Oyewole O. Sarumi
We live in an era of unprecedented religious visibility. Megachurches dot the skylines of major cities, religious broadcasting saturates the airwaves, and social media feeds are inundated with spiritual aphorisms.
Yet, beneath this veneer of vibrancy, a quiet crisis is unfolding. It is a crisis not of attendance, but of substance; not of passion, but of depth.
As noted in recent critiques of contemporary ecclesiology, the modern church is increasingly producing “two-dimensional Christians”, believers who possess a breadth of enthusiasm but a shallowness of understanding.
The prevailing focus on hyper-spiritism and radical prosperity has created a theological vacuum. In many urbanised pulpits, the historic Christian faith, once characterised by intellectual rigour, sacrificial love, and the navigation of suffering, has been repackaged into a “fast food diet” of immediate gratification.
This shift raises profound questions about the sustainability of such a faith and the spiritual legacy being left for the next generation. If the church is to survive the cultural and intellectual storms of the twenty-first century, it must move beyond the populist preachments of success and return to the foundational, albeit challenging, work of theological education and discipleship.
The Rise of Two-Dimensional Christianity
The critique that the church is producing “two-dimensional Christians” is a sociological and theological observation of immense weight. A two-dimensional faith exists only on the surface (experience) and the immediate horizon (material expectation), lacking the third dimension of depth (theological rooting and historical continuity).
This phenomenon is primarily driven by an overemphasis on “spiritism”, a fascination with the metaphysical mechanics of the spiritual world decoupled from ethical living, and “radical prosperity,” which posits that material wealth is the primary signifier of God’s favour. While Christianity is undeniably a supernatural faith, the current fixation often borders on gnosticism, where “special knowledge” or specific rituals are sold as keys to unlocking divine ATMs.
When faith is reduced to a transaction, analytical rigour vanishes. The pew becomes a marketplace, and the sermon becomes a sales pitch. This lack of scholarship means that the average believer is ill-equipped to answer the deep, gnawing questions of the human heart: What is the meaning of suffering? What is my purpose beyond accumulation? How do I construct a coherent identity in a fragmented world? A theology that only works when life is going well is a theology that will inevitably fail.
The Commercialisation of the Kerygma
The kerygma, the apostolic proclamation of the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus, is being slowly displaced by what can be termed “urbanised variety” preachments.
These are sermons tailored for the upwardly mobile, focusing on self-actualisation, leadership principles, and financial breakthroughs, often stripping the gospel of its offence and its demand for self-denial.
There is a legitimate danger in the “commercialisation of the pulpit.” When the primary metric of a ministry’s success becomes the size of the offering or the number of attendees, the message inevitably shifts to match the market demand.
As the Apostle Paul warned in his second letter to Timothy, a time will come when people “will not endure sound doctrine, but according to their own desires, because they have itching ears, they will heap up for themselves teachers” (2 Timothy 4:3).
Today, pastors are often pressured to become CEOs and motivational speakers rather than shepherds and theologians. The result is a “pseudo metric system of success.” If a believer is poor, sick, or struggling, the modern prosperity narrative suggests a lack of faith or a spiritual deficiency.
This is a cruel distortion of the biblical narrative, which is replete with holy men and women who endured immense suffering, poverty, and persecution.
By commercialising the gospel, we have not only cheapened the grace of God but have also set believers up for a devastating disillusionment when the realities of life fail to align with the promises of the pulpit.
Prosperity Without Process: The Ethical Disconnect
One of the most damaging aspects of the current theological landscape is the decoupling of prosperity from process. The biblical text is clear on the virtues of industry, stewardship, and ethics. The wisdom literature, particularly the book of Proverbs, ties abundance to diligence: “The plans of the diligent lead surely to plenty, but those of everyone who is hasty, surely to poverty” (Proverbs 21:5).
However, the radical prosperity gospel often bypasses the requirements of hard work, discipline, patience, and integrity. It promises the harvest without the ploughing. It creates a generation of believers who are looking for “miracle money” rather than the grace to build sustainable businesses, ethical careers, and stable families.
This imbalance creates a distortion of faith that spills over into society. If the church preaches that wealth results from “sowing a seed” (a financial donation) rather than ethical labour and wise stewardship, it inadvertently discourages the very virtues that build strong nations. We see this in societies where religious fervour is high, but corruption and economic stagnation persist. A robust theology of work, the “Protestant Work Ethic” as analysed by sociologist Max Weber, viewed labour as a divine vocation. Recovering this view is essential. We must preach that God blesses the work of our hands, not just the offering in the bucket.
