Why Must Religion Feel Like a Tug of War

Every day, I see it — on TV, in churches, mosques, shrines, offices, and even in comment sections where logic goes to die. People praising their faith like die-hard football fans, roasting others’ beliefs like it’s a spiritual cookout.

Take interfaith couples, for example. Breakfast feels like a peace summit — everyone carefully passing the butter while pretending not to notice the invisible elephant of “who’s going to heaven first.” And speaking of elephants — Aesop told a story long ago that might explain us better than any theologian ever could.

Once, there were six blind men who wanted to understand what an elephant was. They were led to it, each given a chance to touch a different part.

The first man grabbed the trunk and shouted, “Ah! It’s a snake!”
The second, holding the tusk, said, “You fool! It’s a spear.”
The third, feeling the ear, argued, “Nonsense! It’s a fan.”
The fourth, hugging a leg, said, “You’re all wrong. Clearly, it’s a tree.”
The fifth, touching the side, yelled, “You’re idiots. It’s a wall.”
And the sixth, clutching the tail, whispered confidently, “It’s a rope.”

Then, because human nature never disappoints, things escalated.
The man who thought it was a snake accused the wall-guy of blasphemy.
The fan-holder tripped the rope-believer “by accident.”
And before anyone could say “divine revelation,” one of them picked up a stick and smacked another for “disrespecting truth.”

And that, my friends, is basically the comment section of the internet. Each was partly right, yet completely wrong. Each was so busy proving their truth that no one thought to listen. If they had, maybe they’d have realized they were all describing different parts of the same magnificent creature.

That’s us — every religion, every denomination, every self-proclaimed expert. All touching the same divine reality from different angles, all shouting, “My version is correct!” while the elephant — or should I say, God — stands there patiently, probably shaking His head.

But here’s the thing: if God is truly all-powerful, then He must have the ability to be all things — the God of every religion, every people, and every tongue — and, at the same time, the God who doesn’t exist at all to those who choose not to see Him.

If He can’t do that, can we still call Him all-powerful? Didn’t Jesus Himself say, “With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible” (Matthew 19:26)?

Well, the roots of our religious and denominational divisions are actually explained quite clearly in the Bible. It all started long ago at the Tower of Babel. Humanity tried to unite — but for the wrong reason — to reach heaven through pride, not love.

God looked down, saw where this was heading, and said, “Let’s confuse their language before they destroy themselves.”

That divine disruption wasn’t punishment — it was protection. Our division was mercy in disguise. We weren’t ready for unity then, and that’s why the divisions still linger today — so that we wouldn’t unite and repeat the same mistake.

But a time is coming when humanity will unite again — not under the banner of ego, but under the right spirit. A unity that no longer threatens heaven, but reflects it.

And when that day arrives, Jesus’ words will finally come to pass:
“And this gospel of the kingdom will be preached in the whole world as a testimony to all nations, and then the end will come.” (Matthew 24:14).

There’s a lot more to unpack in that one verse — especially what Jesus meant by “the gospel of the kingdom” and how it differs from the religious noise we hear today.
That’s a conversation too deep for a footnote, so I explore it fully in my post: “The Kingdom Activation Code.”

Maybe that’s what God’s been waiting for all along —
not blind men arguing about the elephant,
but open eyes, open hearts, and open hands,
finally realizing we were all describing the same light —
and perhaps, blind on divine purpose.

💬 Enjoyed this post? Spread the spark — click below to share it with someone who needs a divine reminder today.