Category: Evangelism

Imagine a man in the remote highlands of Papua New Guinea who has never once heard the name of Jesus Christ. He was born, he will live, and he may die without a single person ever telling him that God became flesh, walked among sinners, and rose from the dead to offer him eternal life. Now consider that there are over 7,000 such unreached people groups scattered across the globe — communities where the gospel has not yet taken root, where no church exists, where no Bible has been translated into their tongue. The question is not whether this burdens the heart of God. It does. The question is: does it burden yours? And more pointedly — Nigerian Christian, what will you do about it?

Nigeria is home to one of the most vibrant and rapidly growing Christian populations on earth. Our churches overflow on Sunday mornings. Our worship fills arenas. Our preachers command global audiences. Yet for all this spiritual energy and resource, the Nigerian church has barely begun to engage with the massive unfinished task of reaching the unreached peoples of the world. This is not a condemnation — it is a summons. God has positioned Nigeria for a specific purpose in this generation, and missions is central to that purpose.

The scriptural foundation for this call is unmistakable. Jesus, before His ascension, issued what we know as the Great Commission: “Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptising them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost: Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you” (Matthew 28:19-20). The word “all nations” in the original Greek is “panta ta ethne” — all ethnic groups, all people groups, all tribes. This command was not directed at a handful of Western missionaries in the nineteenth century. It was given to the church — and the Nigerian church is the church.

The Apostle Paul, writing to the Romans, captured the logical urgency of missions with devastating clarity: “How then shall they call on him in whom they have not believed? and how shall they believe in him of whom they have not heard? and how shall they hear without a preacher? And how shall they preach, except they be sent?” (Romans 10:14-15). Notice the chain: sending leads to preaching, preaching leads to hearing, hearing leads to believing, believing leads to calling on God for salvation. Break any link in that chain and people perish without hope. The unreached are not people who rejected Christ — they are people who have never been given the opportunity to accept Him. And the chain is broken at the point of sending.

Nigeria must become a sending nation. The early church in Antioch understood this principle. When the Holy Spirit commanded them to set apart Barnabas and Saul for mission work, the church did not debate or delay — they fasted, prayed, and sent them forth (Acts 13:2-3). Antioch was itself a Gentile church, once considered on the periphery of the Jewish faith. Yet it became the launching pad for the greatest missionary enterprise in apostolic history. Nigeria, with its geographic position between the Muslim-dominated north and the unreached peoples of sub-Saharan Africa and beyond, occupies a similar strategic location today.

So what does this look like practically for the Nigerian believer? First, intercession must precede and accompany every missions effort. Jesus commanded His disciples: “Pray ye therefore the Lord of the harvest, that he will send forth labourers into his harvest” (Matthew 9:38). Before you send money or send a missionary, you must send up prayer. Nigerian Christians must begin regularly interceding for specific unreached people groups — learning their names, their locations, their spiritual conditions, and lifting them before the throne of God.

Second, Nigerian churches must begin budgeting deliberately for cross-cultural missions. Many of our local assemblies spend enormous resources on internal programmes while allocating little or nothing to reaching those who have never heard the gospel. This must change. Mission-minded giving is not charity — it is obedience. Organisations like the Evangelical Missionary Society of ECWA, as well as global missions bodies, provide structured channels through which Nigerian churches can invest in trained cross-cultural workers.

Third, young Nigerian believers must prayerfully consider whether God is calling them personally to the mission field. The unreached peoples of North Africa, Central Asia, the Middle East, and even within Nigeria’s own northern border regions are waiting — not for more crusades in already-evangelised cities, but for incarnational witnesses who will learn their languages, enter their communities, and live the gospel before them. Nigerian missionaries carry unique advantages: cultural resilience, multilingual aptitude, and the credibility of representing a non-Western Christianity that can never be dismissed as a colonial import.

Fourth, every Nigerian Christian who cannot go must commit to serving those who do. Paul acknowledged the believers who supported his missions work as genuine partners: “Now ye Philippians know also, that in the beginning of the gospel, when I departed from Macedonia, no church communicated with me as concerning giving and receiving, but ye only” (Philippians 4:15). Giving, praying, mobilising, training, and encouraging missionaries is not a lesser calling — it is an essential part of the same commission.

The unreached are not a statistic. They are image-bearers of God who deserve the same chance at salvation that we received because someone, somewhere, was faithful enough to go or to send. Nigeria has been blessed — with numbers, with fervour, with resources, with influence. But every blessing carries a corresponding responsibility. The harvest is genuinely plentiful, and the labourers are genuinely few (Matthew 9:37). God is not looking for a perfect nation to reach the world. He is looking for a willing one. Will the Nigerian church answer? The unreached world is waiting, and eternity hangs in the balance.

Imagine a man in the remote highlands of Papua New Guinea who has never heard the name of Jesus Christ — not because missionaries failed to try, but because there were never enough of them. Now imagine a woman in the Sahel region of West Africa, just three countries away from Nigeria, who has grown old and died never knowing that a Saviour walked out of a tomb two thousand years ago. These are not hypothetical tragedies. According to missiological research, there remain over three billion people today who have no meaningful access to the gospel. The question is not whether God has noticed them. The real question is whether Nigerian Christians have.

For too long, the global church has treated missions as a Western export. But the wind of the Holy Spirit does not blow in one direction, and the Great Commission was never addressed to one continent. It was addressed to disciples — and Nigeria, with over 90 million professing Christians, has the manpower, the linguistic reach, the geographic positioning, and the spiritual hunger to become one of the great missionary-sending nations of the 21st century. The only thing standing between that potential and its fulfilment is obedience.

