In a world gasping for true leadership, the absence of genuine spiritual sons and the proliferation of hirelings is costing generations more than we dare to admit. It is no longer a distant problem. It is here, breathing heavily on our necks, pushing communities, churches, and societies to the brink of spiritual bankruptcy.
Today’s pulpits are crowded, but the altars are empty. Voices rise in every street corner, yet few carry the true fire of mentorship. Too many leaders are raising workers, not sons; hirelings, not heirs; assistants, not inheritors of legacy. As a result, when the fathers sleep, their labours are scattered like ashes in the wind. Their prayers vanish into cold files of forgotten history. Their visions die in board meetings. Their anointing expires in museum-like organizations that once shook nations but now struggle to attract even the curious.
Jesus Christ, our perfect model, did not raise hirelings. He raised sons. He poured into twelve men—not merely as students, but as heirs of His spirit. “I do not call you servants any longer,” He said, “but friends” (John 15:15). He gave them His scars, His secrets, His Spirit. And when He ascended, the world did not lose Him; it multiplied Him. Twelve turned into thousands, then millions. Today, countless lives stand as proof that true mentorship is not about maintaining crowds but about molding characters.
The tragedy of our time is glaring: fathers are busy building empires but forget to build men. Discipleship/Mentorship meetings are often reduced to conferences and branding exercises. Relationships are professional, not paternal. Loyalties are bought with positions, not earned with sacrifice. Like the ancient warning of Prophet Jeremiah, “Woe unto the shepherds that destroy and scatter the sheep of my pasture!” (Jeremiah 23:1).
In African villages of old, no man called another “father” lightly. “A father does not merely feed you,” one Igala proverb says, “he names your future.” Mentorship was more than skill transfer; it was spirit transfer. It was a covenant across time. The young man fetched water, but in return, the elder poured wisdom into his bones. It was never about tasks; it was always about transformation.
Sadly, modern ambition has corrupted this ancient art. Many leaders, obsessed with survival and relevance, now prefer the speed of hirelings to the slow patience of raising sons. Hirelings come cheap, and they leave cheaper. They stay for the pay, not for the vision. When the storms rise, they scatter, for they have no roots in the house. Sons, however, stand and bleed with the father. Sons protect altars with their blood. Sons carry the father’s burden even when the applause fades.
What will happen when today’s great names are called home? Who will sustain the wells they dug? Who will remember the tears they shed, the fires they birthed, the prayers they uttered in the dark? Without sons, there will be no legacy. Without legacy, our revivals will be like fireworks—bright, noisy, and short-lived.
We need a renaissance of spiritual fatherhood. Not bosses. Not supervisors. Fathers. Men and women who will dare to invest their spirit into others. Leaders who see beyond schedules into destinies. Mentors who will love enough to correct, rebuke, and sometimes break so that what rises is not just talent but trusted hearts.
Pastor Chris Oyakhilome once said, “Real success is not in how many you gather but in how many you raise.” Bishop David Oyedepo often echoes the same cry: “The future belongs to those who have prepared others to take over.” Evangelist Yinka Yusuf puts it bluntly, “You are only as successful as your successor.”
Even Jesus Himself was obsessed with succession. He didn’t die after healing the last blind man; He died after teaching the last disciple. He spent more time with twelve men than with thousands of miracles. Legacy was the goal. And so must it be with us.
The signs are everywhere: movements that once roared like lions are today whimpering like puppies. Fires that once consumed cities now flicker like dying candles. Why? Because many leaders forgot that no matter how powerful your ministry, your business, your calling—without sons, it is only a season, not a legacy.
There is still hope. The fields are still white. Young men and women still yearn for fathers, for mothers, for mentors who will do more than give them tasks but will name their destinies. It is not too late to start again. To pour into lives, not programs. To raise heirs, not hirelings.
One Igbo proverb says, “He who plants a tree knowing he will never sit under its shade has begun to understand life.”
Raising sons is slow, painful, and often unglamorous. But it is the only guarantee that when the current generation sleeps, the next will still sing the songs of Zion with fresh fire in their bones.
The choice is clear: raise sons—or watch legacies die. There is no shortcut to maintain legacies. Seed must be planted, rooted before fruits.
Are you patiently waiting and looking for a living church where sons and daughters are raised but not hirelings? Visits: Latter Glory Kingdom Assembly, Idah, Kogi State. Nigeria. God bless you.
– Inah Boniface Ocholi writes from Ayah – Igalamela/Odolu LGA, Kogi state.
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