Preachers in Private Jets, Wolves in Designer Clothing?
"They are dogs with mighty appetites; they never have enough. They are shepherds who lack understanding; they all turn to their own way; they seek their own gain."
(Isaiah 56:10-11)
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The sun rises over a dusty town where a mother kneels beside her sick child, praying desperately for healing. She has just sent her last money to a “man of God” on television who promised miracles if only she would “sow a seed of faith.” Meanwhile, thousands of miles away, that same preacher steps out of a multi-million-dollar private jet onto a red carpet, his wrist glinting with gold, his shoes Italian, his suit tailored in Paris. His followers cheer. Cameras roll. And somewhere, the gospel we once knew weeps.
What has become of the modern church? How did those called to shepherd God’s flock become celebrities of the skies? The transformation has been slow but steady—a drift from the simplicity of Christ to a religion of luxury, wealth, and spectacle. These men once preached repentance and salvation. Now, they preach favor and fortune. And for those with discerning eyes, it is becoming clear: this isn’t just a shift in style. It’s a sign of something far more dangerous—something biblical, even apocalyptic.
Take Kenneth Copeland, for example. The Texas-based televangelist is one of the most visible faces of the prosperity gospel. With a net worth estimated at $760 million, Copeland owns at least three private jets, including a Gulfstream V. In an interview that sparked outrage across the globe, he once said, “You can’t talk to God while flying in a commercial plane with a bunch of demons.” The world watched in shock, but many of his followers applauded. They saw it not as arrogance, but as divine elevation. “The man of God should fly above the crowd,” one supporter tweeted. “He is God’s chosen vessel.”
Copeland is not alone. Creflo Dollar, another American prosperity preacher, made headlines when he requested $65 million from his congregation to buy a Gulfstream G650. “If I want to believe God for a $65 million plane,” he said defiantly, “you cannot stop me.” Though public backlash forced him to pause the campaign, he later acquired the jet anyway. His net worth? Roughly $27 million.
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Across the Atlantic, African preachers have joined the high-flying club. Bishop David Oyedepo, founder of Living Faith Church Worldwide (Winner's Chapel), is said to own four private jets and has an estimated net worth of $150 million. He preaches the “gospel of dominion”—a theology that ties spiritual authority to visible wealth. “It’s not about money,” he once said. “It’s about covenant wealth and kingdom prosperity.” Yet in the shadow of his ministry’s gleaming jet hangars, millions of his followers live below the poverty line.
Pastor Chris Oyakhilome, known globally for his healing crusades, is believed to own at least one private jet and has a net worth estimated at $50 million. In the U.S., Jesse Duplantis, with a net worth around $20 million, once claimed Jesus Himself would not ride a donkey in modern times but would fly a private jet to spread the gospel. “He wouldn’t be walking,” Duplantis insisted. “He’d be on a plane, preaching everywhere.”
And so, the question echoes louder: how did these preachers become millionaires, and is this even biblical?
Their methods are as bold as their lifestyles. At the center is a doctrine called “seed faith.” According to this teaching, you must give money to receive blessings from God. The larger your gift, the greater your miracle. This teaching turns offerings into transactions—spiritual bribes. Luke 6:38 is quoted endlessly: “Give, and it shall be given unto you.” But the giving always flows in one direction—toward the preacher.
Next is the commercialization of holy things. Some ministries sell “anointed oil,” “miracle handkerchiefs,” and other spiritual items—often for outrageous prices. One woman paid for a bottle of “blessing oil” that turned out to be plain olive oil bought from a supermarket. But she didn’t ask for a refund—she believed.
Then there’s the rise of spiritual merchandising—books, conference tickets, “partner packages,” and even subscriptions for private livestreams of so-called “exclusive revelations.” In many cases, the line between ministry and business has completely blurred. The church is no longer a sanctuary; it's a market. The pulpit has become a platform for selling dreams rather than preaching truth.