The biblical foundation for this call is unmistakable. In Matthew 28:19-20, the Lord Jesus Christ declared: “Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptising them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost: Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you: and, lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world.” This mandate was not a suggestion. The Greek word translated “go” carries the weight of a command issued by a commanding officer to his soldiers. It is not a call for the spiritually adventurous few. It is an order given to every believer.

Nigerian Christians must understand that this commission applies directly to them. God did not place Nigeria at the crossroads of sub-Saharan Africa by accident. The country shares cultural threads with Francophone West Africa, has diaspora communities on every inhabited continent, and produces graduates in theology, medicine, engineering, and education who can enter restricted nations as tentmakers just as the Apostle Paul did. Paul himself declared in Romans 15:20: “Yea, so have I strived to preach the gospel, not where Christ was named, lest I should build upon another man’s foundation.” This was Paul’s defining ambition — to push always toward the unreached. It should be ours as well.

But who exactly are the unreached? They are the people groups among whom the church is so small and so weak that it cannot evangelise its own community without outside help. They include the Fulani belt stretching across West Africa, the Tuareg peoples of the Sahara, the dense Muslim populations of northern Nigeria’s neighbouring countries, and animist communities in Central and East Africa. They include urban migrant workers in the Middle East and Southeast Asia who encounter no Christian witness because no Nigerian believers followed them there with intentionality. Isaiah 6:8 captures the spirit of what is needed: “Also I heard the voice of the Lord, saying, Whom shall I send, and who will go for us? Then said I, Here am I; send me.” Isaiah did not wait for a committee to select him. He volunteered. Nigerian believers must cultivate that same instinct.

Practically, what does this look like for the Nigerian Christian sitting in a church in Lagos, Port Harcourt, Kano, or Enugu? First, it means praying with geographical intentionality. Rather than praying generally for “the nations,” believers should adopt specific unreached people groups by name and intercede for them consistently. Organisations like the Joshua Project publish detailed information on unreached peoples that any believer with internet access can use to pray with precision.

Second, it means giving sacrificially to support Nigerian missionaries already in the field. Many Nigerian missionaries serving in difficult regions are underfunded and undersupported. The local church bears a responsibility not just to commission workers but to sustain them financially, emotionally, and in prayer. Acts 13:3 records that the church at Antioch “had fasted and prayed, and laid their hands on” Barnabas and Saul before sending them out. Sending is not just a moment — it is an ongoing posture of support.

Third, for those willing to go personally, there are now structured pathways. Nigerian mission agencies such as Calvary Ministries (CAPRO), SIM Nigeria, and AIM Africa provide training, field placement, and pastoral care for those called to cross-cultural work. Young Nigerian graduates should consider whether God is calling them not just to a career, but to a field. Professionals — doctors, engineers, teachers, and businesspeople — can enter nations that would refuse a traditional missionary visa, and carry the gospel as a living witness in their workplaces and communities. This is tentmaking missions, and it is one of the most strategic opportunities of our generation.

Fourth, Nigerian churches must build a missions culture from childhood. When children grow up hearing stories of missionaries, praying for unreached peoples, and understanding that salvation is not meant to be hoarded but shared, a generation of willing labourers is formed. Missions must leave the periphery of church programming and take its place at the centre.

The Lord Jesus said in John 4:35: “Say not ye, There are yet four months, and then cometh harvest? behold, I say unto you, Lift up your eyes, and look on the fields; for they are white already to harvest.” The harvest is not coming. It is here. The fields are white. The labourers are few. And Nigeria — rich in faith, rich in people, rich in courage — stands at a moment of extraordinary opportunity.

The unreached are not waiting for a perfect moment. They are waiting for a believer willing to go. Will you pray? Will you give? Will you go? The Commission has not changed. The Commander has not retreated. The only variable is your answer.

Picture this: your neighbour Alhaji Ibrahim greets you every morning across the fence. He is a decent man — respectful, hardworking, a good father. You have borrowed salt from each other, shared pepper soup at naming ceremonies, and watched each other’s children grow. But there is one conversation you have never had. You know the gospel changes everything, and yet the thought of bringing it up makes your stomach tighten. What do you say? Where do you begin? And how do you do it in a way that honours both the truth of Christ and the dignity of your neighbour?

This tension is not unique to you. It is felt by millions of Nigerian Christians who live side by side with Muslim friends, relatives, and colleagues in the complex, beautiful, sometimes volatile religious landscape of this nation. Yet the Great Commission does not come with an exemption clause for difficult conversations. Jesus said in Matthew 28:19-20, “Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptising them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost: Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you.” The word “all nations” was never meant to exclude anyone — not the Hausa man, not the Yoruba Muslim, not Alhaji Ibrahim across the fence.

The foundation of any gospel conversation with a Muslim neighbour must be love — not strategy, not argument, not a desire to win a debate. The Apostle Paul declared in 1 Corinthians 13:1, “Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal.” Before you open your mouth, examine your heart. Do you genuinely love your neighbour, or do you simply want to prove him wrong? Muslims can sense condescension. They can smell a spiritual ambush. But they can also recognise sincerity. The love of Christ operating through you — shown in your conduct, your patience, your genuine interest in their life — is itself a form of evangelism. Let your life preach before your lips do.

When the moment for conversation does come, begin where you have common ground, not where you have disagreement. Both Christianity and Islam honour Jesus. Your Muslim neighbour already believes Isa al-Masih (Jesus) was born of a virgin, performed miracles, and is coming again. Use that. Ask questions. “You know, we both believe Jesus was sinless — what do you think that means about who He is?” This approach mirrors the method of the Apostle Paul in Acts 17:22-23, where he addressed the men of Athens by acknowledging what they already believed — “Ye men of Athens, I perceive that in all things ye are too superstitious. For as I passed by, and beheld your devotions, I found an altar with this inscription, TO THE UNKNOWN GOD. Whom therefore ye ignorantly worship, him declare I unto you.” Paul did not open with condemnation. He opened with curiosity and then introduced the truth. You can do the same. Do not start with “Mohammed was a false prophet.” Start with “Tell me what you believe about Jesus.”

