There is something deeply revealing about the statement attributed to a young woman known as “Pastor Jessica,” reportedly a former or current leader associated with Pastor Tobi Adegboyega's SPAC Nation movement.
Her argument, as circulated, is brutally simple:
“If you have no food on your table, what are you thanking God for?”
And:
“We couldn’t eat and we were supposed to do praise and worship. If I can’t eat, what am I thanking somebody for?”
If those words are accurately represented and fairly contextualised, they deserve serious theological criticism.
Not because Christians are forbidden from complaining to God.
They are not.
The Bible contains some of the most brutally honest complaints ever written.
The problem is something much more fundamental:
What happens when Christianity teaches a generation that God is worthy of praise only when the believer is materially comfortable?
At that point, Christianity has quietly been transformed from a relationship with God into a transaction.
Bless me, and I will praise you.
Feed me, and I will worship you.
Make me rich, and I will testify.
And if the money disappears?
So does the worship.
That is not Christianity as traditionally understood.
That is spiritual consumerism.
And it raises an uncomfortable question about churches that build their appeal to young people around prosperity, visible success, wealth and the promise of upward mobility:
What exactly are they teaching young people about God?
The problem begins with one dangerous equation
There is nothing wrong with asking God for food.
There is nothing wrong with praying for employment.
There is nothing wrong with asking for money to pay rent.
There is nothing wrong with crying to God because you are hungry.
Indeed, the Christian tradition explicitly contains such prayers.
Jesus himself taught his followers to pray:
“Give us this day our daily bread.”
The Bible does not romanticise hunger.
Jesus fed hungry people.
The early church collected money to support poorer believers.
The Old Testament repeatedly commands care for widows, orphans, strangers and the poor.
So the Christian response to poverty is not:
“Pretend poverty doesn't hurt.”
But neither is it:
“If you are poor, God has given you nothing worth thanking him for.”
Those are radically different propositions.
The second one is spiritually dangerous.
Because it teaches people to measure divine goodness through their bank accounts.
Christianity has never taught that suffering cancels gratitude
The New Testament is full of people who had little materially but were nevertheless presented as faithful.
Paul wrote about hunger.
He wrote about imprisonment.
He wrote about beatings.
He wrote about being shipwrecked.
He wrote about sleeping without adequate resources.
Yet his faith did not disappear when his circumstances deteriorated.
The Christian tradition even developed an entire theology around suffering.
The cross itself destroys the proposition that material comfort is the reliable evidence of God's favour.
If wealth were proof of God's approval, then the crucifixion would be the ultimate evidence of divine rejection.
Jesus was not sitting in a mansion surrounded by Lamborghinis when Christianity began.
He was executed.
His followers were imprisoned.
Many were killed.
The early Christian movement did not spread because its founders promised everybody a luxury lifestyle.
It spread while many of its adherents were risking their lives.
That is why the “if I can't eat, what am I thanking God for?” philosophy deserves scrutiny.
It is not merely a provocative sentence.
It reveals a theology in which material provision becomes the primary measurement of divine worth.
But there is an important distinction
Someone who is hungry has every right to say:
“God, I am hungry. Help me.”
That is not ingratitude.
Someone who says:
“God, I am hungry and I don't understand why you have allowed this.”
is not necessarily abandoning faith.
The Psalms are full of this language.
The problem comes when the argument becomes:
“Because I am hungry, God has given me nothing worthy of gratitude.”
That is different.
It converts gratitude into a payment.
And that is where prosperity theology can become psychologically dangerous.
The prosperity gospel has an enormous attraction for young people
This is where SPAC Nation becomes relevant.
Pastor Tobi Adegboyega has previously described SPAC Nation as a movement specifically designed to connect with young people who felt disconnected from conventional churches.
In a 2021 interview, he argued that traditional churches often failed young people because they were perceived as boring and did not provide sufficient hope for economic advancement. He described SPAC Nation as a response to youth alienation, crime and economic deprivation.
