unsolved. Wars, abuse, addiction, and despair continue to ravage lives. Whether one calls these realities “demonic” or not, the human longing for deliverance is unmistakable. That longing is what gives exorcism its enduring relevance.

 The Church does not claim to have every answer, but it possesses an ancient wisdom: that prayer, faith, and moral truth can bring healing where psychology alone may falter. Exorcism, at its core, is simply the Church’s ultimate expression of hope — the belief that no darkness, however deep, can withstand the light of Christ.

 Father Gabriel Amorth was not a mythmaker; he was a messenger. His life was a challenge to both believers and skeptics — to take the reality of evil seriously, and to confront it not with fear but with faith. In his decades of service, he exposed the spiritual wounds of a world that often mocks the very idea of the soul.

 As the Church continues to navigate between reason and mystery, Amorth’s voice still echoes: a reminder that beneath the noise of modernity, a battle rages for the human heart. And while methods and attitudes may evolve, the need he championed — the need for exorcism, for prayer, for deliverance from evil — remains as urgent as ever.

 

The Paradox of Retreat Centres: Kerala’s Christians Chase Money and Miracles, While Jesus Stands Outside

 Kerala’s Christians Have over 100 Retreat Centres — But No Christ in Their Hearts”

 Kerala, southern state in India and often described as the “land of churches” in India, has become a hub of Christian spirituality. With nearly 100 retreat centres spread across the state, thousands flock to them every week — listening to sermons, attending prayer meetings, fasting, and seeking miracles. The Divine Retreat Centre in Muringoor, the Jerusalem Retreat Centre in Thrissur, and numerous Jesuit and Carmelite houses stand as testimony to a massive spiritual infrastructure.

 On paper, such a landscape should have produced a community that is deeply rooted in the teachings of Christ — one marked by humility, compassion, forgiveness, detachment from wealth, and service to the poor. Yet, when one looks closely at the lived reality of Christians in Kerala, the paradox is unavoidable: despite this abundance of spiritual platforms, Christ himself is strangely absent from their daily lives.

 The retreat industry has flourished. But the fruit of genuine Christian discipleship — love, sacrifice, and integrity — is often missing. Instead, many Christians are caught in the same net of consumerism, greed, rivalry, and hypocrisy that Jesus constantly warned against.

 This article examines why this contradiction persists, and why Kerala’s Christians, despite being nurtured by nearly 100 retreat centres, have failed to become true followers of Jesus.

Retreats as Ritual, Not Transformation

 At its core, a Christian retreat is meant to be a withdrawal from the noise of the world, a chance to reorient one’s life toward God. But in Kerala, retreats have too often become ritualized events rather than transformative experiences.

 Many faithful attend because of social pressure, curiosity, or the hope of material blessings. Preachers, meanwhile, sometimes frame Christianity as a formula for success: attend a retreat, pray in a certain way, and God will grant you prosperity, healing, and breakthroughs. The retreat thus becomes a transaction — a spiritual marketplace where people come to “get” something, rather than surrender themselves to God.

 Jesus said: “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.” Denial of self, the crucible of discipleship, rarely features in these gatherings. Instead, retreats are too often centered on spectacle, music, emotional highs, and promises of a better earthly life. Attendees may leave temporarily inspired, but few return to their homes determined to embrace poverty of spirit, generosity, and radical forgiveness.

Wealth and Worldliness: The New Idols

 Kerala’s Christian community is economically prosperous compared to many other groups in India. Migration to the Gulf and Europe has fueled upward mobility, and education has opened doors to white-collar jobs worldwide. This prosperity is not inherently wrong — but it has often come at the cost of spiritual poverty.

 In many Christian homes, wealth has become the silent idol. The pursuit of bigger houses, luxury cars, gold ornaments, and foreign degrees overshadows the call of Jesus to care for the least of these. The Gospels present Jesus as one who had nowhere to lay his head, who dined with the poor, who warned that “You cannot serve both God and money.” Yet modern Christians, even those who attend weekly retreats, often serve Mammon more zealously than God.

 The irony is sharp: Kerala is dotted with retreat centres, but it is also dotted with financial scandals, corrupt real estate deals, dowry negotiations, and competitive displays of wealth during weddings and church festivals. If retreats were truly forming followers of Christ, would these practices be so rampant?

Retreat Centres as Brands

 Another disturbing trend is the commercialization of retreat centres themselves. What began as spaces of prayer and silence have in many cases turned into brands competing for followers. Retreat houses publish glossy pamphlets, run YouTube channels, and host mega-events where the preacher is celebrated almost like a celebrity.

 In such a climate, the message of the cross — one of suffering, self-emptying, and surrender — is drowned out by the cult of personality. Instead of being spaces that cultivate humility and hiddenness, retreats sometimes encourage the same culture of spectacle that dominates secular entertainment.

 This is not to deny that many preachers and retreat leaders are deeply sincere. Yet the structural reality cannot be ignored: when retreats become industries, the risk is high that the gospel gets diluted into a product designed to attract crowds, rather than confront hearts with uncomfortable truths.

Lack of Everyday Discipleship

 The most striking absence in the life of Kerala’s Christians is not religious activity but genuine discipleship. Retreats are packed, churches are full, festivals are lavish — but Christ is missing in daily conduct.

*In workplaces, Christians are often seen engaging in the same bribery, favouritism, and manipulation as anyone else.

*In families, domestic violence, dowry harassment, and broken marriages are alarmingly common.

*In parishes, infighting, factionalism, and ego wars dominate.

 Jesus said his disciples would be known by their love. Yet one finds that love is often absent in the lived culture of the Christian community. Retreats that emphasize prayer formulas but fail to demand concrete ethical change in daily life risk creating a Christianity of convenience — a religion where one prays loudly but cheats silently.

The Seduction of Miracles

 A significant portion of Kerala’s retreat culture revolves around miracles: healing the sick, casting out demons, prophesying breakthroughs. While the New Testament certainly affirms that God heals, the disproportionate focus on miracles has created a distorted faith.

 For many, Christianity has become less about carrying one’s cross and more about escaping suffering. Retreats promise healing, success in exams, prosperity in business. But Jesus promised his disciples suffering, rejection, and persecution. The kingdom of God is not a lottery where the faithful are rewarded with promotions and wealth; it is a narrow path where one’s life is poured out for others.

