There is something deeply troubling about telling Nigerians that our national calling may be different from that of countries like China, which manufacture engines, build machines and export products to the rest of the world, while our own calling is to pray and bring about spiritual revival.
Apostle Arome Osayi recently made remarks along these lines, arguing that nations have different callings and that Nigeria’s calling is revival. His comments have since attracted criticism, particularly because they appear to place Nigeria’s spiritual purpose in contrast with the industrial achievements of countries such as China.
With all due respect to the self-acclaimed man of God, I find this line of reasoning deeply disappointing. Not because I have anything against prayer, Christianity or spiritual revival, but because I cannot understand why these things must be presented as though they are incompatible with industrialisation, technological advancement, economic prosperity and the general wellbeing of a nation.
Why must Nigerians choose between praying and producing? Why must we choose between revival and research? Why must our supposed spiritual calling become a reason to explain away our inability to manufacture the things we consume, provide stable electricity, ensure the basic security of lives and property, create enough jobs, or build an economy that gives ordinary people a decent standard of living?
Who told us that a nation cannot embark on prayer and industrialization at the same time?
China and the United States manufacture products for the global market. Nigeria berates them for not been religious or holy but prays to their God to give them visas to those same countries. And when their applications are amongt the very few successful ones, they give testimonies in churches.
But why should religion and development be presented as though they are mutually exclusive? The Chinese can build factories, develop technology, invest in research and manufacture products while practising their own religions and holding their own spiritual beliefs. Nigerians, too, can pray, preach the gospel, evangelise the world and still become a nation that produces vehicles, machinery, electronics, medicines and other goods for export.
There is no contradiction in any of these things.
In fact, if we believe that God gave human beings intelligence, creativity and the ability to solve problems, then using those abilities to develop our country should not be considered a distraction from our spiritual responsibilities. A factory that employs thousands of Nigerians, a research institution that develops life-saving technology, or a power plant that provides electricity to struggling businesses can also be seen as serving humanity.
Why should the work of a Nigerian engineer be considered less meaningful than that of a Nigerian preacher? Why should a young Nigerian who wants to build an automobile manufacturing company be made to feel that he is pursuing something outside the country’s divine assignment?
A nation does not become prosperous by praying against the very things it needs to build prosperity. Prayer may inspire people, strengthen their resolve, and give them hope, but it does not replace sound economic policies, competent leadership, investment, research, infrastructure, and productive work.
And this is where I believe the problem with such pronouncements lies. Are we going to pray away our problems instead of holding leaders accountable?
Nigeria’s economic challenges did not simply fall from the sky. They are amplified by decisions made by successive governments, public institutions, political leaders, and those entrusted with managing the country’s resources.
When businesses struggle with unreliable electricity, when manufacturers contend with high operating costs, when small businesses are suffocated by poor infrastructure, and when young people find it increasingly difficult to secure decent employment, we must be able to ask questions about governance.
What are our leaders doing with the resources of this country? Why have successive administrations struggled to create an environment where businesses can thrive? Why should a country with enormous human and natural resources continue to face such difficulties in turning those resources into widespread prosperity?
These are questions that deserve answers.
Yet, when Nigerians are told that our calling is fundamentally different from that of countries that manufacture and export products, the danger is that such a message can encourage people to accept the country’s condition as something beyond human responsibility.
If Nigeria’s calling is simply to pray, what then is the responsibility of our political leaders? What is the responsibility of those who steal public funds, mismanage resources, or implement policies that make survival more difficult for already impoverished citizens?
Are we supposed to pray for them and leave it at that?
Prayer should not become a substitute for accountability. A sermon about divine purpose should not make Nigerians less willing to question the people whose decisions affect their lives.
There is a difference between encouraging people to pray for their country and suggesting that the country’s lack of industrial development should not be a major concern because God has supposedly assigned us a different role.
This is because the first can inspire hope while the second risks normalising failure.
And the people who suffer most from this kind of thinking are not the wealthy, the influential, or those with the means to escape Nigeria’s difficulties. They are the ordinary Nigerians who wake up every morning to struggle for food, electricity, transportation, healthcare, education and employment.
