By Oyewole O. Sarumi
In the sprawling, vibrant corridor of African Christianity, a curious paradox thrives. We profess one Lord, one faith, one baptism, and one body, the holy, universal Church. We sing of being “one in the Spirit” with fervor that shakes auditorium roofs. Yet, on the ground, a different reality often unfolds.
A large Pentecostal megachurch with a television studio and a fleet of buses will bypass a struggling Presbyterian congregation three streets away, whose roof leaks every rainy season, to launch a “mission” to a distant city or even another continent.
A well-resourced diocese will invest immense capital in its own new cathedral complex while viewing the fledgling independent church in the next neighbourhood not as a fellow outpost of the Kingdom, but as a spiritual competitor poaching from its flock.
This is the saga of practical disunity, a tale where theological affirmations of oneness collide with the operational ethos of corporate religious branding. The call for churches to support one another in faith and resources is as biblical as the Great Commission itself.
The early church model, illustrated in Acts and the Pauline epistles, was one of cross-cultural, inter-congregational solidarity, where famine relief funds traveled from Gentile believers in Antioch to Jewish believers in Judea (Acts 11:27-30). Paul meticulously collected an offering from the churches of Macedonia and Achaia for the “poor among the saints in Jerusalem” (Romans 15:26), framing this financial transfer not as charity but as a debt of fellowship, a tangible expression of shared spiritual wealth.
Yet, in today’s African ecclesiastical landscape, this model is frequently inverted. Resource hoarding often replaces resource sharing. The language of “market share” and “brand visibility” subtly infiltrates pastoral strategy sessions. The result is a body of Christ that, in practice, resembles a fragmented marketplace of faith, where collaboration is the exception and isolated empire-building is the norm. This article, with a blend of factual analysis and satirical scrutiny, will dissect this phenomenon. We will explore the historical roots, the theological contradictions, the socio-economic drivers, and the palpable cost of this disunity, before charting a satirically pointed, yet profoundly hopeful, path back to the biblical vision of mutual flourishing.
The Anatomy of Isolation – How Did We Get Here?
1.1 The Colonial Legacy and the Birth of Denominational Fortresses
The current environment cannot be understood without the colonial and post-colonial imprint. Western missionaries did not just bring the gospel; they brought denominational distinctives, organizational structures, and a competitive spirit often rooted in the Reformation-era fractures of Europe. Anglican, Methodist, Baptist, and Presbyterian missions established not just churches, but parallel, self-sufficient ecosystems; schools, clinics, seminaries, that were often siloed from one another. The unspoken message was that fidelity to a particular theological tradition necessitated institutional independence, if not isolation.
The post-independence rise of African Indigenous Churches (AICs) and, later, the Pentecostal and Charismatic revolution, was in part a reaction to this foreign compartmentalization. However, these new movements often adopted and amplified the model of autonomous, leader-centric ministry. The “Man of God” with a direct pipeline to heaven became the cornerstone, and the church became an extension of his vision and personality.
This model, while dynamic and responsive, inherently resists collaboration. If the church is built on a unique, proprietary revelation given to one leader, partnering with another church built on a different leader’s revelation becomes theologically messy and a threat to brand identity. So, we can see why personal revelation trumps the already written Word of God, which is the origin of the present chaos in our faith!
1.2 The Prosperity Gospel and the Theology of Competitive Blessing
The infusion of a certain strain of the Prosperity Gospel has further cemented the walls. When divine favor is principally interpreted through the metrics of numerical growth, financial abundance, and infrastructural expansion, other churches naturally become benchmarks for comparison, not partners in mission. In this framework, resources are not merely tools for ministry; they are the visible trophies of spiritual victory. Sharing these resources with a “less blessed” or “less successful” congregation could be subconsciously viewed as diluting one’s own spiritual capital or acknowledging a flawed anointing.
