<p><br/></p><p>This is the part that pushed me to start writing.</p><p><br/></p><p>I recently completed an internship in a place where religion, government and power intersect. Every day, I watched religious institutions request government assistance while continuing to ask their members to contribute to the same causes. I saw how easily religion could influence public opinion, shape political loyalty and distract people from questions about power, money and accountability.</p><p><br/></p><p>That experience forced me to confront a question I could no longer ignore: what happens when an institution that commands spiritual trust also gains political influence and financial power?</p><p><br/></p><p>Class is in session. Take a seat.</p><p><br/></p><p>Think of a force that can influence how millions vote, what they consider right or wrong, how they spend their money and which leaders they trust.</p><p><br/></p><p>Now imagine that same force promising eternal rewards, threatening divine punishment and making any challenge to its authority feel like a challenge to God Himself.</p><p><br/></p><p>What happens when that kind of influence enters politics and the marketplace?</p><p><br/></p><p>Welcome to the intersection of religion, government and business.</p><p><br/></p><p>Religion and politics have been connected for centuries. Kings claimed divine authority, governments used religion to justify laws, and leaders sought religious approval to strengthen their legitimacy.</p><p><br/></p><p>That relationship remains visible in Nigeria. Politicians appear in places of worship, seek endorsements from influential clerics and use religious language to win voters.</p><p><br/></p><p>Faith can inspire good leadership and community service. The problem begins when religious authority replaces accountability.</p><p><br/></p><p>When does a politician stop answering to the people and start hiding behind God’s name?</p><p><br/></p><p>When does criticism of a leader become an attack on an entire religion?</p><p><br/></p><p>And when voters care more about a politician’s faith than their ability to govern, who really wins?</p><p><br/></p><p>The same tension appears when religious influence meets money.</p><p><br/></p><p>During my internship, religious institutions regularly requested one form of aid or another, even as they continued asking their members to contribute to those same causes. Tithes and offerings are not automatically evidence of exploitation. Religious institutions need money to operate, and many use donations to support their communities.</p><p><br/></p><p>But giving becomes troubling when it is presented as a transaction with God.</p><p><br/></p><p>Give this amount and receive a miracle. Sow this seed and unlock your breakthrough. Pay your way into a blessing.</p><p><br/></p><p>And if nothing happens?</p><p><br/></p><p>Perhaps you lacked faith. Perhaps you were disobedient. Perhaps you did not pray enough. Or perhaps you simply did not give enough.</p><p><br/></p><p>Notice how the blame keeps returning to the person who is losing money.</p><p><br/></p><p>I am not saying every religious leader is dishonest. But these days, everybody is a pastor. Give someone confidence and a microphone, and a church may be forming by evening.</p><p><br/></p><p>That is precisely why no institution should be exempt from scrutiny simply because it describes itself as “divine.”</p><p><br/></p><p>If businesses must account for customers’ money, why should religious leaders avoid questions about donations?</p><p><br/></p><p>If politicians must answer for public funds, why should religious influence protect political misconduct?</p><p><br/></p><p>I recently asked my mother where all the money we were contributing was going. She looked at me and said, “You better not let the devil use you. God will forgive you.”</p><p><br/></p><p>She did it. She did that thing where every question about religion becomes a sin.</p><p><br/></p><p>I had asked about churches and money. She interpreted the question as blasphemy and told me to ask for forgiveness instead.</p><p><br/></p><p>That moment showed me how deeply fear can interfere with accountability. People can see something and still refuse to acknowledge it. They can listen and choose not to hear. Many of our parents, especially, may have been taught to treat doubt as disobedience and questions as sin.</p><p><br/></p><p>But asking where money goes is not blasphemy. It is a reasonable question.</p><p><br/></p><p>The issue, then, is not whether religion should exist in government or whether religious institutions should collect money. It is whether faith should be used as a shield against accountability.</p><p><br/></p><p>No.</p><p><br/></p><p>“The Lord said if X enters, this country would change.”</p><p><br/></p><p>Do you see any change? I don’t, but maybe you can.</p><p><br/></p><p>No title, robe, pulpit or claim of divine appointment should place anyone above questions about money, power, conduct or harm.</p><p><br/></p><p>Religious leaders should not be treated as guilty simply because they are religious. But neither should they be treated as innocent for the same reason. Trust must be earned through conduct, not demanded through fear.</p><p><br/></p><p>Faith may be sacred to the believer. Authority is not sacred to the public.</p><p><br/></p><p>Once a religious institution collects money, influences elections or controls vulnerable people, it becomes accountable for its impact.</p><p><br/></p><p>No divine name should silence questions. No spiritual threat should replace an explanation. No promise of heaven should excuse misconduct on earth.</p><p><br/></p><p>That is not persecution. That is accountability.</p><p><br/></p><p>And no institution should be allowed to hide from it behind God.</p>