For these people, economic development is not an abstract ambition. It is the difference between living in dignity and struggling to survive.
The Colonial Slave Analogy: When Oppression Was Presented as God’s Will
This kind of religious reasoning reminds me of one of the most disturbing aspects of colonialism and slavery: the way religion was sometimes used to justify the suffering of people who had been deprived of their freedom.
There were enslaved Africans who had once lived as free people, with their own communities, institutions, cultures and systems of life. They were captured, transported across the Atlantic and forced into a brutal system in which their labour and humanity were exploited for the benefit of others.
Yet, in some slaveholding societies, Christianity was used to encourage enslaved people to accept their condition, obey their masters and find spiritual comfort in their suffering.
Certain biblical passages about servants obeying their masters were invoked to defend the institution of slavery or demand submission from enslaved people. Some slaveholders and pro-slavery religious authorities used these passages to present an unjust social order as compatible with God’s will.
The irony is difficult to ignore. A religion that speaks of human dignity, justice, love and liberation could be selectively interpreted to persuade oppressed people to endure the very conditions from which they needed liberation.
Of course, not all Christians supported slavery. Many Christians opposed it, and religious arguments were also used by abolitionists to challenge the institution. The point is that religion has historically been used both to resist oppression and to legitimise it.
That history should make us careful about religious messages that encourage people to accept suffering without questioning the systems responsible for it.
When a people are told that their poverty, deprivation or lack of development is simply part of a divine arrangement, they may begin to see the struggle for a better life as unnecessary, or even as evidence that they do not understand God’s purpose.
That is a dangerous message.
The Nigerian people are not slaves, and our present circumstances are not equivalent to the horrors of chattel slavery. But the comparison is relevant in one important respect: the use of religious language to persuade disadvantaged people to accept conditions that human beings and institutions have a responsibility to change.
If our ancestors had been told that their calling was simply to serve their masters and pray, rather than to seek freedom, would that have made their oppression acceptable?
If an enslaved person had been told that God wanted them to remain in bondage, should they have accepted that interpretation without question?
And if a Nigerian family cannot afford food, a young graduate cannot find a job, or a small business owner is struggling to keep the lights on, should they simply be told that Nigeria has a spiritual calling that is different from the countries where people enjoy better economic opportunities?
No. Faith should not be used to sanctify avoidable suffering.
The Question of Arome Osayi’s Permanent Residency in America
The controversy becomes even more difficult to ignore when considered alongside reports that Arome Osayi and his wife have secured permanent residency in the United States. News reports published in September 2026 describe the couple’s announcement, which has prompted public questions about the relationship between his message about Nigeria’s calling and his family’s decision to establish permanent residence abroad.
New Telegraph
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Let me be clear: there is nothing inherently wrong with a Nigerian relocating abroad. Every individual has the right to seek better opportunities, security, education and a more comfortable life for themselves and their family. Obtaining permanent residency in another country is not, in itself, an offence or a betrayal of Nigeria.
But when a public religious figure tells Nigerians not to measure their country against the industrial achievements of nations such as China, and then reportedly secures permanent residency in a country that offers a different set of economic and institutional opportunities, it raises a legitimate question about the message being communicated.
If Nigeria’s calling is so fundamentally different from that of industrialised nations, why would a family choose to make its permanent home in one of those countries?
Does the idea of a spiritual calling mean that Nigerians should lower their expectations of their own country, while individuals who have the means to do so pursue the opportunities available elsewhere?
And if a Nigerian family can reasonably desire the stability, infrastructure, educational opportunities and economic prospects associated with living abroad, why should the same aspirations be dismissed when ordinary Nigerians express them?
The issue is not that Arome Osayi has reportedly obtained American permanent residency. The issue is the apparent tension between the message being preached and the choices available to the person preaching it.
Perhaps he has personal reasons for relocating. Perhaps he believes his ministry will benefit from the move. Those are possibilities, and the decision is his to make. But the public is equally entitled to examine the implications of his teaching.
