Asher's Blog

My faith begins with love, and in the most familiar summary of that love, it begins with giving: “For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son.”

God did not merely announce love. He expressed it through sacrifice.

This is why “religion without sacrifice” is such a serious warning to me. Gandhi’s original list of seven social sins used the phrase “worship without sacrifice,” but I think the wider formulation helps us confront the same danger: religion can become a collection of declarations, rituals, identities and rules that demands much from other people while changing very little in the person who claims to believe.

If faith does not teach us to love, forgive, serve and accept personal cost for another person’s good, it can become dangerous. The danger is not simply that the religion has failed to make somebody kinder. The greater danger is that religious certainty can give selfishness a sacred vocabulary. Pride becomes conviction, hatred becomes zeal, control becomes spiritual authority, and violence is presented as obedience to God.

Religion without sacrifice does not eliminate sacrifice. It usually finds somebody else to sacrifice.

Love that gives

Christianity, as I understand it, is not built around human beings trying to impress God through religious performance. It is built around God’s love reaching towards humanity. John 3:16 connects love directly to giving, while Romans 5 presents Christ’s sacrifice as an expression of love towards people who had not earned it.

That pattern should shape the life of anyone who claims to follow Christ. Love gives time, attention, comfort and resources. Love forgives when retaliation would feel more satisfying. Love is willing to be inconvenienced, listens before condemning and accepts responsibility for the wellbeing of another person.

The New Testament makes the connection explicit in 1 John 3:16: Christ laid down his life for us, and we ought to lay down our lives for one another. Most believers will never face a literal decision to die for somebody, but every believer encounters daily opportunities to lay down selfishness. We give up the need to win every argument, the desire to be served first, the convenience of ignoring suffering and the satisfaction of returning an injury.

Sacrifice is love paying a cost.

This does not mean the Christian life is joyless, or that God values pain for its own sake. Sacrifice is not the worship of suffering. Its moral value comes from what the cost serves: reconciliation, protection, justice, generosity, truth and another person’s good. Giving away money merely to appear spiritual is performance; giving because another person’s need has entered your heart is closer to love.

Faith becomes visible when belief moves from the mouth into the arrangement of one’s life.

Sacrifice is not self-destruction

Because religious language can be powerful, we must define sacrifice carefully. Sacrifice does not mean that vulnerable people should remain in abusive relationships, surrender their dignity or accept exploitation because somebody has told them suffering is holy. It does not mean a religious leader may demand money that a family needs for food, education or medical care. It does not mean children should obey an instruction that puts them in danger, or that followers must stop thinking for themselves.

Healthy sacrifice is voluntary, morally directed and rooted in love. Coercion is not sacrifice because the person has been deprived of meaningful choice. Exploitation is not sacrifice because the person demanding the cost is using another human being as a means to an end. Self-harm is not sacrifice, while violence against an outsider can never be purified merely by attaching God’s name to it.

The clearest test concerns power: who is being asked to pay the price, and who receives the benefit?

If leaders continually preach sacrifice while living beyond accountability, something is wrong. If women, children, poor people or junior members are always expected to surrender while the powerful retain comfort and control, religious language is being used to preserve hierarchy rather than express love. Jesus did not stand at a distance and demand a sacrifice he was unwilling to make. Christian leadership is modelled through service.

Sacrifice should therefore begin with the person who has more power. The leader gives up privilege, the wealthy person gives resources, the strong person absorbs inconvenience, and the person who could retaliate chooses a just path that does not reproduce harm. Religion becomes credible when those at the top bear costs for the people they lead.

Ritual can continue after love has disappeared

Religion is capable of maintaining its outward appearance long after its moral centre has weakened. Services continue, songs are sung, offerings are collected, sermons are delivered and people learn the language expected in the community. From the outside, everything may look active and successful.

Yet a religious community can become very busy while becoming less loving. It can build impressive auditoriums while ignoring suffering around it, speak constantly about holiness while protecting abuse, demand loyalty while refusing accountability and measure spiritual success by attendance, money or influence rather than transformed lives.

This is not a new problem. The prophets repeatedly challenged worship that was disconnected from justice, while Jesus criticised religious leaders who were careful about outward observance but neglected mercy, justice and faithfulness. James describes pure religion in practical terms: caring for vulnerable people and remaining uncorrupted by the world. The test of faith was not merely what happened at a gathering; it was what believers did when confronted by need.

Religion without sacrifice wants the comfort of being identified with God without accepting the discomfort of becoming like Him.

