Across the global Christian landscape, one truth resounds with increasing urgency: the sacred names once invoked with trembling reverence have become rhetorical toys in the mouths of the very people who claim to believe in their power. The names Holy Ghost and Jesus; once uttered only at the holy altars, in solemn prayers, at sickbeds, or in moments of trembling spiritual warfare, now fall casually from lips during frivolous exaggerations, unholy amusements, or as exclamations tied to conduct that stands in direct contradiction to the Holy God they signify.
The paradox becomes painfully visible in moments of real crisis. At the sound of gunfire from terrorists and bandits, at the whisper of insurgents advancing on villages, the same societies that flood their streets with churches suddenly scatter in fear. A people who shout “Holy Ghost fire!” at jokes recoil when confronted with mortal danger. A nation that calls the name of Jesus Christ countless times during entertainment, gossip, and even morally questionable acts suddenly discovers that the Name feels distant in the hour it is most needed.
This is not, as some cynics suggest, a sign that the Name has lost its ancient power. It is instead a sign that we have lost the reverence that grants us access to that power.
As one early Christian thinker, St. John Chrysostom, warned,
“The tongue that daily utters holy words must itself be holy, lest the words become empty echoes.”
Our reverberations today are indeed empty.
We waste the name of the Holy Ghost on matters that are neither holy nor ghostly; on exaggerations, on comedic retorts, on careless swearing. We squander the solemnity of the name Jesus Christ in moments laced with impurity, bribery, corruption, unholy thoughts, and secret indulgences. And then, when the shadow of evil descends like insurgency, banditry, abductions, terrorism; we stretch out hands that have long trivialized the sacred and wonder why heaven feels silent.
The Holy Scriptures anticipated this contradiction with piercing clarity:
“The name of the Lord is a strong tower; the righteous run into it and are safe.” — Proverbs 18:10
Yet today, the righteous, i mean those who label themselves as such run away upon hearing the name “bandit,” “ISWAP,” or “kidnapper.” A society that claims spiritual authority flees before earthly threats. A people who declare themselves soldiers of Christ retreat in panic while armed men advance.
This raises a sobering question: if the name is a strong tower, why do the inhabitants of that tower tremble?
Many point toward a painful truth. We have hollowed out the sacred by living in contradiction to it. The prophet Isaiah described this spiritual fracture with uncomfortable precision:
“These people honor me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me.” — Isaiah 29:13
Across many of the world’s most outwardly religious countries especially Nigeria, Christianity has become an identity worn outwardly; displayed in clothing, speech patterns, or weekly attendance but seldom practiced in the secret chambers of character. A nation can host a thousand churches and still lack righteousness. A people can quote Scripture fluently yet practice corruption, adultery, idolatry, exploitation, and hypocrisy behind closed doors.
Little wonder an African theologian once observed,
“The presence of religion is not the evidence of righteousness.” — John Mbiti
This moral duplicity may help explain why societies saturated with Christian symbols still struggle to confront insurgent groups like ISWAP or other forms of organized wickedness with spiritual authority. Not because the Word of God has lost its potency, but because the vessels meant to wield it have become compromised. One cannot command darkness while entertaining it. One cannot invoke divine fire while nurturing secret altars of immorality. The Scripture has warned plainly that the Spirit withdraws from places that consistently grieve Him.
The tragedy of the moment is that many Christians are dressing like Muslims and others now run from the very spiritual refuge they profess. Fearing kidnappers, some abandon church gatherings. Frightened by instability, others retreat from communal faith life. Yet this is precisely the time when the Holy Ghost should be waging war on behalf of believers, if only the relationship had not been strained, if only reverence had not been squandered.
The prophet Hosea once stood before a nation intoxicated with its own religious performance and cried out that destruction comes not because God is powerless but because the people have abandoned Him in their hearts. Jonah carried a similar warning to Nineveh, and the nation was spared when it repented. The Holy Scripture remains consistent:
“If my people, who are called by my name, shall humble themselves and pray… then will I heal their land.” — 2 Chronicles 7:14
The message reverberating today is not different. It is a timely warning: a prophetic summons for nations, churches, and communities overwhelmed by fear to return to holiness rather than hollow speech; to reclaim sacred vocabulary from casual mockery; to embody the righteousness that unlocks divine intervention.
There may indeed be many spirits in the world, many “ghosts” masquerading in cultural, political, and even religious forms — but only One is Holy. Only One responds to the cry of a contrite heart. Only One wages war on behalf of the righteous.
If Nigeria is to find deliverance, if societies are to withstand the terror of bandits or insurgents, if Christians are to exercise the spiritual authority they proclaim, then repentance must become more than a sermon; it must become a collective posture. For as the Scripture declares,
“Righteousness exalts a nation, but sin is a reproach to any people.” — Proverbs 14:34
This is a summons to return to sincerity, to reclaim the reverence we have squandered, to allow the Holy Ghost not merely to be named but to dwell. For He does not abide in the midst of idolatry, secret immorality, manipulation, or corruption. And without His presence, even the loudest religious declarations dissolve into mere noise.
The hour is late, the dangers real, and the spiritual responsibility heavy. The land can still be healed. The church can still rise. The nation can still be spared.
But only if we turn in truth, in humility, in repentance and allow the sacred names we have wasted to recover their weight once more.
– Inah Boniface Ocholi writes from Ayah – Igalamela/Odolu LGA, Kogi state.
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