It is difficult to tell young Nigerians that they should not be overly concerned about what countries like China are manufacturing when those same young people are desperate for the opportunities that industrial development can create.
It is difficult to suggest that our national purpose is primarily spiritual when Nigerians are watching their talents, skills and ambitions go to countries where those abilities can find greater opportunities for expression.
And it is particularly difficult to ask people to accept a limited vision of what Nigeria can become when those making the argument can themselves seek a different future for their families.
If seeking a better life abroad is understandable for a pastor and his family, it should also be understandable for the ordinary Nigerian who wants a better life at home.
Nigeria’s Calling Should Not Be a Ceiling on Nigeria’s Potential
I reject the idea that Nigeria must choose between being a praying nation and becoming a productive one.
We can be a nation of faith and a nation of inventors. We can export the gospel and export manufactured goods. We can build churches and build factories. We can train pastors and train engineers. We can hold prayer meetings while investing in scientific research, technological innovation and industrial development.
There is no reason why these aspirations should be in conflict.
If anything, a country that claims to value human life, compassion and service should be concerned about creating conditions that allow its people to live decent lives.
Imagine the impact of a Nigeria where industries provide millions of jobs, where locally manufactured products compete in international markets, where farmers can process their produce instead of watching it go to waste, and where young people can turn their ideas into successful businesses.
Imagine a country where electricity is reliable enough for manufacturers to plan production without depending on expensive alternatives, where public hospitals are adequately equipped, and where children from poor families have access to quality education.
Would such a country be less capable of spiritual revival?
Would Nigerians become less Christian because they could afford food, pay their bills and find meaningful employment?
Would God be displeased if Nigerian engineers developed world-class machines, or if Nigerian scientists invented technologies that improved lives across the world?
These questions expose the false choice at the heart of this argument.
A country’s spiritual life does not have to come at the expense of its material progress. And material progress does not automatically make a nation spiritually bankrupt.
We should also remember that industrialisation is not merely about copying China. It is about learning from the experiences of countries that have built productive economies, adapting useful ideas to our circumstances and developing our own strengths.
Nigeria has its own challenges and opportunities. We need policies that encourage investment, support local manufacturers, improve education, strengthen institutions and make it possible for businesses to grow. We need leaders who understand that the country’s resources must translate into better living conditions for its citizens.
Above all, we need a national conversation that refuses to treat poverty as destiny.
A Message to Nigerian Religious Leaders
Religious leaders have enormous influence in Nigeria. Millions of people listen to them, trust them and look to them for guidance. That influence comes with a responsibility to be thoughtful about the messages they communicate, especially when speaking about the future of an entire nation.
There is nothing wrong with preaching prayer. There is nothing wrong with believing that Nigeria has a spiritual purpose. But there is something deeply troubling about presenting that purpose in a way that appears to diminish the importance of economic development, technological innovation and good governance.
Our religious leaders should be encouraging Nigerians to pray and work, to believe and build, to hope and demand accountability.
They should be reminding political leaders that public office is a responsibility, not an entitlement. They should be speaking up when policies hurt the poor, when public resources are wasted and when the people are denied opportunities to prosper.
They should be telling young Nigerians that their creativity matters, that their education matters, and that their ambitions to become scientists, inventors, entrepreneurs and manufacturers are worthy pursuits.
They should be encouraging a generation that believes it can build a better Nigeria, rather than one that is taught to see the country’s limitations as evidence of a special divine assignment.
And if we are going to talk about national calling, then perhaps we should ask whether a country blessed with human talent, natural resources, entrepreneurial energy and a large population should not also aspire to become a centre of innovation, production and prosperity.
Why should revival and development be treated as opposing destinations?
Why should prayer be presented as the answer to problems that also require deliberate human action?
And why should Nigerians be encouraged to accept a diminished national ambition when the people who govern them should be held to a higher standard?