That is a legitimate social problem.
A church that tells an unemployed 20-year-old:
“You have potential. Your life matters. You can build something.”
is doing something valuable.
A church that tells a young person involved in crime:
“Your past does not have to determine your future.”
can change a life.
And SPAC Nation's supporters have consistently pointed to its youth-focused approach and work with vulnerable young people.
The problem begins when economic success becomes indistinguishable from spiritual success.
Then the Lamborghini becomes theology
This is where the culture surrounding the movement becomes difficult to ignore.
Forbes investigated SPAC Nation and reported allegations from former members involving financial pressure, “seed” giving and other forms of exploitation. SPAC Nation denied wrongdoing and disputed the allegations. Forbes also reported the conspicuous display of luxury cars and designer clothing associated with Adegboyega and his public image.
Adegboyega himself has explained the cars and designer clothing differently.
In a 2021 interview, he said the cars belonged to businesses or church members and that he sometimes used them as part of promoting those businesses. He also said designer products were sometimes supplied to him by people associated with fashion.
That explanation should be acknowledged.
But the larger cultural question remains.
What does a young person conclude when the most visible symbols surrounding a religious movement are wealth, luxury cars, designer clothes, business success and financial elevation?
They may conclude that this is what God's blessing looks like.
And once that happens, poverty becomes more than an economic condition.
It becomes a spiritual embarrassment.
That is where “what are you thanking God for?” becomes dangerous
Imagine a young member who has just lost his job.
He cannot pay rent.
His family has not eaten properly for two days.
He goes to church.
And someone tells him:
“What are you thanking God for?”
There are two possible theological responses.
The first says:
“Your hunger is real. We will pray with you, feed you if we can, help you find work and remind you that your worth does not depend on your income.”
That is pastoral care.
The second says:
“If you are not prospering, what exactly has God done for you?”
That is something else.
It risks turning church into a showroom where people who are succeeding demonstrate God's favour to those who are failing.
And that can produce enormous psychological pressure.
The Bible actually warns against this mentality
One of the clearest passages is Paul's warning to Timothy about people who think religion is a mechanism for financial gain.
Paul writes about people who imagine that godliness is a means of gain.
That sentence should be printed on the walls of every prosperity-focused church.
Because there is a profound difference between:
“God can bless you materially.”
and:
“Material wealth is the evidence that God has blessed you.”
The first is compatible with Christianity.
The second becomes much harder to defend.
Jesus himself complicates the prosperity message
If material wealth were a straightforward measurement of God's favour, Jesus would have had a remarkably strange ministry.
He warned about riches.
He praised generosity.
He told a wealthy man to give to the poor.
He warned that it could be difficult for the rich to enter the kingdom of God.
He repeatedly associated discipleship with sacrifice.
And when Satan tempted him to turn stones into bread, Jesus rejected the idea that satisfying immediate material appetite was the highest spiritual priority.
Christianity does not teach people to hate money.
It teaches them not to worship it.
That distinction appears increasingly important in an era where churches can look remarkably similar to motivational seminars for wealth accumulation.
And this is where the SPAC Nation question becomes uncomfortable
What are young people actually learning?
That question should not be answered simply by looking at one viral video.
It should be answered by examining:
- sermons;
- leadership structures;
- financial teaching;
- youth programmes;
- fundraising practices;
- treatment of vulnerable members;
- safeguarding;
- accountability;
- and the behaviour of senior leaders.
And here there is something much more concrete than internet speculation.
The British Charity Commission conducted a formal inquiry into Salvation Proclaimers Ministries Limited, also known as SPAC Nation.
Its conclusions were serious.
The regulator found serious misconduct and/or mismanagement in the administration of the charity over a substantial period. It found inadequate safeguarding practices, serious financial-control failures and inadequate trustee oversight.
The charity was removed from the register in 2022.
Three trustees were disqualified for 12 years each and another former trustee for 10 years.
Those are not allegations from Twitter.
They are findings by the statutory regulator responsible for charities in England and Wales.
