Living Church, Dying Faith: The Hidden Crisis in Nigerian Pulpits
HOW IN THE WORLD CAN SOMETHING SO DEAD LOOK SO BEAUTIFUL?
This was the thought streaming through my mind as I watched on YouTube the lavish, multimillion-dollar spectacle that took place in April 2021 in Egypt, where 22 mummies, 18 dead kings and four queens, were transported from their former neo-classical Egyptian Museum to their new resting place at the National Museum of Egyptian Civilization.
With tight security arrangements befitting the Queen of England herself, the mummies were paraded with great fanfare in chronological order of their reigns, from the 17th Dynasty ruler, Seqenenre Taa II, to Ramses IX, who reigned in the 12th Century BC. The entire event was aptly named “The Pharaohs' Golden Parade.”
Now, I’m not a party pooper. I love a good outdoor celebration, and I certainly appreciate history. But I couldn’t shake the irony of seeing so much pomp and pageantry surrounding literal corpses. Despite all the shiny glitz and glamour, each of those once-mighty kings and queens was still as dead as they had been for thousands of years.
And it struck me: could this be a picture of what is happening in some of our churches in Nigeria today?
A recent survey by the Pew Research Center revealed that there are already more Christians in Africa than on any other continent, with Nigeria leading the charge. Nigeria’s Christian population, already the largest in Africa, is projected to double by 2060.
If you've visited or live in Nigeria, you've seen this growth firsthand. The explosion of church structures across cities and rural areas is impossible to miss. Sure, we have our share of mega-church sites, essentially small cities in their own right—complete with private security, residential housing, roads, supermarkets, banks, fun fairs, and even post offices. You could live your whole life inside some of these church compounds and never need to step outside!
But that's just the tip of the iceberg. For every mega-church, there are a thousand more average-to-medium-sized churches dotting every other block. In some cities, there are more churches than gas stations. In fact, if you threw a stone in Lagos, you’d probably hit a “House of Something” or a “Mountain of Something Else.” And good luck trying to drive through town without seeing billboards advertising yet another “Fire Conference,” “Prophetic Explosion,” or “Deliverance Crusade.” It feels like every roundabout has its own revival, and every street corner has its own self-appointed apostle.
With this kind of Christian saturation, you’d expect the Gospel to permeate every facet of Nigerian society, right? With a church on nearly every street corner, not to mention street preachers and Christian ministries filling the gaps, Nigeria should be a shining beacon of Christian hope for the nations, right?
Unfortunately, that’s not the case.
According to the Corruption Perceptions Index 2020 by Transparency International, Nigeria ranks as the second most corrupt country in West Africa and 146th globally out of 180 nations. You could argue about the merits of those rankings, but if we are honest, even we Nigerians know the realities of corruption all too well.
From the police force to the shipping ports, from the government senate to the street corner salesman, from university faculties to the lady at the petrol station who rigs the pump to keep counting money even when the fuel stops flowing (I learned this the hard way), corruption has taken up a comfortable retirement in our land. And yet, our abundance of churches, sermons, and religious events doesn’t seem to be making a dent in our everyday lives.
And that’s just outside the church. Within the church, the picture isn’t always brighter. Many Nigerian pastors have turned the House of the Lord into a den of robbers. Think I’m being too harsh? Type “Nigerian Pastors” into YouTube and see for yourself.
So, what’s really going on in our churches?
How is it that, on the surface, our churches appear spiritually vibrant, boasting explosive growth, overflowing services, and endless programs, yet up close, the transformation of our society seems absent? How is it that we can look so beautiful and yet be so spiritually dead?
It’s a hard question but a necessary one. Because if we, as pastors, don’t wrestle with this now, we risk leading a golden parade of our own, shiny, impressive, and utterly lifeless.
