Nigeria’s megachurches

Bishop David Oyedepo, centre, founder of the Living Faith Church, also known as the Winners' Chapel, conducts a service for worshippers in the auditorium of the church in Ota district, Ogun state, about 60km outside Nigeria's commercial capital, Lagos. Hundreds of millions of dollars change hands each year in Nigeria's popular Pentecostal 'megachurches'.

Bishop David Oyedepo, centre, founder of the Living Faith Church, also known as the Winners' Chapel, conducts a service for worshippers in the auditorium of the church in Ota district, Ogun state, about 60km outside Nigeria's commercial capital, Lagos. Hundreds of millions of dollars change hands each year in Nigeria's popular Pentecostal 'megachurches'.

Published Oct 16, 2014

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When a guest house belonging to one of Nigeria’s leading Christian pastors collapsed last month, killing 115 mostly South African pilgrims, attention focused on the multimillion-dollar “megachurches” that form a huge, untaxed sector of Africa’s top economy.

Hundreds of millions of dollars change hands each year in these popular Pentecostal houses of worship, which are modelled on their counterparts in the US.

Some of the churches can hold more than 200 000 worshippers and, with their attendant business empires, they constitute a significant section of the economy, employing tens of thousands of people and raking in tourist dollars, as well as exporting Christianity globally.

But exactly how much of Nigeria’s $510 billion (R5.6 trillion) GDP they make up is difficult to assess, since the churches are, like the oil sector in Africa’s top energy producer, largely opaque entities.

“They don’t submit accounts to anybody,” says Bismarck Rewane, economist and chief executive officer of Lagos consultancy Financial Derivatives.

“At least six church leaders have private jets, so they have money. How much? No one really knows.”

When Nigeria recalculated its GDP in March, its economy became Africa’s biggest, as previously poorly captured sectors such as cellphones, e-commerce and its prolific “Nollywood” entertainment industry were specifically included in estimates.

There was no such separate listing for the “megachurches”, whose main source of income is “tithe”, the 10 percent or so of their income that followers are asked to contribute.

As the churches have charity status, they have no obligation to open their books, and certainly don’t have to fill in tax returns – an exemption that is increasingly controversial in Nigeria, where poverty remains pervasive despite the oil riches. The pastors argue their charity work should exempt them.

“We use the income of the church to build schools, we use the income of the church to serve the needs of the poor,” David Oyedepo, bishop of the popular Winners Chapel, said. “These are non-profit organisations.”

His headquarters, “Canaanland”, is a 4 250-hectare campus in Ota, on the outskirts of the commercial capital Lagos.

It comprises a university, two halls of accommodation, restaurants and a church seating 50 000 people, with a total overflow capacity of five times that.

“You can see that everything this man touches turns to gold,” Nigerian Agriculture Minister Akinwumi Adesina said in a speech at a reception for Oyedepo’s 60th birthday at Canaanland last month.

“May the grace of God abide with you,” he added, to a rapturous “Amen!” from the guests in a marquee.

Other dignitaries present included twice-president Olusegun Obasanjo and former military ruler Yakubu Gowon.

A choir sang gospel songs as the guests cut an elaborate six-tiered cake and popped fizzy grape juice out of champagne bottles in golden wrapping – alcohol is banned in Canaanland.

The next day, he delivered four Sunday services in a row to tens of thousands of cheering followers, his white-suited figure projected on to large flat-screen televisions all around.

“From today, no evil spirit, no demon will survive the Almighty!” he shouted, and the crowd roared “Amen!”.

A spokesman said the church had 5 000 branches across Nigeria, and 1 000 more in 63 other countries across five continents.

But Oyedepo’s empire also includes two fee-paying universities that he built from scratch, a publishing house for Christian self-help books, and an elite high school.

Other pastors have similarly diversified ways of getting the Gospel of Christian salvation out.

“Pastor Chris” Oyakhilome owns magazines, newspapers and a 24-hour TV station, and TB Joshua, pastor of the Synagogue, Church of All Nations draws miracle-seekers from all over the world with claims that the holy water he has blessed cures otherwise incurable ailments such as HIV/Aids.

Before Joshua built his 10 000-seat headquarters at Ikotun-Egbe in outer Lagos, the area was part swamp, part abandoned industrial estate.

Now, it is a boom town with shops, hotels, eateries and bars catering largely to the travellers who come not only from west Africa, but also from all corners of the globe to hear his sermons. Joshua also runs a TV station.

Guests entering Oyedepo’s birthday marquee in Canaanland would have seen a picture of the poor household in south-west Nigeria where he grew up, testament to a rags-to-riches story that many Nigerians would love to emulate.

“Blessing other people is a way of keeping the blessings flowing,” said Oyedepo, whose blessings include a Gulfstream V jet and several BMWs.

Asked about Forbes’s estimate of his fortune, Oyedepo said: “For me, to have fortune means someone who has what he needs at any point in time. I don’t see myself as having $150m stacked up somewhere. Whatever way they found their figures, I am only able to say I am blessed by the Lord.”

He said he could not estimate the church’s total revenues or expenditure on items such as salaries because the various departments, including education, were too diverse.

The enterprises on the Canaanland campus, from the shops selling cold sodas and bread, to a woman boiling instant noodles and eggs for breakfast in a lodge, to pop-up book stalls hawking Oyedepo’s prolific literary output, are owned by the church’s estate, which employs their staff on its payroll, workers said.

Winners Chapel’s Corporate Affairs department said the church employed more than 18 000 people in Nigeria alone.

Oyedepo says the wealth the church gathers is invested in expanding it, and that if he did not use a private jet, he would be unable to oversee its many foreign operations and still return to Ota every week in time for Sunday worship.

Britain’s Charity Commission says it is reviewing potential conflicts of interest in his finances, and last month the Home Office (interior ministry) barred him from Britain, though it declined to say why.

Oyedepo said he knew nothing of the commission’s review, nor had the Home Office explained to him why he was barred.

A national conference to debate Nigeria’s constitution this year proposed that the megachurches should be taxed.

But with an election coming up in February, it is debatable whether President Goodluck Jonathan, who is close to several megapastors, would risk upsetting these influential men and their hefty congregations with a fat tax bill.

“There is no single government input on these premises,” Oyedepo said.

“We supply our water, we make our roads, then you… say: ‘Let’s tax them.’ For what?”

Reuters

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