And the manipulation runs deep. Many of these preachers target the vulnerable—the poor, the desperate, the sick. They promise healing, promotion, debt cancellation, and breakthroughs in exchange for money. “Give $1,000 today, and by this time next week, God will surprise you,” they say. Meanwhile, those who gave wait in silence, hungry and heartbroken.
Yet, oddly, many followers do not complain. In fact, they defend their leaders with fierce loyalty. “Papa can have 10 jets if he wants,” said a woman in Lagos. “It shows God is with him.” Others speak of “touching the Lord’s anointed,” warning critics to keep quiet lest they invite a curse. Some even go into debt to “honor the man of God,” believing it will bring them divine favor.
But the cracks are beginning to show. As the internet makes information more available, more people are waking up. Former followers are coming forward with heartbreaking stories—of lost savings, of prayers unanswered, of manipulation. One man in Nairobi said, “My pastor told me to give my rent money and trust God. I ended up homeless, and he flew to Dubai the next day.” Another in Atlanta confessed, “I gave over $20,000 across five years and never once got the job breakthrough they promised. I feel robbed.”
Mainstream media has also begun to pay attention. From BBC to Forbes, journalists are asking tough questions: How are preachers becoming richer than celebrities? Why do they register ministries as charities, yet live like kings? And why are governments silent?
Even some within the church are sounding the alarm. Bible teachers like John Piper have called the prosperity gospel “demonic.” He warns that it corrupts the true gospel, shifting focus from Christ crucified to wealth glorified.
The most tragic part of all is how far this is from the example of Jesus. He never rode in chariots of gold. He never wore robes lined with diamonds. He never asked for silver to perform miracles. In Luke 9:58, He said, “Foxes have dens and birds have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head.” The apostles too lived and died in hardship, preaching the truth and suffering for it. Paul, the greatest church planter, wrote letters from prison cells—not from penthouses.
This is why the Bible is not silent about such things. It warned us long ago.
“There will be false teachers among you. In their greed, they will exploit you with fabricated stories.” — 2 Peter 2:1–3
“In the last days, people will gather around teachers who say what their itching ears want to hear.” — 2 Timothy 4:3
“Men will be lovers of themselves, lovers of money, boastful, proud…” — 2 Timothy 3:1–5
These verses are not describing atheists or pagans. They are describing people in the church—wolves among the sheep. And their love of wealth, power, and applause is a trumpet blast signaling the end times.
But God is not fooled. Every jet, every luxury car, every dollar collected under false pretenses is being recorded. Jesus said in Matthew 7:22–23: “Many will say to me on that day, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name...?’ Then I will tell them plainly, ‘I never knew you. Away from me, you evildoers!" Evidently these prosperity preachers are not Christians. They are blasphemers. They hate Jesus.
It is time to wake up. Time to stop following charisma instead of character. Time to return to the old paths where the gospel was not for sale and the cross was more important than cash.
The church needs a reformation—not of music or lighting, but of the heart.
We must ask the hard questions:
Is your pastor serving Christ or serving himself?
Is your faith in the finished work of the cross or in the flashy words of a celebrity preacher?
The true gospel still exists. It is found in churches that still preach repentance. In voices that still cry out for holiness. In leaders who live among the people, not above them. And in believers who understand that heaven is the goal—not the Gulfstream.
And as we watch more so-called “men of God” chase jets, wealth, and fame, let it remind us of Jesus' sobering words:
“What does it profit a man to gain the whole world but lose his soul?” — Mark 8:36
Let us not be deceived. The wolves are no longer hiding. They walk boldly down red carpets, smiling for the cameras, dressed in the finest clothes that money can buy. But their fruits speak louder than their sermons.
And the sheep must now choose: follow the Shepherd… or the showman.
About the author
Rev Martin Muasa is a pastor with the African Inland Church (AIC) in Machakos, Kenya and a lecturer at Scott Christian University. He is deeply passionate about biblical truth, Christian discipleship and end-times prophecy. With a calling to teach and shepherd, Rev Muasa writes to equip believers with theological insights and to challenge the church to remain faithful in a rapidly changing world. His blog explores scripture, culture, and the church's role in today's spiritual landscape.
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