Politics is like a river; it flows where the land permits. Some rivers nourish the land, while others flood and destroy. The same can be said about leadership—some lead with a heart full of service, while others eat and drink with the people’s sweat and call it governance. The world is in a season where lazy gluttons and power-hungry rulers sit on thrones, while the common man wonders if God still watches. It raises the question: Can a heart for God truly transform politics, or is faith just a decoration on the walls of power?
History tells us that leadership without conscience is like a house without a roof; it cannot protect the people. The world has seen leaders who never missed Friday Jummat and Sunday services. In fact, they wore faith like a badge but ruled like Pharaoh. But then, we have also seen those who walked with God and changed the course of history. Nelson Mandela, though not a preacher, understood forgiveness in a way that even some pastors struggle with. Martin Luther King Jr. carried a Bible in one hand and the dream of a just society in the other. Even Abraham Lincoln, in the thick of the American Civil War, declared, “My concern is not whether God is on our side; my greatest concern is to be on God’s side.”
But in today’s world, faith in politics has become a complex puzzle. Some see it as a tool, wielding religion when it benefits them and discarding it when it doesn’t. Others argue that faith and governance should be like oil and water—separate. The Nigerian man on the street will tell you, “Politicians dey go church or mosques, but e no mean say dem holy.” And that is the dilemma. Faith has become a political costume rather than a guiding principle.
Yet, history has its own stubborn way of proving that true leadership cannot be divorced from morality. Every great civilization that ignored justice crumbled like a building eaten by termites. The Roman Empire fell not because of external enemies but because of the decay within. When leaders replace service with self-interest, they invite destruction with their own hands. It is why wise elders say, “When the yam seller begins to eat more than he sells, hunger is knocking.”
Leadership, at its core, is stewardship. The Christian faith does not call for silence in the face of oppression. Jesus Himself flipped tables when He saw corruption in the temple. He was not just a spiritual leader but a revolutionary voice against injustice. The question then is: Where are the leaders with hearts that burn for righteousness? The pulpit cannot be silent when the throne is corrupt. If politics is a game, then let men of faith be players, not spectators. If not, the righteous will remain at the mercy of wolves in fine suits.
But what does it mean to have a heart for God in governance? Is it the frequent quoting of scriptures in campaign speeches? Is it the act of kneeling in public prayer before elections? No, a heart for God in politics is a heart that fears injustice more than losing an election. It is a heart that sees leadership as a responsibility, not a reward. It is the kind of heart that remembers, as John Calvin once said, “A ruler who does not serve his people serves only himself, and such a leader is an enemy of God.”
The reality is that faith in governance is not about slogans; it is about sacrifice. When Moses led Israel, he was not seeking a throne; he was answering a call. Nehemiah did not rebuild Jerusalem for personal gain but because he carried a burden. This is where modern politics fails—power is chased, not as a calling to serve, but as a throne to enjoy. The result? Roads that remain potholes after multiple budgets, hospitals where the poor die while leaders fly abroad for checkups, and schools where the future of the nation sits on broken chairs.
If politics is to be redeemed, then faith must become more than decoration. Leaders must fear God, not just in words but in actions. They must remember that history does not forget. Every great leader is either remembered as a builder or as a destroyer. The question is, what legacy do they leave behind? It is why African wisdom warns, “The man who plants a tree does not always eat its fruit, but his children will.” True leaders build for generations, not just for their tenure.
And what of the people? Can a society drowning in corruption demand righteous leadership? A people who sell their votes for a bag of rice cannot complain when their future is mortgaged. Faith is not just for the leaders; it is for the people too. The Bible warns, “When the righteous are in authority, the people rejoice; but when the wicked rule, the people groan.” But righteousness does not enter government by accident—it is put there by a people who desire justice more than temporary gain.
There is hope, but hope alone is not enough. Faith without works is dead. The call is not just for leaders to embrace faith but for people to demand it. If a nation truly wants change, then it must be willing to uphold values that demand accountability. If not, history will keep repeating itself like a stubborn song on repeat.
The question remains: Can faith fix the system? Faith can, but only if it is not just spoken but lived. Only if leaders see governance as service, not a business. Only if citizens value justice more than handouts. And only if righteousness is pursued, not as a political strategy, but as a way of life. The future is not written in the stars; it is written by the choices we make today. And as Desmond Tutu once said, “If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor.”
So, let the choice be made. Let faith not be a mask but a mantle. Let those who claim to lead in God’s name remember that the God they call upon is also the Judge of all men. Let the people rise above temporary gains and seek a future where justice flows like a river and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream. Then, and only then, will faith truly transform politics.
– Inah Boniface Ocholi writes from Ayah, Igalamela/Odolu
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