Once the conversation moves forward, do not shy away from the core of the gospel: the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. This is where Christianity and Islam diverge most sharply — Muslims deny the crucifixion, yet it is the crucifixion and resurrection that are the entire basis of salvation. Romans 5:8 declares, “But God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.” Share this not as a theological point to win, but as the most personal news you know. Tell them what the cross means to you. Tell them about a God who loved humanity enough to enter creation and die in its place. Share your testimony. A changed life is one of the most powerful apologetics available. Your neighbour cannot argue with what God has done in you.

In Nigeria specifically, there are practical realities to navigate. Tensions between Christian and Muslim communities can make evangelism feel politically loaded. Approach your neighbour as a neighbour first — not as a representative of a religious category. Celebrate their festivals respectfully, show up when there is grief in their family, and build a relationship over time. Evangelism in this context is rarely one conversation; it is a sustained witness. Proverbs 11:30 reminds us that “he that winneth souls is wise.” Wisdom here means knowing when to speak and when to serve, when to explain doctrine and when to simply be present. Never force a conversation. Never shame or belittle. Pray consistently for your neighbour by name, and trust that the Holy Spirit is working even when you cannot see it.

Also, be prepared for questions you cannot immediately answer. Muslims may raise issues about the Trinity, the reliability of the Bible, or the history of Christianity. Do not fabricate answers. It is perfectly acceptable to say, “That is a good question. Let me study it and come back to you.” Intellectual honesty builds trust. What you must never compromise, however, is the person and exclusivity of Jesus Christ. John 14:6 is non-negotiable: “Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me.” Gentleness in method does not require vagueness in message.

Your Muslim neighbour is not your enemy. He is an immortal soul for whom Christ died — a person God loves profoundly and desires to save. The gospel is not yours to guard jealously; it is news too good to keep to yourself. Begin with prayer. Build with love. Speak with truth. And leave the results with God, whose word declared in Isaiah 55:11 shall not return unto Him void. Alhaji Ibrahim across the fence is waiting — not for an argument, but for a friend who carries the light. Be that friend. Be that witness.

Imagine this: your neighbour Alhaji Musa greets you warmly every morning across the fence. His children play with yours. He has shared food with your family during difficult seasons. He is not your enemy — he is your neighbour. And yet, there is something you carry that he desperately needs, something more valuable than any act of kindness you have exchanged. You carry the gospel of Jesus Christ. The question is not whether you should share it. The question is how.

For Nigerian Christians, this is not a hypothetical. Millions of us live, work, trade, and build relationships with Muslim neighbours daily — in the North, in mixed communities across the Middle Belt, and even in the South. The temptation is either to avoid the conversation entirely out of fear, or to enter it with a combative spirit that wounds rather than wins. Scripture, however, calls us to a third way — a way of boldness married to love, conviction held together with compassion.

The apostle Peter set the foundational tone for all Christian witness when he wrote, “But sanctify the Lord God in your hearts: and be ready always to give an answer to every man that asketh you a reason of the hope that is in you with meekness and fear” (1 Peter 3:15). Three things leap out of this verse. First, our witness must flow from a heart where God is already enthroned — not from intellectual arrogance or cultural superiority. Second, we must be ready — meaning gospel conversation requires deliberate preparation, not wing-it improvisation. Third, that readiness must be clothed in meekness and reverence. This is your framework before you speak a single word to Alhaji Musa.

Before engaging in conversation, you must understand what your Muslim neighbour actually believes. Islam holds that Jesus — whom they call Isa — was a prophet, that He was born of a virgin, that He performed miracles, and that He will return at the end of days. This is significant common ground. However, Islam firmly denies the deity of Christ, His crucifixion for sin, and His resurrection. These three denials strike at the very heart of the gospel. Paul was unmistakable: “Moreover, brethren, I declare unto you the gospel which I preached unto you… For I delivered unto you first of all that which I also received, how that Christ died for our sins according to the scriptures; And that he was buried, and that he rose again the third day according to the scriptures” (1 Corinthians 15:1, 3-4). You cannot negotiate these truths away. Any gospel that removes the cross and the resurrection is no gospel at all.

So how do you enter this conversation? Begin not with doctrine but with relationship and questions. Jesus Himself modelled this — He asked the Samaritan woman for water before He offered her living water (John 4:7-10). Ask your Muslim neighbour what he believes about Isa. Ask him what he thinks of the Injil — the Gospel — since the Quran itself references it. Listen genuinely. When he speaks, you are learning where the doors of his heart are located. Then, from what he shares, introduce what Scripture declares. You might say, “The Bible I read says Jesus did not only come as a prophet — He came as the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world. Can I show you what that means?”

This leads to perhaps the most powerful passage for this context. John 1:29 records John the Baptist declaring, “Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world.” Unpack this slowly with your neighbour. In Islam, sin is managed through personal effort, prayer, fasting, and God’s mercy — but there is no guaranteed atonement, no certain forgiveness. The concept that God Himself would provide a sacrifice, that Jesus was not a victim of men but a willing Saviour sent by the Father, can be profoundly disarming to a sincere Muslim seeker. Do not rush this moment. Let the Word speak.

Practically speaking, Nigerian Christians must learn to separate religious debate from personal witness. Debate tends to harden; testimony tends to soften. Tell your neighbour what Christ has done in your life. Share how you found assurance of salvation — something Islam does not offer its adherents. Carry a Bible or the Gospel of John and offer it as a gift, not as a weapon. Pray privately and consistently for your neighbour by name. The apostle Paul instructs, “Walk in wisdom toward them that are without, redeeming the time. Let your speech be alway with grace, seasoned with salt, that ye may know how ye ought to answer every man” (Colossians 4:5-6). “Them that are without” includes every Muslim in your compound, your market stall, your office floor.

