Sermons, Saitans & Statehouse Sanctuaries: My Holy Rant

A Plan of the proposed church that is to built inside Statehouse land worth KSh 1.2B by President Ruto. Photo/Daily Nation.

By Felix Kinyua – Freelance Journalist & Recovering Sunday School Teacher

So this week in Kenya, it's been about churches. And not just any churches — we’re talking about a KSh 1.2 billion sanctuary being built inside State House. Yes, on public land. And the president says it’s from his own pocket. Insert spiritual eyebrow raise here.

Now, I don’t know about you, but every time someone in power says “from my own pocket,” I clutch my taxes tighter than a pastor holds onto his tithe book.

But let’s stick to facts — and I pray to the God of press freedom that the truth doesn’t land me in trouble. Because these days, speaking truth to power is like poking a beehive with a toothpick. You just know some Subaru-driving state agents might come whisk you off to a “police station” where you end up mysteriously “hitting your head against a wall.” Wink wink. Nudge nudge.

Before I dive deeper into today’s holy message, let’s observe something real quick: Within a 1km radius of State House Nairobi, there are more churches than working streetlights. The staff could easily attend one of those if they needed divine intervention. Surely, that KSh 1.2B could have gone to hospitals, roads, or even paying the photographers at KICC who are still stuck in 1998.

Religion: That Itchy Topic Nobody Wants to Touch (Unless It’s a Tithe Envelope)

Let’s talk about religion. Yes, that topic. Like politics, most of you avoid it until your pastor mentions “breakthrough” and “seed offering” in the same sentence.

As Karl Marx (not to be confused with DJ Marx the gospel MC) once said, "Religion is the opium of the poor." And in Africa, we’re the highest consumers — sniffing every Sunday like salvation was hidden in the incense.

I was once very religious. In fact, I taught Sunday school. Yes, me. I knew all the memory verses and could recite the Ten Commandments backwards — after two chapatis and a soda.

I still believe in God — I’d be a fool not to. But I haven’t stepped into a church in a decade. Why? Because I believe in humanity. I believe in loving my neighbour, not because the Bible says so, but because it’s the right thing to do.

Judgement, Hypocrisy & the Business of Blessings

Some of you are already judging me — clutching your digital rosaries while whispering “this guy has backslid.” But didn’t the Holy Book say, “Judge not, lest ye be judged?”

Let’s be real. For centuries, Africans have been mentally colonized — not with chains, but with scriptures. Our ancestors had their own spirituality, but we’ve since traded it for foreign doctrines that tell us we’ll burn forever because we wore red on Sunday.

And in this chaos, religion has become a weapon. A political tool. A moneymaking pyramid scheme with a heavenly cover photo.

Politicians now stand at pulpits quoting verses with more confidence than theology graduates, promising miracles while failing to deliver basic roads. And we clap.

Why So Religious, Yet So Rotten?

Kenya is apparently a religious country. We pray before we steal, fast before elections, and baptize our stolen funds with the name of “development.”

But here’s a question: If we’re so godly, why do we have so much evil?

Why are femicide cases uncountable? Why are innocent children starving while we build billion-shilling sanctuaries? Why are people raped, robbed, and ruined in a land full of churches?

The African Bible vs African Culture

Let’s not pretend all Bible stories align with our African stories. You believe Samson had divine strength in his hair, but you laugh when I say Luanda Magere’s power was in his shadow?

You believe Moses split the Red Sea, but doubt that Koome Njue led Meru people across the forest with divine vision?

My friend…decolonize your brain.

We’ve judged, lied, cheated, stolen, and fornicated — all before breakfast. But because we throw KSh 200 into an offering basket, we think we’ve paid our spiritual insurance.

Forgiveness, these days, is cheaper than a TikTok bundle.

My Gospel According to Humanity

I once asked an American preacher why he was drinking in a bar. He told me:

“You Africans were brainwashed to believe sin is normal and forgiveness is cheap.”

He was right. In the Old Testament, sinning meant sacrificing a prized goat or your best harvest. Now, we sin all week, toss KSh 200 in church, and walk out forgiven — in Gucci shoes.

Final Benediction: Let He Without Sin...

I am against the church being built inside State House. Firmly.

If disagreeing with that makes me what the president calls Saitan, then so be it. I will gladly wear the horns — preferably those from a Halloween costume, just to annoy the overly religious.

To you, dear reader, before you throw stones my way, remember the scripture: “Let he who has no sin cast the first stone.”

And that, my friends, is my sermon for today.

Go in peace.