Last year one of my closest girlfriends had a baby. I was excited and honoured when she asked if I would be its godmother. But still, I declined.

You see, to formally accept my role, I would have had to stand up in a Catholic church and declare I would continue with the baby’s religious education.

I had several problems with this: 1. I am an atheist. 2. If I was Christian, I would most definitely not be Catholic. 3. I sincerely oppose the indoctrination of children into  any religious institution against their free will, especially one preaching hell and damnation. And 4. I am proudly not a hypocrite.

So, when my girlfriend suggested I just ignore what was being said at the baptism ceremony and stand up at the altar with the baby like some sort of prop, I could not comply. I made a vow: I would love and protect her child for life, but I would not or could not make that vow according to the Catholic church’s principles or within its confines.

Sadly, I believe this is the case for many Christians today. As with politics, they adopt or have imposed on them a religious party faithful early in life that garners little further scrutiny. But this policies-be-damned attitude is naive at best and dangerous at worst. When power and money are in play, you always have to scrutinise the policies, politics and people behind it.

Which is why I feel I have no choice but to shun Catholicism in light of the endemic child sex abuse allegations and blatant cover-ups lasting generations that have come to light (and yes, George Pell, I am aware the Catholic church is not the “only cab on the rank” in this regard, an analogy I found repulsive beyond measure until you topped it last week with that trucking reference).

To be part of any institution which denies marriage and abortion rights, which is one of the wealthiest institutions on earth yet doesn’t appear to share it where and when needed while insisting third-world devotees eschew contraception and abortion, is not within my comprehension.

I certainly can’t make a leap of faith for an organisation which doesn’t allow women to become priests and expects the men who do to remain celibate. How can stripping a person of their sexuality be deemed anything but unnatural and cruel? Is it any wonder illicit perversions result?

Before all ye faithful condemn me to the burning bowels of hell (which, thankfully, I don’t believe exists) yes, I realise I’m throwing out the baby with the holy water in regards to Catholicism, Christianity and religion as a whole. I agree there is a great message at the heart of every creed.

But I like to look at religious institutions as I do political parties, and ask: Which would get my vote? What are its policies? Where does the money trail begin and end? Is it fair? Just? Loving? Equal? Does it deliver on its core message? And are its doctrines and actions within the law, and if not, why the hell not?

Then again, if you look at religion like politics you can also expect a lot of bluff, bluster and blatant lies. Just look at our current government’s out-there faithfuls such as Immigration Minister Scott Morrison, who declares, “From my faith I derive the values of loving kindness, justice and righteousness, to act with compassion and kindness, acknowledging our common humanity and to consider the welfare of others …” – then places innocent children in detention. Or our staunchly Catholic Prime Minister, Tony Abbott, who refuses to grant equal marriage rights, vows to “stop boats” full of the persecuted, needy and homeless, and remains stoically anti-abortion (albeit less vocally of late).

If I could have my way, I’d make every Australian spend a day at the Royal Commission into  Institutional Responses to Child Abuse.  I’d like those who tick religion boxes on Census forms without thought to see the end result of child abuse.

I’ve known and loved a casualty of sexual assault at the hands of the clergy, raped of dignity, innocence, trust and hope. And the heartbreak does not end with the direct victim, I can attest.

How churches managed to inflict so much evil for so long is, in my mind, an argument against the existence of a loving God in itself. Perhaps faith really is blind. But there is no excuse to keep blinkers on willingly.

In today’s world, it is more important than ever to review religious dogma, to scrutinise the party policies and those making them – to run it all through a common humanity filter and no longer put fingers in our ears and tra-la-la away the horrors of the institutions with which we align ourselves. To stop fearing hell in our afterlives and acknowledge those that live it every day in this life.

Let’s get back to the wheat, before more people like me are left believing there is little left in organised religion but chaff.

Age columnist Wendy Squires is a journalist, editor and author. Twitter: @Wendy_Squires