By Oyewole O. Sarumi
In the grand collection of memories and experiences of church history, particularly within the vibrant and explosive growth of Christianity across Africa and the diaspora, we are witnessing a phenomenon that is as dangerous as it is subtle. It is not the threat of external persecution, nor is it the encroachment of secular humanism. The greatest threat to the contemporary church is the “Eclipse of the Son”, a condition where the spiritual leader, often charismatic and gifted, slowly moves to stand in front of the Light of the World, casting a shadow over the very people he is meant to illuminate.
We often assume that a compromised church is one where sin is rampant or where the Bible is closed and never read/study. I like to present for our reflection today, a more chilling reality according to Ninyo Omidiji on his FB page: a leader might teach holiness with fiery precision; he might preach from the Bible with exegetical skill; he might even demonstrate power that makes the lame walk and the blind see. Yet, if that assembly fears, adores, and talks about the leader more than they do God, it is not a Church of Christ. It is a cult.
This distinction is vital for us as Christian leaders. We operate in a cultural context, both in Africa and in diaspora communities, that deeply respects authority. The “Big Man” syndrome, a sociological reality in our political and social spheres, has bled into the sanctuary. We have inadvertently created a theological ecosystem where the “Man of God” is treated as a distinct species, a demigod whose words carry the weight of scripture and whose presence commands the reverence due only to the Trinity. This article seeks to dissect this modern idolatry, contrast it with the biblical models of John the Baptist and Paul, and call us back to the posture of the bondservant.
The Anatomy of Ecclesiastical Narcissism
The transition from a shepherd to a cult leader is rarely instantaneous. It is a slow drift, often fueled by the adoration of the crowds and the leader’s own unmortified ego. These leaders “use different ways to point attention to themselves by making outlandish claims and telling fables.” This aligns with what sociologists of religion call “Charismatic Authority,” where legitimacy is drawn not from tradition or law, but from the perceived extraordinary qualities of the individual.
In many of our congregations, this manifests in the “Myth of Exclusivity.” The leader subtly suggests that they have a special access to God that the ordinary believer cannot attain. They become the necessary bridge. “I heard from God for you,” becomes the standard operating procedure, rather than teaching the believer to hear God for themselves. This creates a spiritual dependency that is the hallmark of a cult.
We must be intellectually honest enough to admit that miracles are not the ultimate validation of a ministry’s health. Matthew 7:22-23 is perhaps the most terrifying passage for any minister: “Many will say to Me in that day, ‘Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied in Your name, cast out demons in Your name, and done many wonders in Your name?’ And then I will declare to them, ‘I never knew you; depart from Me, you who practice lawlessness.’”
Notice that Jesus does not deny that the miracles occurred. He denies the ‘relationship’. The “lawlessness” here is not necessarily about violating the Ten Commandments, but about a ministry that operated outside the relational governance of the King. When a leader builds a platform where he is the celebrity and Jesus is merely the mascot, he is practicing spiritual lawlessness.
The “John the Baptist” Standard: The Theology of Decrease
If we are to correct this trajectory, we must look to the “gold standard” of transitional leadership: John the Baptist. The precursor to the Messiah, John held a status in ancient Judea that rivals any modern “Super Pastor.” He had the crowds, the disciples, the prophetic mandate, and the miraculous birth narrative. Yet, his ministry was defined by a singular, relentless drive to become invisible.
When John’s disciples came to him, concerned that Jesus was baptizing and “all are coming to Him” (John 3:26), John did not panic. He did not launch a PR campaign to retain his market share. His response in John 3:30 is the mantra every Christian leader should tattoo on their heart: “He must increase, but I must decrease.”
This is not false modesty; it is theological precision. John understood the “Friend of the Bridegroom” (shoshben) principle. In Jewish custom, the friend of the bridegroom arranged the wedding and guarded the bridal chamber. But once the groom’s voice was heard, the friend’s joy was complete. If the friend tried to keep the bride’s attention on himself after the groom arrived, he would be a traitor.
In our context, the Church is the Bride, and Christ is the Groom. The pastor is the friend. When we use our charisma, our eloquence, or our “anointing” to seduce the Bride into falling in love with us, into depending on us, fearing us, and obsessing over us, we are not just bad leaders; we are spiritual adulterers. We are inserting ourselves into a sacred union where we do not belong.
Consider the events of John 1:35-42. John stands with two of his own disciples. He sees Jesus and says, “Behold the Lamb of God!” The text says, “The two disciples heard him speak, and they followed Jesus.” They left John. They didn’t ask for John’s permission to start a branch; they simply left. And John was successful because they left.
In today’s church culture, if a member leaves a “spiritual father” to follow a deeper call of Christ elsewhere, it is often branded as betrayal or rebellion. We have monetized loyalty. But the John the Baptist model teaches us that our success is measured by how effectively we can attach people to Jesus, even if it means they no longer need us.