WHEN A LIVING CHURCH BECOMES A WALKING CORPSE
Jesus made a similar observation about the church in Sardis. In Revelation 3:1, He says, “I know your deeds; you have a reputation of being alive, but you are dead.” The MESSAGE translation puts it even more bluntly: “I see right through your work. You have a reputation for vigor and zest, but you’re dead, stone-dead.”
It’s a chilling indictment, isn’t it? And while none of us want to believe it, we have to ask: Could this same strong-worded letter be addressed to many of our churches in Nigeria today?
As pastors, it’s not easy to consider that our churches, perhaps even the ones we lead, might have all the signs of life on the surface but be spiritually lifeless underneath. It’s a hard pill to swallow, but the truth is, the church in Sardis managed to maintain a shiny reputation while spiritually flatlining. They had perfected the art of looking alive while being stone-cold dead.
But how does this happen? How does a church, known for its passion and vigor, end up on spiritual life support? How does a church with packed pews, vibrant choirs, and bustling programs become a mausoleum with a steeple?
I’ve seen dead things before. I’ve stood graveside with grieving families. I’ve watched the slow transformation of cows, goats, and chickens into dinner. I’ve witnessed organizations breathe their last. The one thing I have learned about dead things is this:
They look dead.
They smell dead.
They stay dead.
So, how is it that the church in Sardis, with its reputation for life, was spiritually comatose? And closer to home, how is it that many of our churches in Nigeria, despite being globally recognized for their rapid growth, exist in a nation marred by corruption, injustice, and spiritual apathy?
It’s time to look beneath the surface and ask the hard questions. As pastors, we must not only examine the spiritual pulse of our congregations but also our own hearts. Are we truly leading from a place of life and revival, or are we just maintaining the appearance of it?
3 SIGNS OF A DYING CHURCH
With that in mind, here are Four Signs of a Dying Church (or, if you’ve got a morbid sense of humor, four ways to tell if your church smells like dead people):
What I’m about to hit you with next isn’t just theory, it’s a mirror. And as uncomfortable as it might be, the only way to bring the dead to life is to confront the reality of death. Let’s get into it.
ONE: SPIRITUAL DEATH HAPPENS WHEN YOUR FAITH BECOMES MECHANICAL
As pastors, it’s easy for our faith to shift from a vibrant relationship with Jesus to a well-oiled machine of religious routines. Sermon prep becomes a task list item, prayer is scheduled between counseling sessions, and worship feels more like a prelude to the announcements than an encounter with the living God. When ministry becomes mechanical, we risk becoming like the city of Sardis, beautiful on the outside, but stone-dead on the inside.
Have You Fallen Into a Routine Faith?
Ask yourself: Do you still open your Bible out of a genuine hunger for God, or only when you need a sermon? When you lead prayer meetings, do you participate with anticipation, or are you mentally counting down until you can get back to “real work”? Are your public prayers vibrant, but your private prayers absent or rushed?
Sardis was a city with a rich history and an impressive reputation. It sat on a hill, seemingly secure and vibrant. But Jesus saw through the facade: “You have a reputation of being alive, but you are dead” (Revelation 3:1). The city’s overconfidence led to complacency. Twice in its history, Sardis fell to enemies who took advantage of its unguarded walls because its watchers fell asleep. Literally. Similarly, when our faith becomes mechanical, we let down our spiritual guard, making us vulnerable to burnout, temptation, and stagnation.
Mechanical Faith vs. Ministry Momentum
One danger of mechanical faith is mistaking ministry activity for spiritual vitality. The church calendar might be full, but if our hearts are empty, what are we truly offering to our congregations? Like Sardis, our churches might appear lively, with services, programs, and even (questionable) miracles, but Jesus evaluates the heart, not the hustle.
Sardis was also known for its thriving wool industry. Jesus’ promise that “They will walk with me, dressed in white, for they are worthy” (Revelation 3:4) is a reminder to pastors that the garments of our ministry, our roles, titles, and accolades, mean nothing if we are not clothed in righteousness. Our work in ministry should be a reflection of our walk with Christ, not a replacement for it.