It is easier to attend an event than forgive someone who hurt you. It is easier to repeat a doctrine than give generously when nobody will know. It is easier to condemn a stranger than confront pride in yourself. Ritual is not meaningless, because shared worship, prayer, communion, teaching and community can form people deeply. The danger arises when ritual becomes evidence we present instead of a life we allow God to change.

Worship should not end when the meeting closes. It should reappear in how we treat employees, speak to our spouses, raise our children, use money, respond to enemies and recognise the dignity of people who do not share our faith.

A religion that needs an enemy has lost its sacrifice

Any religious expression that promotes violence against another person must be confronted. Human beings should not watch one another die while hiding behind the claim that belief is personal. Belief may be held inwardly, but when it becomes incitement, coercion, assault, discrimination or organised violence, it has entered the space where society has a duty to protect life.

We should be precise, however, because broad attacks on “religion” can create another form of injustice. Every major religious community contains different traditions, interpretations and people. The violent act of one person does not make millions of peaceful believers responsible, and governments should not use security as an excuse to suppress unpopular beliefs or target an entire community.

The proper focus is conduct. Is a person or group intentionally encouraging violence, dehumanising other people, organising harm or coercing belief? Is there a real likelihood that the speech will produce discrimination, hostility or violence? Who is speaking, to whom, in what context and with what influence?

The United Nations Rabat Plan of Action proposes a demanding threshold for identifying incitement, considering context, the speaker, intent, content, reach and the likelihood of harm. This approach matters because a society must be able to stop genuine incitement without turning every offensive or unpopular religious opinion into a crime.

Freedom of religion includes the freedom to hold beliefs other people consider wrong, to change one’s religion, to have no religion and to worship peacefully. It does not include a licence to destroy the rights of others. The boundary should be drawn around harm, coercion and credible incitement, not around the government’s preferred theology.

Nigeria needs both religious freedom and human safety

Nigeria is a deeply religious and highly diverse country. Christianity, Islam and traditional beliefs exist alongside people whose relationship with religion is private, uncertain or nonexistent. That diversity can become a source of moral energy and social support, but it can also be manipulated by people seeking political power, economic advantage or protection from accountability.

Section 38 of the Nigerian Constitution protects freedom of thought, conscience and religion, including the freedom to change one’s religion or belief and to manifest it in worship, teaching, practice and observance. The National Human Rights Commission also recognises freedom of religion or belief and peaceful assembly as protected rights.

These protections matter because faith cannot be genuine when government dictates it. A person should not be forced to worship, punished for changing belief or made unsafe because they belong to a minority. Families will teach children according to their convictions, and adults should remain free to make personal decisions about whom and how they worship.

At the same time, religious freedom cannot mean institutional indifference to violence. When anyone uses a pulpit, platform, classroom, online community or political movement to encourage attacks, law enforcement should respond according to evidence and due process. Places of worship should not become safe spaces for planning harm, just as security agencies should not be permitted to treat ordinary worshippers as suspects merely because of their identity.

The state’s role is not to decide which faith is true. Its role is to protect the equal dignity, life and liberty of every person.

That balance requires courage because religious conflict creates pressure for collective blame. After an attack, people may demand retaliation against a community; after discriminatory enforcement, people may assume every security action is persecution. Leaders must refuse both errors. Justice should identify responsible individuals, protect innocent people and prevent grievance from becoming the fuel for another cycle of violence.

Teach children that faith protects life

One of the most important things we can do is teach children early that religion without sacrifice is dangerous. The purpose is not to make them suspicious of faith, religious leaders or tradition. It is to give them a moral language for recognising when something presented as religion has departed from love.

Children should know that God does not require them to hate another person in order to prove devotion. They should be encouraged to ask questions when an instruction appears to promote cruelty, secrecy, exploitation or harm. They should know that speaking to a trusted adult about dangerous teaching is not betrayal, and that no leader becomes incapable of wrongdoing because the leader uses religious language.

We should teach them several simple tests. Does this teaching preserve human dignity? Does it ask me to serve or merely to condemn? Is the person demanding sacrifice also willing to sacrifice? Am I being told to conceal something harmful? Does this instruction require me to see another human being as less valuable? Would I consider the action loving and just if it were directed towards my own family?

These questions will not settle every theological dispute, nor should children be made responsible for resolving complex conflicts among adults. They create an early moral compass, however, and help a young person distinguish conviction from manipulation.

Parents also have to model the lesson. A child who hears sermons about love but watches parents insult people of another faith will learn the behaviour more deeply than the doctrine. A child who sees adults give, apologise, forgive, protect the vulnerable and maintain friendships across religious boundaries will understand sacrifice through experience.

We cannot teach peaceful religion only through warnings. We must show what it looks like.