 By turning miracles into a commodity, retreats risk producing believers who chase blessings rather than Christ himself.

Why Jesus Is Missing

 So why, despite so many retreat centres, is Jesus absent in the hearts of Kerala’s Christians? The reasons are layered:

Ritual without repentance: Attending retreats becomes a box to tick, not a catalyst for radical change.

Consumerist faith: Christianity is presented as a way to secure worldly success, not as a call to die to oneself.

Commercialization of spirituality: Retreat centres, in their drive to expand, sometimes resemble corporations more than monasteries.

Neglect of the poor: Wealth is hoarded, and the poor remain marginalized, even as the Gospel commands otherwise.

Misplaced emphasis: Miracles and experiences overshadow the slow, hidden work of cultivating virtue.

Ultimately, retreats have become a substitute for discipleship rather than a school for it.

What True Following Looks Like

 To become true followers of Jesus, Christians in Kerala — and everywhere — must rediscover the heart of the Gospel. This means:

Living simply: resisting consumerism, rejecting dowry, and using wealth for the service of others.

Practicing forgiveness: ending family feuds, reconciling across parishes, refusing to harbor grudges.

Serving the poor: seeing Christ in the hungry, the migrant laborer, the abandoned elderly.

Integrity in work: refusing corruption even when it costs promotions or profits.

Witness in humility: embracing anonymity and self-sacrifice rather than chasing status in church hierarchies.

 Such practices are not glamorous. They will not attract huge crowds. But they embody the Sermon on the Mount — the true curriculum of Christian living.

The Role Retreat Centres Must Play

 Retreat centres are not inherently problematic. In fact, they could become powerful laboratories of renewal if they recalibrate their mission. Instead of promising easy miracles, they must teach hard truths: that following Jesus requires suffering, detachment, and service. Instead of being platforms for celebrity preachers, they must foster communities of accountability and discipleship.

 Silence, confession, fasting, Bible study, and works of charity must take precedence over entertainment-style worship and prosperity-centered preaching. Retreats must prepare people not just to “feel blessed” but to live as blessings in the messy realities of work, family, and society.

Conclusion: From Retreats to Reality

 Kerala’s nearly 100 retreat centres are a testimony to the hunger for God among its Christian population. Yet hunger alone does not make one a disciple. Without genuine repentance, retreats become hollow rituals. Without self-denial, prosperity becomes idolatry. Without love, religion becomes noise.

 The tragedy is not that Christians lack retreat centres, but that they lack Christ in their hearts. They have built impressive institutions of spirituality but often ignored the uncomfortable demand of Jesus: “Go, sell what you have, and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me.”

 Until Kerala’s Christians begin to live out this radical call — in homes, offices, parishes, and streets — the retreat industry will remain what it is: busy, popular, and spectacular, yet hollow at the core.

 The way forward is not more retreats, but more discipleship. Not louder prayers, but deeper obedience. Not bigger institutions, but smaller acts of love. Only then will Kerala’s Christians stop chasing the world and begin to reflect the one they claim to follow — Jesus Christ.

 

Hypocrisy on display: World cries for Gaza but ignores massacred Christians in Africa

 Why are massacres of Christians treated as background noise while Gaza dominates headlines for months? The answer is ugly: global outrage is selective, manufactured,  deeply politicized and biased in favour of the Islamic world.

   Leaders who rage against Israel for killing Muslims in Gaza remain strikingly silent when their co-religionists butcher Christians in Nigeria or Congo. Turkey’s Erdoğan, who postures as a defender of Muslims worldwide, does not mobilize rallies against Boko Haram. Iran’s mullahs, who accuse Israel of genocide daily, do not denounce ISIS-linked killers of Christians in Africa. Arab media outlets that run wall-to-wall coverage of Gaza seldom spare more than a passing line for the slaughter of African Christians. Solidarity, it seems, only runs one way.

 Even human rights organizations display the bias. When Christians are massacred, the reports are dry, perfunctory, couched in vague language of “communal violence” or “clashes.” When Palestinians are killed, the reports are urgent, fiery, and amplified. Victims are categorized not by their humanity but by their political utility.

Massacre in Gaza: Global Outrage Ignites

 The world has rarely seen such waves of outrage as it has in response to Israel’s relentless assault on Gaza. For months, images of bombed-out apartment blocks, lifeless children pulled from rubble, hospitals reduced to smoking ruins, and desperate families fleeing with nothing but the clothes on their backs have circulated across the globe. Demonstrations have erupted in London, Paris, New York, Berlin, Sydney, Jakarta, Mumbai, and virtually every other major city. University campuses in the United States have turned into battlegrounds of protest; European parliaments have been disrupted by activists unfurling Palestinian flags; Western capitals have witnessed hundreds of thousands of people in the streets.

 The sheer scale of the devastation in Gaza is undeniable. Tens of thousands of civilians — overwhelmingly Muslims — have been killed, according to various human rights groups. Whole neighbourhoods have been flattened. The blockade has choked food, water, electricity, and medical supplies, leaving hospitals overwhelmed and children malnourished. International organizations from the United Nations to Human Rights Watch have accused Israel of collective punishment, indiscriminate bombing, and possible war crimes. Even allies of Israel in the West are increasingly uneasy, facing pressure from their citizens demanding an end to what they see as nothing short of a massacre.

 The narrative has gripped the world’s conscience. Celebrities write angry posts on Instagram. Politicians deliver fiery speeches in parliament. NGOs churn out reports. Editorial boards dedicate front pages and primetime coverage. In cafes, universities, workplaces, and dinner tables, Gaza dominates conversation. To oppose Israel’s bombardment of Gaza is to stand with humanity, or so the loudest voices claim.

  Of course, much of this outrage is justified. Civilian slaughter is a moral horror wherever it happens, and Gaza’s suffering cannot be denied or dismissed. Innocent people are dying in large numbers, and that tragedy must be recognized. But here is where the hypocrisy of the global protest industry is exposed with brutal clarity: the same outrage that explodes over Gaza vanishes into thin air when equally horrific massacres take place elsewhere — particularly when the victims are Christians butchered by Islamist extremist groups in Africa.

 The question is simple: if human lives are equal, if oppression is to be condemned, if massacres deserve global outcry — why then is there near silence when Christian villages are torched in Nigeria, when worshippers are slaughtered in Congo, when children are abducted, raped, and executed by Islamist militias? Why does the moral compass suddenly break when the victims are Christian, the perpetrators Muslim, and the continent Africa?