Conclusion: Nigerians Deserve More Than the Promise of Revival
Apostle Arome Osayi is entitled to his religious convictions. He is entitled to believe that Nigeria has a special spiritual role to play in the world. But Nigerians are equally entitled to question any interpretation of that belief that appears to place industrialisation and economic progress outside the country’s purpose.
We do not have to abandon prayer to demand good governance. We do not have to abandon Christianity to insist that our leaders create jobs, improve infrastructure and build an economy that works for ordinary people.
And we certainly do not have to accept poverty as a national identity.
The enslaved were not wrong to desire freedom. The poor are not wrong to desire prosperity. Young Nigerians are not wrong to aspire to live in a country where their talents can flourish.
The problem is not that Nigerians pray. The problem is when prayer is presented as a substitute for the practical work of building a functional society, or when religious explanations make people less willing to challenge those responsible for their suffering.
If China can manufacture engines and Nigeria can produce spiritual leaders, there is no reason Nigeria cannot do both. There is no divine law that says a country must choose between the pulpit and the factory, between the church and the laboratory, or between faith and progress.
Nigeria deserves revival if that is what its people desire. But it also deserves functioning institutions, accountable leadership, reliable elThere is something deeply troubling about telling Nigerians that our national calling may be different from that of countries like China, which manufacture engines, build machines and export products to the rest of the world, while our own calling is to pray and bring about spiritual revival.
Apostle Arome Osayi recently made remarks along these lines, arguing that nations have different callings and that Nigeria’s calling is revival. His comments have since attracted criticism, particularly because they appear to place Nigeria’s spiritual purpose in contrast with the industrial achievements of countries such as China.
Keeping Them Honest
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With all due respect to the man of God, I find this line of reasoning deeply disappointing. Not because I have anything against prayer, Christianity or spiritual revival, but because I cannot understand why these things must be presented as though they are incompatible with industrialisation, technological advancement, economic prosperity and the general wellbeing of a nation.
Why must Nigerians choose between praying and producing? Why must we choose between revival and research? Why must our supposed spiritual calling become a reason to explain away our inability to manufacture the things we consume, provide stable electricity, create enough jobs or build an economy that gives ordinary people a decent standard of living?
Who told us that a nation cannot pray and manufacture engines at the same time?
China manufactures products for the global market. Nigeria prays. But why should these two activities be presented as though they are mutually exclusive? The Chinese can build factories, develop technology, invest in research and manufacture products while practising their own religions and holding their own spiritual beliefs. Nigerians, too, can pray, preach the gospel, evangelise the world and still become a nation that produces vehicles, machinery, electronics, medicines and other goods for export.
There is no contradiction in any of these things.
In fact, if we believe that God gave human beings intelligence, creativity and the ability to solve problems, then using those abilities to develop our country should not be considered a distraction from our spiritual responsibilities. A factory that employs thousands of Nigerians, a research institution that develops life-saving technology, or a power plant that provides electricity to struggling businesses can also be seen as serving humanity.
Why should the work of a Nigerian engineer be considered less meaningful than that of a Nigerian preacher? Why should a young Nigerian who wants to build an automobile manufacturing company be made to feel that he is pursuing something outside the country’s divine assignment?
A nation does not become prosperous by praying against the very things it needs to build prosperity. Prayer may inspire people, strengthen their resolve and give them hope, but it does not replace sound economic policies, competent leadership, investment, research, infrastructure and productive work.
And this is where I believe the problem with such pronouncements lies.
Are We Going to Pray Away Our Problems Instead of Holding Leaders Accountable?
Nigeria’s economic challenges did not simply fall from the sky. They are shaped by decisions made by successive governments, public institutions, political leaders and those entrusted with managing the country’s resources.
When businesses struggle with unreliable electricity, when manufacturers contend with high operating costs, when small businesses are suffocated by poor infrastructure, and when young people find it increasingly difficult to secure decent employment, we must be able to ask difficult questions about governance.
What are our leaders doing with the resources of this country? Why have successive administrations struggled to create an environment where businesses can thrive? Why should a country with enormous human and natural resources continue to face such difficulties in turning those resources into widespread prosperity?
These are questions that deserve answers.
