Jesus Christ writes open letter to Nigerian pastors

Hello, it’s me Jesus Christ.

I was at your church the other day but was turned away by the ushers. They said I was not properly dressed.

I had to wear a disguise to satisfy their minds before I was allowed in. I wanted to see you. There were too many barriers. I was first asked to fill a long form stating my name, my nationality, my occupation, and my problem before I could see “the man of God.” That’s one of your numerous titles, right? They even asked me to state whether or not I was born again.

There were so many people in the waiting room I was first led into. I later got to know there were seven waiting rooms to your office. Why is this so? How many “waiting rooms” do you go through before I answer your prayers?

Anyways, the rooms didn’t deter me. I was determined to see you.

To my surprise, though, one of your security guards told me I could buy my way to your office without having to wait. He said it would cost only N250,000. I had the cash in my pocket in all currencies but I thought it would be stupid of me to pay before I could see you. Don’t you think so too?

By the way, why do you keep security guards? Can’t you see the legion of angels standing guard all around you? Your guards even carry loaded guns! Whom are they going to shoot? The thief who’s coming to steal your money? The thief for whom I died, and whose life is ever precious before me? What has come over you?

It took me seven days to get into your office. I had to return each day after making a record of my “room progress” with your ushers. The one who asked for a bribe specifically made life difficult for me. But I didn’t mind. I had to see you.

Why did you make that face when you set your eyes on me? When you saw me as I entered your office, there was this look of “thank God it’s payday.” Don’t even deny it. I saw you.

Was it because of my obviously expensive tux? And I also saw you staring at my diamond-laced shoes as you rose from your seat to welcome me.

That wasn’t the reception your ushers gave me at the gate. I was dressed like a hopeless and starving ragamuffin who’d be blown away by a slight increase in the intensity of the wind. They thought I was crazy and so refused to let me in. That was why I went away and returned reloaded like the richest darn thing they’ll ever see.

The same look I saw on their faces at my second coming uncontrollably gushed from your body language when you saw me enter your office.

Was that why you offered me that oil you brought from your recent trip to Jerusalem? Why did it cost so much? I saw the look on your face as I politely told you I won’t sow a hundred million naira seed to get anointed. I Am The Anointing, remember?

But you were not surprised. I saw that too. You obviously had a “Plan B” as you quickly switched from “anointing oil” to your church building project.

I was shocked to the bone when you asked me to “donate to build a house for the Lord.” I was pained. The last time I hurt that bad was the day I was whipped and nailed to a cross for your sake.

And mind you, it was my death on that cross and my resurrection days later that freed you from all bondage – including the bondage of having to build me a house.

But I’m hurt that you haven’t only refused to let go of the chains; you now shackle your siblings with the same.

Yes, they are your brothers and sisters – all those church members who follow you about. Wait a minute. Why is it that you call them “Brother This,” “Sister that,” but they can’t call you the same? When was the last time someone called you “brother”? Why can’t they call your wife “sister”? Must she always be referred to as “Mummy G. O.”?

Was she the one I met in Waiting Room 5 having a chat with some young women? I waved to her and said “howdy?” She felt insulted. That wasn’t as surprising, though, as the reaction of the young women around her.

“Don’t you know this is Daddy’s wife?” one of them asked. I was like: “What da heck?!” But I didn’t say it out loud for fear of being thrown out. I was just two rooms from seeing you, and there was no way I’ll blow that chance.

Is it that you think you are superior? See, let me remind you: hierarchy only works with the people of the world and they take pleasure in asserting their authority and lording it over one another. But it’s not going to work here.

You’re not going to seat here and assume yourself “father” over your brothers and sisters. They, including you, have only one father and we both know who that is.

But it seems they’ve forgotten I am their Lord because instead of you leading them to me, you simply set yourself up as ruler over them. I didn’t send you those gifts so you could make merchants of men, did I?

And what’s it with these endless offerings? You even ensure your brethren dance to the front of the congregation to drop their “service offering.” This makes those who have no money feel ashamed, and you know that. In fact, that’s why you insist they dance to the front.

You didn’t see me the other Sunday when I sneaked into your church. I almost collapsed after hearing you publicly call out Brother Steve to come drop his offering. He had only N500 that day, and even that would not feed his family for the day. So he decided to put his family first, a choice I respect.

But you wouldn’t know because you didn’t seem to care. You called him out and he shamefully smiled and dropped the money. I had to sort him out afterwards.

And you keep telling your brethren it’s for the Lord’s service that you collect those offerings. Service to who? Haven’t you read in the main letter I wrote you that I didn’t come to be served but to serve?

You raise all manner of offerings, first fruits, and sacrificial seeds. You knowingly forget that my one and only sacrifice covers all. You limit the power of my cross. You deny the efficacy of my finished work.

Your brothers and sisters no longer believe I’ll do anything for them until they first do something for me. You reduce me to a mere man forgetting my ways differs from yours.

You’ve even convinced yourself and your brethren I’ll let the devil destroy them if they don’t give me a tenth of their income. Yes, I know you have proof for the tenth. But what useless custom and unnecessary ritual of yours can you not prove from the letters?

Even your siblings in the other churches whom you say are living in error have the basis of their errors in the letters. You all have missed the point.

See, all who came before me are thieves and robbers. I am the exact reflection of my father. If I don’t require it, then it’s not required. In deed, nothing is required other than you trust in what I offer. When I return for you, will I meet this kind of trust?

All I see now are the works of your hands with which you have littered the earth, and all in my name. I see buildings. I see structures. I see divisions. You erect cathedrals and tell people it’s my house. You tell them they can’t see me until they come into that thing. Is that what I told you?

I recall telling you to not forsake the gathering of one another. And I also promised that where two or three of you are gathered in my name, I will honour such gathering. I didn’t send you on a building construction spree, did I?

Because of these buildings my friends don’t feel at home with themselves anymore. They feel my presence in their bedrooms is inferior to that in your buildings, and even that is not as powerful as my presence on the altars you put inside these buildings.

It has got to a stage where they don’t even think I’m present if you’re not. Yet my Spirit lives in them. I love them with all my heart. I love you the same way.

I sent you to lead them to me, not to set yourself up a ruler over them.

Your friend,

Jesus Christ.

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