The money findings are particularly troubling
The Charity Commission's report found that SPAC Nation's charity had operated extensively outside normal banking controls.
Before December 2019, donations could be collected in cash, with cash kept by pastors on behalf of the charity.
The regulator found inadequate records of donations and expenditure.
It said transactions could bypass the charity's bank account and that trustees lacked adequate oversight and control of the charity's assets.
The figures are striking.
For the financial year ending December 2019, the charity reported income of approximately £718,398 and expenditure of approximately £728,020.
Yet between June 2019 and June 2020, only £2,080.35 of receipts and £2,080.35 of payments passed through its bank account.
That does not prove that every pound was stolen.
It does demonstrate a profoundly inadequate financial-control environment.
And it makes questions about the culture of money inside the movement legitimate.
Even more troubling: payments lacked adequate explanations
The regulator found that records concerning payments to beneficiaries were inadequate.
Some records contained only beneficiaries' first names and amounts paid, without sufficient explanation of:
- what the payments were for;
- how decisions were made;
- what risks were considered;
- or how payments were authorised.
The inquiry specifically noted payments that could create reputational risks, including payments intended to help beneficiaries settle debts to known drug dealers.
Again, this does not mean every pastor was involved in wrongdoing.
It does mean the institution had governance problems serious enough for a government regulator to intervene.
That context matters when somebody asks:
“What exactly are young people learning in this environment?”
The safeguarding question cannot be ignored either
The Charity Commission concluded that SPAC Nation's safeguarding practices were inadequate and that the lack of trustee oversight placed beneficiaries at risk.
That is particularly important because SPAC Nation built much of its identity around young people.
Its model was explicitly youth-oriented.
Its leaders presented themselves as people capable of reaching young people whom conventional institutions could not reach.
That creates a higher, not lower, duty of care.
If your ministry specifically attracts vulnerable young people, your safeguarding system should be exceptional.
Not improvised.
Not personality-driven.
Not dependent on trust alone.
Exceptional.
The tragedy is that the original mission could have been powerful
This is perhaps the most frustrating part.
There was—and remains—a real problem to solve.
Young people in London and elsewhere struggle with:
- unemployment;
- crime;
- gang recruitment;
- family breakdown;
- homelessness;
- addiction;
- social exclusion;
- and hopelessness.
A church that tells such young people they are not worthless can be transformational.
A pastor who says:
“You can become something.”
is doing something important.
But Christianity should not require a Lamborghini to make that message believable.
A young person should not have to become rich before being considered successful.
And a poor Christian should not feel like an embarrassment to God.
The church has an obligation to distinguish hope from hype
There is a profound difference between hope and hype.
Hope says:
Your life has value even when you have nothing.
Hype says:
Your life will become valuable when you become successful.
Hope says:
We will walk with you through hardship.
Hype says:
Give, believe and rise.
Hope says:
God is with you in poverty and prosperity.
Hype says:
Prosperity is proof that your faith is working.
The first can sustain a person when life collapses.
The second can leave a person devastated when prosperity does not arrive.
And young people are particularly vulnerable to the second message
A 19-year-old has not yet accumulated enough life experience to understand how unpredictable economic success can be.
One year can bring a job.
Another can bring unemployment.
One business can explode.
Another can collapse.
One investment can succeed.
Another can wipe out savings.
A young person taught that wealth is evidence of spiritual correctness may therefore internalise poverty as personal failure.
“Maybe God doesn't love me.”
“Maybe I didn't sow enough.”
“Maybe my faith isn't strong enough.”
“Maybe I'm cursed.”
That is an enormous psychological burden to place on someone already struggling economically.
The irony is that Christianity began among people who did not have much
The early church was not a billionaire's club.
The New Testament repeatedly describes believers supporting one another materially.
Acts describes Christians sharing possessions.
Paul organised collections for poor believers.
The Christian message was not:
“The poor have nothing to thank God for.”
It was closer to:
“If one member suffers, all suffer together.”
