By Praise Fowowe
Many years ago, Nigeria lost a vocalist who, in my eyes, was one of the most gifted voices the nation had ever heard. If Kirk Franklin, John P. Kee, Fred Hammond, and Marvin Sapp had a Nigerian fusion, it would be him.
His name was Dolly, and he didn’t just sing—he redefined every song he touched. Give him any worship track, and he would deliver a remixed version that was more anointed, more powerful, more unforgettable.
The last time I spoke with him, he was on the verge of releasing his debut album. But like many passionate church musicians, he had no funds.
Dedicated to his ministry, he never charged a dime to sing in church. To survive, he resorted to selling zobo in front of the church—an artist of his caliber, reduced to hawking drinks to finance a dream. Eventually, he took a job he never wanted, simply to raise money for his music.
On his first day at work, his bus was involved in an accident. That was how he died.
A man who gave his all to the church, who never charged to minister, died trying to raise money to fund his calling.
Now imagine he had a child who grew up, knowing this story. Would it be fair to tell that child that charging a fee for their gift is a sin?
THE OTHER SIDE OF THE STORY
Let me tell you about Mr. R, another dedicated voice of worship. He was a full-time music minister, leading the choir, preparing rehearsals, serving faithfully. Eventually, he was placed on staff, but his salary was barely enough to keep a roof over his head.
Yet, at every convention, guest artists—who were not half as committed as he was—were flown in from different parts of the world, paid exorbitant fees, and treated as celebrities.
Then one day, I was watching the news and saw him performing at the African Shrine, hidden in the background of someone else’s band.
When I confronted him, his words pierced my soul:
“Praise, my landlord was about to throw me out. My child was already out of school. Then this gig came, and what they paid me cleared my debts.”
Do we understand the bitterness in the hearts of those who have given everything to the church, only to be abandoned?
They watch the same preachers who once preached about sacrificial service now fly private jets and own businesses, while their own lives have deteriorated after 20 years of service in the same ministry.
HYPOCRISY & THE CODE OF ENGAGEMENT
It’s easy to bash the new generation of church musicians who now charge fees. But let’s be honest—these young ministers have seen the code of engagement.
They have seen how churches humbly honor the financial demands of foreign artists—yet, when it comes to their own, the same churches turn around and preach about how “it is sinful to charge.”
Many churches(not all) have become concert halls, expecting artists to draw a crowd, entertain the people, and yet somehow do it all for free.
WHAT THE ANGLICAN CHURCH GOT RIGHT
I was born an Anglican, and this was never an issue there. Why?
1️⃣ The Anglican Church employed a full-time organist, responsible for the music department, and paid him a good salary.
2️⃣ They created a system where everyone had access to free music training—from vocals to instruments. If the church invested in your growth, it was fair to expect you to give back without charging.
3️⃣ The Anglican Church allowed musicians to earn separately—boys’ brigades and instrumentalists were free to charge for burials, ceremonies, and other events using bands paid for by church( i earned from that system while i served in church during services for free)
4️⃣ If someone wanted to leave to pursue a commercial music career, the church did not gaslight them or make them feel like sinners. They had a system to replace them.
5️⃣ Their priests never boasted about being billionaires. The pulpit was a vocation, not a financial empire. Money wasn’t the sermon.
THE BRUTAL REALITY CHURCH MUSICIANS FACED
The truth is, an entire generation of Nigerian worship ministers served for free.
Some understood the business side of ministry and thrived. Many others just trusted that if they served faithfully, God would “automatically” provide.
By the time reality hit, it was too late.
And now, many church musicians are bitter. They feel used, abandoned, and discarded.
Have we ever paused to ask: Where did this culture of charging exorbitant fees even start?
When planning a church programme, what truly determines which guest music minister we invite?
✅ Is it because we genuinely want people to experience deep worship?
✅ Or is it because we need a popular name to attract a crowd?
✅ Or is it simply a power move—to prove that we can afford them?
You can’t turn the church into a concert hall and then expect those performing to do it all for free.
IT’S TIME TO TAKE RESPONSIBILITY
Maybe discipleship has failed. Maybe we have stopped making true disciples and have instead raised a generation of people who learned how to survive from the pulpit’s example.
💭 When was the last time a worship minister attended Bible Study, a midweek service, or even a leadership seminar?
💭 Do we check if our music ministers are growing spiritually—or just growing their following?
💭 Have we taken the time to support those who never charge but still remain faithful?
It’s time to stop judging, labeling, and gaslighting.
It’s time to call these music ministers into a family meeting—not to condemn, but to listen. To understand. To heal.
Yes, some charge ridiculously high fees—but that’s not the majority.
💡 If your church didn’t invest in their growth, how can your church own them? Why not develop your own home grown minsters?
💡 And if they are signed to a record label, should we not respect the professional contracts they have committed to?
Let’s also be honest. Most of the A listers never charge churches that don’t have the means. They charge the ones who are clearly using them to drive attendance and publicity, but then pretend like they don’t understand they have bills to pay.
There is a new wave of Music Ministers who are profiting tremendously from views and royalties because the world has evolved and what you earn on streams is bigger than what any church can pay and we must never use the new set as a yardstick to bash those who functioned when they never had that luxury.
TO BE CONTINUED…
Maybe, just maybe, we can still fix this.
Maybe, just maybe, we can find a way to honor those who have given their all.
Maybe, just maybe, we can rewrite the code of engagement.
Because a laborer is worthy of his wages—even when his labor is in the house of God.
