By Adesegun Osibanjo
An Open Letter to Nigeria’s Christian Fathers-in-Faith
Dear Fathers,
.Permit me to begin with gratitude.
Your generation has presided over one of the most remarkable chapters in the history of Christianity in Africa. Through decades of evangelism, discipleship, missionary outreach and sacrificial service, millions have encountered Christ, churches have multiplied across continents, and Nigeria has emerged as one of the most influential centres of Christian faith in the world.
Perhaps one of the greatest ironies of modern Christian history is that the Gospel once brought to Africa by European missionaries is today being carried back to Europe and other parts of the world by African believers. At a time when many traditional centres of Christianity contend with secularisation and declining church attendance, African churches have become significant instruments of evangelism, church planting and spiritual renewal.
The Church in Africa has not merely preserved the faith it received; it has returned it to the world with conviction, vitality and remarkable authenticity.
For this, honour is due.
Yet history often presents every generation with a defining question. The question before the Nigerian Church today is not whether it has succeeded in winning souls. The evidence of that success is visible everywhere. The more difficult question is whether the Church has been equally successful in shaping the institutions, leadership culture and public life of the nation in which those souls live.
That question becomes unavoidable when viewed against the backdrop of Nigeria’s worsening security crisis.
The Fathers Have Spoken
It would be inaccurate to suggest that the Church has remained silent.
The National Church Denominational Leaders Summit convened by the Christian Association of Nigeria (CAN) in Abuja in June 2026 demonstrated that Nigeria’s Fathers-in-Faith fully appreciate the gravity of the national situation. Under the theme “The State of the Nation and the Way Forward,” Church leaders from across denominational lines gathered to reflect on the worsening insecurity, economic hardship, social fragmentation and declining public confidence confronting the country.
The Communiqué issued at the end of the Summit was sober, direct and unambiguous. It acknowledged the escalating wave of killings, kidnappings, attacks on communities, schools and places of worship. It lamented the displacement of citizens from ancestral homes, the trauma inflicted upon victims and the continuing erosion of public confidence in the ability of existing security arrangements to guarantee safety.
The declaration of a national mourning period and Black Sunday was itself a powerful statement that the Church recognised the scale of the emergency.
The Fathers have spoken.
The question therefore is no longer whether the Church is concerned.
The more difficult question is this:
If the Fathers have spoken, if communiqués have been issued, if prayers have been offered, if governments have made promises, if security operations have continued, and if countless meetings have been held, why does insecurity remain so stubbornly resistant to resolution?
This question challenges everyone simultaneously—the Church, government, political leaders, security institutions and citizens alike.
When the Victims Become Teachers and Children
For years, insecurity was often discussed in terms of distant villages, isolated farming communities and remote forests.
That is no longer the case.
The recent abduction of pupils, students and teachers in Oyo State forced the nation to confront a painful reality. Among those taken was Michael Oyedokun, a teacher whose reported killing in captivity shocked Nigerians and intensified public anxiety over the growing vulnerability of educational institutions.
The significance of the tragedy extends beyond a single incident.
When teachers become targets, insecurity ceases to be merely a rural problem.
When schoolchildren become victims, insecurity ceases to be merely a regional problem.
When classrooms become vulnerable, insecurity becomes a national emergency.
The victims are no longer only farmers and villagers. Teachers, students, professionals, worshippers, traders and ordinary citizens increasingly find themselves exposed to the same dangers.
Every such incident forces the nation to confront uncomfortable questions.
How did Nigeria arrive at a point where children can be kidnapped from schools and teachers murdered in captivity?
How many more communities must experience similar tragedies before the crisis receives the level of urgency it demands?
How many more families must live with uncertainty before the preservation of life becomes the overriding national priority?
Most troubling of all, have Nigerians gradually become accustomed to levels of violence that previous generations would have considered intolerable?
The Security Question Nobody Can Ignore
It is important to acknowledge that insecurity did not begin under the current administration.
The challenge has persisted through successive governments, military chiefs, intelligence chiefs, governors and political parties. Its longevity suggests a problem that extends beyond individual office holders.
Yet this reality creates another difficult question.
If insecurity has survived multiple administrations and multiple security strategies, are Nigerians confronting isolated security failures—or a deeper structural crisis within the architecture of the Nigerian state itself?
Nigerians are not security experts. Most citizens do not possess specialised knowledge of intelligence operations, military planning or counter-terrorism strategy.
What they do understand is the difference between capability and outcomes.
The Armed Forces of Nigeria have repeatedly demonstrated courage, professionalism and operational competence. Nigerians have witnessed successful military operations within and beyond the country’s borders. Public reports concerning Nigeria’s intervention in support of constitutional order during the attempted coup in the Republic of Benin reinforced awareness of the country’s military capability, coordination and readiness when national objectives are clearly defined.
It is precisely because these capabilities exist that citizens continue to ask difficult questions.
If intelligence exists, how effectively is it being utilised?
