The most dangerous moment in the life of the Church is not persecution from outside but rigidity from within. Across continents and denominations, a quiet shift is taking place. Many churches are no longer primarily shaped by discernment, prayer, and spiritual sensitivity. They are increasingly governed by systems, strategies, and structures borrowed from the corporate world. What was meant to serve the move of the Holy Spirit is now, in many places, replacing it.
In Nigeria, this internal rigidity has consequences that extend beyond spiritual dryness. Little wonder many churches and Christians find themselves vulnerable to terrorism, kidnapping, and moral decay. The Holy Ghost is real, Jesus is real, and the gifts of God are alive and available, but they are boxed, ignored, or even suppressed by human leaders who believe they know better than God. When divine guidance is constrained by human rules, congregations lose more than vitality; they lose protection, insight, and the spiritual authority meant to confront the world’s evils.
At the centre of this crisis is a simple but uncomfortable truth: when systems become supreme, the Spirit is sidelined. Meetings are timed, sermons are packaged, worship is scheduled to the minute, and growth is measured almost exclusively by numbers, revenue, and expansion. Leadership language mirrors that of boardrooms rather than upper rooms. Success is defined by attendance graphs and building projects, not by repentance, transformation, or the fruit of the Spirit. In such an environment, the Holy Spirit is no longer the one who leads; He is expected to fit into pre-approved plans.
This is not an argument against order. Christianity has always valued structure. Even the early Church organised itself, appointed leaders, and managed resources. But there is a crucial difference between structure that supports spiritual life and structure that suffocates it. In the book of Acts, systems emerged after the Spirit moved, not before. Today, many churches design elaborate frameworks first and then ask God to bless them. The order has been reversed.
One visible outcome of this shift is the growing sense of spiritual dryness among congregants. Many believers attend church faithfully yet feel untouched, unheard, and unchanged. They hear polished sermons but rarely encounter conviction. They participate in programmes but seldom experience prayer that wrestles with heaven. The fire that once marked Christian gatherings is replaced by predictability. Everything works, yet nothing burns.
This rigidity also explains why many young people are quietly disengaging from institutional Christianity. It is not faith they are rejecting but performance. A generation raised in an age of authenticity can easily sense when spirituality has been reduced to routine. They see churches that preach dependence on God but operate as if God is optional. When questions are discouraged, doubt is punished, and spontaneity is viewed as disorder, the Spirit’s voice becomes faint.
Commercialisation deepens the problem. In some spaces, the Church now mirrors a business enterprise more than a spiritual community. Branding, market dominance, and competition subtly replace humility, service, and discernment. The language of profit may not be spoken directly, but it shapes decisions. What draws crowds is prioritised over what shapes character. What sells is elevated above what sanctifies. The danger here is not wealth itself but dependence on wealth as validation of divine approval.
History offers sobering lessons. Every major revival in Christian history disrupted existing systems. From the early apostles to the Protestant Reformation to African indigenous revivals, the Spirit consistently refused to be boxed. Renewal often came not through established power structures but through prayer, repentance, and unexpected vessels. Institutions that resisted these movements in the name of order later found themselves spiritually irrelevant.
Theologically, this tension is unavoidable. The Holy Spirit, by nature, cannot be managed. He convicts whom He wills, moves when He chooses, and disrupts comfort zones. Any church that seeks total control will inevitably silence Him. When policies are valued more than prophecy and procedure more than prayer, the Church risks becoming efficient but empty.
Yet this is not a call for chaos or emotional excess. Spirit-led worship is not disorder; it is discerned obedience. It requires maturity, humility, and accountability. True spiritual leadership does not fear the Spirit’s movement because it trusts God more than control. It creates space for prayer, listening, and correction, even when these slow growth or unsettle routines.
There are encouraging signs. Across Africa, Asia, and parts of the West, small prayer movements, house fellowships, and renewal communities are emerging outside rigid institutional frameworks. They may lack resources, but they possess hunger. They may not be visible, but they are alive. These spaces remind the global Church that vitality does not come from strategy alone but from surrender.
The question facing modern Christianity is not whether systems are necessary but whether they remain servants or have become masters. A church can be well organised and still be spiritually dead. It can be financially successful and yet prophetically silent. The true test of a living church is not how smoothly it runs but how deeply it listens.
If the Church is to recover its spiritual authority in a fractured world, it must relearn an old discipline: waiting on God. This means slowing down, making room for prayer that is not rushed, worship that is not rehearsed, and leadership that is not afraid to admit dependence. It means recognising that the Holy Spirit is not a guest to be invited after decisions are made but the guide who must lead before plans are drawn.
When church systems replace the Holy Spirit, faith becomes routine and religion becomes predictable. But when the Spirit is restored to His rightful place, even the strongest systems learn to bend. Only a Church that bends before God can stand with credibility before the world. In Nigeria, where believers face spiritual and physical threats daily, it is a matter not only of faith but survival. The Holy Ghost, Jesus, and the gifts of God are real; the only danger lies in the human tendency to box the divine, assuming we know better than the Creator Himself.
The moment the Church chooses surrender over control, obedience over strategy, and listening over managing, it awakens a power far greater than any system: the living, active, guiding Spirit of God, who alone can protect, transform, and sustain the faithful.
– Inah Boniface Ocholi writes from Ayah – Igalamela/Odolu LGA, Kogi state.
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