The crisis in Nigeria in recent time is no longer a political riddle alone—it has become a spiritual contradiction. We have santuary seats full but pulpits empty of authority, governments loud but governance hollow, and congregations swelling while conscience shrinks. The nation is not suffering from a shortage of men in suits but of men with scars. In every space—from politics to the pulpit—a windblown confusion now rips through the sectors of the Church, splintering doctrine, distorting destiny, and drowning divine direction. The noise of greed and ambition is drowning the whisper of assignment.
In this confusion, many are ordained by mafian fathers, not purpose. But divine ordination is not granted through ecclesiastical networking or campaign funds—it is born of fire. It is heaven’s fingerprint pressed upon mortal shoulders. The leadership crisis in Nigeria is, first, a leadership identity crisis. A generation with thrones in their hands and no altars in their hearts cannot birth revival. Holy Scripture cries out in Romans 8:19, “For the earnest expectation of the creature waiteth for the manifestation of the sons of God.” Nigeria waits, but who will arise?
The missing ingredient in this generation is not charisma—it is consecration. Not eloquence, but essence. Leadership in God’s vision is not the performance of strength, but the stewardship of weakness handed over to God. As Bishop Mike Okonkwo once put it, “When God calls a man, He doesn’t look at his past, He looks at His own future through that man.” That future is hidden inside you—not found on a ballot but buried in your belly like fire. Jeremiah 1:5 reminds us, “Before I formed thee in the belly I knew thee; and before thou camest forth out of the womb I sanctified thee, and I ordained thee…”
There is a divine restlessness sitting like embers in the bones of those chosen by God to lead. They do not sleep well when injustice speaks. They cannot dine while the nation bleeds. They are set apart—not by title but by tears. These are the Deborahs, the Daniels, the Davids rising in unlikely places. Yet their emergence requires activation. Purpose does not lead by default; it is stirred by obedience. Passion does not rule on its own; it is kindled by fire from above. Potential does not manifest magically; it is unveiled through intimacy with the Caller.
It was Dr. Paul Enenche who thundered: “When a man discovers his purpose, he becomes a terror to stagnation.” Nigeria is not short of men; it is short of men with divine fire in their bones. A nation filled with churches should not be starved of righteous leadership. Yet today, it seems the pulpit competes with the palace for political power while the pew drowns in moral powerlessness. A whirlwind of false callings and ambitious anointings has fractured the clarity of God’s voice in the Church, leaving sheep scattered and shepherds sedated.
There is no great nation without great leaders, and no great leader without a great God behind him. But to unlock the hidden leader within, one must first bow at the altar of purpose. Discover your divine restlessness—that burden that burns in silence. Discover your voice—the one that trembles when you see oppression. Discover your fire—the one that refuses to die, no matter how much you are buried. You are not just born; you were sent. You were not merely created; you were commissioned.
Dr. Ngozi Okonjo-Iweala declared, “Leadership is not about power; it’s about responsibility.” That responsibility is divine. You don’t need a collar to be called. You don’t need a microphone to be heard in heaven. You don’t need a pulpit to shift policies. You only need to say, like Isaiah, “Here am I, send me.” (Isaiah 6:8). The assignment of leadership is buried in obedience. The anointing for change does not fall on ambition—it falls on alignment.
So what, then, are the missing keys? First, the key of brokenness—because only broken vessels leak oil. Second, the key of prayer—because revelation precedes manifestation. Third, the key of mentorship—because Elisha needed Elijah’s mantle to unlock his own. Fourth, the key of courage—because you cannot lead what you fear. And finally, the key of purity—because without integrity, authority is a loud lie.
Peter Obi once said, “You can’t build a great nation with reckless leadership.” That recklessness often begins with leaders who have not discovered themselves. The man who does not know who he is will abuse those he leads. But when you find your purpose, passion follows. When passion is aligned with heaven, potential bursts open like a dam. This is the hour of awakening. It is not the crowd that matters, but the clarity of your call.
You may not be known, but you are noticed by heaven. You may not feel qualified, but you are sanctified. You may be broken, but you are chosen. The season of watching from the sidelines is over. Heaven is calling the hidden leaders out of caves. Like Gideon, like Esther, like Joseph—rise. You are God’s answer to a national question. Your voice is the trumpet that will break the silence of confusion. Your obedience is the bridge between national stagnation and spiritual reformation.
Let the prophets prophesy again. Let the teachers teach with holy fire. Let the governors govern with clean hands and pure hearts. Let every youth, every father, every daughter recognize: you are chosen to lead. Nigeria is not just bleeding from bad systems—it is starving for sent ones.
And now, you know.
May you discover your purpose.
May you awaken your passion.
May you unleash your potential.
And may you become the leader God has destined you to be.
Nigeria cannot wait any longer.
You are ordained.
You are needed.
You are now.
– Inah Boniface Ocholi writes from Ayah – Igalamela/Odolu LGA, Kogi state.
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