This breeds a theology of ecclesiastical capitalism. The big church with the bigger auditorium is the “market leader.” Smaller churches are either potential acquisitions (through “absorbing” their members), minor competitors, or irrelevant entities. The biblical metaphor of the body (1 Corinthians 12) is reinterpreted through a corporate lens: the megachurch is the CEO (the head), and everyone else should ideally be a subsidiary branch office, not an independent entity with its own God-given calling. This mindset makes the idea of supporting a truly independent neighboring church seem like corporate espionage, strengthening a rival firm.
The High Cost of Kingdom Competition – Satirical Symptoms
Let us don the cap of the satirical diagnostician and examine the symptoms of this “practical disunity” syndrome that plagues the African church body.
2.1 The “Not Invented Here” Mission Strategy
A classic symptom is the Near-Church Neglect Syndrome. A large church will mobilize hundreds of volunteers, print thousands of tracts, and deploy its full media team for a city-wide crusade in a town 200 kilometers away. Meanwhile, the small Baptist church on the dirt road behind its granite-clad compound is conducting its own open-air evangelism with a handheld megaphone, a rickety generator, and a congregation of thirty faithful. The big church’s leadership would never consider pooling resources, co-branding the event, or simply lending its superior sound system. Why? The theology of collaboration is overridden by the brand management instinct. Joint ventures dilute brand recognition. What if people get saved and join the other church? The eternal destiny of souls becomes secondary to the earthly accounting of congregational gains.
2.2 The Siloed Suffering and Redundant Reinvention
Another tragicomic symptom is duplicated struggle. Five churches within a two-mile radius all run separate youth programs, each struggling with attendance, volunteer burnout, and a lack of creative ideas. Each pastor secretly bemoans the lack of dedicated youth ministers. The idea of a shared, inter-church youth ministry, with rotating leadership and pooled resources, is never seriously entertained. It would require sharing congregants, compromising on minor doctrinal distinctives for the sake of fellowship, and, heaven forbid, allowing a young person from Church A to be mentored by a leader from Church B. Better to have five anemic, failing programs that bear one’s own denominational logo than one vibrant, effective ministry that belongs to the whole body of Christ in the community.
2.3 The Theological Arms Race and the “Anointing” Monopoly
In this competitive landscape, resources for pastoral training become guarded commodities. A large church with a thriving “internship” or Bible school program views its curriculum and teaching roster as proprietary intellectual property, a key source of its competitive advantage. To offer these resources to pastors from other traditions would be to arm the competition. This fosters a culture where theological education is commodified and access is gated.
Simultaneously, a perverse hierarchy of “anointing” emerges. The famous televangelist with a global ministry is considered a higher-grade spiritual entity than the village pastor shepherding a flock of 50. Therefore, the flow of resources, invitations, and honorariums is always upward, to the “bigger” ministry, in hopes of some reflected glory. The biblical model of mutual honour within the body, “the parts that we think are less honorable we treat with special honor” (1 Corinthians 12:23), is inverted. The less “honourable” (read: less visibly successful) parts are ignored, while the already-honorable parts receive even more attention and resource.
Biblical Correctives and a Satirical Prescription for Unity
The diagnosis is bleak, but the Great Physician has provided a clear treatment plan in His Word. The path to recovery requires a radical, satirically framed but deadly serious return to first principles.
3.1 Recovering the Theology of the One Body (1 Corinthians 12)
Paul’s metaphor is not a gentle suggestion; it is a biological imperative. A body where the hand says to the foot, “I don’t need you,” or where the eye refuses to share its visual data with the ear, is a body in a state of psychosomatic delusion, on its way to paralysis and death. Satirically speaking, the African church often acts like a body where the liver is trying to become a whole human being, hoarding all nutrients and viewing the heart and lungs as irrelevant systems. The megachurch is not the whole body; it is, at best, a major organ. Its health is utterly dependent on the health of the smallest capillary in the furthest extremity. When the small church in the slum suffers, the whole body’s witness to Christ’s love in that slum is anemic. When the big church refuses to share its abundance, it is not demonstrating strength; it is exhibiting a spiritual form of autoimmune disease, attacking the very body it belongs to.
