The words of Christ echo through time: “No one can serve two masters. Either you will hate the one and love the other, or you will be devoted to one and neglect the other.” (Matthew 6:24). These words were spoken about God and money, but the principle applies far beyond. It is a warning against divided loyalties, a reminder that no man can faithfully carry two conflicting callings without one suffering.
In this context, we must pause and reflect: can a priest, whose calling is to shepherd souls and serve the altar of God, also serve as the president of a nation? Can one faithfully tend to the sacred duties of being a spiritual leader while simultaneously navigating the political battlefield, which so often demands compromise, ambition, and the harshness of power?
The Bible also warns us about titles and positions that place men in places reserved for God alone. Jesus Himself said, “Do not call anyone on earth ‘father,’ for you have one Father, and He is in heaven.” (Matthew 23:9). Yet how easily we forget this, lifting men to pedestals, calling them “father,” and placing them in seats of authority over both our faith and our governance. When the same man who blesses the flock from the pulpit also insults, mocks, or humiliates others from a political stage, we must ask ourselves: Are we serving God, or are we applauding man?
Like wolves in sheep’s clothing, some exploit the trust of the faithful, manipulate the vulnerable, and feed on the spiritual needs of the flock for personal gain. Their statements may sound holy, their titles impressive, but their hearts are hardened, and their deeds betray their words. True discernment requires courage, the courage to see beyond appearances, to seek the God who searches hearts, and to uphold truth even when the world celebrates false piety. God calls His children to walk in light, to test the spirits, and to follow leaders who embody humility, love, and integrity, not those who use His name as a cloak for their greed and deception.
Indeed, politics is never clean. Some leaders, in their pursuit of votes, use words that may hurt, divide, or even mislead. But what is heartbreaking is not simply the mistakes of some leaders, for all men stumble, but the blindness of the people who cheer and laugh when those insults are hurled. Have we become so accustomed to the culture of mockery and slander that we now find joy in it, even when it comes from the mouth of one we once called a priest?
In the past weeks of campaigning, I have heard and seen much that should trouble our hearts. Words that wound, promises that glitter yet fade, and insults that divide rather than heal. Yet I must remind my brothers and sisters: when this election ends, whether our preferred candidate wins or loses, we remain one nation. Our opinions should not be weapons to destroy one another, but bridges to understand. Peace and unity must remain at the heart of our democracy, or else our freedom is nothing more than an illusion.
We must also reflect deeply on what true progress means. Long ago, we did not have modern things to boast about, but we had food on our tables, dignity in our homes, and unity among our neighbours. Today, we are told that economic growth and international prestige matter most. Yet what good is it to place our country high on the world map if half of its citizens are struggling to survive, while the pockets of the few in power overflow?
It is good and necessary to move forward with the world, to modernise, to build, to develop. But let us never forget that leadership, especially when it is claimed as a calling from God, is not about filling one’s own pockets through taxes and privilege. It is about humility, service, and sacrifice. To lead especially from the place of a priest was with the hope of putting the people’s needs first, to be a servant to all, for Jesus Himself said, “Whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant.” (Matthew 20:26).
To those who lead, I say: remember the weight of your calling. To those who follow, I urge: open your eyes, do not be blinded by words, charisma, or empty promises. And to us as a nation, I plead: let us remain steadfast in unity, careful not to hand over both our faith and our freedom into the hands of men who cannot serve two masters. For only God is worthy of both our loyalty and our trust.
