The Modern Idols You Didn't Know You Were Worshipping

(And How They're About to Fall)

There's this bizarre story in the Old Testament that nobody talks about at brunch. The Israelites lose their most sacred object—the ark of the covenant—to their enemies, the Philistines. Total defeat. The Philistines are stoked. They haul this thing back to their temple and set it up next to their god, Dagon.

Next morning? Dagon's face-down on the floor.

They prop him back up. "Weird," they think. "Must've been the wind."

Morning after that? Dagon's on the ground again. But this time his head and hands are cut off.

The Philistines finally get the message: We need to get this thing out of here.

Here's what nobody tells you about that story—it's not really about ancient statues or tribal warfare. It's about what happens every time you try to give power to anything besides God. Your modern Dagons keep falling over too. You just haven't been paying attention.

Let's get uncomfortably honest for a second. You say you believe in God. You say you trust divine Love, infinite intelligence, whatever language feels right to you. But what are you actually trusting when things get tight?

Your bank account balance? Your boss's mood? Your family history of disease? That relationship that's barely hanging on? Your age? Your résumé? The news cycle?

See, here's the trap. Most of us don't consciously worship false gods. We just... hedge our bets. We believe in God, sure. But we also believe that circumstances have power. That the past predicts the future. That our bodies are vulnerable machines that will inevitably break down. That lack is real and we better scramble to avoid it.

We're standing in the temple with both Dagon and the ark, trying to honor both. Trying to be spiritual while still believing matter calls the shots.

And then we wonder why we feel so anxious all the time.

This week's Christian Science Bible Lesson on God doesn't mess around. It asks one question over and over: Is God actually omnipotent, or just really powerful?

Because if God is ALL—all power, all presence, all intelligence—then there literally isn't room for anything else to have power. Not disease. Not debt. Not disaster. Not your diagnosis or your past or your circumstances.

If you're still believing those things can determine your experience, you're not believing in God. You're believing in Dagon. You're giving power to a statue. A concept. A belief system that has no actual authority except what you're lending it.

Mary Baker Eddy writes: "We lose the high signification of omnipotence, when after admitting that God, or good, is omnipresent and has all-power, we still believe there is another power, named evil."

Translation: You can't have it both ways.

Either circumstances have power over you, or God does. Either your body determines your experience, or consciousness does. Either matter is calling the shots, or Spirit is. Not "mostly Spirit with a little bit of matter mixed in for realism." All or nothing.

The Practical Part (Because Theory Won't Pay Your Bills)

Okay, so what does this actually look like when your bank account is screaming and your body hurts and your relationship is imploding? It means you stop giving those things ultimate authority. Not denial. Not pretending they're not happening. But recognizing they're not running the show.

When my back hurt for thirty years, I kept treating it like it had power. Like my body was the authority on what I could and couldn't do. That belief was the Dagon. The moment I stopped believing "my back won't let me" and started recognizing that Life itself is the only power—that I am the expression of infinite freedom, not a broken machine—the pain dissolved. Thirty years. Gone. Because I stopped worshipping the idol of physical limitation.

When you're panicking about money, material thought says: scramble harder, worry more, cut everything, brace for impact. This lesson says: Stop. What are you believing has power here? Lack? The economy? Your job situation? Those are Dagons. False gods. Concepts with no actual substance.

The only power is God—infinite good, eternal supply, perfect provision. Not "hoping" it'll show up. Not "asking" it to help. Recognizing what's already true: you are held, sustained, supplied by something way bigger than your circumstances.

Here's where it gets interesting.

Jesus healed ten lepers. All ten got their healing. Bodies restored. Lives changed.

But only one came back to say thanks.

And Jesus pointed it out. "Where are the other nine?"

Nine people experienced healing but missed the whole point. They got their result but didn't connect it to the divine Principle that made it possible. They still thought healing was random, or earned, or lucky.

One person got it. One person recognized the source.

That one person? That's the difference between temporary relief and actual transformation. Between getting lucky once and knowing where to go every single time.

You can have your healing—your financial breakthrough, your physical restoration, your relationship repair—and still worship Dagon. Still believe it was circumstances that saved you. Still live in fear it'll all fall apart again.

Or you can recognize the only power. And that changes everything going forward. When you start recognizing one power—when you stop giving authority to circumstances, symptoms, fears, limitations—your Dagons fall. Sometimes dramatically. Sometimes quietly. But they fall.

The diagnosis you thought was destiny? It loses its grip.

The financial panic that felt so real? It stops controlling your every thought.

The relationship drama that seemed unending? It shifts or it ends, but either way you're not enslaved to it anymore.

Not because you forced anything. Not because you prayed hard enough or manifested correctly or did the spiritual work perfectly.

Because you stopped believing the idol had power in the first place.

You recognized what's actually true: God is all. Not "God plus your circumstances." Not "God unless things get really bad." Just God.

One power. Running everything. Including you.

And when you live from that recognition—even imperfectly, even on your worst days—your experience reorganizes itself around that truth.

The Philistines eventually figured out they couldn't keep the ark. It didn't belong in a temple with false gods.

Maybe it's time to ask what doesn't belong in your temple anymore.

What are you ready to let fall?