Fariza

I used to think that denominations were a man-made construct; after all, the Bible does warn us against dividing the body of Christ. So attending a non-denominational church felt like the right, Biblical thing to do. But now that I’m older and wiser, I know that non-denominational is a denomination in itself.

When I first came to know the Lord after leaving Shia Islam, the last thing I cared about was which form of Christianity was the truth. I fell in love with Jesus and wanted to follow Him wherever He led me. In those early days, I wasn’t thinking about doctrine or church history. I was just on fire.

Growing up in a rigid Muslim culture where submission was non-negotiable, then navigating a Baptist expression of Christianity, which carried its own form of rigidity, and later finding some relief from that legalistic worldview through the discipleship of Tim Keller at a Presbyterian church, I eventually began longing for a sense of belonging rooted in freedom and diversity. The non-denominational world gave me that opportunity.

I am deeply grateful for my time at these churches. God met me in all those churches. But I can’t stop examining what I was taught there and how it has shaped, and sometimes damaged, my life. And I think the danger is serious enough that it needs to be said out loud.

The problem with non-denominational Christianity is not just cultural. The real issues run deeper: when a church has no roots, no accountability (real one) to anything older or larger than itself, and no theological transition to draw from, it will always default to whatever sells. And what sells is comfort, inspiration, and the feeling that God is on your side. That combination is spiritually dangerous, not because it’s entirely false, but because it’s incomplete in ways that will only reveal themselves when your life falls apart.

And life will fall apart. That’s part they never prepare for.

Commercialization and the Illusion of Community

Most of these churches are too large and feel commercialized, making genuine community difficult to find. Yes, you can make friends through a small group, but those groups are seasonal and time-limited. Once the semester ends, the group dissolves. If you happen to make a lasting friendship, that’s a blessing, but most of the time, people don’t keep in touch.

At a mega-church, access to the pastor is nearly impossible. If your church has a celebrity pastor, forget about ever being shepherded by him personally. He will preach his sermon and disappear through the back door, and the next time you will see him is the following Sunday. I understand that ministry is exhausting, people come with all kinds of needs, and that takes a real toll. But this is the job. You signed up for it. You are literally paid to preach the Gospel and care for people.

And yet somehow we have built a system where there’s a massive, expensive building to maintain, one untouchable pastor at the top, an underpaid and overworked staff told they are “not in it for the money,” and an army of unpaid volunteers who are the ones actually keeping everything running. These volunteers are saints; without them, nothing would happen.

Spiritual Marketing

Then there’s what I call spiritual marketing: the brand, the logo, the carefully chosen font, the fashionable outfits, the in-house coffee shop, the merch store, and the books the pastor supposedly wrote, most of us know were ghostwritten by talented people who will never receive credit for their work.

The entire experience feels superficial. Will you feel good walking out? Probably. You will feel encouraged and inspired by the same message, slightly repackaged each week: Life is hard, but God is good, and He wants to bless you. Prosperity gospel, even when never preached directly, is always the underlying current. Ironically, I have heard pastors at non-denominational churches openly condemn the prosperity gospel on Sunday while preaching it in the very same sermon. They just use softer language.

The Pastor Problem

Many non-denominational pastors seem to pursue ministry as a platform for building a personal following and advancing their own ambitions. Nearly every pastor I have encountered has side ventures — a business, a law practise, a podcast, a whatever that makes them money apart from preaching. Now, there’s nothing inherently wrong with having a job. People tend to mention that Paul the Apostle was a tentmaker and use him as an example. But I wish people would also focus more on his actual life, not just a small part where he had to work to make a living. Paul experienced severe trials and tribulations after He gave His life to Christ.

He suffered a shipwreck, endured repeated imprisonment, and ultimately had his head chopped off. If you are going to use Paul as your model, you should also mention everything else he went through. Is the matcha-drinking, Jesus-is-my-best-friend, skinny-jeans-wearing pastor who makes a living giving talks prepared for that kind of commitment?

I’m not trying to be uncharitable. I believe many of these men started with genuine hearts. But the system they have built, or inherited, rewards performance, not faithfulness. And over time, those two things start to look the same, until they don’t.

Bad Theology and the Cost of It

The older I get and the more I come to know the Lord, the more clearly I see the doctrine I was fed for so many years. So much of what I accepted as truth was simply one pastor’s interpretation of a verse, presented as a fact. Now and then, a message would stop me — this doesn’t sound right — but I would push the feelings aside. Things like: God heals everyone. God wants to bless you. With faith even as small as a mustard seed, you have access to everything.

That sounds wonderful, but my faith was certainly bigger than a mustard seed, and yet things kept getting harder, not easier.

Year after year, the same messages — and nothing changed. Worse, no one equipped me to deal with pain and hardship. The community was too shallow to actually do life together, to show up when things fell apart. Human nature draws people toward you when life is going well and disappears when it isn’t. If you have even one person who cares for you with no ulterior motive, count yourself truly blessed.

I don’t blame people because we have been fed the same theology that doesn’t teach us what sacrificial living looks like. The non-denominational church gives you excitement, not depth. And here is the truth about excitement (dopamine): it runs out.

I don’t say any of this out of bitterness. I say it out of righteous frustration because people deserve the truth.

Following Christ is hard. When you choose this path of righteousness, you will face real suffering, and you need a community and a theology deep enough to carry you through it.

A vibe and a vision statement won’t be enough!

So, Where Do You Go?

I will be honest, I’m still working through that question myself. What I can tell you is that I have started looking toward traditions with deeper roots. Churches that have a theology of suffering, not just of blessing, and communities where the pastor is accountable to something beyond his own brand. Traditions that have been tested by centuries of hardship and have not collapsed.

I’m not here to tell you exactly where to land. But I’m here to tell you that what most non-denominational churches are offering is not the full story.

My goal here is not to divide the body of Christ. It’s to reach the Christian sitting in one of these churches, struggling and unsupported, and tell them: you are not crazy. The emptiness you feel is real. And there is more.

Can God use a non-denominational church to reveal Himself, to heal people, to draw them close? Absolutely. He can use anyone and anything to give people a chance to know Him. But I hope people will seek God and His truth, not a watered-down version of what Jesus and His early Church never actually taught.

Human beings love creating idols, and we tend to make them in our own image. I’m afraid we have done exactly that in the Protestant non-denominational world, often without even realizing it.

May the Lord give us eyes to see and ears to hear.