Massacres of Christians in Africa ignored

 Let us step away for a moment from Gaza’s bombed streets and look instead at northern Nigeria. In the last decade, Islamist extremist groups — Boko Haram, Islamic State’s West Africa Province (ISWAP), and armed Fulani militias — have carried out massacres that dwarf many of the conflicts which make front-page news. Villages razed. Churches burned. Congregations wiped out during Sunday service. Women taken as sex slaves, men hacked to death, children shot or kidnapped. According to Open Doors, a Christian watchdog organization, Nigeria is the most dangerous country in the world to be a Christian. Between 2009 and 2023, more than 50,000 Christians were killed for their faith in Nigeria alone. That is not a typo. Fifty thousand.

 In 2014, the world briefly noticed Boko Haram when the group kidnapped nearly 300 schoolgirls from Chibok. The hashtag #BringBackOurGirls trended for a while, Michelle Obama held a placard, celebrities chimed in, and then the noise faded. But the killings continued. Mass abductions became routine. Villages disappeared overnight. Thousands of children remain unaccounted for, enslaved in camps deep in the forests. Yet, outside of niche human rights reports, there is barely a whisper. No million-strong marches in Paris. No universities shut down in protest. No city councils voting to rename streets. Silence.

 Move further east to the Democratic Republic of Congo, where the Allied Democratic Forces (ADF), a jihadi group linked to ISIS, has left a trail of horror. Entire Christian communities have been slaughtered. In 2021 alone, over 1,200 civilians were killed in Ituri and North Kivu provinces, most of them Christians targeted deliberately by Islamist militias. Mass graves are uncovered regularly. Families flee into the forests with nothing, their villages burned to ash. Where is the outrage? Where are the UN resolutions? Where is the viral social media storm?  Nowhere.

 Even beyond Nigeria and Congo, the pattern repeats. In Mozambique, Islamist insurgents aligned with ISIS decapitated children, torched churches, and drove hundreds of thousands from their homes. In Burkina Faso, Christian villagers are lined up and executed by extremists who demand conversion or death. In Sudan, decades of persecution continue with little interruption. The Christian minority across large swathes of Africa faces an existential threat. This is not sporadic violence; it is systematic, ideologically motivated massacre. And yet the silence is deafening.

 Why does the world avert its eyes? Why are massacres of Christians treated as background noise while Gaza dominates headlines for months? The answer is ugly: global outrage is selective, manufactured, and deeply politicized.

Time to confront this hypocrisy without apology

 Western media, which prides itself on moral clarity, has chosen its narrative. Palestinians fit neatly into the “oppressed vs oppressor” script, while African Christians do not. Coverage of Africa is sporadic, often buried in the back pages, framed as “tribal conflict” or “local unrest” rather than religiously motivated extermination. The scale of suffering is minimized, the pattern ignored. There is no sustained coverage, no relentless primetime focus, no celebrity hashtags. The dead are too poor, too African, too Christian to count.

 Western politicians are no better. They thunder against Israel, not merely out of compassion but because it resonates with their electorates, their activists, their identity politics. Condemning massacres of Christians in Africa, however, wins no votes, earns no clicks, stirs no protests outside their offices. It is politically useless. So they turn away.

 The hypocrisy reeks. If the principle is that innocent lives matter, then the silence over Nigeria and Congo is a moral scandal. A Nigerian child hacked to death in front of his burning church is no less human than a Palestinian child pulled from the rubble. A Congolese mother watching her family slaughtered by Islamist militias is no less deserving of compassion than a Gazan mother mourning under bombardment. To grieve selectively, to rage selectively, to march selectively — that is not solidarity, it is cowardice.

 What makes this double standard especially grotesque is that the numbers are not marginal. According to the International Society for Civil Liberties and Rule of Law, more than 5,000 Christians were killed in Nigeria in 2022 alone. By comparison, the widely reported death toll in Gaza in 2023 stood at around 20,000. The scale in Africa, stretched across years, is staggering — yet absent from the world’s conscience.

  Why? Because the protest industry thrives on spectacle, not substance. Gaza provides a clear villain and victim, an oppressor and oppressed, a narrative that aligns with ideological battles in the West. Nigeria and Congo provide none of that. They are messy, distant, complicated, and lack the emotional branding that fuels hashtags. The victims are Christians — unfashionable, unglamorous, inconvenient. And so, they are erased.

 This moral bankruptcy corrodes the very foundation of human rights. By turning massacres into a selective commodity, activists and politicians cheapen the meaning of outrage. They turn compassion into theatre. They transform solidarity into a partisan game. In doing so, they abandon thousands of voiceless victims whose only crime was belonging to the wrong faith in the wrong continent.

  It is time to confront this hypocrisy without apology. If Gaza deserves outrage — and it does — then so too do Nigeria, Congo, Mozambique, Burkina Faso, Sudan, and every other place where innocent lives are massacred. To scream about Gaza while ignoring Africa is not justice; it is selective morality dressed up as virtue. It is easy outrage, fashionable outrage, outrage that flatters the protester rather than honours the dead.

 History will not be kind to this silence. One day, when the graves are counted, when the testimonies are written, when the true scale of slaughter emerges, the world will be asked: where were you when Christian villages were burned to ash? Where were your marches, your placards, your hashtags? Where were your celebrities, your speeches, your resolutions? And the answer will be shameful: you were busy, apparently, outraged elsewhere.

Devil’s War Against Families: Lies, Pride, immorality and Corruption

 Devil’s goal is not disagreement or division—it is total destruction. He wants families shattered.

For centuries, the family has been the cornerstone of every society. Strong families mean strong communities, strong nations, and healthy generations. But where families collapse, society decays, morality rots, and darkness takes root. The devil, the father of lies, knows this truth more than anyone. That is why his greatest battlefield has always been the family. He doesn’t come with open war or visible armies; he comes with subtle poison—lies, deception, pride, arrogance, immorality, money, and the erosion of ethics. The devil’s aim is clear: destroy families from within so that the world falls apart one home at a time.