You must also prepare for resistance. Your neighbour may push back sharply. He may accuse Christians of worshipping three gods. He may challenge the reliability of the Bible. Do not panic and do not retaliate in anger. You are not called to win an argument — you are called to sow seed. Isaiah 55:11 reminds us that God’s Word “shall not return unto me void, but it shall accomplish that which I please.” You are responsible for faithfulness, not for results. Plant the seed with grace and trust the Holy Spirit to water it.

Finally, remember that the God who saved you is the same God reaching out through you toward your neighbour. You were once also far from God, reconciled not by your own wisdom but by grace. Let that reality keep you humble. Your Muslim neighbour is not a project — he is a person made in the image of God, loved by the Father, and within reach of the same salvation you have received.

Pray for him today. Greet him with sincerity. And when the moment opens — and it will — speak the truth that set you free.

Imagine a farmer who clears the land, plants seeds, and walks away the moment the first green shoots break through the soil. No watering. No weeding. No tending. Within weeks, the sun scorches the young plants, the weeds choke whatever remains, and the harvest he celebrated in his heart never materialises. This is a painfully accurate picture of much of what passes for evangelism in Nigeria today. Churches fill up on Sunday mornings, altar calls produce tears and raised hands, names are recorded in registers — and then many of those new believers are left to fend for themselves in a world that is actively hostile to their newfound faith. We celebrate the conversion but neglect the commission. We win souls but do not make disciples.

The distinction is not a minor theological nuance. It is the heart of what Jesus commanded before He ascended into heaven. In Matthew 28:19-20, the Lord said plainly, “Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptising them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost: Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you: and, lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world.” Notice carefully what the Great Commission actually says. The command is not merely to go and convert. The word translated “teach” in verse 19 carries the meaning of making disciples — enrolling people into a relationship of learning and following. Then verse 20 goes further: “Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you.” Discipleship is the full journey, not just the starting line.

A convert is someone who has made a decision. A disciple is someone who is being transformed. The New Testament knows very little of the first category existing independently of the second. When Jesus called His own disciples, He did not hand them a tract and send them off. He said, “Follow me” (Matthew 4:19), and He spent three years walking with them, teaching them, correcting them, feeding them from His own life. The early church understood this model. Acts 2:42 records that those who received the word “continued stedfastly in the apostles’ doctrine and fellowship, and in breaking of bread, and in prayers.” The word “continued” is critical — discipleship is sustained commitment, not a momentary experience.

In many Nigerian church contexts, however, the pressure to grow attendance figures and celebrate large numbers at crusades has quietly shifted our focus. We measure success by how many prayed the sinner’s prayer rather than by how many are growing in grace, serving their communities, and standing firm under persecution and pressure. Consider what the Apostle Paul wrote to the Galatians: “My little children, of whom I travail in birth again until Christ be formed in you” (Galatians 4:19). Paul’s language is striking — he describes discipleship as a kind of labour, a sustained and sometimes painful investment until Christ’s character is genuinely formed in the believer. That kind of formation does not happen at a single crusade night. It happens in relationships, in accountability, in shared suffering and shared Scripture.

The challenge for the Nigerian believer, then, is deeply practical. Consider the young man from your neighbourhood who gave his life to Christ at your church’s outreach programme last Easter. Do you know his name? Has anyone followed up with him? Does he have a Bible he can read? Does he know how to pray? Is he attached to a local fellowship where older believers are investing in his growth? The uncomfortable truth is that if nobody is deliberately answering these questions for him, the probability is high that by the following Easter, he has drifted back entirely. Jesus warned us about this in the parable of the sower — some seed falls on stony ground and springs up quickly but has no root, and when tribulation arises, it immediately withers (Matthew 13:20-21). Without the rootedness that comes from sustained discipleship, even genuine converts are vulnerable.

So what does making disciples actually look like in practical Nigerian life? It begins with intentionality. Every mature believer should be asking: who am I personally investing in? Not just preaching to a crowd, but walking closely with one, two, or three people — opening the Scripture with them, praying together, answering their questions honestly, and modelling what a life submitted to Christ looks like under the pressures of Nigerian reality: financial strain, family tension, workplace corruption, cultural expectations that conflict with kingdom values. Paul captured this personal investment when he told the Corinthians, “Be ye followers of me, even as I also am of Christ” (1 Corinthians 11:1). That kind of statement can only be made from close quarters.

Churches must also restructure how they think about new members. A warm welcome on Sunday is not enough. There must be deliberate new believers’ classes that go beyond basic doctrine into practical kingdom living. There must be mentorship structures where young Christians are connected to seasoned believers, not just pastors, but also deacons, teachers, businesspeople, and parents who can model faith in the contexts where life actually happens. Evangelism without a discipleship structure attached to it is, at best, incomplete — and at worst, it creates disillusioned people who tried Christianity and found it could not hold them.

The harvest in Nigeria is genuinely plentiful. Our country is full of people hungry for something real, something that works, something that can stand up to the chaos of daily life. But Jesus did not only say the harvest is plentiful — He said the labourers are few (Luke 10:2). A labourer does not just scatter seed; a labourer tends the field. The Church in Nigeria is being called, in this generation, to move beyond the thrill of numbers and into the hard, glorious, Spirit-empowered work of making genuine disciples. The question is not only, “How many came forward?” The question Jesus is asking is, “How many are following?”

Who are you discipling today? Begin with one person. Open the Word with them. Walk with them. The Great Commission is not a programme — it is a way of life.