The Eclipse of Christology
At the heart of this theological drift is a “dearth of knowledge on the personhood of Christ and his ideals.” In theological terms, this is a crisis of Christology. The Jesus of the modern prosperity pulpit often bears little resemblance to the Jesus of Nazareth.
The Jesus of the Gospels was born in a manger, had no place to lay his head, washed the feet of his disciples, and was executed by the state. He preached a Kingdom that is “not of this world,” where the last are first, and the meek inherit the earth. In contrast, the “urbanised” Jesus is presented as a guarantor of upward mobility, a celestial life coach whose primary function is to facilitate our personal ambitions.
When we lose sight of the personhood of Christ, his humility, his sacrifice, and his radical inclusivity, we lose the essence of Christianity. We are left with a religion about Jesus that ignores the teachings of Jesus. The church must return to a “Red Letter” focus, where the Sermon on the Mount is not just admired as poetry but adhered to as the constitution of the Kingdom. Without this, the spiritual legacy of this generation will be a hollow shell, a monument to materialism draped in religious language.
The Berean Deficit: The Consequence of Biblical Illiteracy
Let me poignantly note that, “because the people are not taught theology, they don’t have a deep knowledge of Christianity…. The people can’t discern the truth by studying the scriptures themselves. Unlike the people of Berea.”
This reference to Acts 17:11 is critical. The Bereans were commended because they “received the word with all readiness, and searched the Scriptures daily to find out whether these things were so.” They possessed a critical, investigative faith. In contrast, modern congregants often suffer from a “Berean Deficit.” They rely almost exclusively on the interpretation of the “man of God” rather than personal engagement with the Text.
This illiteracy is most visible in recent controversies, such as the debate over tithing. The confusion and vitriol surrounding such topics reveal a lack of hermeneutical tools, the ability to interpret Scripture in context, an understanding of the transition from the Old Covenant to the New Covenant, and a grasp of the spirit of the law versus the letter.
When a storm of doubt or tragedy hits, a faith built on second-hand revelation collapses. As Jesus described in the parable of the two builders (Matthew 7:24-27), a house built on the sand (emotionalism, populist preaching) cannot withstand the rain and floods. Only a house built on the rock (hearing and doing the sayings of Christ, grounded in sound doctrine) will stand.
Reconciling Faith and Reality: The “Seminarian Diet”
Leke Alder’s reflection offers a path forward: “I was fortunate to begin adulthood in a church focused on theology. The Sunday diet was seminarian… I was equipped to navigate the world of culture, business, politics, and society.”
This is the function of true theology because it is not an abstract academic exercise; it is the equipment for living. Theology is the lens through which we view the world. A “seminarian diet” implies profound, systematic teaching that covers the whole counsel of God; sociology, eschatology, apologetics, and ethics.
To navigate the complex worlds of culture, business, and politics, Christians need more than slogans; they need a worldview. They need to understand how to reconcile God’s sovereignty with the reality of evil. They need to know how to apply biblical justice to modern economics. They need to understand the nuances of “being in the world but not of it.”
- Cultural Engagement: Instead of retreating from the world or simply mimicking it, a theologically grounded church engages culture, transforming it through excellence and distinct values.
- Business Ethics: A grounded believer understands that business is not just about profit, but about service to the community and stewardship of resources.
- Political Engagement: Rather than being swayed by partisan rhetoric, a disciple grounded in Scripture looks at policy through the lens of justice, mercy, and humility.
The Imperative for a Course Correction
The diagnosis is precise: The current focus of many segments of the church on spiritism and radical prosperity is unsustainable. It produces a fragile faith, vulnerable to scepticism and ill-equipped for the rigours of modern life. The “fast food” approach to spirituality may fill the pews, but it starves the soul.
However, the solution is within reach as it requires a courageous pivot back to the foundations. Pastors and church leaders must prioritise the “slow food” of sound doctrine over the sugar rush of populist preaching. We must recover the full dignity of the person of Christ, not just as a saviour of souls, but as the Lord of all life. We must teach our congregations to think, to question, and to study like the Bereans.
If we can bridge the gap between the pulpit and the pew with robust theology, we will not only save the faith of the next generation, but we will also empower them to become the salt and light they were destined to be, men and women of depth, character, and enduring legacy.