Pray, Remember, Act: Faith and Public Life

Why are Christians persecuted in Nigeria?

You have probably heard phrases that make the heart sink: villagers at risk as they go to work or gather for worship. Terrorist groups such as Boko Haram, the Islamic State West Africa Province, and violent raids by Fulani herdsmen have made whole communities vulnerable. The first step is prayer. Pray. That plea is not sentimental; it is strategic — spiritual warfare is real and persistent.

Christians in many parts of northern Nigeria live with a constant calculus of risk. Homes are burned, husbands murdered, fields abandoned. A faith leader reminded listeners that every election cycle brings promises of protection — and yet each year brings more attacks. It raises a painful question: is the problem a lack of will or a lack of ability among those charged to protect the vulnerable? For us the question is pastoral: how will we stand when others are being pushed down?

"If the world hates you, know that it has hated me before it hated you." — John 15:18

Behind the Words: Jesus said these words to a small band of disciples preparing them for opposition. He spoke from the garden of intimacy with the Father, warning that allegiance to him would cost public favor. In that first-century setting, following Jesus often meant being set against the values and powers of the day.

The Heart of It: Being hated for Christ's sake is part of following him; persecution reveals where ultimate allegiance lies. Christ matters more than comfort; our unity with suffering believers is not optional.

Try This: Imagine a small church in a northern Nigerian village. You receive a letter describing how the congregation met under a tree because their building had been burned. They wrote that they sang, wept, and prayed for hours. Picture yourself kneeling beside them, hands folded with their names on your lips as you pray. Then picture your church deciding to give a month’s offerings to support rebuilding, and your elders writing to legislators urging diplomatic pressure and humanitarian aid. Prayer shapes compassion; compassion compels action.

A common misunderstanding is to equate prayer with passivity. Prayer is the first step, not the only step. Praying without practical help is incomplete, and acting without praying is aimless.

We must also learn to advocate. Practical support looks like partnering with verified ministries that help displaced believers, contacting representatives to press for policies that protect religious minorities, and equipping congregations to assist refugees and families who have lost everything. When we act, we echo the biblical pattern: weep with those who weep and bear one another's burdens (Romans 12:15). That means material aid, pastoral care, and public witness.

The direct phrase from the conversation — "The first step is prayer. Pray." — should not be merely rhetorical. Let it become a rhythm. When we say it aloud in our gatherings, let it carry with it a commitment to both prayer and active solidarity.

How did Puritan convictions shape American government?

When we look back to the Pilgrims and Puritans, we see ideas that went on to shape constitutions and civic imagination. Picture Reverend Thomas Hooker leading some 100 Puritan settlers in 1636 to what became Hartford. They stood in a new, rugged land and asked, "How should we govern it?" What Hooker preached on May 31, 1638 — that authority rests in the free consent of the people — seeded later constitutional texts.

The Mayflower story is vivid and human: the Mayflower was a cargo ship, and yet its most precious cargo was convictions — the belief that people could covenant together under God to govern themselves. Blown off course and away from established authority, the Pilgrims wrote the Mayflower Compact, an agreement for self-government under God. It was a radical move away from top-down monarchy toward bottom-up consent.

The Heart of It: Communal covenant and accountability to God form a healthy civic imagination. Colonial Christians looked to a higher law — not to elevate church-state fusion, but to restrain tyranny and remind leaders of moral limits.

Try This: Teach your congregation the history of covenants and discuss how a Christian sense of accountability to God shapes how we vote, serve, and speak about public life.

That higher-law idea is not simple nostalgia. Colonial leaders saw in ancient Israel a model of a community where leaders were chosen and the people were taught the law so conscience could govern behavior. They rejected the idea of a crown as the sole source of power; instead they believed that ultimate sovereignty belongs to God while political authority is legitimately derived from the people — hence the memorable phrase, "We the people." Those three words in the Constitution echo older convictions.

The founders also feared centralized coercion. They inserted protections — like the First Amendment — to prevent a single denominational establishment from crushing local conscience. One commentator put it plainly: they did not want a centralized power to put an end to local religious life. That colorful image reveals a sober aim: protect local liberty.

