By Steve Conley
There is a vital difference between religiosity and spirituality—a distinction too often overlooked in professions built on trust. Where religiosity can cloak itself in labels, rituals, and appearances, spirituality speaks in the language of kindness, conscience, and authenticity. In financial planning, this distinction is not merely semantic—it’s the line between service and self-interest.
Take the troubling case of Trust Financial Planning, a Leicester-based firm which marketed itself as a Christian financial advice business with a “vision of financial planning for all.” In practice, it became something else entirely: a firm that borrowed over £1 million—largely from clients and churchgoers—to cover chronic financial losses, using mechanisms such as “Trust Bonds” and preference shares. All under a banner of faith.
The FCA’s eventual restrictions on the firm—years after first being alerted—reveal more than regulatory lag. They expose how easily spiritual language can be co-opted for unsound financial models, blurring the lines between goodwill and governance.
Dan Brittenden, the firm’s founder, cited a desire to help people regardless of means. Yet for over a decade, the business ran at a loss while relying on personal loans from clients and members of the Christian community. He later acknowledged these arrangements represented a “conflict of interest,” though insisted they were made in support of a noble mission.
Intentions may have been sincere, but outcomes matter. As one whistleblower lamented, “these problems compound”—and clients paid the price.
The Peril of Pious Branding
Branding a service as “Christian” or faith-led can be powerful. For some, it suggests trustworthiness, ethical grounding, and community. But when misused, it becomes a tool of persuasion that preys on emotional and spiritual bonds, rather than protecting the best interests of clients.
This is where spiritual financial planning diverges. It doesn’t require a cross on the letterhead. It’s found in the quiet acts of integrity: putting a client’s needs ahead of your own, declining a fee when unnecessary, or walking away from conflicted models even when it hurts your bottom line.
Spirituality, as I see it, is about service, not sales. Kindness, not clever structures. A truly spiritual financial planner seeks to empower clients—not extract from them—regardless of their faith.
A Call to Reflect
This isn’t just a cautionary tale about one firm. It’s a broader call for us—as professionals, regulators, and citizens—to interrogate the values that underpin our financial systems. When financial planners operate as custodians of people’s futures, spiritual integrity must not be performative—it must be practiced.
We can’t allow the trappings of religiosity to mask poor governance. Nor can we remain silent when well-meaning visions become vehicles for financial harm. The path forward is one of transparency, humility, and transformation.
Because at the end of the day, trust is not built on what we say we believe—it’s built on what we actually do.
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By Steve Conley. Available on Amazon. Visit www.steve.conley.co.uk to find out more.
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