The Church, Politics and the Burden of Conscience -By Patrick Iwelunmor

The Church must live up to its name as a place of salvation—not only of souls but of nations. It stands at the intersection of faith and civic duty, holding a sacred responsibility to act as society’s conscience. Yet, in Africa today, that conscience has grown disturbingly faint. The integrity of the Church has been gravely questioned, largely because of the unholy attitudes of some clerics who should be guiding the people to Christ but have instead allowed greed and compromise to stain their calling.

When last did we see clergy boldly confronting government without pecuniary expectations? The case of Father Mbaka remains fresh in our collective memory. Once revered for his fiery courage in speaking truth to power, the Roman Catholic priest and founder of the Adoration Ministry was even welcomed at the State House by then-President Muhammadu Buhari—whom he had declared God’s choice for Nigeria. But the moment he was accused of veering into contract lobbying, his moral authority began to crumble. Instead of being remembered as a fearless voice of conscience, he slipped into disrepute, burdened by the very compromises he once denounced.

This burden of conscience—the sacred duty to hold power accountable—has defined the role of prophets and priests since biblical times. Nathan confronted King David after his abuse of power with Bathsheba and Uriah, declaring, “You are the man!” (2 Samuel 12:7). Elijah stood before Ahab and Jezebel, condemning their greed and injustice over Naboth’s vineyard (1 Kings 21). Amos thundered against Israel’s rulers who “trample the poor and push the afflicted out of the way” (Amos 4:1). These prophets bore the weight of conscience not for personal gain but for the preservation of righteousness in the nation. Their courage reminds us that the Church’s prophetic voice is never meant to be silent in the face of corruption.

Yet what do we see today? Too often, the pulpit is not used to rebuke power but to romance it. Instead of rebuking injustice, some clerics dine with oppressors. Instead of denouncing looting, they bless the looters. There is nothing more shameful than watching the body of Christ reduced to a theatre of absurdities, all in the name of money and materialism. The Church’s divine mandate has always been to restore hope through repentance and salvation. Yet some leaders have strayed so far from that calling that the commercialization of everything now passes for spirituality.

In Nigeria today, many churches have become stages for entertainment rather than sanctuaries of truth. Pastors stage-manage miracles, choreograph testimonies, and dramatize deliverances to impress crowds and inflate their reputations. They peddle “miracle keys” allegedly sent from heaven, distribute “anointed ATM cards” for financial breakthrough, and even hawk “holy soaps” and “waters” marketed with dubious NAFDAC claims. And all this unfolds in a country groaning under multidimensional poverty, collapsing infrastructure, and the daily humiliation of citizens struggling to survive.

The tragedy of today’s Church lies in its obsession with prosperity for the stomach and pocket. Leaders are more concerned with multiplying parishes than with confronting the rot of immorality corroding society. Many clerics have become mouthpieces for corrupt politicians, legitimizing them before congregations rather than holding them accountable. Thus, the pulpit—once a seat of moral authority—too often provides cover for looters of the national treasury.

The result is a perverse cycle: our commonwealth is plundered, yet looters stand in churches giving testimonies about how “God has blessed them.” But this is not blessing; it is blasphemy. If pastors lived up to their sacred responsibilities, politicians would think twice before dipping their hands into public funds. Instead, when pulpits offer sanctuary to corruption, the Church itself becomes an accomplice in the destruction of true nationalism.

Instead of repentance and salvation, many sermons today revolve around prosperity, as though wealth were the ultimate goal of Christianity. The message of the cross has been overshadowed by the gospel of “stomach infrastructure.” Pastors now compete with celebrities for fame, designer lifestyles, and social media clout—even as the socio-economic fortunes of their nations spiral downward. This tragic redefinition of faith transforms pulpits into performance stages and pastors into entertainers rather than shepherds of souls.

And yet, amidst this decay, a glimmer of hope shines. Recently, the Anglican Communion in Nigeria barred politicians from using the pulpit as a platform for their campaigns. That singular act speaks volumes. It reminds us that the Church can reclaim its dignity if it chooses. The Communion’s decision was not merely administrative—it was prophetic. It was a bold declaration that the altar of God must not be contaminated by the shenanigans of reckless politicians. For that courage, the Anglican Communion deserves commendation.

Imagine if other denominations displayed such fortitude. Imagine if pulpits across Africa became off-limits to the corrupt. Politicians would be forced to confront an uncomfortable truth: that the Church cannot be bought, manipulated, or reduced to a stage for mundane theatrics. That is the burden of conscience—a burden the Church must bear if it is to remain a moral compass for nations adrift.

The Church is meant to be part of the nation-building process. It is called not only to preach salvation but also to stand as a bulwark against injustice. To do this, however, it must resist the temptation to align itself with forces of corruption, oppression, and abuse. The pulpit is sacred. It must remain a sanctuary of truth, a place where light confronts darkness, where leaders are reminded of their accountability before God and the people.

The burden of conscience is heavy, yes, but it is also redemptive. When the Church embraces it, nations find direction. When it abandons it, nations descend into chaos. The prophets of old bore this burden. The apostles carried it in the face of persecution. Even Christ Himself bore it, standing before Pilate and Herod, refusing to dilute truth for political convenience. That same burden rests on the Church today.

Anything less is a betrayal of both God and country. Anything less reduces the Church to an accomplice in the very destruction it should resist. The question before us is sobering: Will the African Church reclaim its prophetic voice, or will it continue to trade its sacred calling for a mess of pottage? The answer will not only determine the future of the Church but also shape the destiny of nations.