 Families are meant to reflect truth, love, unity, and faithfulness. But under the devil’s assault, they are increasingly marked by broken trust, betrayal, greed, selfishness, and moral confusion. This isn’t accidental. It is strategic. When the devil corrupts a father or a mother, he poisons the roots; when he deceives children, he poisons the fruits. The household that should be a sanctuary becomes a battlefield.

 Today, divorce rates soar, infidelity is glorified, materialism is worshipped, and ethics are mocked as outdated relics. Every time you see a home destroyed by greed, arrogance, lust, or lies, you are watching the fingerprints of Satan. He doesn’t simply tempt individuals; he dismantles bloodlines, one generation at a time. He destroys loyalty, mocks morality, twists truth into lies, and whispers that wrong is right. The most dangerous part of his deception is that most people never even realise they’re being used as his weapons against their own families.

 The devil doesn’t always shout. Often, he whispers just enough to plant doubt, pride, or selfish desire. That whisper spreads like fire until it burns down marriages, relationships, and households. If left unchecked, the cycle repeats in children and grandchildren, creating a legacy of destruction. He doesn’t just break families; he engineers a generational curse of brokenness.

Devil’s Weapons: Lies, Deception, and Pride

 The devil’s oldest weapon is the lie. In the Garden of Eden, he deceived the first family with lies, and he has never stopped. He tells husbands and wives that infidelity will bring them happiness. He convinces parents that money and status are more important than raising children in truth and discipline. He whispers to children that rebellion and arrogance make them strong. These are not harmless suggestions—they are deadly lies that corrode the foundations of family life.

 Deception is the devil’s masterpiece. He convinces people to normalize dishonesty: “A little lie won’t hurt your spouse,” “Cheating on finances is smart,” “Hiding the truth keeps peace.” These deceptions create cracks in relationships that grow into chasms of mistrust. Once trust dies, love soon follows. What begins as a small deception becomes a mountain of betrayal, leaving families broken.

 Pride is another favourite tool of Satan. Pride whispers, “You are always right. Never admit fault. Never humble yourself.” Pride blocks forgiveness, inflames arguments, and fuels bitterness. A proud husband will never listen; a proud wife will never forgive; proud children will never honour their parents. Pride kills humility, and without humility, families cannot survive. Pride makes people see family not as a gift but as a burden, and arrogance destroys the spirit of service that binds households together.

 Money itself is not evil, but the love of money is a weapon of the devil. He convinces fathers and mothers that success is measured in wealth, not faith or integrity. Parents abandon time with children to chase promotions, profits, or power. Families fall apart when money becomes god. Children grow up emotionally starved while parents buy them gadgets instead of giving love. Spouses fight, cheat, and even kill over money. Greed turns family members into enemies, and inheritance disputes tear siblings apart like wolves.

 Immorality is another trap. The devil spreads filth and calls it freedom. He promotes adultery, pornography, promiscuity, and perversions as “modern lifestyles.” But these are chains, not freedoms. Immorality breaks trust between spouses, leaves children scarred, and makes marriage vows meaningless. When parents embrace immorality, they set a corrupt example for their children. Lack of ethics seeps in—cheating, lying, dishonesty, and corruption become normal, until families no longer know the difference between right and wrong.

 The devil isn’t content with destroying one family; he aims for generations. When parents choose lies, pride, or immorality, their children grow up repeating the same mistakes. The cycle continues until entire family trees are corrupted. Children of broken homes often grow into broken adults, repeating the sins they once suffered. This is the devil’s greatest fraud—convincing each generation that their chains are freedom, when in fact they are slavery to sin.

Families in the Crossfire: The Final Battle

 The family is not just under attack; it is in a war. And make no mistake, the devil is ruthless. His goal is not disagreement or division—it is total destruction. He wants families shattered, children fatherless, marriages meaningless, and morality mocked. His battlefield is your living room, your bedroom, your dining table. Every harsh word, every selfish act, every dishonest decision is a dart fired in his war against your family.

 The devil destroys families first by eroding trust. When spouses hide secrets, when children lie to parents, when siblings betray each other, trust dies. And when trust dies, relationships collapse. He fuels suspicion, paranoia, and betrayal until the family home becomes a house of enemies.

 He thrives in division. He convinces parents to prioritize careers over marriage, spouses to prioritize friends over each other, and children to prioritize independence over obedience. Soon, family bonds dissolve. Everyone becomes a stranger under the same roof. Families stop praying together, eating together, talking together. Isolation replaces intimacy.

 The devil sells the lie that pleasure is the highest goal of life. He pushes adultery, divorce, pornography, drunkenness, drugs, and selfish indulgence. Commitment is mocked as old-fashioned. Marriage vows are treated as disposable. Children see this instability and lose faith in the very idea of family.

 When ethics die, families rot. The devil whispers, “Do whatever feels right.” He convinces fathers to cheat in business, mothers to manipulate, children to rebel. Integrity is replaced with convenience. Once the conscience is seared, families fall into corruption and chaos.

 Where lies, pride, and immorality thrive, violence follows. The devil pushes anger into rage, disagreements into abuse, discipline into cruelty. Domestic violence, substance abuse, and emotional neglect destroy countless families. The family home becomes a prison instead of a refuge. This is the devil’s joy: watching families tear themselves apart with their own hands.

 Finally, the devil’s deadliest weapon is mocking faith itself. He convinces families that God is irrelevant, outdated, or non-existent. He ridicules prayer, scorns morality, and paints believers as fools. Once faith is removed, families lose their anchor. Without God, they drift in chaos, chasing money, pride, or lust, never realizing they are sailing straight into destruction.

What Bible Says About Devil’s agenda

 The Bible is very clear about the destructive agenda of the devil. Jesus described him in John 8:44 as “a liar and the father of lies” and warned that his purpose is only to “steal, kill, and destroy” (John 10:10). From the beginning, in Genesis 3, Satan attacked the very first family through deception, planting doubt about God’s Word and leading Adam and Eve into disobedience. The result was shame, blame, division, and generational brokenness.

 Scripture warns that pride, arrogance, greed, and immorality are snares of the enemy (Proverbs 16:18, 1 Timothy 6:10, Galatians 5:19–21). Families who give in to these sins become easy prey. Husbands are told to love their wives sacrificially (Ephesians 5:25) and wives to respect their husbands (Ephesians 5:33), because unity in marriage resists Satan’s schemes. Parents are commanded to raise children in the training of the Lord (Ephesians 6:4), while children are urged to honour their parents (Ephesians 6:1–2). When these biblical principles are ignored, Satan gains ground.

