African Christians reverse colonial missionary flow, bringing 'fervent faith' to the West

The fire is leaving the West. We're going back to show them what He can do.
African pastor Jerry Eze on why he sees his ministry as a spiritual calling to Europe and North America.
Mark

So Jerry Eze fills 82,000 seats at Twickenham. That's a real number—he actually did that?

Mimi

Yes. Two years ago. And he's preparing to do something similar at Old Trafford in Manchester with nearly 100,000 registered. These are documented events.

Luke

But who's in those seats? That matters. Is it Africans living in London, or is it Westerners seeking spiritual renewal?

Mimi

Mostly Africans and diaspora communities, from what the reporting shows. Eze said many attendees are Black, but some are White.

Luke

So "some are White" is doing a lot of work there. We don't have numbers. We know the stadiums fill, but we don't know the actual demographic breakdown.

Mark

Why does that distinction matter?

Mimi

Because the whole narrative hinges on whether African Christianity is actually reaching Western populations or whether it's primarily serving people who already share that cultural and religious background.

Luke

Exactly. The reporting is honest about this—Iorlamen says they're "not growing among the Whites. They are growing among the migrants." But then Kumuyi says the goal is to reach beyond diaspora. Those are two different things.

Mark

Is the movement succeeding or not?

Mimi

It's succeeding at what it's actually doing—drawing large crowds, sending thousands of missionaries, establishing churches. But whether it's reversing Western religious decline is still unclear.

Luke

And Kwiyani is pretty skeptical. He says the West has moved on from Christianity, that it's a demanding religion most Westerners don't want. That's a real constraint on the whole project.

Mark

So this could be a story about African diaspora communities finding spiritual homes, not about converting the West.

Mimi

It could be. The reporting doesn't hide that possibility. It just hasn't been resolved yet.

  • Nigerian pastor Jerry Eze filled an 82,000-seat London stadium, a moment that crystallized a seismic shift in who carries the Christian mission and in which direction.
  • Nigeria alone sent an estimated 20,000 missionaries abroad in 2020, while Christian identity in the United States has fallen to 62 percent and Europe continues its steady drift away from the faith.
  • African missionaries arrive bearing conservative theology, miracle-centered worship, and a pointed diagnosis — that the West has lost its spiritual fire and needs to be re-evangelized on its own soil.
  • The movement's reach remains contested: African churches in the West are growing, but largely among migrant communities, and theologians caution that most Westerners have simply moved on from Christianity altogether.
  • Leaders like Tshepang Basupi reject the framing of 'reverse mission' entirely, arguing that mission belongs to every believer and that African and Western missionary efforts should be understood as equal partnership, not historical correction.

For centuries, the missionary current flowed from West to Africa, carried on the same ships as colonial ambition. Now, a generation of African Christians is reversing that tide, filling European stadiums and planting churches in North American cities, driven by the conviction that the faith their ancestors received has grown cold in the hands of those who first delivered it. The numbers lend weight to their sense of calling: Christianity is contracting across Europe and North America even as it surges across Africa, and the question of whether fervent African faith can rekindle something lost in the West — or whether it will find its audience only among diaspora communities already searching for home — may well shape the next chapter of global religion.

Two years ago, Nigerian pastor Jerry Eze stood backstage at Twickenham Stadium in London, staring at 82,000 empty seats and fearing the worst. Then the doors opened, and the crowd came — thousands of worshippers filling the vast arena until it roared. For Eze, the night felt like confirmation of something larger than a single event: an African preacher commanding one of the world's great venues, in the heart of a continent that once sent missionaries to his own.

For generations, Christian mission moved in one direction — from Europe and North America into Africa, often entangled with colonial power. That history still shapes how many Africans understand the word 'missionary.' But the current is shifting. By 2020, Nigeria alone had sent an estimated 20,000 missionaries abroad, up from roughly 18,400 across all of Africa in 2008. Organizations like CAPRO now deploy missionaries across 46 nations, including teams working among indigenous communities in Canada. The backdrop is statistical as much as spiritual: Africa added 697 million Christians between 2010 and 2020, while the share of Christians in Europe fell from 75 to 67 percent and in North America from 77 to 63 percent over the same period.

African missionaries describe themselves as filling a void. Eze calls himself 'a missionary to the West,' arguing that African Christianity carries a fervency and reliance on the supernatural that Western faith has lost. Pastor William Kumuyi speaks of 'unreserved faith and fervent prayer' as gifts Africa can offer back. Malawian theologian Harvey Kwiyani, who studies this movement from England, notes that African missionaries also bring conservative theological positions — on sexuality, on lifestyle — and see themselves as calling the West back to what they consider authentic Christian values.

Yet Kwiyani is measured about how far the movement can reach. Most Westerners, he argues, have simply moved on from Christianity, and the faith asks too much of people who no longer feel its pull. The evidence on the ground is mixed: African churches in the West are growing, but primarily among diaspora communities seeking familiar worship, not among the broader host population. CAPRO's international director acknowledged as much plainly — 'They are not growing among the Whites.'

Still, African leaders insist their ambitions are wider. Eze's conferences are beginning to draw some White attendees, and he is preparing to return to Britain for a gathering at Manchester's Old Trafford, with nearly 100,000 registered. Basupi, from Botswana, rejects the term 'reverse mission' altogether, arguing that mission was never the West's alone to give. Eze frames the moment with a kind of theological reciprocity: 'They preached God to us. We accepted Him. Now we're going back to show them what He can do.' Whether that promise finds an audience beyond the diaspora — or whether it marks something genuinely new in the long, complicated story of Christian mission — remains the defining question.