Picture this: A young man raises his hand at a crusade ground in Lagos, repeats the sinner’s prayer, receives a tract, and is never seen again. Three years later, he is living no differently from before that night. Was he evangelised? Technically, yes. Was he discipled? Not at all. This gap — between the moment of conversion and the formation of a committed follower of Christ — is one of the most urgent crises in the Nigerian church today. We have become extraordinarily skilled at producing converts and remarkably poor at producing disciples.

The Lord Jesus Christ did not leave the earth with a vague spiritual wish. He left a precise commission. In Matthew 28:19-20, He declared: “Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptising them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost: Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you: and, lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world. Amen.” The operative word in the original language is not “go” — it is “make disciples.” Everything else in that verse — going, baptising, teaching — serves that central purpose. The Great Commission is not a soul-counting exercise. It is a life-transforming mandate.

A convert is someone who has made a decision. A disciple is someone whose life has been redirected. The Apostle Paul understood this distinction deeply. Writing to the Galatians, he expressed something that should stir every believer involved in outreach: “My little children, of whom I travail in birth again until Christ be formed in you” (Galatians 4:19). Notice the language — travail. Formation. Paul was not satisfied that they had received the gospel. He agonised until Christ was actually being shaped inside them. This is the standard we are called to, and it is far more demanding than simply leading someone to say a prayer.

In the book of Acts, the early church was not content with large altar calls followed by silence. Acts 2:42 describes what happened immediately after three thousand souls were added to the church on the Day of Pentecost: “And they continued stedfastly in the apostles’ doctrine and fellowship, and in breaking of bread, and in prayers.” Four anchors: doctrine, fellowship, communion, and prayer. The converts did not return to their tents and resume ordinary life. They were immediately embedded in a community of formation. Discipleship was not a follow-up programme — it was the culture of the early church.

For the Nigerian Christian, this has urgent practical implications. Our nation is one of the most evangelised countries on earth, yet corruption, dishonesty, and moral collapse remain epidemic — even inside the church. Why? Because we have filled pews without forming people. We have celebrated numbers without nurturing nature. The problem is not that Nigerians have not heard the gospel. Many have heard it multiple times. The problem is that the gospel has not been walked out with them long enough to transform their character, their ethics, their family relationships, their professional lives, and their civic responsibilities.

So what does it practically mean to make disciples? First, it requires intentional relationship. Jesus did not post announcements. He called twelve men, walked with them, ate with them, corrected them, and explained what He meant. Luke 6:40 states: “The disciple is not above his master: but every one that is perfect shall be as his master.” Discipleship is imitation through proximity. If you are a believer in Nigeria — whether you are a pastor, a business professional, a university student, or a market trader — you can disciple someone. You do not need a pulpit. You need consistency and intentionality. Meet regularly with a younger believer. Open the Scriptures together. Pray together. Let them see your life.

Second, discipleship requires honest teaching. Many new believers are never told about the cost of following Christ. Jesus was never silent about this. In Luke 14:27, He said: “And whosoever doth not bear his cross, and come after me, cannot be my disciple.” When we present Christianity as only a path to prosperity and ease, we are not making disciples — we are recruiting customers. Disciples are told the truth: that following Christ means denying self, resisting the world, and choosing righteousness even when it is expensive. The Nigerian Christian who was never taught this will collapse at the first real pressure.

Third, discipleship requires patience and accountability. Paul told Timothy, “And the things that thou hast heard of me among many witnesses, the same commit thou to faithful men, who shall be able to teach others also” (2 Timothy 2:2). This is generational, chain-link discipleship. Truth passed from one faithful person to another, who teaches another. It requires follow-up questions, honest conversations about failure, and the grace to persevere with people who are slow to change. Many of us abandon new believers precisely when they need the most investment.

The church in Nigeria has real capacity to transform this nation — not through political connections or cultural dominance, but through the slow, faithful, Scripture-saturated work of making disciples. Every market woman who teaches a younger believer how to trade with integrity. Every professional who mentors a graduate in what it means to serve Christ in the workplace. Every father who opens the Bible with his children every morning. These are acts of discipleship, and they are the substance of genuine revival.

The altar call is not the end of the mission. It is only the beginning. The real work begins when the music stops and real life resumes. As you read this, ask yourself: am I a disciple, truly being formed in the character of Christ? And am I making one? Who are you walking with? Whose spiritual formation are you investing in? The Commission has not changed. Christ is still saying — teach them to observe all things. Not just to raise their hands, but to live transformed lives. That is the work. That is the call. Will you answer it?

Imagine a man in the arid villages of northern Mali who has never once heard the name of Jesus Christ — not in a watered-down form, not distorted, not rejected. Simply never heard. According to the Joshua Project, over 3.2 billion people today remain unreached by the gospel, meaning they have no meaningful access to a Christian witness. Many of them are in West Africa’s own backyard. The question that must press upon every Nigerian believer is not merely academic — it is eternal: if we have received the light, what are we doing with it?

Nigeria sits in a peculiar and powerful position. With over 220 million people, a booming diaspora spread across every continent, a church culture that is fervent and vocal, and a tradition of resilience forged through hardship, Nigerian Christians carry an uncommon capacity for missions. Yet the burden of the unreached has not fully gripped the Nigerian church the way it should. Too often, ministry energy turns inward — toward prosperity, personal breakthrough, and local church expansion. The Great Commission, however, points outward, always outward.

The Lord Jesus Christ Himself gave the mandate with unmistakable clarity: “Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel to every creature” (Mark 16:15). This was not a suggestion offered to a select group of professional missionaries. It was a command issued to the body of Christ. The Greek word translated “go” carries the force of active, deliberate movement — not passive waiting for the lost to stumble into our church buildings. The unreached will not come to us. We must go to them.

