Let Them Bite It
In 1520, a young man lit a bonfire. In it, he burned books—books containing the very laws once used in worship. Just a few years earlier, he had nailed a piece of paper on a church door. On it, he had not attacked the church itself but had laid bare the abuse of a system he once thought was pure. He believed the problem was with certain corrupt individuals, not the institution. But now, as he watched the flames consume everything he once revered, he knew: it wasn’t just the men. It was the system. The whole system was rotten.
He doesn’t know me—how could he? That was centuries ago. And yet here I am, in 2025, caught in the same storm. I was once married into one of the Baptist churches in the city and soon got drawn into the sound doctrine preached from its pulpit. In fact, much of my spiritual formation can be traced to that place. They emphasized mentorship, believed the older generation should guide and mold the younger—and that was done well. It was through my spouse that I met one of the pastors, a man deeply passionate about mentorship.
But over a decade later, my heart broke and bled at the reports I began to hear. I was forced to question: was this rot, this sin, this abomination I’d heard about simply a result of one man’s moral collapse—or was it something bigger? Was it the fault of flawed personalities or of a flawed system? Is it possible that the structure itself is corrupt?
I know this may sound a little vague. But you’ve seen the news. You’ve heard the outcry. You’ve watched the protests outside one of our country’s elite schools—a grooming case, long-standing abuse, and systemic shielding of the perpetrator. But what if I told you of a similar case in a prominent church?
That’s where my questions begin.
I’ve always taken firm stands. I took my stand when a certain charismatic figure swept into Kenya with his “healing ministry” scams. I stood firm against fake crusades and shallow sensationalism masked as encounters with God’s power. Let’s pause. Do we even realize that the Holy Spirit was not given to us so we can “experience” Him like a feeling or a thrill?
Back to the story.
My mind wrestled with this: how could this man rise through the ranks with such disgusting behavior—behavior that desecrated the house of God? How did he gather such power, the kind that silenced victims and protected his abominations? It stings to know I once praised him as a great mentor, alongside his wife. I feel betrayed, even though I was not a direct victim. When I first heard the allegations, I was overwhelmed with anger and contempt—not just for the man, but for the church. Every memory I had of them twisted with that sense of deception.
I know I’m not alone in this. Like that young man from centuries ago, I tried to make sense of it all. At first, I wanted to believe it was just him. That maybe this was an isolated case—a bad man in a good system. Maybe I nailed my own version of the “95 Theses” on the door, hoping someone would listen. But now, I see more clearly. It’s not just about the man. The system is broken too.
My conscience was stirred and disturbed. I longed for justice. A court case. An open rebuke. But no. It was his name that shielded him. His connections. Maybe even the same system that once raised him was now serving to protect him. But surely, I cannot be the only one shaken. I don’t understand how elders and clergy believe they are above reproach. I don’t understand why they behave as if their fleshly nature is somehow sanctified beyond corruption. And when those with disturbed consciences rise to speak—they are dismissed.
Like jellyfish. No backbone.
Then I turned the other page: Truth. He stared back at me—unflinching, holy. My conscience may be fragile and capable of error, so I submitted it to the authority of God’s truth. And the truth? This man didn’t just sin—he desecrated the church. The truth is, we are broken—especially those of us who dined with him, laughed with him, learned from him. We feel robbed. Betrayed.
Then comes the familiar call: Unity. The system’s defenders rally. They want us to “stand in unity,” to “pray and fast,” to “not allow the enemy to divide the church.” They roll out the Christianese: God heard. Don’t lose hope. The Holy Spirit will come again. Let’s just heal.
Stop.
No one is dismissing healing or prayer or hope. But the cross stands on two beams—truth and mercy. Justice is the foundation of God’s throne. If all we do is pray and fast while ignoring truth and justice, we are no better than actors on a religious stage. Justice must be done.
But those who built this system prefer tradition. The tradition of not offending anyone. Of protecting their own. Of “faking it till we make it.” If only they would step back and open Scripture. If Scripture were our true lens, there would be no secrecy. No grey lines. No manipulated truths served to benefit leadership and silence dissent.
Like that reformer, I too now choose:
Conscience over corrupted authority – because when a thing is wrong, it’s wrong. And if someone in authority is compromised, they must step aside. Investigations must be done in the light.
Truth before unity – because unity doesn’t save. It’s the truth of the gospel that sets people free.
Scripture over tradition – because tradition without truth is dead religion.
I know the system may try to preserve itself with well-crafted statements, anonymous “investigation teams”, crocodile tears, fasts, and manufactured revivals. But one day, it will all collapse. Just like the Roman church was shaken into reformation, so will these protectors fall. The Lord will expose them—one by one. No amount of prayer meetings, vague repentance, or spiritual showmanship will cover up what God is unveiling.
So yes—let them bite it.
Every elder. Every clergy member. Every leader tied to this man—let them strip themselves bare. Let them be examined. Let them take a stand. Not for image. Not for unity. But for Truth. Only then will our prayers be heard. Only then will the Lord heal the church.
NB: No names have been mentioned to target any specific church. But if you catch the wind—then it’s yours for understanding.
