There is a cry rising again—not of judgment, but of mercy. A cry not from the lips of angels, but from the wounded heart of God. The saints are not fallen beyond repair. The Church is not too lost to return. In every age when light flickered, God stirred the embers again. This is that hour. Yes, the flame looks faint in some quarters, but the breath of God is near, waiting to ignite what we thought was gone. Bishop Oyedepo once said, “The Church is God’s rescue agency on earth.” But a rescue agency must first rescue itself. This article is not a finger of accusation—it is a trumpet of awakening.
We do not write to shame, but to stir. For though some among us have drifted into performance and pride, the foundation of the Lord stands sure. The integrity of the saints must not be mocked; it must be mended. There are those who still tremble at His word, still mourn in prayer closets, still fast in secret. Let us not throw away the oil because the jar cracked. Let us not forget that Jesus is still the One who walks among the golden lampstands. He is restoring His Church—not tearing it down. “The Church is not a museum of perfect people, but a hospital for broken ones,” said Reinhard Bonnke. And truly, healing is here.
Many have confused called-out saints with called-out brothers. One was summoned by fire, the other exposed by flesh. But even the exposed can be redeemed if they return. Called-out saints are those drawn by grace to live differently, to carry oil in secret, to shine not by spotlight but by consecration. And if we have missed our step, the Spirit is saying, “Come back home.” This is not the hour to condemn, but to consecrate. Not the hour to point fingers, but to lift hands. God is raising not perfect people, but purified vessels—washed again, revived again, realigned again.
Yes, we have seen excesses. We have seen pulpits turned to stages, offerings turned to transactions, and messages crafted more to excite than to edify. But beyond this smoke of confusion, the fire of truth still burns. This generation does not need another celebrity preacher—it needs broken men who walk with God. Young believers don’t need more influencers; they need intercessors. Bishop David Abioye once taught, “Character is the pillar of destiny.” And this is our charge: to let the inner altar burn brighter than the outer glamour.
Let the saints return to the sacred. Let worship be more than melody—let it be life. Let prayer be more than activity—let it be intimacy. Let sermons bleed again with truth, not just talk. Let pastors preach Christ, not just convenience. Let the gospel regain its weight. It is time to exchange gimmicks for groaning, and performance for purity. As it is written, “Return to Me, and I will return to you.” The Father is not waiting with a sword; He is waiting with sandals and a robe.
There is still a remnant. A holy tribe hidden in plain sight. Men and women whose knees have not bowed to Baal. Saints who pray without posting. Pastors who fast without fame. These ones are the hope of this age. They are not perfect, but they are pressing in. They are not flawless, but they are faithful. Their names may never trend, but their prayers shape nations. These are the ones God will raise like Gideon’s army—small in number but mighty in spirit.
Beloved, the failure of some saints must not discourage the journey of all. Let us rise—not with anger, but with humility. Let us rebuild—not with judgment, but with joy. Let us return—not to religion, but to righteousness. As Reinhard Bonnke said, “The less Holy Spirit we have, the more cake and coffee we need to keep the Church going.” May we hunger not for cake but for Christ. May we trade stage lights for sacred light. May we burn again—not with noise, but with fire. For when the saints rise in truth, the world finds hope.
– Inah Boniface Ocholi writes from Ayah – Igalamela/Odolu LGA, Kogi state.
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