Waking Up from the Routine
Jesus’ warning to Sardis was clear: “Wake up! Strengthen what remains and is about to die” (Revelation 3:2). For pastors, this means breaking free from routine and rekindling the fire of a personal relationship with Jesus. It means praying when no one is watching, worshipping without the pulpit in front of you, and returning to the simplicity of loving God for who He is, not just for what He can do through your ministry.
Sardis fell because its watchmen slept. Pastors, let’s not allow our ministries to collapse under the weight of routine and reputation. Instead, let’s return to our first love, embracing Jesus not as a means to an end but as the very source of life itself.
As Jesus instructed in Revelation 2:5, “Remember therefore from where you have fallen; repent and do the first works, or else I will come to you quickly and remove your lampstand from its place, unless you repent.”This is not just a call to our congregations; it starts with us. Our revival will spark the revival of our churches, and a revived church can transform a nation.
TWO: SPIRITUAL DEATH HAPPENS WHEN YOUR AFFECTION FOR THE PAST OUTWEIGHS YOUR VISION FOR THE FUTURE
As pastors, it's all too easy to get caught in the snare of nostalgia, those "good old days" when our churches were full, the choir hit all the right notes, and the anointing seemed to flow effortlessly. We replay past victories and wish for "those days" to return, yet spiritual death can creep in when our affection for the past overshadows our expectation for what God wants to do next.
Conversely, we can also become so fixated on future blessings and prophetic promises that we fail to walk in Christlikeness today. Nigerian pastors, in particular, know this struggle well. We operate in a culture where prophetic declarations often draw larger crowds than teachings on obedience, repentance, or sacrificial love. If we're not careful, we may find ourselves feeding our congregations nothing but a steady diet of "the next breakthrough," leaving them spiritually malnourished in the present.
I am not even exaggerating, here are a few real-life conference titles that I’ve seen on our streets and that that illustrate this imbalance:
“OH LORD, PLEASE RELEASE MY VISA” (Because, of course, God's primary will is for all of us to japa.)
“PRAISE WINE FOR 2025” (As if a catchy title is all we need for spiritual renewal.)
“GOD, GIVE ME A SPOUSE OR I DIE!” (Surely, no single person has ever lived a fulfilled life in Christ?)
“OPERATION: KILL YOUR ENEMIES!” (ignoring the fact that we were once enemies of God?)
With all these “prophetic promises” on the horizon, it’s no wonder so many believers (and yes, even pastors) struggle to live faithfully in the here and now. When our preaching prioritizes future blessings over present obedience, we cultivate churches full of people who are always waiting for God to "do something" while neglecting what God has already called them to be and do today.
In His letter to the church in Sardis, Jesus says, “I know your deeds; you have a reputation of being alive, but you are dead. Wake up! Strengthen what remains and is about to die...” (Revelation 3:1-2). Sardis was a city known for its past glories and wealth, but by the time Jesus addresses them, it had become a shadow of its former self, spiritually asleep and coasting on an outdated reputation.
For pastors, this serves as a sobering reminder: Are we leading our churches forward, or are we simply maintaining relics of the past? Are we equipping our people to live in the power of the Holy Spirit today, or are we merely hyping them up for "someday"?
Balancing Vision and Presence:
True pastoral leadership requires a balance. While we should have vision and anticipate God’s promises, we must also ground our congregations in the daily realities of walking with Jesus. Here’s how to do that:
Preach Present Obedience: Yes, God has great things in store, but how are we leading our congregants to honor God in their workplaces, families, and communities today?
Model Christlikeness Now: Instead of only sharing testimonies of past breakthroughs, share stories of current faithfulness. Highlight the joy of simple obedience, not just the exhilaration of fulfilled prophecies.
Avoid Prophetic Entertainment: Let’s not turn the pulpit into a stage for “prophetic performance.” There’s a fine line between proclaiming God’s Word and putting on a show.
