Why Would We Settle for Christianity Lite?
I hail from the ancient tribe of the Baganda in Uganda. Although Christianity had already spread to Northern Africa by the middle of the 2nd century—long before it reached Northern Europe—we in Sub-Saharan Africa continued to worship our own gods, completely unreached by the Gospel.
Our gods were feared and revered. Their representatives—the witch doctors, or medicine men and women—could heal, torment, or kill when invoked. I recall tales of one witch doctor casually floating on a goatskin across Lake Victoria without sinking. Water spirits, or mermaids, were said to appear often along the shores of this great lake, locally called Nnalubaale—“the home of the gods.” Young men were warned to beware of the light-skinned, flawlessly beautiful women with unusually long hair. To sleep with one, it was said, meant being dragged beneath the waters, never to be seen again.
Night dancers also haunted our townships. These were naked men with shiny, oil-covered bodies who terrorized villages under the cover of darkness. Deep in Africa, there were virtually no atheists. The very notion of rejecting belief in the supernatural was considered absurd. Indeed, this was a continent shrouded in pervasive spiritual darkness.
In the 15th century, the first white missionaries penetrated Sub-Saharan Africa. Though many were propelled by the antislavery crusade and European ambitions of colonization, they also challenged us to believe in an unseen God. The very thought was absurd. How could a loving God, invisible and dwelling beyond the skies, be real, much less trusted? Our gods were cruel, vindictive, and exacting. They demanded sacrifices and unbending allegiance. A God of love seemed weak.
To make matters worse, these Whites declared that their unseen God was “the King of kings and Lord of lords”—an outrageous insult to our culture and rulers. So we killed them.
But they would not stop coming. Eventually, we listened. And then we surrendered. We accepted their God and His Son, Jesus Christ. To our surprise, He was not weak at all. Confrontations with witch doctors revealed that this Christian God held far greater power than our gods. We encountered His overwhelming love and forgiveness for our sins. We were converted—radically saved and filled with the Holy Spirit.
With Christianity came more than salvation. It ushered in education, literacy, trade, and enterprise—though also colonialism and exploitation. Yet what made this faith utterly distinct was that we were not asked to understand this God of love; we were invited to believe. And by believing, we could do what Jesus did.
God’s promises to those early converts still ring true for us Africans: “
And these signs shall follow them that believe; In my name shall they cast out devils; they shall speak with new tongues; they shall take up serpents; and if they drink any deadly thing, it shall not hurt them; they shall lay hands on the sick, and they shall recover.” - Mark 16:17–18
And we saw it. Jesus still heals. He still opens blind eyes and unstops deaf ears. Miracles, signs, and wonders followed us. I personally witnessed at least eight dead people raised to life at the invocation of His mighty name. I myself have been poisoned by Islamic radicals and shot at point-blank range by armed thugs. Many of my brothers and sisters have suffered far worse—persecuted, raped, tortured, burned alive, or slaughtered for their faith.
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