Yet, when Nigerians are told that our calling is fundamentally different from that of countries that manufacture and export products, the danger is that such a message can encourage people to accept the country’s condition as something beyond human responsibility.
If Nigeria’s calling is simply to pray, what then is the responsibility of our political leaders? What is the responsibility of those who steal public funds, mismanage resources or implement policies that make survival more difficult for already impoverished citizens?
Are we supposed to pray for them and leave it at that?
Prayer should not become a substitute for accountability. A sermon about divine purpose should not make Nigerians less willing to question the people whose decisions affect their lives.
There is a difference between encouraging people to pray for their country and suggesting that the country’s lack of industrial development should not be a major concern because God has supposedly assigned us a different role.
The first can inspire hope. The second risks normalising failure.
And the people who suffer most from this kind of thinking are not the wealthy, the influential or those with the means to escape Nigeria’s difficulties. They are the ordinary Nigerians who wake up every morning to struggle for food, electricity, transportation, healthcare, education and employment.
For these people, economic development is not an abstract ambition. It is the difference between living in dignity and struggling to survive.
The Colonial Slave Analogy: When Oppression Was Presented as God’s Will
This kind of religious reasoning reminds me of one of the most disturbing aspects of colonialism and slavery: the way religion was sometimes used to justify the suffering of people who had been deprived of their freedom.
There were enslaved Africans who had once lived as free people, with their own communities, institutions, cultures and systems of life. They were captured, transported across the Atlantic and forced into a brutal system in which their labour and humanity were exploited for the benefit of others.
Yet, in some slaveholding societies, Christianity was used to encourage enslaved people to accept their condition, obey their masters and find spiritual comfort in their suffering.
Certain biblical passages about servants obeying their masters were invoked to defend the institution of slavery or demand submission from enslaved people. Some slaveholders and pro-slavery religious authorities used these passages to present an unjust social order as compatible with God’s will.
What shocks me most is how these pro-slavery scriptures and teachings found their way into the bible.
The irony is difficult to ignore. A religion that speaks of human dignity, justice, love, and liberation could be selectively interpreted to persuade oppressed people to endure the very conditions from which they needed liberation.
Of course, not all Christians supported slavery. Many Christians opposed it, and religious arguments were also used by abolitionists to challenge the institution. The point is that religion has historically been used both to resist oppression and to legitimise it.
That history should make us careful about religious messages that encourage people to accept suffering without questioning the systems responsible for it.
When people are told that their poverty, deprivation or lack of development is simply part of a divine arrangement, they may begin to see the struggle for a better life as unnecessary, or even as evidence that they do not understand God’s purpose. They can relapse into accepting their suffering, hardship, slavery, and incessant massacres as ordained by God, and their willingness to accept it as ensuring their stay in a blissful afterlife.
That is a dangerous message.
The Nigerian people are not slaves, and our present circumstances are not equivalent to the horrors of chattel slavery. But the comparison is relevant in one important respect: the use of religious language to persuade disadvantaged people to accept conditions that human beings and institutions have a responsibility to change.
If our ancestors had been told that their calling was simply to serve their masters and pray, rather than to seek freedom, would that have made their oppression acceptable?
If an enslaved person had been told that God wanted them to remain in bondage, should they have accepted that interpretation without question?
And if a Nigerian family cannot afford food, a young graduate cannot find a job, or a small business owner is struggling to keep the lights on, should they simply be told that Nigeria has a spiritual calling that is different from the countries where people enjoy better economic opportunities?
No. Faith should not be used to sanctify avoidable suffering.
The Question of Arome Osayi’s Permanent Residency in America
The controversy becomes even more difficult to ignore when considered that the same pastor Arome Osayi was bold enough to announce that he, his wife, and the rest of his family have secured permanent residency in the United States. News reports published in September 2026 describe the couple’s announcement, which has prompted public questions about the relationship between his message about Nigeria’s calling and his family’s decision to establish permanent residence abroad.