That is a radically different social philosophy.
Christianity at its strongest does not tell the poor to become less poor by pretending poverty is irrelevant.
It tells the community:
If your brother is hungry, feed him.
So perhaps the question should be reversed
Instead of asking:
“If you can't eat, what are you thanking God for?”
the Christian question should be:
“If your brother cannot eat, what are you doing about it?”
That is far more uncomfortable.
Because praise is easy.
A microphone is easy.
A sermon is easy.
A motivational speech is easy.
But feeding someone is expensive.
Helping somebody find employment is difficult.
Paying school fees is difficult.
Providing housing is difficult.
Building accountable institutions is difficult.
Creating sustainable businesses is difficult.
And protecting vulnerable young people requires systems rather than charisma.
The real test of a prosperity church is what happens when prosperity disappears
Anyone can preach faith when everyone is driving expensive cars.
The real test is the unemployed member.
The indebted member.
The divorced member.
The sick member.
The member who cannot afford an offering.
The member whose business failed.
The teenager whose parents cannot pay school fees.
The young person who has nothing to “sow.”
Does the church still treat them as valuable?
Does the pastor still know their name?
Does the congregation still embrace them?
Does anyone feed them?
Does anyone help them find work?
Or does their spiritual status quietly decline because they can no longer contribute financially?
That is the test.
“Perilous times” should not become an excuse for lazy theology
There is a temptation to describe every disturbing religious statement as evidence that we are living in the “end times.”
But Christians have been declaring the end times for centuries.
The more useful response is not panic.
It is discernment.
The Bible itself tells believers to test teachers.
It warns about false prophets.
It warns about people exploiting religious devotion for financial gain.
It warns about leaders who appear righteous externally but are corrupt internally.
Therefore, the answer to questionable preaching is not merely:
“The end is near!”
It is:
“Open the Bible. Examine the teaching. Examine the fruit. Examine the institution. Examine the money. Examine the leadership.”
And SPAC Nation's history makes that examination unavoidable
This is where criticism should be precise.
It would be unfair to claim that every young person who attended SPAC Nation learned greed.
It would be equally unfair to claim that every pastor associated with it was corrupt.
There are undoubtedly young people who found community, discipline, mentorship and opportunity through the movement.
Adegboyega has repeatedly argued that SPAC Nation helped young people leave crime and develop careers, and supporters have cited examples of members who went on to professional success.
Those claims should not simply be erased.
But neither should institutional failures be dismissed.
The Charity Commission's findings are too serious for that.
The question is therefore not whether SPAC Nation has done anything good
It almost certainly has.
The question is:
What theology accompanies those achievements?
Because a church can produce successful entrepreneurs and still teach unhealthy ideas about money.
A church can reduce youth crime and still have poor financial governance.
A pastor can inspire young people and still be surrounded by a culture requiring scrutiny.
Human institutions are complicated.
That is why evidence matters.
And if Pastor Jessica's statement reflects what she was taught, that is the real tragedy
If the quotation is authentic and not stripped of context, then the problem is not that a young pastor was angry about hunger.
She should be angry about hunger.
Every Christian should be angry about hunger.
The problem is teaching people that hunger invalidates gratitude.
The Christian response to an empty plate should be both:
“Lord, thank you.”
and
“Lord, give us this day our daily bread.”
Those prayers are not contradictions.
They are Christianity.
And perhaps that is what the next generation of pastors needs to rediscover.
The final irony
A church that tells poor people they have nothing to thank God for may unintentionally reveal what it thinks God is worth.
If God is worthy only when the bank account is healthy, then the object of worship may no longer be God.
It may be prosperity.
And when prosperity becomes the proof of faith, the church eventually stops asking:
“How much do you love God?”
and starts asking:
“How much have you got?”
That is not revival.
That is a marketplace wearing religious clothing.
And if that is what some young people are being taught, the greatest danger is not that they have become too radical.
It is that they may have become too comfortable confusing God with wealth.
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