Man of God. A deferential term used in Christian circles to refer to a servant of God, who, ostensibly, is more enlightened in spiritual matters than ordinary folk. In some instances, clergy have used this title to abuse the flock, using what I call “Bible mail”. That is, misquoting Scripture to spiritually, financially, sexually and emotionally abuse the flock.
Way back when men of God made news for all the righteous reasons. They boldly pointed at the nakedness of political leaders, causing Caesar to cower and cover in shame. Ordinary folks hang on to their words because what they were distilling emanated from the mouth of God.
Things have changed. Men of God have become the butt of jokes. In Biblical days, a prophet condemned boys who mocked him to be torn asunder by bears. But our “prophets” are fodder for memes.
Can Kenya’s real man of God please stand up? Who’s the man of God who will, nationwide, make elders tremble?
Let’s take a walk down memory lane. God has commanded Samuel to go to Bethlehem and anoint one of Jesse’s sons as the next king of Israel. When Samuel arrives at Bethlehem, the elders of the town tremble when they meet him. They ask: “Do you come in peace?”
Butt of jokes
It’s this fear of God that I’m talking about. A fear of God that will seize an entire county the moment a man of God steps in. A fear of God that will make the rich and powerful tremble. A fear of God that will cause movers and shakers to seek audience with a man of God – not to curry favour – but know the will of God concerning their public and personal affairs. A fear of God that cannot be bought by silver and gold – in exchange for being anointed as the next big thing – but can only be appeased by true repentance and, thereafter, living a holy life.
It doesn’t help our cause that, as someone once said, the most divided time of the day is Sunday morning. With countless denominations – which are still morphing and mutating – and men of God constantly fighting over who’s the biggest prophet since John the Baptist, Herod will get away with mass murder, rampant looting and a visceral sexual appetite.
America’s super-attorney, Willie E. Gary’s first private jet was christened “Wings of Justice”. Gary takes on big corporations in cases that involve hundreds of millions of dollars. There are cases that he settled on “Wings of Justice”. He once said that, when corporations heard that “Wings of Justice” was in town, the head honchos would panic, worried if he’d come to take them to the cleaners.
Wickedness
That’s the sought of fear that a real man of God ought to send in the airwaves before he even lands. It’s a fear that goes against the rulers, against the powers, against the world forces of darkness, and the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly places. It’s a fear that brings winds – and, yes, wings of justice – to masses who, cyclically, have been oppressed by unjust rules and rulers.
No man of God is entirely perfect. He’ll miss it sometimes. But he’ll do so in good faith. He’ll drop the ball sometimes. But he won’t spoil the game, and turn the entire clergy into a laughing stock.
Kenya’s real man of God isn’t necessarily the one adorned in fine linen, huffing and puffing in a plush pulpit while sipping the priciest water that money can buy. Maybe he’s in the wilderness, eating locusts and wild honey, while dressed in coarse garments.
Here’s how we’ll know that he’s the real McCoy when he calls it as it is. No sugarcoating. And when the elders, in political and economic circles, tremble and turn from wicked ways. BY DAILY NATION