If criminal networks are known, why do they appear so resilient?
If sponsors have been identified, what obstacles complicate prosecution?
If strategies are succeeding, how should success be measured?
If they are not producing desired outcomes, what explains the gap between capability and results?
Retired military and intelligence officers have publicly raised similar questions. Their conclusions remain subjects of debate, but the questions themselves refuse to disappear.
The issue is no longer whether insecurity exists.
The issue is why it continues.
Prayer and Responsibility
One of the most important contributions of the CAN Communiqué was its recognition that prayer must be accompanied by action.
This is not a new biblical principle.
James 2:17 reminds believers that faith without works is dead.
The verse does not diminish prayer. Rather, it places responsibility alongside belief.
Scripture consistently presents faith as something that expresses itself through stewardship, wisdom and action.
Noah did not merely pray about the flood; he built an ark.
Joseph did not merely interpret Pharaoh’s dream; he prepared for famine.
Nehemiah did not merely pray for Jerusalem; he organised the rebuilding of its walls.
Perhaps prayer and responsibility were never intended to be competitors.
In this regard, it is appropriate to acknowledge Fathers-in-Faith who have publicly identified with the suffering of ordinary Nigerians. Pastor Enoch Adejare Adeboye—affectionately known by some as Bàbá ÀkàndáẸ̀dáOlódùmarè—has repeatedly led prayers for abducted children, teachers and other victims of insecurity. Similar concern has been expressed by Christian leaders across denominational lines who continue to call attention to the sanctity of human life and the suffering of affected communities.
Such interventions matter.
They remind grieving families that they are not forgotten.
Yet the scale of the crisis raises broader questions about stewardship and preparedness.
If life is sacred, should its preservation not occupy a central place in Christian reflection?
If churches operate schools, universities, camps, mission stations and community programmes serving millions of people, what responsibilities accompany such stewardship in an era of growing insecurity?
These questions are not expressions of fear.
They are expressions of responsibility.
The preservation of life is not merely a security concern. It is a moral obligation.
Raising Leaders, Not Just Congregations
Perhaps the most consequential question before the Church concerns leadership.
Nigeria’s churches have produced pastors, evangelists, missionaries and theologians of global significance. The question often raised is whether comparable attention has been devoted to developing leaders for governance, public institutions, diplomacy, law, policy, security and national administration.
For many years, Christians frequently viewed politics as something distant from spiritual responsibility. Yet political decisions continued to influence security, education, justice, infrastructure and economic opportunity.
Whether one participates directly or not, governance affects everyone.
One notable attempt to address this challenge emerged through the Pentecostal Fellowship of Nigeria’s Directorate of Politics & Governance. While opinions may differ regarding its outcomes, the initiative highlighted an important reality: leadership development within public life requires long-term investment, institutional commitment and deliberate preparation.
The larger question remains.
The Church has demonstrated extraordinary capacity for evangelism, church planting and organisational growth. Has it demonstrated the same level of commitment to building pipelines of principled leaders capable of influencing the institutions that shape national life?
This question extends beyond politics.
It concerns stewardship.
It concerns influence.
It concerns responsibility.
And it concerns the future.
An Unfinished Conversation
Fathers, this letter is written in gratitude, respect and concern.
The nation does not look to you because you occupy political office. It looks to you because you occupy a position of moral trust.
The current security crisis cannot be solved by government alone.
Neither can it be solved by security agencies alone.
Nor can it be solved by the Church alone.
Yet moments arise in the life of a nation when moral voices become indispensable.
The nation needs Fathers whose convictions are anchored not in political expediency, ethnic sentiment or denominational interests, but in enduring principles of truth, justice, compassion and human dignity.
The nation needs Fathers capable of speaking with wisdom, courage and love to governments, opposition parties, religious communities and citizens alike.
History will rightly celebrate your contribution to evangelism and discipleship.
Yet future generations may also ask whether the Church that successfully raised millions of believers helped shape enough leaders capable of strengthening institutions, protecting lives and advancing the common good.
Did the Church that filled auditoriums also influence the systems through which societies are governed?
Did the Church that prepared people for eternity devote equal attention to preparing citizens for stewardship in time?
Every kidnapped child raises that question.
Every murdered teacher raises that question.
Every displaced community raises that question.
Every grieving family raises that question.
The challenge before Nigeria is not merely political, military or economic.
It is also a question of stewardship, leadership and responsibility.
History will remember the extraordinary success of the Church in winning souls.
Whether it will also remember the Church as a decisive influence in shaping institutions, cultivating leaders and strengthening the foundations of national life remains part of an unfinished conversation.
That conversation now stands before all of us
Evangelist Adesegun Olutayo Adeolu Osibanjo, BEng, MBA, is an Energy & Climate Strategist, Author, and Systems Transformation Architect operating at the Intersection of Energy Systems, Infrastructure, Economic Development, and Institutional Reform. He is a COREN-Registered Engineer in the Federal Republic of Nigeria.