In Nigeria, poverty can discredit a pastor before he opens his Holy Bible. I know because it has happened to me. Some people especially friends sees what I lack materially and conclude that I have curse and therefore lost the right to preach. I have been told to my face that others are doing better than I am and that I should leave God’s work and “find something doing.”
The judgment follows me beyond the pulpit. Even when I work as a teacher/private school principal, some people mock me because I earn meagre wages, as though a modest salary diminishes the dignity of honest labour. Part of the blame belongs to government. When teachers are poorly paid and essential workers struggle to survive, society should not mock the worker; it should question the system that has made honest work so difficult to sustain.
Yet the deeper crisis is cultural. We have become increasingly fascinated by visible wealth without asking enough questions about its source. In some Christian families, young men suspected of making money through internet fraud can receive admiration for their cars, clothes and spending, while the struggling pastor or teacher living nearby is treated with contempt. The honest worker is questioned; questionable wealth is celebrated.
«“Silver and gold have I none; but such as I have give I thee.”
— Acts 3:6, KJV»
I remember one afternoon, a few weeks ago. I had gathered a small group of people and was ministering to them when a 20-year-old neighbour, whom people around him called “Ghost CL,” arrived in a new car. Within moments, attention shifted. One after another, they left me, gathered around him, got into his car and drove away to drink with him. I stood there watching material spectacle overpower spiritual attention.
There is another quiet change taking place in some Christian homes. Sunday is increasingly organised around convenience: eat well, dress up and attend service. Eating before church is not the problem. The concern is what happens when comfort steadily replaces sacrifice, when convenience replaces devotion, and when the hunger for God becomes weaker than the desire for an easy life.
Meanwhile, traditional spiritual practices and fetish sacrifices continue to find space in communities where Christian confession can become detached from Christian conviction. Some people call upon Christ publicly but seek alternative spiritual securities when money, fear or crisis arrives. If Christ is enough for our songs but not enough for our battles, we should ask what kind of Christianity we are building.
This is not an argument for romanticising poverty. Pastors should work, provide for their families and pursue honest prosperity. Teachers deserve decent wages. Workers deserve dignity. Government has a responsibility to build an economy in which honest labour can sustain families. But society must recover a basic moral distinction: wealth is not proof of virtue, and poverty is not proof of failure.
I have learned that some people measure the messenger before hearing the message. They see modest clothes, low wages and material limitations and decide that I have nothing to offer. Perhaps I possess less than some of those who have mocked me. But I would rather preach Christ with empty pockets and a clean conscience than abandon my calling because I cannot yet display the trophies of success. A nation that mistakes possession for character will eventually discover that its greatest poverty was never financial. It was moral.
– Inah Boniface Ocholi writes from Divine Drops Ministry International– Kogi State, Nigeria.
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