 The Bible also assures that believers can resist the devil. James 4:7 says, “Submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.” God’s Word, prayer, humility, and faith are the weapons that protect families from Satan’s destruction.

 Conclusion

 The devil is not playing games. He is a liar, a murderer, and a destroyer. His strategy is clear: use lies, deception, arrogance, pride, money, immorality, and lack of ethics to tear families apart. And tragically, his methods are working. Families across the world are collapsing, leaving behind wounded children, broken marriages, and generations marked by despair.

 But the truth is this: families do not have to be victims. The devil wins only when families choose his lies over God’s truth. Every lie can be rejected, every deception unmasked, every chain broken. Families must wake up, humble themselves, and return to God’s order—faith, love, humility, truth, and integrity. Without this, the devil will continue his slaughter.

 The choice is before every family: surrender to the lies of the destroyer, or fight with the truth of God. The devil’s greatest fraud is convincing people he doesn’t exist, but the ruins of countless families are proof enough of his hand at work. Unless families rise in truth, vigilance, and faith, the destroyer will continue his mission: tearing apart the foundation of human life, one home at a time.

Devil’s Greatest Deception: The lie that 'there is no God, and there is no devil'

Devil’s Deception Behind Decline of Faith in West and Asia

 The Bible and the cries of countless souls testify that the deadliest battle isn’t fought between nations or ideologies, but between truth and damnable lies. And at the core of this war stands the enemy of all life—the devil—spewing his most venomous deception: that there is no God, and there is no devil. This is not just a lie; it is a weapon of mass destruction by devil, dragging blind, arrogant humanity toward eternal ruin.

This is not merely a philosophical debate. It is a deception engineered by devil with eternal consequences. When people are convinced that there is no God to seek, no Savior to trust, and no enemy to resist, they fall prey to the greatest fraud perpetrated by devil in the history of creation. The devil, described in Scripture as a destroyer, liar, and murderer from the beginning, thrives by blinding people to spiritual reality. His masterpiece is not the promotion of obvious evil, but the subtle denial that any spiritual dimension exists at all.

In this article, we will explore why this deception is so powerful, how it manifests in human life, and why resisting it requires vigilance, faith, and clarity of truth.

1. The Nature of the Deceiver

The Bible describes Satan as “the father of lies” (John 8:44). Lies are his native language. Unlike a common thief who steals goods, the devil aims to steal souls. His purpose is destruction—not only physical, but spiritual and eternal.

A direct assault often exposes the enemy’s hand. If he appeared visibly with horns and fire, most people would recoil in horror and turn toward God. Instead, he operates through subtle whispers: “There is no God. There is no devil. Life is random. Death is the end. Truth is relative.”

By sowing seeds of doubt and denial, the deceiver achieves far more than open intimidation. Denial disarms the human heart, making vigilance unnecessary in the eyes of the victim. A soldier who doesn’t believe a war exists never trains, never resists, never prepares—and ultimately perishes without a fight.

2. The Lie of No God

The devil’s first strategy is to cut off humanity’s anchor: the existence of God. If there is no Creator, no moral authority, no Judge, then life has no ultimate accountability. People are free to drift into pleasure, ambition, greed, or despair without ever considering eternity.

This deception plays out in several forms:

Atheism: the outright denial of God.

Agnosticism: the claim that God’s existence cannot be known.

Secularism: the relegation of God to irrelevance in daily life.

False gods: the substitution of idols—wealth, power, fame, or ideology—in place of the true God.

When the devil convinces people that God is a myth, he removes the very foundation of hope, morality, and salvation. A life without God may seem liberating at first, but it leads inevitably to emptiness, confusion, and despair.

3. The Lie of No Devil

Ironically, many people who deny the devil’s existence still believe in evil. They see war, cruelty, addiction, exploitation, and suffering, but refuse to recognize the spiritual enemy orchestrating much of it.

The devil delights in this blindness. For if there is no enemy, then there is nothing to resist. Temptation becomes “personal choice.” Sin becomes “mistake.” Bondage becomes “habit.” The one who is enslaved never realizes the chains are spiritual.

By convincing people he does not exist, the devil gains free rein to work unopposed. He manipulates desires, corrupts institutions, divides families, and oppresses nations—all while his existence is dismissed as myth or medieval superstition.

4. How the Deception Works

The devil uses multiple channels to advance this lie:

Philosophy and Ideology: Ideas that deny the spiritual realm—materialism, relativism, scientism—dominate intellectual thought. While science and reason are valuable, when elevated to absolutes they leave no room for God.

Culture and Entertainment: Films, books, and media often portray Satan as a joke, a cartoon, or a metaphor, stripping away the seriousness of his reality. At the same time, God is mocked, dismissed, or ignored.

Personal Pride: The human heart resists authority. To admit God exists is to admit accountability. Pride therefore welcomes the lie that no such accountability is required.

Religious Confusion: Even within spiritual circles, the devil thrives by promoting distorted images of God—as cruel, distant, or irrelevant. When faith is misrepresented, people walk away not from God Himself, but from the caricature created by deception.

5. The Consequences of Believing the Lie

When people embrace the idea that there is no God and no devil, several tragic consequences unfold:

Loss of Purpose: Without God, life reduces to survival and pleasure, devoid of eternal meaning.

Moral Collapse: With no ultimate accountability, right and wrong become relative, paving the way for exploitation and injustice.

Bondage to Sin: Without recognizing the devil’s hand, people remain trapped in destructive cycles, unable to seek deliverance.

Eternal Separation: The gravest consequence is spiritual death—eternal separation from God through unbelief.

The devil’s deception does not simply mislead people temporarily; it seeks to damn them eternally. That is why it is called his greatest fraud.

6. God’s Response: The Light of Truth

The good news is that deception is shattered by truth. Scripture declares: “You will know the truth, and the truth will set you free” (John 8:32). The existence of God is revealed in creation, conscience, history, and above all in Jesus Christ. The existence of the devil is revealed in the reality of evil and in God’s Word, which unmasks his schemes.

Jesus came not only to reveal the Father, but also to destroy the works of the devil (1 John 3:8). His death and resurrection broke the power of sin, death, and Satan, offering salvation to all who believe. Faith in Christ exposes the devil’s lies and reconnects humanity to God’s truth.