The Apostle Paul understood this burden deeply. Writing to the Romans, he declared: “How then shall they call on him in whom they have not believed? and how shall they believe in him of whom they have not heard? and how shall they hear without a preacher?” (Romans 10:14). This chain of logic is devastating in its simplicity. Faith requires hearing. Hearing requires a preacher. A preacher requires sending. The unreached people groups of the Sahel, the Berber communities of North Africa, the animist tribes of the Congo basin, and the Muslim-majority populations of the Middle East are all waiting at the end of that chain — and Nigerian Christians are positioned to be the ones sent.

Paul went further in that same letter, confessing his own apostolic ambition: “Yea, so have I strived to preach the gospel, not where Christ was named, lest I should build upon another man’s foundation” (Romans 15:20). This is a missions philosophy that the Nigerian church urgently needs to recover. There is a temptation to plant churches only in cities already saturated with the gospel, to evangelize communities already half-won, to measure success by crowd size rather than kingdom frontier. But Paul’s heart burned for those places where Christ had not yet been named. That same fire must be rekindled in us.

The prophetic vision of Scripture demands nothing less. In the book of Revelation, the apostle John saw the ultimate outcome of faithful missions: “After this I beheld, and, lo, a great multitude, which no man could number, of all nations, and kindreds, and people, and tongues, stood before the throne, and before the Lamb” (Revelation 7:9). Every tribe. Every tongue. Every people. This is God’s unchanging intention — that His glory would be known to the ends of the earth. Nigerian Christians have a role in making that vision a present-day reality, not merely a future hope.

So what does this look like practically for a Nigerian believer navigating the pressures of daily life, economic uncertainty, and family responsibility? First, it begins with prayer. Every believer can engage in frontier missions through intercession. Organisations like the Joshua Project and Operation World provide specific information about unreached people groups, their cultures, their spiritual state, and their geographic location. To pray for the Fulani of Guinea, the Kanuri of Niger, or the Tuareg of Algeria is to partner with God in the advance of His kingdom. Prayer is not a lesser form of missions — it is the engine of it.

Second, Nigerian Christians in the diaspora carry an extraordinary opportunity. A Nigerian believer living in London, Houston, or Dubai has direct proximity to international Muslim communities, Hindu families, and secular Europeans who may never set foot in a church. The diaspora is not simply an economic migration — it is a divine deployment. Joseph was sold into Egypt so that nations might be saved (Genesis 45:7). God’s hand is in the scattering of His people.

Third, Nigerian churches must begin to take sending seriously. The model of receiving foreign missionaries must gradually give way to a culture of sending them. This requires missions education, financial commitment, and structural accountability. Churches can partner with established missions organisations, support trained cross-cultural workers, and create a pipeline that trains young Nigerians specifically for frontier work. The church that only looks inward will eventually stagnate. The church that looks outward will grow in ways that cannot be manufactured by programmes or marketing.

Fourth, those called to full-time missions work must not be discouraged by the practical obstacles. Language barriers, cultural differences, persecution, and financial constraints are real. But the God who called Jonah to Nineveh, who sent Philip to the Ethiopian eunuch on a desert road, and who led Paul across continents with no guarantee of comfort, is still directing His servants to the unreached. Obedience to the call is the first step. God has always been faithful to provision and protection for those who go in His name.

The hour is urgent. People are dying without knowledge of the Saviour every single day. Nigeria has been blessed with spiritual vitality, theological depth, and a boldness in witness that many churches in the West have lost. This is not a blessing to be hoarded — it is a resource to be deployed. The unreached are not a problem for someone else to solve. They are our inheritance, our responsibility, and our opportunity. The question is whether we will rise to meet it. Will you pray? Will you give? Will you go?

Imagine a community of people — perhaps tucked into the folds of the Sahel, or hidden along the shores of Lake Chad — who have never once heard the name of Jesus Christ. Not rejected Him, not walked away from Him, but simply never encountered Him. No missionary has come. No radio broadcast has reached them. No Bible exists in their tongue. They live, love, suffer, and die without ever knowing that the Son of God shed His blood for them. This is not a hypothetical. Across West Africa and beyond, millions of people remain unreached by the gospel. And the question that every Nigerian Christian must sit with is this: what is my part in changing that?

Nigeria stands at a remarkable crossroads in the story of global missions. With over 200 million people, a deeply religious culture, a growing and energetic church, and strategic positioning between the largely Christianised south and the predominantly Muslim north, Nigeria is not merely a mission field — she is a mission force. But responsibility comes with readiness, and readiness must be rooted in Scripture.

The biblical mandate for reaching the unreached is not a suggestion buried in a footnote. It is the direct command of the Lord Jesus Christ. In Matthew 28:19-20, He declared: “Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptising them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost: Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you.” The word “all nations” carries enormous weight. The Greek word is “panta ta ethne” — all people groups. Jesus was not speaking only of political nations but of ethnic and cultural communities, including those who are currently beyond the reach of the gospel. This commission was not given to a special class of super-Christians. It was given to the church — which includes the church in Nigeria today.

The Apostle Paul understood this urgency with piercing clarity. In Romans 10:14, he asked: “How then shall they call on him in whom they have not believed? and how shall they believe in him of whom they have not heard? and how shall they hear without a preacher?” These are not rhetorical questions meant to satisfy academic curiosity. They are a chain of accountability. Every link in that chain represents a human responsibility. If the unreached cannot hear without a preacher, and Nigerian Christians are equipped, educated, and empowered by the Holy Spirit — then who else should go? The logic of Paul’s argument lands squarely on the shoulders of the African church, which is now among the fastest-growing expressions of Christianity on earth.

