Christianity, at least in its most accessible, franchised form, is like McDonald’s. You don’t have to look for it—it finds you. Neon promises of salvation on every corner, identical services dressed up in regional accents, all offering the same combo meal: sin, confession, redemption.

I’ve come to see churches as chain restaurants of the worst kind. Like fast food chains, they often enjoy the same architecture, same slogans, and the same plastic smiles of reassurance. Fast Faith is so good at what it’s designed to do: make you feel full without ever challenging your hunger.

It’s familiar. It’s easy. And Fast Faith is everywhere. For a while, it even tastes good. But that’s the thing about Fast Faith. It doesn’t nourish us; rather it numbs us from reality. It fills your soul with sugar while starving your questions. Then the longer you consume it, the harder it is to imagine anything different tasting right.

It goes down easy—sweet promises, warm nostalgia, the illusion of safety. But the more you consume it, the harder it becomes to imagine life without it. And like junk food, it’s not built to nourish. It’s built to keep you coming back. Christianity “tastes good” because it promises identity, community, purpose. But it’s flavored with guilt, control, and fear of alternatives.

The most dangerous part about franchised Christianity is the moral monoculture it engenders — allowing a singular worldview to dominate not by merit, but by saturation. But like McDonald’s, franchise Christianity is everywhere, whether you want it or not. It’s on your street, in your schools, in your media. It’s engineered to be familiar, comforting, and mildly addictive. But keep consuming it without question, and your spiritual metabolism breaks down. You stop digesting, and start depending.

Christianity in its franchised form isn’t built for soul-deep inquiry. It’s built for repeat customers. You’re offered the same menu of doctrines in every location: sin, repentance, salvation, tithe. Convenience over complexity. Loyalty over learning. But I’m not attacking beliefs. You’re free to believe whatever you wish. What I’m calling out is the systemization of it for the purpose of making it into an industry. The way Christianity has been packaged, branded, and distributed like a cultural product for the lowest common denominator—slick logos, prefab answers, pop theology with a side of shame—makes me sick.

Unfortunately, Christianity has become the most powerful cult in the history of humanity. And I don’t think it’s going away any time soon.