7. The Ongoing Battle

Even for believers, the devil continues his deception. He whispers doubts: “God doesn’t care. Prayer doesn’t matter. Sin isn’t serious.” He tempts with distractions and discouragement, hoping to erode faith.

The apostle Paul warns: “We are not ignorant of his schemes” (2 Corinthians 2:11). Believers are called to vigilance, to put on the armor of God (Ephesians 6:10–18), and to resist the devil, knowing he will flee (James 4:7).

The greatest safeguard against deception is daily immersion in God’s Word, prayer, and fellowship with other believers. Truth must be continually refreshed to counter lies that seep in through culture, temptation, and doubt.

8. Why the Lie Persists

Why does the devil invest so heavily in this particular deception? Because if people deny the very battlefield, he wins without a fight. Convincing humanity there is no God removes the source of salvation. Convincing them there is no devil removes the need for vigilance. Together, these lies create a perfect snare.

Moreover, the lie strokes human pride. People prefer to believe they are masters of their destiny, accountable to no higher power, threatened by no spiritual enemy. The deception flatters human independence while ensuring spiritual ruin.

9. Breaking Free from the Lie

The pathway out of deception begins with humility—admitting that truth exists beyond personal opinion. From there, it requires faith—trusting that God has revealed Himself through Scripture and through His Son. Finally, it requires repentance—turning away from sin and unbelief to embrace the life God offers.

Countless testimonies across centuries affirm that when people open their eyes to the reality of God and the reality of the devil, their lives change. They find peace, freedom, and strength in Christ, and they recognize the spiritual battle that once enslaved them.

10. Devil’s Deception Behind Decline of Faith in West

Many people today are drifting away from religion, with noticeable declines in faith across Europe and America. Churches are emptier, traditional values are fading, and belief in God is questioned or dismissed altogether. While some attribute this trend to modern science, materialism, or cultural change, one cannot ignore the deeper spiritual dimension. The devil, being a master deceiver, thrives on sowing doubt and disbelief. His greatest strategy is to convince people that God is irrelevant or non-existent, gradually turning hearts cold and keeping souls far from the truth and light of the Creator.

11. ‘No God, No Devil’ Strategy of Devil Leads Souls to Hell

Through the cunning deception of the “no God, no devil” strategy, the enemy of souls carries out his most dangerous work. By convincing people that neither God nor the devil exists, he removes the very foundation of accountability and eternal truth. If there is no God, then there is no ultimate authority, no judgment, and no need for salvation. If there is no devil, then there is no enemy to resist, no evil to guard against, and no urgency to cling to God for protection. This subtle lie lulls people into a false sense of security, making them believe life is only about the present moment, pleasure, or worldly success. But in reality, this is the broad road that leads countless souls away from light, away from truth, and straight into eternal destruction. The devil’s strategy thrives in silence, deception, and denial, leading multitudes unknowingly toward hell.

Conclusion: The Truth That Sets Free

The devil’s greatest deception is not witchcraft, violence, or open rebellion. It is denial—the quiet, sophisticated, seemingly rational claim that there is no God and no devil. This lie blinds millions, keeping them from seeking God and resisting evil.

But truth cannot be silenced. Creation cries out the reality of a Creator. Conscience points to moral accountability. History testifies to the impact of faith. And the resurrection of Jesus Christ declares victory over sin, death, and the devil.

To believe the lie is to remain in chains. To believe the truth is to be set free. Every person must choose: to live under deception, or to step into the light of reality. The devil’s fraud is deadly, but God’s truth is eternal. The destroyer seeks to kill, but the Savior came to give life—and life abundantly.

 

Forgotten in Their Sunset Years: The Harsh Reality of Neglected Parents

 When Children Choose Wealth Over Duty the Loneliness That Awaits

  Across Kerala, and increasingly across India, a silent tragedy unfolds every single day. It is not a tragedy caused by poverty, war, or famine. It is one born out of betrayal — the betrayal of parents by their own children. Once upon a time, children were considered the wealth of a family, the ones who would carry forward not just the family name but also the sacred duty of care. Today, in an age obsessed with money, migration, and personal comfort, many children abandon that responsibility. They chase better salaries abroad, luxury lifestyles in foreign cities, and upward mobility at any cost. In this pursuit, the very hands that once fed them, clothed them, and sacrificed for them are pushed into darkness, loneliness, and neglect.

 The state of Kerala offers a stark picture. Known as a land of migration, with lakhs of its youth settled in the Gulf, Europe, or America, Kerala’s villages and towns are filled with aging parents left behind. Homes that once rang with laughter now echo with silence. Old men and women sit on verandas, waiting endlessly for a knock on the door, a call, or even a message that may never come. Festivals like Onam, once symbols of family reunion, now become painful reminders of isolation. And while a lucky few may receive remittances from abroad, what they truly crave is presence, not money.

When Children Choose Wealth Over Duty

 Let us not sugarcoat this reality. Children today — many of them highly educated, ambitious, and successful — are failing their parents. They defend themselves by saying: “We have careers, we have our own families, life is busy abroad.” But beneath those excuses lies a brutal truth: selfishness. Parents gave their best years to raise their children, often denying themselves comforts so that their sons and daughters could study in good schools, earn foreign degrees, and secure prestigious jobs. Fathers toiled in government offices or worked as daily wage laborers; mothers broke their backs in kitchens, saved every rupee, and prayed at every temple or church for their children’s future. And what do these parents receive in return? Silence. Distance. Indifference.

 In Kerala, the so-called “Gulf dream” is part of every second household. Young men and women leave with promises: “Amma, Achcha, once I am settled, I will bring you there. Life will be better for us all.” Years pass, decades roll by, and parents grow old waiting. The children return only for hurried vacations, more like tourists than family members. Their time is spent shopping, sightseeing, or catching up with friends, while their parents stand on the margins. Sometimes, even those visits stop. Airfares, they claim, are expensive. Work, they say, is demanding. But the truth is harsher: the parents no longer matter. They have served their purpose.

 Even worse, many children push their parents into old age homes — places euphemistically called “care centers.” The parents are dumped there like unwanted furniture, told to adjust, told to accept this new phase of life. Strangers care for them, but love is absent. Some children may argue, “At least we are paying for their care.” But is care a financial transaction? Can the warmth of a son’s embrace or a daughter’s conversation be replaced by a caretaker’s routine feeding and bed-making?

