The
Unorthodox Pulpit: Pastor Ng’ang’a’s Gospel of Confrontation
At Nairobi’s Neno Evangelism Centre, Sunday
sermons don’t just bring the Word—they bring a storm. Apostle James Ng’ang’a,
the man behind the pulpit, isn’t your conventional pastor. With the charisma of
a showman and the discipline of a drill sergeant, his services resemble more of
a battlefield than a place of worship.
Ng’ang’a doesn’t whisper salvation—he shouts
it. His followers, drawn to the drama, fill pews not in search of peace but for
the passion. “This is not a church, it’s a military camp,” he once roared
during a sermon, declaring that his brand of ministry tackles what others shy
away from.
He offers no apologies for his conduct. “I
speak wisdom, not just sermons. And I am not poor,” he often asserts, framing
his wealth and grit as evidence of divine favor. His pulpit doubles as a stage,
where spiritual warfare is dramatized through discipline—sometimes in the form
of slaps.
Slaps,
Scorn, and Spectacle: The "S" Factor in Pastor Ng’ang’a’s Ministry
The nation took notice when a video went viral
showing Ng’ang’a striking a sleeping congregant during a live sermon. “Wake up!
Kenya has too many problems!” he barked, jolting the man and shocking viewers
nationwide. Public outrage was swift. Social media erupted, and even Nairobi’s
County Chief Environment Officer condemned the act as unwarranted violence in a
sacred space.
But this was not a one-off incident. Days
later, another clip surfaced of a woman being publicly shamed and told to be
taken outside into the rain as punishment for sleeping during the service. The
response was a mix of disbelief and mockery, yet Ng’ang’a remained
unapologetic. “Even Jesus threw people out of the temple,” he quipped in
another broadcast, doubling down on his approach.
Despite public backlash, his church pews
remain packed. Followers laugh, cheer, and continue attending—even as videos of
his confrontational sermons trend online.
When Help
Becomes Humiliation
In February 2025, the pastor again drew
criticism for rejecting a woman’s plea for rent support. “I’m not the
government,” he retorted. But in a twist of fate, the woman, Milka Moraa, later
found support through public figures and joined the government’s Affordable
Housing Programme. She eventually expressed gratitude—surprisingly—including
Ng’ang’a in her thanks for indirectly pushing her toward help.
Faith and
Finances: A Cautionary Tale
Ng’ang’a doesn’t hold back on economics
either. He has warned his congregation against investing in bars, lodgings, and
matatu businesses—ventures he claims are doomed without vice. His personal
hotel struggles, he claims, stem from his refusal to sell alcohol or allow loud
music. “If you don’t sell weed or condoms, your hotel is already dead,” he once
declared.
Love,
Loyalty, and a Checkered Past
Ng’ang’a’s dramatic narrative extends beyond
the pulpit. When he married Mercy Murugi, over 700 women reportedly exited his
church in protest. Still, he stood firm, defending his choice and recounting
spiritual battles faced as a couple.
Behind his bravado lies a past shrouded in
redemption. In a 2022 interview, he revealed he had served 20 years in prison
for armed robbery before finding faith. His journey from criminal to cleric is
as polarizing as his sermons.
Whether hailed as a fearless preacher or condemned as a controversial figure,
Pastor Ng’ang’a continues to redefine what a modern pulpit can look like in
Kenya. In his world, salvation is not whispered but thundered, often with a
slap for punctuation.
