In Built on Lies, the author doesn’t hold back from challenging one of the most protected subjects in history, organized religion’s role in human suffering. His tone isn’t blasphemous; it’s brave. He explores how faith, originally meant to connect souls to truth, was converted into a tool of control. The Church, once a symbol of compassion, became an empire of profit cloaked in holiness. You can almost feel the tremor in his words when he describes how religion, instead of healing hearts, was used to justify theft, slavery, and death. It’s hard to read without thinking of the millions who believed they were serving God while feeding corruption.
How The Church Justified Conquest And Corruption
The book unfolds the story of the Papal Bulls, those decrees that handed Europe divine permission to conquer and enslave non-Christian people. It’s haunting. The idea that spiritual leaders blessed the destruction of entire nations under the banner of salvation exposes a darkness most people refuse to face. The author doesn’t soften his language or try to make readers comfortable. He speaks directly, naming the deception for what it was, a manipulation so massive that it reshaped civilization. By granting kings and merchants “holy authority,” the Church became the silent partner in one of humanity’s greatest crimes.
The Lasting Stain Of Religious Deception
Centuries have passed, yet the effects still linger. The wealth accumulated from those papal decrees built not only churches and cathedrals but entire nations. The author notes that the Church never truly repented for its role in slavery, not financially, not publicly, not spiritually. That silence, he suggests, is a wound that still bleeds. Reading those pages feels like standing in front of a vast cathedral built from human bones, beautiful from a distance, horrifying up close. You can almost hear the echoes of prayers said over the misery of those who never had a voice.
Why Truth Matters More Than Reverence
Some readers might feel conflicted, questioning how to balance faith with truth. The author answers that gently but firmly: questioning corruption doesn’t mean rejecting God. It means defending the essence of what faith should have been. He reminds us that blind loyalty to any institution allows evil to thrive. It’s not about tearing down belief, it’s about rebuilding it on honesty. His words cut deep because they come from conviction, not anger. There’s something freeing about seeing someone refuse to protect false holiness.
Reclaiming Spiritual Integrity In A Modern World
Toward the end, his tone shifts from confrontation to clarity. He invites readers to think of faith as something intimate and unowned, a relationship between truth and conscience, not church and crown. That’s the redemption arc of Built on Lies. It’s not a book that asks you to abandon belief, but to rescue it from centuries of distortion. The message is simple yet profound: the world cannot heal if the institutions that shaped it refuse to confess. To believe again, we must stop worshipping the ones who lied in God’s name and start listening to the voice that never did, truth itself.