Everyday idolatries we don’t even notice

Photo: Gerald Farinas.

I was reading recently about all the different pledges of allegiance people say—to the American flag, the Christian flag, even to the Bible.

And honestly, they all made me uncomfortable. Something about them feels… off. Too eager. Too rehearsed. Too much like a cult.

When you start lining up and reciting a loyalty oath to a flag or a book or even a religious symbol, it feels like something sacred has been replaced. Like we’ve swapped the living, breathing God for something easier to carry, easier to quote, easier to put on a bumper sticker.

And maybe that’s the heart of the problem.

We don’t like to admit it, but idolatry is alive and well. We think of idols as golden calves or carved statues, but the truth is, the idols of today look a lot more ordinary.

They hide in plain sight—just dressed up in modern clothes, using the language of success, patriotism, safety, and even faith.

We idolize productivity, treating our calendars and to-do lists as if they determine our value. If we’re not busy, we feel worthless. Rest feels like laziness. The Sabbath feels like a waste. We ignore God’s rhythm of work and rest because we’ve been taught to believe hustle is holy.

We idolize money and consumerism. Shopping becomes our therapy. Having more means being more. We measure how “blessed” someone is by how much they own or how polished their lifestyle looks. Meanwhile, the poor are treated like afterthoughts.

We idolize our country. Patriotism turns into nationalism, where any critique is seen as betrayal. We wave flags in churches and sing about freedom without asking who that freedom has historically excluded. We confuse God with the state, as if the kingdom of heaven has borders drawn in red, white, and blue.

We idolize our own independence. “You do you” becomes gospel truth. Community feels like a burden. Humility and accountability are dismissed. We become the center of our own universe, convinced we don’t need anyone—not even God—telling us what to do.

We idolize fame and influence. We hang on the words of celebrities, influencers, and pastors with big platforms. We confuse charisma with wisdom. And in the process, we forget that the most Christ-like people are often the ones who aren’t getting attention at all.

We idolize comfort. We want safe homes, safe neighborhoods, safe lives. We don’t want to be challenged. We don’t want to be uncomfortable. So we avoid the people and places that might stretch our compassion. We trade the call of the Gospel for the quiet of a gated life.

We even idolize religion. We turn churches into fortresses, theology into weapons, and the Bible into a rulebook for judging others. We use faith to control instead of liberate. We confuse loyalty to tradition with loyalty to God. In doing so, we miss the God who shows up in the margins, not just in the pews.

And maybe most painfully of all—we idolize belonging. We want so badly to stay accepted in our group—our political party, our friend circle, our denomination—that we’ll ignore what’s wrong to protect what’s ours. We stay silent when we should speak. We excuse injustice because it benefits us. We love the group more than the truth.

Now, I’m no saint in all of this. I’m guilty of these same idolatries. Hell, even the branding of the websites I run or the way I craft these very articles is part of it all. I want to be seen. I want to be heard. I want people to nod and say, “Yes, that’s right.” That craving to be validated and visible can turn into its own little altar if I’m not careful.

So yes, pledges of allegiance make me uneasy. Not because I don’t care about my country or my faith—but because I know how easily our loyalty can drift toward things that are not God. That’s what idolatry is: not just bowing to a statue, but putting our trust, our hope, and our love in something less than God.

And the thing about idols is that they don’t just steal worship. They shape us. They form our hearts. They change the way we see the world. If we’re not careful, we’ll find ourselves becoming more like the idols we trust—hard, cold, unmoving, unseeing.

That’s why the call to follow Jesus is always a call to re-center. To break down our idols. To love God with heart, soul, mind, and strength—and to love our neighbors as ourselves. That’s the only allegiance that really matters.