Forgiveness is costly, but it is not the abandonment of justice

My faith teaches forgiveness, and forgiveness is one of its most demanding sacrifices because it requires us to release the right to be consumed by revenge. It asks us not to allow another person’s wrongdoing to determine the condition of our own heart.

However, forgiveness should not be confused with the denial of harm. A religious community should not use forgiveness to pressure victims into silence, prevent criminal reporting, avoid restitution or restore an unsafe person to authority without evidence of change. Mercy and accountability are not enemies.

Forgiveness can coexist with boundaries. A person may release hatred while refusing renewed access. A victim may forgive and still testify truthfully. A church may seek restoration while also reporting an offence, protecting those at risk and requiring the offender to face legal consequences.

Religion without sacrifice often asks the injured person to carry the entire cost of peace. The victim must forgive quickly, remain quiet and preserve the reputation of the institution, while the person who caused the harm sacrifices nothing. That is not reconciliation. Genuine reconciliation requires truth, repentance, restitution where possible and changes that make repeated harm less likely.

Sometimes the institution must sacrifice its image in order to protect a person. Sometimes a leader must surrender a position, a community must admit failure and members must accept the discomfort of an investigation. If the religious organisation protects its reputation at the expense of the wounded, it has chosen worship without sacrifice.

The sacrifice of money, time and power

Sacrifice becomes practical through the resources we possess. People can give money to meet needs, but they can also give time, expertise, access, attention and influence. A businessperson may help another entrepreneur avoid a costly mistake. A professional may serve people who cannot afford the normal fee. A religious organisation may use its land, buildings and networks to support education, healthcare, food distribution, rehabilitation or emergency response.

Giving should be wise, because generosity without stewardship can create dependence, reward dishonesty or waste resources that could have produced more durable good. Yet the possibility of imperfect giving should not become an excuse for permanent withholding. Love searches for an effective way to help.

Sacrifice also includes power. A religious leader can create room for questions instead of treating disagreement as rebellion. A majority community can defend the worship rights of a minority, not because it agrees with the minority’s beliefs, but because it understands that freedom is meaningful only when it also protects people we could outvote. A successful person can use influence to open opportunities rather than accumulate followers.

The deepest sacrifice may be the surrender of the desire to control other people in God’s name.

Faith should invite, persuade, serve and bear witness. It should not require government force, economic punishment, family violence or social intimidation to keep people inside it. If our belief is true, coercion does not make it truer. If our worship honours God, another person’s freedom does not diminish it.

Religious institutions must accept accountability

Religious organisations influence families, politics, culture, money and public morality, which means their leaders exercise real power. That power should be accompanied by governance and accountability rather than protected by the claim that spiritual authority cannot be questioned.

Financial resources should be managed transparently. Safeguarding procedures should protect children and vulnerable adults. Allegations of abuse should be examined by people with the independence and competence to establish facts. Leadership succession, discipline and use of organisational assets should not depend entirely on one person’s private judgement.

Accountability is not an attack on faith. It is one of the sacrifices leadership makes to remain trustworthy.

A leader who submits to oversight gives up the pleasure of unlimited control. An institution that publishes credible accounts gives up some privacy in exchange for the confidence of its members. A community that investigates wrongdoing sacrifices temporary comfort to protect its future.

Religion without sacrifice wants influence without scrutiny, money without reporting, loyalty without responsibility and forgiveness without repentance. Healthy faith recognises that anyone trusted with people, resources and authority should be willing to answer for how that trust is used.

Faith should make life safer for other people

The ultimate evidence of religion is not the volume of its claims but the quality of life it produces. Does it make people more truthful, merciful, courageous and generous? Does it protect children, honour women, care for elderly people, support families and defend the dignity of strangers? Does it create people capable of loving across disagreement?

Religion becomes dangerous when it requires everybody else to pay for the believer’s certainty. It becomes beautiful when conviction creates a willingness to pay a personal cost for somebody else’s wellbeing.

For Christians, the cross is not merely an emblem to display. It is the revelation of a God whose power is expressed through self-giving love. Following Christ therefore cannot mean using religion to dominate, humiliate or harm the people he died to save.

We must protect freedom of conscience, because faith cannot be forced. We must confront incitement and violence, because human life cannot be treated casually. We must teach children to recognise love, sacrifice and manipulation, while building religious institutions that welcome questions and accept accountability.

Most importantly, we must begin with ourselves. What has my faith cost my ego? Whom has it taught me to forgive? What comfort have I surrendered to serve another person? Does my worship make the people around me safer, stronger and more loved?

If religion asks nothing of our selfishness, gives nothing to the vulnerable and sacrifices only outsiders, it has lost the heart of worship. True faith does not merely declare love. It gives.