Behind the Words: Psalmists and prophets often spoke of God's kingship and the rule of his wisdom among the people. Psalm 103, from David, reflects on God's mercy and the reasons to bless him. In colonial classrooms and pulpits, passages like Psalm 103 cultivated gratitude and a moral imagination linking law, liberty, and conscience.

"Bless the LORD, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits." — Psalm 103:2

The Heart of It: Gratitude shapes civic character; a nation that remembers God's benefits is less likely to be driven by fear and power alone. When our souls are trained to bless, our public choices carry that formation.

Try This: Picture a town hall where citizens read Scripture aloud and pray before deciding on a new ordinance. Imagine the tone shifting from suspicion to responsibility because people remember they answer to God for their stewardship. That is not a call to theocracy; it is a call to do politics with souls formed by gratitude and conscience.

A common misunderstanding: linking Puritan influence to a blanket endorsement of any particular modern political program. The historical truth is more nuanced — the Puritans contributed a moral grammar about covenant, conscience, and responsibility, not a fixed policy checklist. We honor their legacy by cultivating conscience, not by idolizing an era.

How should we act now — prayer, advocacy, and remembering our roots?

We have looked at stark suffering in Nigeria and at the deep roots of self-rule and conscience in early American faith practice. The practical question is pastoral: what do we do with both truths at once? We do three things together: pray without ceasing, mourn and bear, and engage the public square with humility.

First, the repeated call is to prayer. The conversation urged it plainly: "The first step is prayer. Pray." That is not a substitute for action but the engine of it. Prayer aligns us with God’s purposes and keeps our motives sifted. When we pray, our decisions are warmer and more compassionate, not merely strategic.

Second, we mourn and bear one another's burdens. Scripture calls the church to feel what another feels. We are a body: when one part suffers, the whole is affected. That means practical giving, letter-writing to representatives, partnering with trustworthy ministries that aid persecuted families, and training church members how to receive refugees and displaced believers with dignity.

"For as we share abundantly in Christ’s sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too." — 2 Corinthians 1:5

Behind the Words: Paul wrote to a church experiencing trials and consolation, explaining that suffering in Christ is not random misfortune but participation in the pattern of redemption. His words comfort and mobilize the church to share both suffering and comfort.

The Heart of It: Our solidarity with persecuted believers is an expression of union with Christ; comfort must flow both ways. We cannot bless from a distance without sacrificial giving and vocal advocacy.

Try This: Picture a small group in your church selecting a persecuted family to support for a year. They commit to monthly financial assistance, translated Scripture materials, and weekly prayers. They invite a speaker from a verified ministry to teach the congregation how to respond. Over a year the congregation watches a household rebuild, and their prayers deepen from abstract to specific — names become real, and the church grows in compassion.

Third, remember and teach our civic inheritance. The Pilgrim and Puritan witness reminds us that faith and public life have long been in conversation. That legacy calls us to a posture of humility: resist tyranny where it appears, but avoid conflating the gospel with partisan power. A hard pastoral line must be reckoned with: if lawful authorities violate God's laws, then obedience to God may mean resistance to tyrants. This forces us to weigh obedience to earthly rulers against obedience to God.

How do we hold that tension without sliding into lawless rebellion? We hold it carefully. We pray first. We pursue lawful, peaceful means of redress and advocacy. We teach our children that freedom is a stewardship and that resisting tyranny is a last, grave responsibility — to be undertaken only with prayer, counsel, and a biblical conscience.

Finally, cultivate gratitude. The Pilgrims practiced giving thanks even in suffering; gratitude stabilizes the soul. Simple practices — journaling blessings, sending thank-you notes, and telling God "you don't owe me anything good" as an act of praise — shape people who can endure hardship without embitterment.

We are not spectators. We are a people called to pray, to remember our theological and civic inheritance, and to act with both courage and compassion. Let the call to pray become the rhythm that drives our petitions and our hands. Let the memory of covenants and conscience shape how we engage public life. Let our hearts break for what breaks God's heart, and then let those hearts move to faithful, concrete love.

We will be tempted to despair — but remember: the Pilgrims weathered lethal winters and stayed because they believed something worth suffering for. Christians under persecution today cling to Christ amid danger. We will stand with them — in prayer, in advocacy, and in practical love.

I am glad to walk alongside you as we answer these calls together. Be bold in prayer; be wise in action; be grateful in every season.