Consider also the vision recorded in Revelation 7:9: “After this I beheld, and, lo, a great multitude, which no man could number, of all nations, and kindreds, and people, and tongues, stood before the throne, and before the Lamb.” This is God’s intended end — not a homogenous crowd, but a gloriously diverse multitude. Every tongue. Every kindred. Every people. Nigerian Christians are called to participate in bringing that picture to fulfilment. The Hausa believer who crosses cultural lines to reach the Kanuri. The Yoruba church planter who relocates to Northern Nigeria. The Igbo missionary who serves among unreached peoples in the Sahel or the Horn of Africa — these are not extraordinary anomalies. They are ordinary obedience.

So what does this practically look like for the Nigerian Christian sitting in a Lagos apartment, a Kaduna compound, or a village church in Enugu? First, it begins with prayer. Jesus Himself commanded in Luke 10:2, “The harvest truly is great, but the labourers are few: pray ye therefore the Lord of the harvest, that he would send forth labourers into his harvest.” Intercession for unreached peoples is not a substitute for going — but it is the fuel that sends people. Join a prayer group focused on unreached peoples. Learn the names of unreached communities in Northern Nigeria and beyond — the Fulani, the Kanuri, the Shuwa Arab, the Zarma — and pray for them by name.

Second, Nigerian Christians must support missions financially and practically. Many gifted missionaries from Nigeria lack the resources to sustain long-term work among unreached peoples. The local church has a responsibility to commission and fund gospel workers. This is not a burden — it is a privilege. Third, some reading this article are called to go personally. Organisations like Calvary Ministries (CAPRO), Evangelical Missionary Society (EMS), and SIM Nigeria are actively recruiting, training, and deploying missionaries from Nigeria to unreached peoples. The pathway exists. The question is whether you will step onto it.

There is also the immediate mission field within Nigeria’s own borders. The 10/40 window does not begin in some distant land — it brushes against Nigerian soil. Reaching the unreached can mean crossing the road, learning a language, building a relationship with someone from a community your church has never intentionally engaged. Missions is not always a plane ticket. Sometimes it is a deliberate, Spirit-led step outside your cultural comfort zone.

The Nigerian church has been blessed abundantly — with numbers, with gifting, with zeal, and with an increasingly global footprint. But blessing always carries responsibility. The parable of the talents in Matthew 25 reminds us that what has been given will be accounted for. Nigeria has been given much. The unreached world is waiting. Heaven’s gallery is not yet complete.

Today, will you pray for an unreached people group by name? Will you investigate one Nigerian missions organisation? Will you ask God plainly whether He is calling you to go? The harvest is great. The labourers are few. And you — Nigerian believer — are not an accident of geography. You are a strategic placement of God in one of the most pivotal mission-sending nations on earth. Do not waste it.

You live next door to Alhaji Musa. He is a decent man — he greets you every morning, his children play with yours, and last Sallah he sent over meat without being asked. But you know something he does not yet know: that Jesus Christ is the Son of God, the only Saviour of mankind. The question is not whether to tell him. The question is how — with love, with wisdom, and with the full weight of Scripture behind you.

Many Nigerian Christians hesitate at this point. Some fear offending a neighbour and straining a peaceful relationship. Others launch in aggressively, quoting verses like ammunition, and wonder why the conversation ends in anger. Neither fear nor aggression is the biblical model. The apostle Peter gives us the governing principle: “But sanctify the Lord God in your hearts: and be ready always to give an answer to every man that asketh you a reason of the hope that is in you with meekness and fear” (1 Peter 3:15). Notice the three requirements — a sanctified heart, readiness, and meekness. All three must be present before you open your mouth.

Before any conversation, examine your heart. Do you genuinely love your Muslim neighbour, or do you merely want to win an argument? Jesus wept over Jerusalem before He judged it (Luke 19:41). Paul wrote, “Brethren, my heart’s desire and prayer to God for Israel is, that they might be saved” (Romans 10:1). If you approach your neighbour with frustration, superiority, or a point-scoring mentality, the Spirit of God will not honour that posture. Prayer must precede conversation. Pray specifically for Alhaji Musa by name. Ask God to prepare his heart, to soften what is hard, and to give you the right words at the right moment.

When the moment does come, begin with what you share, not with what divides you. Both Islam and Christianity affirm that there is one God, that Jesus was born of a virgin, and that He performed miracles. Start there — not to compromise the gospel, but to build a bridge of genuine respect. Your neighbour already knows you believe in God. Let him see that your faith shapes how you live: your honesty, your generosity, your peace in difficulty. Jesus taught, “Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven” (Matthew 5:16). In Northern Nigeria especially, your life is a sermon your neighbour reads before he will ever listen to your words.

When the conversation deepens, the central question you must lead him to is the question of Jesus Christ. Islam respects Jesus as a prophet. Christianity declares Him as Lord and Saviour. This is not a small difference — it is the defining difference. Do not dance around it. Gently but clearly, bring him to John 14:6: “Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me.” Ask him what he makes of that claim. A prophet does not say such things. A good teacher does not say such things. This statement demands a verdict — either Jesus is who He says He is, or He is not. Let the Scripture do the heavy lifting. You are not arguing with your neighbour; you are introducing him to a Person.

Another critical truth to present, patiently and lovingly, is the matter of sin and atonement. Islam teaches that man’s sins can be balanced by good deeds and God’s mercy. The Bible teaches something more radical and more honest about the human condition: “For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:23). No scale of good works can satisfy a holy God. This is not an insult to your neighbour’s efforts — it is the same truth that applies to every human being, including you. And then offer the most beautiful news in the world: “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life” (John 3:16). God did not leave us to balance our own scales. He sent His Son to pay what we could never pay.

