“Nigeria, hear it plain. The men in the robes counted your dead and went quiet. They will not name the wolf. They are content with their CAN of worms. But God is still looking. He always goes to the winepress. He always picks the one nobody crowned”
There was another time God’s people lived like prey. Midian came every season — burned the harvest, drove off the livestock, left nothing to eat. Israel ran for the caves. A whole nation hiding in the rocks, afraid to farm their own ground.
Sound familiar?
They had leaders. Elders. Priests. Men who held the titles and wore the robes. And against the thing destroying them, those men did nothing. Worse — an idol stood in the middle of the camp, and not one of them would lay a hand on it. They had made their peace with the very rot eating the people alive.
God did not go to those men.
He went to a nobody named Gideon — threshing wheat in a winepress, hiding his grain from the raiders. The least man in the poorest family. And God called him a mighty man of valor before he had done one brave thing. The call came first. The courage came after.
Then God gave him his first order. Not “go fight the enemy out there.” First — tear down your own father’s altar to the idol. Pull down the lie in your own camp. Name it. Destroy it. Take the heat.
He did it. The town woke up and wanted him dead for it. He cleaned the house before he ever faced the army.
Only then did God send him to war. And God cut his army from thousands down to three hundred — so when the victory came, no man could say his own hand had won it.
That is the pattern. A people hunted. Titled leaders frozen, comfortable beside the evil killing the flock. And one man, called by God, who names the lie at home before he fights the enemy in the field.
Nigeria, hear it plain. The men in the robes counted your dead and went quiet. They will not name the wolf. They are content with their CAN of worms.
But God is still looking. He always goes to the winepress. He always picks the one nobody crowned.
And here is the truth the robes do not want you to hear: the real men of God are already standing.
They are out there right now — in the bush, in the camps, between the killers and the flock. No robes. No titles. No offering basket. They tore down the idol at home and walked straight at the enemy. They bleed for you while the titled men issue statements.
So this is the line, and it is a hard one.
Any man who calls himself a pastor — a bishop, a general overseer — and will not stand with them is no man of God. Not asleep or confused. Exposed. The title is not the calling. The robe is not the gift. The building is not the Kingdom.
Gideon was a nobody until God called him, and a mighty man the moment he answered. The men in the robes were somebody until the wolf came — and the moment they went silent, they showed you what they are.
Stop following and funding the ones who will not stand.
Find the men in the winepress. They are already on their feet.