The Loneliness That Awaits

 The irony is chilling. The very children who abandon their parents today will themselves grow old tomorrow. And when they do, they will face the same indifference — if not worse. For the cycle of neglect, once set in motion, will not stop. If children grow up watching their parents treat grandparents as burdens, they too will learn to view aging parents as liabilities. Retribution will come, not because of divine punishment, but because of cold, human logic: what goes around comes around.

 Kerala already shows us glimpses of this grim future. Entire neighborhoods are now populated by the elderly. In villages, one sees old couples living alone in crumbling houses, or widowed mothers surviving on meager pensions. They wait for phone calls that never arrive. They stare at photographs of their children, framed and hung on walls, as though the only presence left is an image. Some die in loneliness, their deaths discovered days later by neighbors. Others breathe their last in old age homes, surrounded by strangers, with no son or daughter holding their hand. Is this the fate parents deserve after a lifetime of sacrifice?

 The harshest truth is that loneliness kills faster than disease. Studies show that elderly people deprived of social and emotional support are more likely to suffer from depression, cognitive decline, and early death. In Kerala, where life expectancy is among the highest in India, this reality is even more pronounced. Parents live long, but they live alone. Their lives stretch into decades of waiting, hoping, and ultimately, despairing.

 And yet, those who abandon them rarely feel the sting immediately. Abroad, these sons and daughters post smiling photos with their own children, celebrate milestones, and flaunt their lifestyles. They believe they have won. But life has a cruel way of circling back. When they too grow old, when their own children pursue opportunities in distant lands, they will experience the same neglect. They will remember the days their parents called and they didn’t pick up, the invitations home they ignored, the excuses they gave. Memory will turn into a mirror, and in that mirror they will see themselves — lonely, discarded, forgotten.

 The story of neglected parents in Kerala is not just a story of one state; it is a story of modern India, a nation that prides itself on family values but increasingly betrays them. The old proverb said, “Maatru devo bhava, pitru devo bhava” — revere your mother and father as gods. But in practice, parents today are treated as burdens. Our temples are full, but our homes are empty of respect.

 There is no shortage of laws. India has the Maintenance and Welfare of Parents and Senior Citizens Act, which makes it mandatory for children to care for their parents. But laws cannot create love, nor can courts enforce compassion. What is needed is a moral awakening — a realization that the true measure of success is not the size of your salary or the city you migrate to, but how you treat the people who gave you life.

 Kerala’s villages, with their silent houses and deserted courtyards, are warning signs. They warn us of a future where every family will fracture, every parent will grow old alone, and every child will, in turn, face the same abandonment. Unless this cycle is broken, we are doomed to repeat it.

 Retribution is not a curse. It is a certainty. If you neglect your parents, be prepared: your own children will one day neglect you.

What Bible says about this trend?

The Bible speaks very directly and firmly about honouring and caring for parents, and the trend of neglecting them in old age goes against its teachings. Here are some of the most relevant passages and principles:

 The Fifth Commandment – A Non-Negotiable Duty:

 Exodus 20:12 – “Honor your father and your mother, so that you may live long in the land the Lord your God is giving you.” Honouring parents is not optional — it is one of the Ten Commandments. Neglecting them in their old age is seen as dishonour, a grave sin.

 Caring for Parents Is Central to Faith:

1 Timothy 5:8 – “But if anyone does not provide for his relatives, and especially for members of his household, he has denied the faith and is worse than an unbeliever.” This verse is harshly clear: a child who abandons their parents is considered “worse than an unbeliever.” Scripture doesn’t allow excuses of career, money, or migration.

3. Jesus Condemned Using Excuses to Avoid Supporting Parents:

Mark 7:9–13 – Jesus rebuked people who set aside their duty to parents in the name of religious offerings (“Corban”). He called it hypocrisy and said they nullified God’s command. Modern excuses like “I’m busy abroad” or “I’ll send money” mirror the same hypocrisy.

4. Love in Action, Not Just Words:

1 John 3:18 – “Dear children, let us not love with words or speech but with actions and in truth.” Parents don’t just need money; they need presence, care, and respect. Neglect while claiming to “love” them is empty talk.

5. A Warning of Retribution:

 Proverbs 30:17 – “The eye that mocks a father, that scorns an aged mother, will be pecked out by the ravens of the valley, will be eaten by the vultures.” A grim image, underscoring that disrespect and neglect of parents will invite judgment and destruction.

6. The Blessing of Obedience and Care:

Ephesians 6:2–3 – “Honor your father and mother” — which is the first commandment with a promise — “so that it may go well with you and that you may enjoy long life on the earth.” Scripture ties blessing, prosperity, and long life to honouring parents. The opposite — neglect — brings curse and misery.

 In summary:
The Bible leaves no room for children to abandon their parents. Migration, busy lives, or material success are not valid excuses. Neglect is considered dishonour, hypocrisy, and sin. Those who fail in this duty not only break God’s command but also risk facing the same neglect in their own old age.

 

Has the church become an institution of power while missionary work fades?

 The Church was once envisioned as a living body of believers whose central purpose was to proclaim the message of Jesus Christ, care for the poor, heal the broken-hearted, and spread the good news of salvation. It was meant to be a fellowship of service, humility, and sacrifice, grounded not in wealth or power but in spiritual transformation. Yet, over the centuries, and especially in the present era, it has increasingly come to resemble a highly institutionalized structure. Instead of being a movement of mission and mercy, it has often been reduced to a system of governance, bureaucracy, rules, and regulations.

 In many parts of the world, bishops, cardinals, and church leaders appear to live like monarchs, enjoying a life of privilege, pomp, and protocol while the ordinary faithful are treated as passive subjects expected to obey without question. This reality has raised a pressing question: has the Church become more concerned with building itself as an institution rather than fulfilling its missionary call?

 The very word "Church" in the earliest biblical sense referred to the gathering of believers, the ekklesia, a community bound together in faith and service. But what we see now is a massive administrative body, with hierarchical layers and elaborate structures of power. Instead of being known for fearless witness and outreach to the margins, the Church is often identified with imposing cathedrals, lavish ceremonies, and the authority of clergy. Bishops, who are meant to be shepherds, frequently come across as rulers. Their residences, motorcades, and lifestyles echo a kingly court rather than the humble fisherman Peter or the tireless missionary Paul. What began as a movement of radical discipleship has, in too many cases, settled into a religious corporation.

