For the record, I believe in God, but I do not believe in

Hear the fierce and uncompromising words of Rodrigo Duterte, who declared: “For the record, I believe in God, but I do not believe in religion, period.” These words are not spoken with the softness of compromise, but with the fire of conviction. They echo the eternal conflict between personal faith and organized institutions. For in them lies the cry of one who separates the eternal from the earthly, the divine from the systems built in its name. Duterte speaks as many before him have spoken: that the presence of God is undeniable, yet the hands of men who build religion may twist, corrupt, or enslave.

The origin of this saying is found in a long tradition of men who have sought God directly, bypassing the priest, the ritual, and the institution. Mystics in every culture have cried the same: that the Divine is found not in temples of stone, but in the silent chambers of the heart. Duterte’s voice is political, yes, but also spiritual—it reveals distrust of organized religion as an earthly power, often tainted by greed and control, while affirming belief in God as the higher truth that transcends institutions.

History provides us with vivid examples. Recall Martin Luther, who stood before the Diet of Worms and declared his conscience captive to God alone. He saw corruption in the church of his day—indulgences sold, power abused—and he could not reconcile such practices with the faith he held in his heart. In him, as in Duterte’s words, we hear the separation: trust in God, but suspicion toward religion when it strays from truth.

Yet this tension is older still. In the time of the Hebrew prophets, voices like Amos and Isaiah thundered against empty ritual. “I despise your feasts,” said the Lord through the prophet, condemning ceremonies performed without justice or mercy. Here too is the eternal warning: that religion without righteousness becomes hollow, while God remains ever pure. Duterte’s blunt saying is but a modern echo of this ancient critique.

But let us not cast away religion entirely, for it has also been the vessel through which countless souls have found guidance, strength, and community. Cathedrals rose not merely from greed, but from devotion. Temples resound not only with control, but with the longing of hearts for the divine. Thus, the words of Duterte are both truth and danger: truth, in exposing corruption; danger, in forgetting that even flawed religion can carry light to the lost.

The lesson, O child of tomorrow, is this: distinguish between the eternal and the temporal, between God who is above, and religion that is made by men. Do not confuse the corruption of institutions with the purity of the divine. Question boldly the practices of those who claim authority in God’s name, yet never let the failures of men extinguish your faith in the eternal. For the failures of priests do not negate the truth of heaven, nor does the weakness of ritual erase the strength of spirit.

Therefore, take action. Seek God with sincerity, whether in the silence of prayer, the study of wisdom, or the practice of justice and compassion. Honor what is good in religion, but do not let it bind your conscience or cloud your sight. Walk with faith in the divine, but with eyes open to the errors of men. In this balance, you will not fall into blind obedience nor into bitter denial, but will live as one who knows God beyond religion—free, faithful, and wise.