Refusing Gehazi’s Path: How the Mansa Diocese Preserved the Altar
By Dr Mwelwa
When the altar is approached with gifts wrapped in political allegiance, the Church must decide: will it speak like Elisha, or grab like Gehazi?
In recent days, the Diocese of Mansa stood at such a crossroads. A fundraising event for the Lubwe Mission, meant to celebrate 120 years of Catholic presence in Zambia, found itself surrounded not just by parishioners but by politicians—with cameras rolling, promises made, and donations pledged in broad daylight. K800,000 from the President. 200 bags of mealie meal and two cows from a campaigning minister. A celebration turned into a spectacle. Yet, unlike many others who have stumbled under similar circumstances, the Catholic leadership did not flinch.
The Bishop, Rt. Rev. Patrick Chisanga, had warned his parish priest beforehand: clarity must be established before mixing the sacred with the strategic. The event, however, proceeded without his consent—and the response was firm. Not out of hostility, but from conviction. Not out of ingratitude, but from a deep understanding that once the Church begins accepting silver and garments in exchange for silence or public relations, it has stepped into the shadow of Gehazi.
For was it not Gehazi who, unable to resist the shimmer of Naaman’s riches, ran behind Elisha’s back to accept what the prophet had rejected? And was it not Gehazi who, for this act of opportunism, was struck with the very leprosy that Elisha had healed?
The Diocese of Mansa has done what many in the Evangelical and Pentecostal circles have failed to do: uphold the altar above the offering. In a time when pastors lift placards for politicians during worship, when CDF directives masquerade as benevolence, and when silence is traded for subsidies, the Catholic Church in Mansa reminds us that not every gift is a blessing, and not every donor is sent by God.
This is not a declaration of moral superiority. It is a demonstration of spiritual sobriety.
What distinguishes this act is not simply the refusal of funds, but the deeper theological statement it makes: the Church must not be seen to endorse any political grouping by the manner in which it receives or recognizes gifts. Generosity becomes manipulation the moment it’s publicized at a campaign event. And when churches participate, knowingly or otherwise, they become not only recipients of aid but instruments of propaganda.
This is the same danger we raised earlier regarding the Dorcas Mothers. When church groups are lifted in political directives, praised in partisan spaces, and then receive targeted funds, it ceases to be ministry—it becomes machinery. But unlike those who stood silently when their altars were turned into platforms, the Diocese of Mansa has drawn a line.
They did not dishonor the office of the President. They did not curse the giver. But they reminded all Zambians—and especially the body of Christ—that the prophetic voice is not for hire.
This, then, is a call to every denomination: be it evangelical, charismatic, Reformed, or Catholic. We must revisit the words of Ellen G. White who warned that even the slightest union between church and state, “while it may appear to bring the world nearer to the church, does in reality but bring the church nearer to the world.”
Today, the Diocese of Mansa refused the path of Gehazi. The question now is, will the rest of us?
Will we continue lifting holy hands on Sunday and political placards on Saturday? Will we continue praying for rain while refusing to build boreholes, celebrating donations while our silence sanctifies tribalism, injustice, and repression?
Or will we, like Elisha, say: “As surely as the Lord lives, I will not accept it,” and keep the Church untangled from the snares of statecraft?
The Catholic Church in Mansa has given us an example. Not perfect, but principled. And in this hour, principles are worth more than promises.