Once upon a time, the church was where sinners went to cry; now, it’s where stars go to shine. From the choir stand to global stages, from Sunday school benches to sold-out concerts, the Nigerian church has unintentionally become the most efficient factory of talent, leadership, and creativity this side of the Sahara.
Ironically, while the government keeps commissioning committees, the church keeps commissioning destinies. And while ministries of youth and culture struggle to define their purpose, the church has become the unofficial Ministry of Human Capital Development.
Take a closer look around. Who dominates our entertainment landscape today? From gospel-trained vocalists like Timi Dakolo, Waje, and Chidinma, to instrumentalists who first touched the keyboard at Wednesday rehearsals, the church has birthed more entertainers than the music industry could have hired with a billion-naira budget.
Even Don Jazzy – yes, the Don himself, was once a humble church drummer. Nathaniel Bassey? Trumpet player turned worship revolutionist. Mercy Chinwo, Ada Ehi, Eben, Tope Alabi, the list goes on. The church, especially the Pentecostal wing, has turned worship into artistry and turned the youth into purpose-driven entrepreneurs.
The connection between the church, entertainment, and youth development isn’t coincidental, it’s architectural. The church is not just a place of worship; it’s a leadership school disguised as a sanctuary. It gives structure to the restless, confidence to the timid, and purpose to the confused.
Every Sunday, thousands of young Nigerians get free mentorship on public speaking, stage management, media production, sound engineering, and even crowd control; all under the holy banner of “service unto the Lord.”
A child who starts by leading prayer or reading scripture could end up leading a movement or running a company. The church, without knowing it, has been grooming the next generation of influencers, innovators, and industry players.
Now, let’s talk education. When it comes to building minds, the Catholic Church remains a fortress of intellectual integrity. While some schools can’t differentiate between “mass” and “Mass,” the Catholics have continued to raise disciplined scholars, thought leaders, and moral soldiers.
From Marymount to Loyola Jesuit, Madonna to Veritas University, the Catholic Church has been running educational systems that government schools now use as prayer points. They don’t just teach academics; they teach ethics, service, and excellence. They build people who think before they act, a rare trait in today’s world of instant gratification and social media activism.
On the other side of the altar, the Pentecostals are busy shaping the entertainment sector. Their megachurches have become laboratories of sound, light, and performance. Their choirs are media studios in disguise. Their youth ministries double as startup hubs. From gospel concerts to skill acquisition programs, the Pentecostal church has mastered how to keep young people too busy to be idle and too visionary to be violent. The likes of Pastor Sam Adeyemi, Pastor Poju Oyemade, and even Pastor Chris Oyakhilome have raised a generation that thinks, sings, acts, and leads with spiritual confidence and digital competence
But here’s the satire: the same energy that builds billion-naira cathedrals could build billion-dollar industries. If we can construct 100,000-seat auditoriums with flawless acoustics, why can’t we build factories with flawless machinery? If we can raise world-class choirs, why not world-class coders? If we can host crusades that attract global attention, why not conferences that birth global inventions? The church has already proven it can organize, mobilize, and inspire. What’s left is to industrialize.
Let’s be brutally honest: the church is the only sector of the Nigerian economy that is truly thriving. Forget oil. Forget agriculture. Even telecommunications occasionally takes a nap. But the church? It’s awake, alive, and expanding faster than any government project. Auditoriums are springing up on every street corner – bigger, shinier, and more air-conditioned than the nearest hospital. If churches were factories, Nigeria would be exporting salvation in barrels.
Yet, therein lies the paradox. While we build spiritual empires, our physical economy still crawls. While we manufacture hope in abundance, we still import everything else. The time has come for the church to extend its anointing beyond the pulpit. The same zeal that fills a Sunday service should fuel industrial production on Monday morning. The same creativity that produces worship albums should produce technological solutions. The same coordination that fills stadiums for crusades should fill factories with workers and ideas.
To the church, I say this with holy sarcasm: congratulations, you’ve conquered the entertainment world and redeemed the youth from hopelessness. But now, it’s time to do business in the boardroom, not just in the choir room. The world is waiting for the first “Church of Silicon Valley.” Let’s turn prayer warriors into problem solvers, choristers into coders, ushers into engineers, and preachers into producers of solutions.
The truth is, the church has done an incredible job. It has raised singers, dancers, producers, actors, and speakers who now inspire millions. It has given direction to the confused and dignity to the jobless. But Nigeria doesn’t only need inspiration; it needs innovation. The gospel has gone viral; now, let the intellect go industrial.
Until the same passion that builds mega-churches is applied to building mega-industries, Nigeria will remain a nation of praying people waiting for a miracle instead of producing it. The miracle, dear Church, is already in your pews. It’s the talent, discipline, and creativity you’ve nurtured for years. All that’s left is to channel it beyond Sunday service.
So, dear pastors, choir masters, and youth leaders, thank you for raising our stars. Thank you for making the church the one functioning factory in this economy of excuses. But please, let’s raise our scientists, engineers, inventors, and economists too. The choir is loud enough. It’s time for the laboratory to start singing.
Because if the Church could turn a drummer into Don Jazzy, imagine what it could do with a data scientist.
This is the Sunday sermon from my holy pulpit!
