From a development perspective or otherwise, the growth of Christianity in Africa is a fascinating topic. Only a generation or two after the colonialists were violently ejected from the continent, Christianity is flourishing in Africa like nowhere else: “During the 20th century, the population of Christians in Africa grew from 10 million to around 360 million, and that could double by 2025.”

With around 130 million African Christians belonging to the Roman Catholic Church, speculation about a non-European pope is understandable. Increasingly assertive African Anglicans have threatened a split in the Anglican Church over the issue of homosexuality. As I previously blogged about my time in Zambia, admitting that one is not Christian, or worse yet not religious, is generally met with bewilderment.

Yet in no way is the spread of African Christianity more visible than in Pentecostalism, a loose umbrella of various “born again” evangelical sects, often locally based throughout African communities. Popular for its lively style of worship, replete with singing and dancing, Pentecostalism in Africa is a force to be reckoned with. (At UNHCR, I often came across forms where refugees wrote their date of birth in the appropriate section, then added the day they were “born again” alongside.)

Pentecostalism began as a movement among African American Christians one hundred years ago. It now accounts for some 600 million people, a tenth of the planet. In Africa, as elsewhere, it is localized and home-grown – a far cry from the missionaries who first introduced Christianity to Africa. In fact, the inspiration for this post is a fascinating NYT Magazine article that documents a new and fast-growing missionary movement, but not the kind you’re thinking.

In “Mission from Africa,” Andrew Rice tells the intriguing story of the Redeemed Christian Church of God, a Nigerian Pentecostal church that now boasts millions of followers in more than 100 countries worldwide. Among their areas of growth? The United States, where they are “church planting” with formidable speed. By the end of last year, the church claimed to have 374 parishes across the country.

Redeemed missionaries in the U.S. start by targeting the African diaspora, then move outward – to African Americans, Hispanics, other immigrant communities, and so on. They reach out to the needy, promising economic security through prayer. Their missionary strategy is of particular interest:

The most Americanized aspect of the church, though, is its missionary strategy, which bears a striking resemblance to the business plan of a successful corporate chain — like Wendy’s, for instance. For now, in the United States, the emphasis is as much on erecting infrastructure as on making converts. Enoch Adeboye would prefer to have many small parishes rather than a few megachurches. So the Redeemed spread through a process similar to mitosis. When a parish reaches a certain size, it is encouraged to divide in two, with part of the congregation moving to a nearby location, usually with a newly ordained pastor, a process that the Redeemed, adopting a bit of American evangelical lingo, call “church planting.”

With keen business sense, the church utilizes DVDs, online sermons and daily text messages (“believed to offer divine protection”). But my feeling is that their growth amounts to more than flimsy promises of financial reward, or strategic business planning. In this outsized Nigerian church, Americans find an exuberance that they like.

Religious expression in Africa is an omnipresent element of life: pastors are celebrities, waiters quote Scripture, gospel music plays in government offices and secular newspapers report miracles with the same credence they extend to soccer scores. Salvation is never too far away.
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Even by the passionate standards of Africa, the Redeemed are renowned for the intensity of their prayer. In Nigeria, it has been called “the weeping church.”

There is nothing simple or straightforward about this story. If reading about these missionaries leaves a funny taste in your mouth, it does in mine too. The business of religion is always disconcerting.

I find this story interesting for obvious reasons – it flips the old Eurocentric missionary story – and also because it speaks to the curious relationship between religion and business. For the financially savvy in Africa, the church – like the civil service and “not-for-profit” work – can be the surest path to wealth. Profit in prophecy. For better or for worse, however, new and powerful African churches are here to stay – and sooner or later you won’t have to fly overseas to find one!

Kabwata Church of the Nazarene, Lusaka, Zambia, January 2009.