 The danger of institutionalization is not just the presence of rules. Any community needs order and accountability. The danger lies in what becomes the centre of gravity. For the early disciples, the heart of the faith was mission: preaching Christ, healing the sick, breaking bread with the poor, embracing outcasts. For many church leaders today, the heart of their work appears to be administration: property disputes, financial management, committee meetings, and ensuring loyalty to ecclesiastical authority. A disproportionate amount of time and energy is spent on maintaining the machinery of the institution rather than engaging in the daring and risky work of evangelization.

 Missionary work, which once drove men and women to leave their homes, learn new languages, and risk their lives in foreign lands, is now in retreat. Missionaries in the past went to remote villages, braved disease, confronted hostile rulers, and lived alongside the poorest of the poor. They translated Scriptures, built schools, and transformed communities. Today, that spirit has dimmed. The missionary task is often reduced to token charity drives, photo opportunities, and social projects that satisfy annual reports. The real zeal to carry the message of Christ to those who have never heard it, or to live radically among the marginalized, is far less visible. The institutional Church seems more invested in preserving its reputation, defending its assets, and ensuring its authority rather than sacrificing itself for the world.

 The gap between clergy and laity has widened. Bishops speak of service but often command obedience. They dictate from pulpits and pastoral letters but rarely listen to the lived struggles of ordinary believers. Their decisions, especially in matters of finance, land, or internal disputes, often mimic the language of corporate executives or political leaders rather than humble servants of the Gospel. In many dioceses, bishops travel in expensive cars, host elaborate banquets, and reside in palatial houses, while parishioners struggle to make ends meet. The irony is striking when one recalls that Jesus rode into Jerusalem on a donkey, washed the feet of his disciples, and warned that whoever wants to be great must be the servant of all.

 This shift toward institutionalism has consequences. Faith becomes ritualistic, confined to Sunday obligations and rules, rather than a transformative way of life. People are judged more on whether they conform to regulations than whether they live the spirit of Christ’s love. The Church becomes obsessed with its image in the media, its financial security, and its hierarchical prestige, while the prophetic voice of truth is silenced. Instead of standing alongside the oppressed, the Church risks becoming an ally of power, more comfortable negotiating with politicians than comforting the afflicted.

 The laity, meanwhile, are treated as recipients of directives rather than co-workers in mission. Yet, the strength of the Church has always been in the faith of ordinary believers who pray, teach, serve, and evangelize in their daily lives. When the hierarchy alienates them through arrogance or excessive control, the Church loses its lifeblood. The people of God are not meant to be spectators. They are the body of Christ, every member vital. A Church that treats them as children to be disciplined rather than adults with gifts and callings undermines its own mission.

 The decline of missionary spirit is especially evident in urban and Western contexts. Churches in many cities are shrinking, pews are empty, and young people are disillusioned. Instead of radical outreach, the focus seems to be on survival—fundraising to maintain aging buildings, legal battles over inheritance, and endless conferences on organizational reform. Mission is spoken of, but rarely lived. When was the last time bishops themselves went out to the streets to serve the homeless or engaged with migrant workers without a retinue of aides and photographers? The early missionaries did not wait for permission or institutional recognition; they burned with zeal. Today, that flame seems dim behind layers of bureaucracy.

 It is not only missionary work abroad that suffers; even within local communities, the priority is often misplaced. Too much energy is spent on ceremonial grandeur and less on genuine pastoral care. Churches organize massive feasts, parades, and celebrations that consume enormous resources, while poor families in the same parishes struggle with hospital bills and education costs. What does it profit the Church to erect marble altars and golden chalices while neglecting the widows, orphans, and unemployed youth sitting in its pews? Christ himself asked a similar question when he condemned the Pharisees for tithing mint and cumin while neglecting justice, mercy, and faithfulness.

 Another mark of institutionalization is the obsession with control. Rules govern who may participate, how they may serve, and which voices are allowed to be heard. Creative initiatives from the laity are often suppressed because they do not align with established protocols. Innovation is stifled. Priests and bishops prefer conformity to creativity. Yet, the Spirit of God is not bound by human rules; it blows where it wills. The Church risks quenching that Spirit by prioritizing regulations over renewal.

 Of course, not all clergy or bishops fall into this pattern. There are many who live humbly, serve tirelessly, and embody the Gospel in their lives. But the dominant image presented to the world is often one of hierarchy, privilege, and control. When scandals emerge—whether financial mismanagement, abuse of power, or moral failures—the credibility of the Church suffers further. And when leadership responds with secrecy, cover-ups, or defensive postures, it only deepens the impression that the Church is more concerned with protecting itself as an institution than with pursuing truth and justice.

 The tragedy is that the Church has within it the potential for great renewal. The Gospel still burns with power. The lives of saints and martyrs still testify to a faith worth living and dying for. The laity are filled with gifts and talents waiting to be harnessed. Missionary zeal can still be rekindled if the institution loosens its grip on power and rediscover its purpose. But this requires courage from the hierarchy. It requires bishops to step down from thrones and live among the people. It requires structures to shift from control to empowerment. It requires the Church to prioritize service over survival, mission over maintenance, Christ over comfort.

 The temptation of every religious institution through history has been to replace the radical call of faith with the safety of rules, to replace service with status, and to replace sacrifice with security. The Christian Church, despite its divine origins, has not been immune to this temptation. Yet, history also shows that renewal is always possible. Reformers have arisen in every era, reminding the Church of its true purpose. Perhaps today, when the gap between hierarchy and laity is widening and missionary work is waning, another wave of renewal is needed.

 The question remains urgent: has the Church forgotten its essence? If it continues to prioritize institutional power, financial wealth, and ceremonial prestige, it will lose its credibility in the eyes of the world. But if it dares to strip away these trappings and return to the radical simplicity of Christ’s way, it could once again become a force of transformation. The choice is stark: to be an institution obsessed with rules and rulers, or to be a movement of faith that lives and proclaims the Gospel fearlessly.

 The future of the Church depends on which path it chooses. The faithful are watching, the poor are waiting, and the world is in need of hope. The Church must decide whether it will remain a comfortable institution or rediscover its missionary heart.