The Gospel Truth

 It has become increasingly difficult for me to post anything these days.

I have so much strategy to share about my work, so many ideas waiting to be expressed, yet my mind keeps returning to the same painful reality. I cannot stop thinking about the children kidnapped in Oyo State, and the countless victims of insecurity across Nigeria. Fathers. Mothers. Children. Families robbed of peace, dignity, and, in some cases, life itself.

Something is deeply wrong.

For years, through different administrations, we have watched insecurity evolve rather than disappear. From one government to another, the promises have changed, but many of the challenges remain. Terrorism, insurgency, banditry, kidnapping—these threats continue to adapt, spread, and entrench themselves in our national life.

At times, it feels as though the roots of these problems run deeper than we are willing to admit. Despite enormous financial resources, military operations, international partnerships, and intelligence support, we still struggle to contain them. We still struggle to guarantee the safety of our people.

Beyond security, the story is much the same. Reliable electricity remains elusive. Critical infrastructure is inadequate. Roads deteriorate. Social safety nets are weak. For millions of Nigerians, the basics of a dignified life remain out of reach.

And even as someone who naturally seeks solutions, I find myself confronting questions for which I have no answers.

What is wrong with Nigeria?

Why do these problems persist despite decades of effort, sacrifice, and opportunity?

What we are witnessing today did not begin today. These challenges have existed before. The difference is that they now appear larger, more brazen, and closer to home. What once seemed distant has spread across regions and communities, touching people who never imagined they would become victims.

But what breaks me most is the suffering of children.

The thought of innocent children being abducted, traumatized, and subjected to unimaginable fear is almost too much to bear. Every time I think about them, something within me sinks. It leaves a bitterness that is difficult to describe.

And in those moments, I find myself asking God why a world capable of such cruelty exists. Why so many innocent people must suffer for failures they did not create.

Yet even in my frustration, I know this: we cannot wait for miracles alone.

If Nigeria is to change, that change must come from us—from a new generation of leaders, thinkers, builders, and citizens willing to confront these problems honestly and courageously. We cannot outsource our future. We cannot simply hope our way into a better nation.

God may guide us, but the responsibility to rebuild Nigeria rests in our hands.

And perhaps that is the hardest truth of all.