Two years ago, Nigerian pastor Jerry Eze stood in the wings at Twickenham Stadium in London, looking out at 82,000 empty seats and wondering if he had made a terrible miscalculation. The vast rugby arena stretched before him, row after row of silence. Then the doors opened. Worshippers began filing in—not in dozens or hundreds, but in thousands—until the stadium was full. When Eze took the stage that night to lead a prayer conference, he felt the weight of what was happening: an African preacher commanding one of the world's largest venues, drawing a crowd that would have been unimaginable a generation earlier.

What Eze witnessed at Twickenham was not an anomaly but a reversal of centuries of religious geography. For generations, Christian missionaries flowed in one direction: from Europe and North America into Africa, often arriving alongside colonial armies and becoming entangled in the machinery of empire. That pattern shaped how millions of Africans understood Christianity itself—as something foreign, something imposed. The United States remains the world's largest sender of missionaries today, and American missionary work in Africa continues; just last year, Kevin Rideout was released after nine months in captivity in Niger, where he worked with SIM International, an organization that has operated there for over a century.

But the current is shifting. A new generation of African Christians is moving in the opposite direction, bringing their faith to Europe and North America with a confidence and fervor that is drawing crowds and reshaping what Christian mission looks like. In 2008, roughly 18,400 African missionaries were working abroad. By 2020, Nigeria alone had sent an estimated 20,000 missionaries overseas. CAPRO, a Nigerian mission organization, now deploys more than 800 missionaries from 27 countries across 46 nations, including Canada, where teams work among indigenous communities. The numbers tell a story of momentum: Christianity is surging in Africa—the continent added 697 million Christians between 2010 and 2020, a 31 percent increase—while it is contracting in the West. In Europe, the share of Christians fell from 75 percent in 2010 to 67 percent in 2020. In North America, it dropped from 77 percent to 63 percent over the same decade. In the United States, only 62 percent of adults identified as Christian in 2023-24, while 29 percent claimed no religious affiliation.

African missionaries argue they are filling a spiritual void. Eze describes himself as "a missionary to the West" and says African Christianity offers something the West has lost: what he calls "fervency and zeal," a passion rooted in African practice and culture. "The fire is leaving the West," he said. Other African pastors echo this diagnosis. William Kumuyi, whose Global Crusades have taken him across continents, speaks of African Christianity as characterized by "unreserved faith, fervent prayer, and reliance on God's supernatural intervention"—qualities he believes Western societies desperately need. Harvey Kwiyani, a Malawian theologian based in England who studies African Christianity's role in the West, notes that African missionaries are also bringing conservative theological positions on sexuality and lifestyle choices, including the view that activities like attending pubs are incompatible with Christian faith. They see themselves as re-evangelizing the West, calling it back to what they consider authentic Christian values.

Yet Kwiyani is cautious about how far this movement can reach. The West, he argues, has largely "moved on from Christianity," and many people there no longer consider themselves religious at all. "Christianity itself is a very demanding religion," he said. "It requires you to shift your culture so you can be shaped by this golden spirit that most Westerners don't really want to deal with at the moment." The reality on the ground reflects this complexity. African churches in the West are growing, but primarily among migrant communities—Africans and other diaspora populations seeking familiar forms of worship. A 2021 World Council of Churches study found that migration is driving the growth of minority churches in some European countries, but as Dondo Iorlamen, the international director of CAPRO, acknowledged, "They are not growing among the Whites. They are growing among the migrants, especially Africans."

Still, some African leaders insist their ambitions extend beyond diaspora communities. Kumuyi said that while migrant populations often provide an initial foothold, the goal is to reach the broader host population. Eze's conferences now draw some White attendees alongside predominantly Black crowds, and he is preparing to return to Britain for a conference at Manchester's Old Trafford stadium, with nearly 100,000 people registered. Tshepang Basupi, the Southern Africa director of Africa Inland Mission and himself from Botswana, oversees more than 100 missionaries and rejects the term "reverse mission" altogether. "Mission is not for the West only; it is for every believer," he said. He also insists that Western missionaries remain necessary in Africa and that the two flows should be understood as equal partnership, not replacement.

The movement does carry historical weight. The word "missionary" itself still evokes colonialism for many Africans—the memory of religious workers who collaborated with imperial powers to subjugate populations. Iorlamen acknowledged this directly: "Some people don't like it. It reminds them of colonialism and the offenses some missionaries committed—conniving with the colonial masters to enslave people." Yet Eze frames the current moment differently. "They preached God to us," he said of Western missionaries. "We accepted Him and wanted to know Him. Now, we're going back to show them what He can do." Whether that represents a genuine spiritual revival in the West or simply the mobilization of Africa's growing diaspora remains an open question—one that will likely define the next chapter of global Christianity.

They preached God to us. We accepted Him and wanted to know Him. Now, we're going back to show them what He can do.
— Jerry Eze, Nigerian pastor
The West has, to a great extent, moved on from Christianity. Christianity itself is a very demanding religion that most Westerners don't really want to deal with at the moment.
— Harvey Kwiyani, Malawian theologian based in England
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