3.2 Embracing a Theology of Scandalous Generosity (2 Corinthians 8-9)
Paul’s fundraising campaign for Jerusalem is a masterclass in undermining competitive spirituality. He holds up the Macedonian churches, “their extreme poverty welled up in rich generosity”, as the model for the comparatively wealthier Corinthians (2 Corinthians 8:2). The standard is not giving from surplus, but giving from sacrifice, across deep ethnic and cultural divides. He frames it as a “test of the sincerity of your love” and a proof of the “grace that God has given” (2 Corinthians 8:8, 1).
Translated to our context: the true test of a Lagos megachurch’s “anointing” is not the size of its new auditorium, but the sincerity of its love for the struggling church in Makoko. Is it willing to share its grace, its resources, expertise, and encouragement, in a tangible, costly way? This is the scandalous economics of the Kingdom, where giving away resources doesn’t diminish power but demonstrates true spiritual wealth. As Jesus satirized the system of His day, “They love the place of honor at banquets… but you are not to be like that. Instead, the greatest among you should be like the youngest, and the one who rules like the one who serves” (Luke 22:25-26).
3.3 A Satirical Manifesto for Practical Unity: The “Foolish” Plan
Therefore, let us propose a “foolish” manifesto, one that in the wisdom of this world looks like corporate suicide but in the wisdom of God is the only path to life.
- The Tithe-of-Resources Pact: Let every large church commit a tithe (10%) of its non-staff operational budget, not to foreign missions first, but to the direct support of at least three smaller, unrelated churches in its immediate geographical area. This could be for roof repair, sound equipment, or a pastor’s stipend. Call it the Neighborhood Kingdom Tax.
- The Joint Venture Evangelism Decree: Let no church plan a major local evangelistic outreach without first inviting every other gospel-preaching church in a 5-mile radius to co-own and co-execute it. The branding must be generic: “The Churches of [City Name] Present the Love of Christ.” Souls are not denominational trophies.
- The Shared Resource Library Initiative: Let churches pool their theological books, training curricula, and even staff expertise. Let the charismatic church’s worship leader run a quarterly workshop open to all church musicians in the city. Let the Reformed church’s theologian offer a free monthly lecture on doctrine for any interested pastor. View it as open-source software for the Kingdom.
- The Reverse Honorarium Principle: When organizing conferences, let big churches deliberately seek out and pay significant honorariums to unknown but faithful pastors from small, difficult fields, to come and share their testimonies. Let the flow of finance and honor run toward the “weaker” parts, as Paul instructs.
From Empire to Ecosystem
The choice before the African church is stark: will it continue to build impressive, isolated empires, or will it cultivate a flourishing, interconnected ecosystem? The empire model promises prestige, control, and a clear metric of “my success.” The ecosystem model promises resilience, mutual fruitfulness, and a truer reflection of the Triune God, a community of perfect love, self-giving, and shared glory.
The satire in this critique is not born of cynicism, but of a deep, frustrated love for the bride of Christ. It is the satire of a family member watching the family business being run into the ground by siblings squabbling over who owns which office, while the real work goes undone. The world is not impressed by our competing cathedrals; it is won by our compelling, tangible love, for each other, first, and then for the lost (John 13:35).
The call to reconsider practical unity is a call to repentance and to joy. It is a call to lay down the heavy, lonely burden of being the biggest and the best, and to pick up the lighter, shared yoke of being a faithful part of Christ’s body. It is an invitation to experience the “surpassing grace of God” (2 Corinthians 9:14) that flows most freely not in the halls of solitary triumph, but in the humble, messy, and glorious work of building one another up. Let the African church lead the way not in the scale of its buildings, but in the scandalous depth of its fellowship. The world is waiting, not for another corporate religious giant, but for a glimpse of a truly alternative community, the one, holy, catholic, and apostolic Church.