Pastor, before you call your church to revival, make sure you are awake yourself. Like Sardis, we might still have “a few names” (Revelation 3:4) in our congregations who have not soiled their garments, those who are living authentically for Jesus. Let’s nurture them. Let’s strengthen what remains. And let’s remember that true spiritual life is not about the past we long for or the future we crave, but the faithful, Spirit-led obedience we live out today.
THREE: SPIRITUAL DEATH HAPPENS WHEN CHURCH IS ALL ABOUT “ME” RATHER THAN “THEM”
(And by “them,” I mean the people in our communities and regions who don’t yet know Jesus Christ.)
When Jesus rebukes the church in Sardis, He says, “…for I have found your deeds [your works] unfinished in the sight of my God.” (Revelation 3:2). The implication is clear: there was kingdom work to be done both inside and outside the church, but the Sardians had left it undone. They had grown complacent, perhaps comfortable, within their four walls, focused on themselves rather than the lost world around them.
As pastors, this warning should hit close to home. Jesus called us to be His witnesses in “Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” (Acts 1:8). The vision is expansive, starting locally but always moving outward. Yet, for many of our churches, the Great Commission has been reduced to the “Good Enough Commission”, as long as our local church is full, our programs are running, and our budget is met, we assume we are fulfilling God’s call.
The truth is, most of our churches rarely step beyond our own “Jerusalem.” We have an oversaturation of churches in southern Nigeria, sometimes two or three on the same block, while the northern regions remain largely unreached. It’s as if our missionary mandate hits an invisible wall at the borders of our comfort zones. And let’s be honest, it’s much easier to plant another church in a church-friendly zone than to take the gospel into territories where we might face resistance, discomfort, or sacrifice.
Where Are Our Missionaries?
We need to ask ourselves: Are we raising up and sending out missionaries to the north of Nigeria, to the unreached tribes, to the hard-to-reach places? Or are we simply recycling believers from one church to another, shifting sheep instead of saving souls?
I understand there is a long, complicated history of ethnic and religious conflict between Christians and Muslims in Nigeria. There are legitimate safety concerns, and the challenges are real. But when did Jesus ever say, “Go into all the world, unless it’s dangerous?” When did the Great Commission become the “Great Suggestion?”
Jesus hasn’t changed the mandate to “make disciples of all nations” (Matthew 28:19). He has not given us the luxury of choosing only to reach those who think like us, look like us, or speak the same language as us. The call remains, to go, to reach, to teach, to baptize, and to disciple, all peoples, everywhere.
The spiritual awakening we long for in our churches will only come when our hearts beat for those outside our church walls. When we start thinking beyond our own comfort, our own denominations, and our own traditions, and start sponsoring, training, and sending out missionaries, not just abroad but right here within Nigeria.
CONCLUSION: WAKE UP, PASTORS!
Jesus' words to Sardis are just as relevant to us today: “Wake up! Strengthen what remains and is about to die...” (Revelation 3:2). The alarm is sounding, and the time for hitting the snooze button is over. Our churches may have a reputation for being alive, our programs polished, our buildings bustling, but if we are not actively pursuing the mission of Jesus, we are on spiritual life support.
Pastor, ask yourself:
Are my sermons challenging my congregation to reach the lost, or are they just feeding the already fed?
Is my church’s budget reflecting a heart for missions, or is it just maintaining our status quo?
Am I modeling a passion for evangelism and discipleship, or am I more comfortable with keeping things as they are?
The Lord Jesus Christ is calling out to us, to our churches, and to our ministries:
“Awake, O sleeper, rise up from the dead, and Christ will give you light.” (Ephesians 5:14).
If we wake up, strengthen what remains, and refocus on our missionary mandate, we will see revival, not just in our churches but in our communities, our nation, and to the very ends of the earth. Let’s not settle for looking alive. Let’s truly live, breathe, and embody the mission of Jesus Christ.
