The world is bleeding, not just from war or poverty but from silence—the kind that follows when God’s Word is buried under noise. From Gaza to Gboko, Iran to Igala land, there is famine—not of food, but of truth. Amos 8:11 warned us: “Behold, the days come… that I will send a famine… of hearing the words of the Lord.” In these tender times, it’s not the devil that has grown stronger but believers who’ve grown silent, forgetting that the Word is still the sword we drop before battle begins.
In Nigeria’s Middle Belt, certain men claim to be Fulani herdsman clutches their rifles while Tiv farmers sharpens their machetes. They no longer trade greetings but grief. The Word that once kept communities whole is now unheard in the cries of orphaned children. And in the Middle East, the sons of Abraham bleed each other under skies meant for prayers, not missiles. Isaiah 2:4 dreams of swords turned into plowshares, but humanity insists on cutting what God intended to cultivate.
Yet the Holy Word is not impotent. “He sent His Word and healed them,” Psalm 107:20 declares. But what happens when no one receives it? In Abuja’s megachurches, it flickers on screens but not in hearts. In Kirikiri prisons, it comforts inmates more than it convicts politicians. A torn Holy Bible in a jail cell burns brighter than all our LED-lit pulpits. The Holy Word of God still saves, still speaks—but are we still listening?
Apostle Ayo Babalola once thundered, “If the Word cannot change you, then your demons will comfort you.” Evangelist Yinka Yusuf cried, “The Word is not a decoration; it’s a deliverance.” Their fire is missing today. Our sermons are polished, our churches full—but our spirits hollow. We quote preachers but ignore the Christ they preach. As Billy Graham said, “If you are ignorant of God’s Word, you will always be ignorant of God’s will.”
In the U.S., Joyce Meyer reminds her millions, “Spending time in God’s Word is the key to strength and success in life.” But across the globe, people chase ten steps to prosperity while skipping the only step that matters: Scripture. Pastor Chris Oyakhilome aptly puts it: “The crisis of this generation is not economic, it’s spiritual illiteracy.” We memorize hashtags, not healing. We seek vibes, not verses.
Even now, in the war rooms of Tehran and Tel Aviv, generals plot vengeance instead of peace. Yet the Word, like dew, waits—not to strike, but to soothe. “My word is like a hammer,” God says in Jeremiah 23:29. But we’ve chosen to build altars to opinions instead of breaking rocks of hatred. When men forget the Word, they become wolves to one another. When nations forget it, they become ruins in waiting.
Igala elders say, “A drum that doesn’t beat from within is just wood.” So is a life without the Word. It may look whole on the outside but echoes empty. From Nigeria’s dusty villages to America’s bright cities, God is calling—through headlines, through heartbreaks, through holy writ. But the question remains: has the Word become impotent, or have we become impatient?
The wind is blowing again. Not the wind of politics, but prophecy. Not revival as performance, but revival as obedience. The Word is not just important—it is everything. It’s not just a book—it is breath. And it’s calling us—not to shout, but to listen. To remember. To return. Because what we call weakness in God’s Word is really the weakness in our willingness.
Will you scroll—or will you listen?
– Inah Boniface Ocholi writes from Ayah – Igalamela/Odolu LGA, Kogi state.
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