Beyond the pulpit: When faith takes action

Babafemi Ojudu

I went to St Thomas’ Anglican Church in Akure for a funeral. What I saw there made me think about what a church should really be.

I was in Akure, Ondo State, recently to attend the funeral of my friend and professional colleague, Mr Tunde Akingbade. It was a sombre occasion. But while waiting for the service to begin, something caught my attention.

My car was parked directly in front of a Youth Skills Acquisition Centre.

Behind the church was a clinic.

Inside the same premises stood St Thomas’ School.

I looked again.

A church. A school. A clinic. A skills centre.

It was not the usual picture of a religious compound. And, for me, it raised a bigger question: What should a church give its people beyond sermons?

I have visited many churches and mosques across Nigeria, but I had never personally encountered this particular combination of spiritual, educational, medical and vocational services in one religious compound.

Perhaps there are many others. I had not seen them.

What struck me was the practical message behind the arrangement.

The person who walks into a church does not leave life’s problems at the gate.

A sick worshipper needs more than prayers.

An unemployed graduate needs more than encouragement.

A hungry family needs more than a sermon on prosperity.

A child needs more than Sunday School.

Faith matters. Prayer matters. But faith should move the hands as well as the lips.

That appears to be the thinking behind what I saw at St Thomas’.

And it is an idea worth spreading.

Nigeria is filled with young people searching for jobs and opportunities. Churches and mosques cannot employ all of them. But they can help prepare them for employment. They can establish skills centres, support apprenticeships, provide vocational training, fund small businesses and connect young people with opportunities.

They already have another powerful resource: their congregations.

A doctor can volunteer at a church clinic. A pharmacist can offer professional advice. A nurse can provide health education. An engineer can train young people. An artisan can teach a trade. A teacher can help struggling pupils. A lawyer can offer basic legal assistance. An entrepreneur can mentor someone trying to build a business.

Not every contribution has to be money.

Sometimes, what people need most is someone’s time, knowledge, experience or connection.

That is how a congregation becomes a community.

And that is why the St Thomas’ example is worth highlighting at a time when some of the country’s biggest and wealthiest churches are often associated with the extraordinary lifestyles of their leaders.

There is nothing wrong with legitimate comfort. But there is something unsettling about religious institutions accumulating enormous wealth while some of their members struggle to afford food, school fees or basic medical treatment.

A private jet can move a preacher from one city to another in comfort. But the resources spent acquiring and maintaining one could also support clinics, scholarships, vocational centres and small businesses.

The real question is not how wealthy a church is.

It is what that wealth does.

The greatness of a church should not be measured by the size of its auditorium, the number of cars in its car park or the luxury surrounding its leaders.

Measure it by the lives it changes.

Count the children it educates.

Count the young people it equips.

Count the sick people it helps.

Count the families it lifts from poverty.

Count the people who can say: When I needed help, my church stood with me.

Offerings should be treated as a sacred trust. Many worshippers give from incomes that are already stretched. They sacrifice because they believe they are contributing to God’s work.

That trust should produce more than impressive buildings.

It should produce human beings with better lives.

St Thomas’ Anglican Church has offered a different picture of what religious service can look like: faith expressed through action, compassion turned into institutions and worship connected to human development.

Churches and mosques across Nigeria can learn from it.

Build places of worship, yes.

But build people too.

Pray for the sick, but help them access treatment.

Preach hope, but create opportunities.

Encourage young people, but equip them.

Teach children faith, but educate them.

At its best, religion should not merely prepare people for heaven. It should help them live with dignity on earth.

That is what stayed with me after the funeral.

I hope to return to St Thomas’ one day, learn more about these initiatives and, if possible, contribute in my own modest way.

For now, kudos to Ven. Dr John Oso, Vicar of St Thomas’ Anglican Church, Isinkan, Akure, and the church’s other leaders and officials.

They have demonstrated a simple but powerful truth:

A church is most powerful when its preaching does not end at the pulpit.

Babafemi Ojudu is a Nigerian journalist who was elected Senator for the Ekiti Central constituency of Ekiti State, Nigeria, in the April 2011 national elections. He ran on the Action Congress of Nigeria (ACN) platform.