In fact, pastor Arome Osayi’s move can be likened to the colonial masters appointing some slaves as head slaves, giving them some perks and comforts, and tasking them to discourage, quell, and report uprisings among his fellow captured people
Let me be clear: there is nothing inherently wrong with a Nigerian relocating abroad. Every individual has the right to seek better opportunities, security, education and a more comfortable life for themselves and their family. Obtaining permanent residency in another country is not, in itself, an offence or a betrayal of Nigeria.
But when a public religious figure tells Nigerians not to measure their country against the industrial achievements of nations such as China, and then reportedly secures permanent residency in a country that offers a different set of economic and institutional opportunities, it raises a legitimate question about the message being communicated.
If Nigeria’s calling is so fundamentally different from that of industrialised nations, why would a family choose to make its permanent home in one of those countries? If Nigeria was so good, then why is he leaving, just like other big pastors whose children/family school or have residency abroad?
Does the idea of a spiritual calling mean that Nigerians should lower their expectations of their own country, while individuals who have the means to do so pursue the opportunities available elsewhere?
And if a Nigerian family can reasonably desire the stability, infrastructure, educational opportunities, and economic prospects associated with living abroad, why should the same aspirations be dismissed when ordinary Nigerians express them?
The issue is not that Arome Osayi has reportedly obtained American permanent residency. The issue is the apparent tension between the message being preached and the choices available to the person preaching it.
Perhaps he has personal reasons for relocating. Perhaps he believes his ministry will benefit from the move. Those are possibilities, and the decision is his to make. But the public is equally entitled to examine the implications of his teaching.
It is difficult to tell young Nigerians that they should not be overly concerned about what countries like China are manufacturing when those same young people are desperate for the opportunities that industrial development can create.
It is difficult to suggest that our national purpose is primarily spiritual when Nigerians are watching their talents, skills and ambitions go to countries where those abilities can find greater opportunities for expression.
And it is particularly difficult to ask people to accept a limited vision of what Nigeria can become when those making the argument can themselves seek a different future for their families.
If seeking a better life abroad is understandable for a pastor and his family, it should also be understandable for the ordinary Nigerian who wants a better life at home.
Nigeria’s Calling Should Not Be a Ceiling on Nigeria’s Potential
I reject the idea that Nigeria must choose between being a praying nation and becoming a productive one. It seems one of the major things Nigerians are known for and are good at is exporting christianity to the same western countries that initially gave it to us. Almost every renowned pastor has huge branches in the UK, US and overseas where they easily fill up enormous capacity.
Just take a look at the recent feat from the NSPPD UK Prayer Conference led by Pastor Jerry Eze on September 26, 2026, that filled up a 74,000-seat capacity at Old Trafford in Manchester.
If we can export our faith, we should be able to export our ingenuity. If we can build churches abroad, we should be able to build industries at home. And if we can fill stadiums with worshippers overseas, we should not be told that building a productive economy is beyond our national purpose.
We can be a nation of faith and a nation of inventors. We can export the gospel and export manufactured goods. We can build churches and build factories. We can train pastors and train engineers. We can hold prayer meetings while investing in scientific research, technological innovation and industrial development.
There is no reason why these aspirations should be in conflict.
If anything, a country that claims to value human life, compassion and service should be concerned about creating conditions that allow its people to live decent lives.
Imagine the impact of a Nigeria where industries provide millions of jobs, where locally manufactured products compete in international markets, where farmers can process their produce instead of watching it go to waste, and where young people can turn their ideas into successful businesses.
Imagine a country where electricity is reliable enough for manufacturers to plan production without depending on expensive alternatives, where public hospitals are adequately equipped, and where children from poor families have access to quality education.
Would such a country be less capable of spiritual revival?
Would Nigerians become less Christian because they could afford food, pay their bills, and find meaningful employment?
Would God be displeased if Nigerian engineers developed world-class machines, or if Nigerian scientists invented technologies that improved lives across the world?
These questions expose the false choice at the heart of this argument.
A country’s spiritual life does not have to come at the expense of its material progress. And material progress does not automatically make a nation spiritually bankrupt.
