The battle for Venezuela’s soul

I write as a Venezuelan missionary to the church in Europe, where news about my country is often filtered through fragmented headlines or simplified narratives. To understand Venezuela’s crisis, one must look beyond politics and economics. What we are living is a human, social, and spiritual tragedy.

The crisis appears in daily life: families torn apart by forced migration, fear and imposed silence, arbitrary detentions, and hundreds of political prisoners. This is not merely the result of poor leadership, but of a system deliberately structured to prevent change—sustained by repression, intimidation, and the systematic denial of human dignity.

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During a recent illness that forced me into stillness, I entered a season of listening and discernment. I did not receive a dramatic revelation, but a persistent inner conviction that required spiritual responsibility before public expression. I submitted this discernment to respected Christian leaders inside and outside Venezuela, including Pastor Samuel Olson, now 83, one of the country’s most influential evangelical voices and my first spiritual mentor. Along with other leaders, he confirmed the call not only to encouragement, but to prudence and accountability.

Through this process, I recognized a dimension of the crisis largely unknown to believers in Europe: the deliberate use of spirituality as an instrument of political power.

In Cuba, Fidel Castro openly turned to Santería as spiritual legitimation of authority. Hugo Chávez imported this fusion of politics, mysticism, and witchcraft into Venezuela

Latin America’s religious history is complex, shaped by Christianity, indigenous traditions, and beliefs carried through slavery. These encounters produced syncretistic practices that were often used for social control and spiritual domination.

In contemporary Venezuela, the dictatorship does not merely tolerate but actively promotes a spirituality rooted in Cuban Santería and occult practices, imported alongside political and military advisers. This spirituality is presented not as folklore, but as a source of protection, power, and legitimacy—openly contradicting the Christian faith.

There are public rituals, symbols, and sites considered sacred to these practices. More troubling are testimonies from Christians within state institutions describing altars and ritual objects instrategic government spaces. For many regime leaders, power is believed to rest not only in weapons or alliances, but in spiritual protection.

This pattern follows the Cuban model. Fidel Castro openly turned to Santería as spiritual legitimation of authority. Hugo Chávez imported this fusion of politics, mysticism, and witchcraft into Venezuela—a legacy that continues today.

The struggle before us must be holistic: prayer joined with public responsibility, justice, social reconstruction

Meanwhile, Venezuela’s evangelical church is wounded and diminished. Many pastors have fled. Others remain out of faithfulness, fear, or survival. Some have aligned with the system for protection or benefit. Yet a faithful remnant persists—often outside institutional structures— living their faith communally, simply, and courageously. It is with these believers that we walk.

A turning point came on January 3, 2026, when U.S. forces captured Nicolás Maduro and his wife in Caracas and transferred them to the United States to face federal charges. This event marked a geopolitical rupture for Venezuela and Latin America.

Spiritually, it revealed that a seemingly immovable regime was vulnerable. Yet discernment brought a warning: when oppressive systems are weakened but not transformed at their foundations, they reorganize—often in more hardened forms.

The struggle before us cannot be only political or only spiritual. It must be holistic: prayer joined with public responsibility, justice, social reconstruction, and commitment to the common good.

This is not about imposing faith, but restoring the common good. When truth is lived, it continues to draw people to Christ

My own formation shaped this conviction. During the Argentine revival of the 1990s, churches were full and spiritual hunger was evident. Yet when I returned years later, little remained. The lesson was painful but clear: spiritual intensity without structural transformation cannot endure.

Without justice and commitment to the common good, revival fades.

The Kingdom of God is expressed in concrete freedom: freedom from fear and oppression, freedom to educate children without indoctrination, freedom to speak, work, and live with dignity—freedom to eat, heal, and dream again. This vision allows dialogue even with non- religious sectors who long for ethical reconstruction and social renewal.

For years we have trained Christian leaders not only in Scripture but in community entrepreneurship—serving real needs through practical action. Businesses became meeting places; meetings became communities; communities became living churches.

We now partner with universities to form professionals committed to truth, dignity, and social responsibility. This is not about imposing faith, but restoring the common good. When truth is lived, it continues to draw people to Christ.

What is happening in Venezuela is as real as armies and weapons—but far deeper. It is a spiritual, structural, and persistent battle. I write not as an expert, but as a witness. And I call on the church in Europe: pray for Venezuela with discernment—not naively, but with commitment to true transformation. May God grant us faithfulness, courage, and wisdom for this hour.

Wolfgang Fernández, Venezuelan, founder of Next Step.