The Bondservant Paradigm: Paul’s Antidote to the “Man of God” Syndrome
The Apostle Paul, writing to the Corinthian church, a community that loved personality cults, had to address this very issue. The Corinthians were dividing themselves: “I am of Paul,” “I am of Apollos,” “I am of Cephas” (1 Corinthians 1:12). They were treating apostles like celebrity philosophers.
Paul’s rebuttal in 2 Corinthians 4:5 is sharp: “For we do not preach ourselves, but Christ Jesus the Lord, and ourselves your bondservants for Jesus’ sake.”
The Greek word Paul uses for “bondservant” is ‘doulos’, a slave. This is a stark contrast to the titles we see proliferated today: “Major 1,” “Seer,” “The Oracle,” “Daddy,” “Papa.” While there is a biblical place for honor, there is no biblical place for a caste system that elevates the leader to a mediator. If you disagree, then show me where in the Holy Scriptures.
Paul explains that his authority does not make him a master of the people, but a slave to the people for Jesus’ sake. A slave does not have a personal agenda. A slave does not build a personal empire. A slave exists to facilitate the master’s will.
When a leader preaches themselves, they centre their own experiences, their own victories, and their own “special revelation” as the canon for the church. You hear it in the language: “My God,” “My covenant,” “The God of [Insert Pastor’s Name].” While these phrases can have innocent origins, they often calcify into a theology where the congregant believes God is only accessible through the leader. This is a return to the Levitical priesthood which Christ abolished. We are all a “royal priesthood” (1 Peter 2:9). Any leader rebuilding the veil is working against the finished work of the Cross.
The Psychology of the Cultic Church
Why do these personality cults thrive? Why do people “cheer” as the text suggests, even when they are being spiritually fleeced?
- The Abdication of Responsibility: It is easier to pay a “prophet” to hear God for you than to discipline yourself to study the Word and pray. The “Man of God” becomes a spiritual proxy. The congregation outsources their spirituality, and the leader is happy to accept the contract because it brings power and profit.
- The Fear Factor: Cultic leaders often rule by fear, not love. They create narratives of doom: “If you leave this covering, you will lose your protection,” or “If you don’t honor me, your business will fail.” This is witchcraft masquerading as pastoral care. The Bible says, “Perfect love casts out fear” (1 John 4:18). If the primary emotion in a church is fear of the leader, Christ is not the head of that house.
- The Idol of Success: In a hyper-capitalist world, we have equated large numbers and financial wealth with divine approval. If a leader fills a stadium, we assume God is with him. But history teaches us that crowds are poor indicators of truth. The same crowd that welcomed Jesus on Palm Sunday screamed “Crucify Him” on Friday. A leader building a cult will always prioritize the “crowd” (fans) over the “church” (disciples).
Discerning the Wolf in Shepherd’s Clothing
How do we, as leaders and believers, identify when a ministry has crossed the line from Christ-centered to leader-centered?
- The Name Test: Who is the hero of the stories told from the pulpit? If every illustration features the pastor’s triumph, power, or special insight, the focus has shifted.
- The Criticism Test: Can the leader be questioned? A true shepherd welcomes scrutiny because truth has nothing to hide. A cult leader views any question as “touching the Lord’s anointed” and responds with wrath or expulsion.
- The Dependency Test: Does the ministry empower people to stand on their own, or does it create a permanent need for the leader’s intervention? If you have been under a leader for 10 years and still cannot pray for yourself, you have not been discipled; you have been domesticated.
The Call to Step Aside
The duty of a pastor is, as Ninyo beautifully puts it, “to introduce people to their Saviour and step out of the way.” This “stepping out of the way” is the hardest part of ministry because it requires the death of the ego. It requires us to be content with being forgotten so that He might be remembered.
For the audience across Africa and the diaspora, where the pressure to be a “Big Man” is immense, this is a counter-cultural revolution. We need leaders who are secure enough in their identity in Christ that they do not need the worship of the pew to feel validated. We need leaders who will tear down the billboards of their own faces and raise the banner of the Cross.
To my fellow labourers in the vineyard: Let us examine our hearts. Are we building a bride for Christ, or a harem for ourselves? Are we pointing men to the Lamb, or are we demanding they kiss our rings, bow before us, or be our servants?
And to the flock: “Friends, avoid preachers who preach themselves.” Do not be dazzled by the suit, the stage, or the spectacle. Look for the scars of service. Look for the humility of the bondservant. Look for the leader who, when you try to applaud him, points frantically to the One standing behind him.
In the end, there is only one Name given under heaven by which we must be saved. It is not the name of a Bishop, an Apostle, or a General Overseer. It is the name of Jesus. Any ministry that obscures that Name is a distraction, and any leader who competes with that Name is a usurper.
This is the last word: “He must increase. We must decrease.” There is no other way.