We should also remember that industrialisation is not merely about copying China. It is about learning from the experiences of countries that have built productive economies, adapting useful ideas to our circumstances and developing our own strengths.
Nigeria has its own challenges and opportunities. We need policies that encourage investment, support local manufacturers, improve education, strengthen institutions, and make it possible for businesses to grow. We need leaders who understand that the country’s resources must translate into better living conditions for its citizens.
Above all, we need a national conversation that refuses to treat poverty as destiny.
A Message to Nigerian Religious Leaders
Religious leaders have enormous influence in Nigeria. Millions of people listen to them, trust them and look to them for guidance. That influence comes with a responsibility to be thoughtful about the messages they communicate, especially when speaking about the future of an entire nation.
There is nothing wrong with preaching prayer. There is nothing wrong with believing that Nigeria has a spiritual purpose. But there is something deeply troubling about presenting that purpose in a way that appears to diminish the importance of economic development, technological innovation and good governance.
Our religious leaders should be encouraging Nigerians to pray and work, to believe and build, to hope and demand accountability.
They should be reminding political leaders that public office is a responsibility, not an entitlement. They should be speaking up when policies hurt the poor, when public resources are wasted and when the people are denied opportunities to prosper.
They should be telling young Nigerians that their creativity matters, that their education matters, and that their ambitions to become scientists, inventors, entrepreneurs and manufacturers are worthy pursuits.
They should be encouraging a generation that believes it can build a better Nigeria, rather than one that is taught to see the country’s limitations as evidence of a special divine assignment.
And if we are going to talk about national calling, then perhaps we should ask whether a country blessed with human talent, natural resources, entrepreneurial energy and a large population should not also aspire to become a centre of innovation, production and prosperity.
Why should revival and development be treated as opposing destinations?
Why should prayer be presented as the answer to problems that also require deliberate human action?
And why should Nigerians be encouraged to accept a diminished national ambition when the people who govern them should be held to a higher standard?
Conclusion: Nigerians Deserve More Than the Promise of Revival
Apostle Arome Osayi is entitled to his religious convictions. He is entitled to believe that Nigeria has a special spiritual role to play in the world. But Nigerians are equally entitled to question any interpretation of that belief that appears to place industrialisation and economic progress outside the country’s purpose.
We do not have to abandon prayer to demand good governance. We do not have to abandon Christianity to insist that our leaders create jobs, improve infrastructure and build an economy that works for ordinary people.
And we certainly do not have to accept poverty as a national identity.
The enslaved were not wrong to desire freedom. The poor are not wrong to desire prosperity. Young Nigerians are not wrong to aspire to live in a country where their talents can flourish.
The problem is not that Nigerians pray. The problem is when prayer is presented as a substitute for the practical work of building a functional society, or when religious explanations make people less willing to challenge those responsible for their suffering.
If China can manufacture engines and Nigeria can produce spiritual leaders, there is no reason Nigeria cannot do both. There is no divine law that says a country must choose between the pulpit and the factory, between the church and the laboratory, or between faith and progress.
Nigeria deserves revival if that is what its people desire. But it also deserves functioning institutions, accountable leadership, reliable electricity, productive industries, good schools, quality healthcare and an economy that gives its citizens a reason to hope.
We should pray for Nigeria. We should also work for Nigeria, question those who govern Nigeria, and refuse to let anyone convince us that our suffering is the price of a divine calling.
A nation can pray for revival without surrendering its ambition to build, manufacture, innovate, and prosper. Nigerians deserve a future in which faith gives them hope, not one in which hope is used to persuade them to accept less than they deserve: electricity, productive industries, good schools, quality healthcare, and an economy that gives its citizens a reason to hope.
We should pray for Nigeria. We should also work for Nigeria, question those who govern Nigeria, and refuse to let anyone convince us that our suffering is the price of a divine calling.
A nation can pray for revival without surrendering its ambition to build, manufacture, innovate, and prosper. Nigerians deserve a future in which faith gives them hope, not one in which hope is used to persuade them to accept less than they deserve.
