“The harvest is plentiful, but the labourers are few.” These words from the lips of Jesus in Matthew 9:37 once rang true, echoing a time when genuine ministers were scarce and the burden of evangelism fell on the shoulders of a faithful few. But in today’s reality, the inverse seems to be the case. The vineyard is now saturated with self-anointed labourers—many of whom, regrettably, appear neither called nor sent.
What we are witnessing is a troubling proliferation of individuals mounting the pulpit without spiritual conviction or divine commissioning. The reverence and solemnity that once defined the pastoral office have been replaced by theatrics, gimmicks, and exploitative doctrines. It is no longer unusual to find charlatans parading as prophets, turning the gospel into a bazaar of false promises and commercial spirituality.
A recent example is replete on social media, where Prophet Jeremiah Fufeyin allegedly declared that as long as you present your “first fruit” offering, your sins—even those committed as a fraudster—are automatically forgiven. That such a statement could be uttered from the pulpit is not only deeply troubling but theologically indefensible.
This is not the first time the said cleric has made headlines for controversial spiritual claims. He has previously unveiled items such as “miracle soaps,” “mustard seeds,” “healing waters,” and even “anointed perfumes,” all said to cure ailments, reverse infertility, and break spiritual curses. At one point, he reportedly introduced a “spiritual ATM card,” which he claimed could attract “destiny helpers”—provided, of course, the bearer paid USD 20 for the card, which expired in six months. I am still wondering why the card was not purchased with spiritual currency; faith.
More bizarre still is his introduction of a so-called “spiritual underwear” for women, ostensibly to open wombs and ward off spiritual husbands. Other items in his growing catalogue of “holy merchandise” include golden spoons, sugar sachets, and branded shirts—all carrying divine promises, none backed by Scripture.
In truth, Prophet Fufeyin seems more an ambitious entrepreneur than a divinely inspired shepherd. Yet, he is but one among many. Across Nigeria and much of Africa, we are seeing an explosion of prosperity preachers who have departed from the gospel of grace and repentance, choosing instead to peddle doctrines rooted in fear, manipulation, and materialism.
The doctrine of the “first fruit,” like tithing, is rooted in Old Testament Jewish practice—a system that pointed towards Christ but was never meant to replace His finished work on the cross. That anyone today would suggest that financial giving is a substitute for repentance or moral accountability is a gross distortion of Christian teaching.
The continuing allure of such doctrines lies in their profitability. Take away tithes, seed offerings, and “prophetic gifts,” and many of today’s pulpiteers would be exposed for what they truly are—religious opportunists. The obsession with monetary gain has reduced the Church, in some quarters, to a commercial enterprise rather than a spiritual sanctuary.
Indeed, our so-called prophets must be reminded that God is not interested in the fruits of our labour when our hearts remain impure. Even Cain brought an offering, but it was rejected—not for lack of value, but for lack of sincerity. A church that prioritizes money over morality, sensationalism over salvation, is one that has lost its compass.
The bigger question is: Why are such teachings gaining traction, and why are they seemingly tolerated? One cannot help but wonder if such absurdities could ever pass in Europe or North America, where legal and institutional safeguards limit religious exploitation. Why, then, is Africa fertile ground for such deception?
The answer may lie in a toxic mix of poverty, desperation, and systemic failure. In a country like Nigeria, where many are in search of hope, healing, and escape from hardship, the pulpit has become both a platform for exploitation and a mirror reflecting the people’s unspoken fears.
It is time for institutional intervention. While the government must tread carefully to respect religious freedom, it also bears the responsibility of protecting its citizens from psychological abuse and economic manipulation. Just as governments regulate other sectors, the activities of religious organizations should not remain exempt from scrutiny—particularly when lives, finances, and even mental health are at stake.
Lest we forget, history offers chilling mementos. The 1978 Jonestown tragedy in Guyana, where over 900 people died following the instructions of a self-proclaimed prophet, is a cautionary tale. We must not wait for a Nigerian equivalent before we act.
The gospel is meant to liberate, not enslave. It is a message of truth, not trade. Until those who claim to speak for God return to the foundational teachings of Christ—love, repentance, humility, and service—the Church risks becoming a hollow institution echoing empty promises.
Let us, therefore, sound the alarm—not out of spite, but out of sincere concern for the integrity of the faith and the souls of the vulnerable. The vineyard, once sacred and solemn, now requires not more labourers, but true ones.
