Here's a number worth sitting with: prosperity preaching is a multi-million-dollar media industry, and its core promise is that giving to God is a guaranteed financial investment. That's not a fringe quirk; it's a different gospel. My opponent might say it's a minority or that Christianity has always had money scandals. Fair. But hijacking isn't about majority numbers; it's about the message people actually hear. When faith becomes a transaction and suffering becomes proof of weak belief, the cross gets swapped for a receipt. I'd demand extraordinary evidence for the claim that God guarantees returns. There isn't any.

I'll grant the other side something: most Christians aren't televangelists, and quiet hospitals and parishes do real work. But hijacking doesn't require owning every room; it requires controlling the microphone most people hear. The question isn't whether the whole vehicle is stolen, it's what message gets broadcast. When a seeker is more likely to hear seed faith and guaranteed returns than take up your cross, the brand has been captured at the point of contact. And calling that out doesn't empower the hucksters; it refuses to let them define the terms. Extraordinary claims about guaranteed divine returns need evidence, and there's none.

The other side's back-seat metaphor misses where hijacking actually bites: the seeker at the point of contact. If someone searching for Christianity mostly encounters seed faith and guaranteed returns, the message has been captured even if most pews are faithful. That's not swapping reach for rule; it's noticing who holds the microphone outsiders hear first. And the test is evidence: extraordinary claims about guaranteed divine payouts have none. A faith defined by a transaction rather than a cross isn't just misrepresented by loud passengers; it's being steered, at least in the public square. Call it partial hijacking, but the term fits.