Adventure means different things to different people. For some, it is travel, for others it is sport, creativity, or stepping far outside familiar routines. For…
Adventure means different things to different people. For some, it is travel, for others it is sport, creativity, or stepping far outside familiar routines. For Paul Adegoke, a Lagos-based explorer, adventure took a quieter but deeply intentional form, leading him to explore one worship space per week for an entire year. What began as plain curiosity soon evolved into a journey of self-discovery, faith, and discernment.
In this edition of Portraits of the City, Adegoke shares how he navigated diverse expressions of worship and community in Lagos state, uncovering personal lessons about belief, belonging, and the many ways people seek meaning.
I wanted to do something adventurous at the start of the year. I have always been drawn to challenges and unconventional experiences, and I still have many ideas I hope to explore.
In June 2024, I embarked on a personal challenge to drive through all 20 local government areas of Lagos State in a single day. I set out as early as 5 a.m. with a couple of friends, Bimbola and Kayode, to see if it was truly possible to touch every part of Lagos within 24 hours. We returned shortly after midnight. It was exhausting but incredibly beautiful and fulfilling. We attempted to livestream the experience, but network challenges got in the way, largely because we hadn’t prepared adequately. That adventurous spirit stayed with me.
In 2025, I wanted to do something different again—something that would ground me and keep me committed. I was also reflecting on how easy it had become to attend church virtually. I wanted to return to physical fellowship, to experience worship in different spaces and communities. Visiting churches felt like a meaningful way to satisfy my curiosity, reconnect with in-person worship, and challenge myself spiritually and personally.
At the beginning, there was some structure. I created a list that included churches I had attended in the past, churches I had encountered online, others I had seen physically, and a few I was invited to. Some choices, however, were completely random.
There were Sundays when I genuinely didn’t know where I would attend service. I always tried to have a backup plan in case the first option didn’t work out. For example, I repeatedly tried to attend services at the Deeper Life headquarters in Gbagada, but each time I was told there would be no service that day and asked to return the following week, which didn’t align with my schedule.
I also hoped to attend churches that meet under bridges—often referred to as “churching the unchurched”—but many were outside my usual routes. So while some visits were carefully planned, others happened spontaneously. On certain Sundays, I spent nearly an hour driving around Lagos searching for a church. At times, I even prayed for guidance, asking God to lead me to where He wanted me to be. Some people questioned whether this journey was spiritually healthy, but my conviction was simple: if I attended a service and the message resonated deeply with me, then it was meant for me. God does not need a fixed address to speak to His children. He can use any pulpit, any pastor, anywhere.
There were also moments when I attended a church completely unplanned and yet had meaningful experiences. Some Sundays were well-organised; others felt burdensome because I didn’t know where to go. Still, I trusted God to guide my steps, even when my choices appeared random. That said, there were also moments when I knew clearly that a particular place was not where God intended for me to be.
I intentionally avoided boxing myself into rigid expectations. My primary goal was to explore, observe differences, and better understand how churches function across contexts. That objective has remained consistent and largely unchanged throughout the journey.
Each visit has carried its own weight and significance. While the early visits were driven more by excitement and curiosity, the later ones came with greater discernment and reflection. Over time, I became more attentive not just to the service itself, but to the atmosphere, the message, and the spiritual depth of the experience.
One major challenge has been the overall end-to-end church experience. In some churches, I observed preferential treatment,especially toward attendees who arrived in cars. There were also physical challenges, such as attending services during heavy rainfall.
On a more personal level, there was a period when I lost my job. That season was particularly difficult; I felt broken and lost the motivation to continue many things, including this journey. However, the churches I attended during that phase, alongside the support of my family, girlfriend, and friends, helped me keep going. What started as a personal project gradually became something communal—something bigger than me.
Another recurring challenge was choosing a church each Sunday. There were times I had to leave midway through a service because the message did not align with biblical truth. On other occasions, I spent over an hour driving before settling on a church because my initial choice was unavailable due to branch services or special programmes.
I also encountered churches where the atmosphere felt more like a concert than a place of worship, with little sense of God’s presence. Discernment became essential.
I rarely tell people that I am on a personal journey. I attend services as a regular member. Occasionally, I respond when asked to stand as a first-time visitor, but the follow-up calls that usually come after are quite intense. While that level of engagement is commendable, it doesn’t align with my current schedule or purpose.
One memorable moment was a pastor praying fervently for his football club, Manchester United. Another was attending a church where the pastor’s style was extremely dramatic.
In Ikeja, I attended a church where the choir stood out remarkably—they were perfectly in sync, and their worship deeply moved me. Some churches welcomed guests with thoughtful gifts such as perfumes or detergents, which I found both surprising and intentional in their own way.
I take pictures and short videos at every service, often with my girlfriend, who handles most of the photography since she attends with me over 70% of the time. However, I deliberately avoid detailed documentation. I don’t want this journey to become controversial or turn into a blogging project. My intention is to enjoy the experience, not to create content around it.
I also have an interest in architecture, so I often take photos of church buildings that stand out. For me, God’s work is sacred. I attend church to pray and receive blessings, not to create viral content. These experiences will stay with me for life, but they are not meant to be broadcasted extensively.
I’m cautious about making sweeping statements about churches. Christianity in Nigeria holds immense influence, and church leaders play significant roles in shaping public opinion. This influence explains why political leaders often align themselves with church leadership because one pastor can reach an entire community.
Religion is deeply embedded in Nigeria’s social fabric. When pastors speak on political matters, it highlights just how powerful their influence is. A single statement can shape perceptions and decisions on a large scale.
As a nation, we are highly religious, and I believe we must be careful not to merge Christianity and politics in ways that allow politics to control the faith. One of Nigeria’s greatest strengths is our commitment to worship and church community, and that should be protected.
I don’t subscribe to the idea that God can only minister to me through one particular church. God does not need an address. Through this journey, I have developed stronger discernment,knowing what aligns with God’s voice and what does not.
For instance, I can often tell when a message is being shaped primarily to solicit offerings. Still, I make it a point to give everywhere I attend. Even during times when I was financially strained, I gave my last offering.
Not directly, but the idea of churches that meet under bridges—reaching people who are otherwise disconnected from church—deeply resonates with me. I also attended a church where members actively networked and connected people in need of employment opportunities. In another church, there was a designated space where members could drop items they no longer needed for others to take freely. I also visited a church that was raising funds—not for its own building—but to support an orphanage. These acts of service stood out because they prioritised people over institutional growth.
Another adventure I’m considering is driving through all 36 states of Nigeria. The plan is to make it a circular journey,starting from Lagos and eventually returning to Lagos. It’s still a work in progress, but it’s something I am actively planning and looking forward to.
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