In many respects, the Church has become overwhelmingly regressive to Zimbabwe and to Africa’s broader progress. This is not a declaration of atheism, nor a rejection of God. I fear God. I believe in Him deeply, and I am convinced that He guides my life. Luke 1:37 — “For with God nothing shall be impossible” — is a verse that has sustained me through some of my darkest and most testing moments.
By Brighton Musonza
My faith is not accidental or superficial. I was raised in the Methodist John Wesley tradition and educated at a Presbyterian boarding school. In the United Kingdom, I have at times worshipped in Anglican churches, even sharing pews with senior figures of the British state, including the current Chancellor of the Exchequer. With this rich and varied Christian upbringing, I can say without hesitation that I am a believer.
Yet precisely because of that grounding, I must state this plainly and without apology: the Church, as it currently functions in Zimbabwe and across much of Africa, has become more of a hindrance than a catalyst to progress.
You may throw every theological stone at me if you wish. But deep down, I know this is not blasphemy. It is an argument born of faith, conscience, and lived reality.
Faith Versus the Institution
This is not an argument against God. Africa is not poor because it fears God. On the contrary, faith has been one of the continent’s greatest sources of endurance. It carried communities through colonial dispossession, slavery, apartheid, economic sanctions, and war. Churches were once centres of learning, moral courage, resistance, and social organisation.
The problem lies not with belief, but with what institutional religion has become.
Across large parts of Africa today, religion has drifted away from empowerment and toward passivity; away from liberation and toward dependency; away from critical thought and toward intellectual stagnation. Faith, which should sharpen moral clarity and discipline, has instead been repackaged as an escape from responsibility.
The modern African religious economy increasingly thrives on poverty rather than seeking to eliminate it. Suffering is normalised and even spiritualised. Hardship is reframed as destiny. Structural injustice is reduced to a spiritual attack. And failure — whether personal or national — is explained away as a test from God rather than a consequence of policy, governance, or economic choices.
Prayer Without Production
Too many churches encourage people to wait for miracles instead of building systems. Endless prayer meetings replace skills training. Prophecies substitute planning. Anointing oil is offered where capital, technology, and education are required.
Economic development is not mysterious. It demands discipline, productivity, industrialisation, innovation, infrastructure, scientific thinking, and accountable governance. It requires uncomfortable conversations about efficiency, corruption, competence, and reform.
Yet in many African societies today, religious authority rivals — and sometimes eclipses — civic responsibility. Pastors wield more influence than economists. Prophets command greater loyalty than planners or engineers. Political failure is explained in spiritual terms, absolving leaders of accountability and societies of agency.
In such an environment, questioning religious narratives is treated as heresy, even when those narratives actively undermine economic rationality and social progress.
The Dangerous Substitution of Faith for Responsibility
This is where the Church becomes dangerous — not because it preaches God, but because it replaces human responsibility with divine explanation. Structural collapse becomes “God’s will.” Corruption becomes a “spiritual battle.” Poor governance becomes a matter of prayer rather than reform.
Religion then functions not as a moral compass, but as a sedative — calming anger, dulling resistance, and pacifying populations while wealth is extracted, inequality deepens, and institutions decay.
Nations do not develop by prayer alone. No country has industrialised, educated its population, or built competitive economies through prophecy. They do so by confronting reality, organising society around productivity, rewarding competence, and investing relentlessly in human capital.
To say this is not to deny God. It is to refuse to insult Him by attributing human failure to divine intent.
A Question Africa Must Now Face
The real question confronting Africa is not whether God exists. It is whether religion, as currently practised, is aligned with development.
Can faith coexist with science, entrepreneurship, and institutional reform? Can belief inspire innovation rather than resignation? Can the Church return to its role as a force for discipline, justice, and excellence instead of escapism?
Or will it remain an opiate — a refuge from reality — while material conditions worsen?
True faith should disturb complacency, not comfort it. It should challenge injustice, not sanctify it. It should demand accountability, not excuse failure. It should inspire human excellence, creativity, and courage — not romanticise poverty or glorify suffering.
Africa does not need less God. It needs less manipulation of God.
The Church must decide whether it will continue to function as a sanctuary from responsibility, or whether it will undergo a moral and intellectual reformation that aligns faith with economic liberation and material progress. To raise this challenge is not blasphemy. It is, in fact, an act of moral responsibility.