Expect resistance. Expect questions. Do not treat questions as attacks. A man who is asking questions is a man who is thinking, and a man who is thinking may be a man whom God is drawing. Answer what you can, admit what you do not know, and never mock or dismiss what he believes. Proverbs 15:1 reminds us, “A soft answer turneth away wrath: but grievous words stir up strife.” You may not lead him to Christ in one conversation. In fact, you likely will not. Evangelism is rarely a single event — it is a sustained, faithful witness over time. Stay consistent. Stay kind. Stay truthful.

Finally, remember that conversion is the work of the Holy Spirit, not your persuasion. Your role is to plant the seed faithfully. “So then neither is he that planteth any thing, neither he that watereth; but God that giveth the increase” (1 Corinthians 3:7). You are not responsible for the harvest — you are responsible for the sowing. Sow well. Sow in love. Sow with the Word.

Alfaji Musa lives next door to you for a reason. God, who orders the steps of a man, has placed you in proximity to him. Do not waste that assignment through silence or through harshness. Open your mouth with the gospel — not as a weapon, but as a gift. The eternal soul of your neighbour is worth every awkward moment, every careful word, and every prayer you will ever pray for him.

Imagine this: a young man raises his hand during a crusade altar call in Lagos. He repeats the sinner’s prayer, receives a tract, shakes the evangelist’s hand, and walks back into his neighbourhood — back to the same friends, the same habits, the same confusion about who God is. Six months later, nobody knows where he is spiritually. Was he saved? Perhaps. Was he discipled? Almost certainly not. This scene repeats itself across Nigeria every single week, and it points to one of the most urgent gaps in the modern church: we have become experts at making converts, but strangers to making disciples.

The Great Commission, which every believer can quote, is actually far more demanding than we often acknowledge. In Matthew 28:19-20, Jesus did not say ‘Go and win souls.’ He said, ‘Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost: Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you.’ The operative command is not merely ‘go’ — it is ‘teach.’ The Greek word behind ‘teach all nations’ is ‘matheteusate,’ meaning to make disciples, to enrol someone as a learner under a teacher. Salvation is the door, but discipleship is the life lived inside the house.

This distinction matters enormously. A convert has made a decision. A disciple is in a process. Conversion can happen in a moment at an altar; discipleship takes years at a table. When Jesus called His own twelve, He did not hand them a booklet and send them away. He walked with them, ate with them, corrected them publicly, challenged their assumptions, and showed them how the Kingdom of God works from the inside out. Luke 6:40 states plainly, ‘The disciple is not above his master: but every one that is perfect shall be as his master.’ The goal of discipleship is conformity — not to a church culture, not to a denomination’s identity, but to Christ Himself.

The Apostle Paul understood this with great clarity. In 2 Timothy 2:2, he writes, ‘And the things that thou hast heard of me among many witnesses, the same commit thou to faithful men, who shall be able to teach others also.’ Notice the generational architecture Paul describes: Paul taught Timothy, Timothy would teach faithful men, those men would teach others. This is not a programme. This is a pipeline. Discipleship, done biblically, is designed to multiply — not just add. Yet too many Nigerian churches measure success by Sunday attendance figures rather than by how many members are actively reproducing their faith in someone else.

One reason discipleship has been neglected is that it is costly. It demands time, vulnerability, and consistency. It is far easier to preach to a crowd than to sit with one struggling young believer every Tuesday evening and walk him through the book of Romans. It is far easier to celebrate a decision card than to follow up six months later when that same person is about to abandon his marriage. But consider what Jesus said in Luke 14:27-28: ‘And whosoever doth not bear his cross, and come after me, cannot be my disciple. For which of you, intending to build a tower, sitteth not down first, and counteth the cost, whether he have sufficient to finish it?’ Discipleship requires counting the cost — not just by the one being discipled, but by the one doing the discipling.

For the Nigerian believer, this call is both urgent and culturally possible. African community life already contains the relational infrastructure that discipleship requires — extended family bonds, neighbourhood accountability, elder-to-youth mentoring. The challenge is to intentionally sanctify these structures for Kingdom purposes. A senior deacon investing deliberately in a new convert in his street is discipleship. A Christian businesswoman meeting monthly with three younger women in her industry to discuss faith, work, and integrity is discipleship. A pastor training lay leaders who can shepherd small groups across a city is discipleship. None of these require a building or a budget. They require obedience and love.

Churches must also reconsider how they measure evangelistic success. Leading someone to pray the sinner’s prayer is a beginning, not a finish line. The early church in Acts 2:42 modelled what came after conversion: ‘And they continued stedfastly in the apostles’ doctrine and fellowship, and in breaking of bread, and in prayers.’ Four pillars — doctrine, fellowship, communion, and prayer — formed the daily rhythm of the new believer’s life. There was no such thing as a lone-ranger Christian in the early church. New converts were immediately folded into a community of accountability and teaching. This is the pattern Scripture endorses, and it is the pattern the Nigerian church must recover.

Practically, every believer reading this should ask three questions right now. First: who is discipling me? If you cannot name a person who intentionally speaks into your spiritual growth, you are spiritually orphaned regardless of how long you have been saved. Seek that relationship. Second: who am I discipling? If you have been a believer for more than two years and cannot name one person you are intentionally investing in, you are disobeying the commission. Not because of guilt — but because you are carrying a gift that was always meant to be given away. Third: is my church creating systems that move people from the row to the relationship? Sunday services are critical, but they cannot alone produce discipleship. Small groups, mentoring structures, and accountability partnerships must be built into the culture of the local church.

The harvest across Nigeria is genuinely great — in the markets, in the universities, in the civil service, in the villages. But a harvest that is reaped and not processed rots. The work of evangelism is not complete when someone says yes to Jesus. It is complete — or rather, it is well underway — when that person is being taught, anchored, and released to do the same for someone else. Go, and make disciples. Not just converts. Disciples.