By Oladipo Oluwatosin
The bloodstains on the concrete floor of Christ Apostolic Church, Oke-Isegun, Eruku, had not dried when angry youths gathered outside the charred building demanding answers. For them, the tragedy of November 18, 2025; an attack that left at least three worshippers dead and several abducted, including the pastor is not just another headline in Nigeria’s worsening security crisis. It is the most painful evidence yet of what they call a growing Christian genocide.
The bandits had stormed the church around 6 p.m., during a prayer meeting. The terror unfolded live as the church’s streaming equipment captured part of the attack; gunshots, screams, worshippers running for cover, and finally, the abrupt end of the broadcast. By dawn, the military had taken over the community, protests had erupted on the Kwara-Kogi highway, and the President had deployed additional troops.
But amid the national shock, another question emerged from the pews, the pulpits, and the seminaries: “Where are our fathers? Why is the Church leadership quiet?”
THE CHURCH SPEAKS—BUT IS IT ENOUGH?
Within the Christ Apostolic Church (CAC) community, pastors and elders issued a silent brief statements condemning the killings and calling for prayers. But many young Christians say the responses lack the urgency that the severity of the moment demands.
Across WhatsApp groups and campus fellowships, the sentiment is the same:
“We are bleeding. We are dying. Why is the church hierarchy slow to roar?”
For years, CAC, like many denominations, has maintained a conservative posture regarding political matters, preferring diplomacy and spiritual counsel to confrontation. But youths argue that silence, or perceived softness, now feels like abandonment.
A theologian at a CAC seminary in the Southwest said:
“Our fathers taught us boldness. But today, our pulpits are quiet on the things killing us. Young pastors are afraid. Parents are withdrawing their children from seminaries. Everyone is asking: if our leaders cannot speak, who will speak for us?”
IS THIS RELIGIOUS PERSECUTION? MANY BELIEVE SO
The Eruku attack did not occur in isolation. It came days after the abduction of 25 schoolgirls in Kebbi, the killing of soldiers in Borno, and a string of kidnappings across several northern states.
But for many Christians, the targeting of a church carries symbolic meaning.
Churches have been repeatedly attacked in Kaduna, Plateau, Benue, Kogi, and now Kwara.
Many abducted pastors never return.
Villages with Christian populations have been victims of coordinated raids.
And now, with a church attacked on livestream, several CAC communities say the mask has fallen off:
“This is persecution. This is genocide. And the nation must acknowledge it,” a district superintendent said privately.
History is not far away. Many recall the biblical parallel of Israel, who suffered oppression until they cried out and God intervened. Some believe Nigeria’s Christians may be at that threshold.
THE FEAR OF ISLAMIZATION—REALITY OR PARANOIA?
Whether justified or not, growing numbers of Christians perceive a pattern:
Security lapses are frequent in Christian-dominated areas. Perpetrators are seldom arrested or prosecuted. Attacks on churches recur, but mosque attacks are rare. Government response is often viewed as reactive, not preventive.
Suspicious alliances between political elites, traditional rulers, and extremist groups are whispered about daily.
Several Christian leaders argue that Nigeria is drifting toward a dangerous religious imbalance.
A pastor from CAC mount bethel, Ibadan, said:
“What we are seeing is strategic: weaken Christian communities, frighten clergy, make believers feel unsafe, and gradually dominate the sociopolitical space. If we don’t call it what it is, it will consume us.”
Others warn against oversimplification but insist that the government must address the perception before it hardens into deep national division.
YOUNG PASTORS ARE TERRIFIED
In seminaries across the country, final-year students whisper about their fears:
“Where will I be posted?” “What if my first parish is in a dangerous region?”
“How do I pastor a church when armed men can break in during worship?”
“Why is the church not negotiating safer conditions for us?”
For them, the Eruku attack is not an isolated tragedy; it is a prophetic warning.
Pastoral ministry in Nigeria is becoming one of the most dangerous professions. Many pastors in rural areas sleep in fear, minister in fear, and preach with one eye on the church door.
A seminarian in Ilorin said:
“When I saw the Eruku video, I thought: that could be me. My parents are begging me to change course.”
As Christ Apostolic Church Theological Seminary, Main Campus, convokes a new set of ministers, it is crucial for the authorities present to use this solemn occasion to clearly articulate the Church’s position on the recent attacks and the continued killing of ministers and Christians across Nigeria. At a time when no one knows who the next victim might be, silence is not an option.
ECONOMIC IMPLICATIONS OF RELIGIOUS INSECURITY
Beyond the emotional trauma, attacks like the Eruku church massacre cripple local and national economies:
1. Rural Abandonment; When churches, schools, and farms are attacked, communities flee. Empty villages mean: Collapsed agricultural output, Food scarcity, loss of local markets. This directly affects Kwara’s economy, which depends heavily on farming and trade.
2. Reduced Faith Tourism: Kwara State has hundreds of churches and pilgrimage sites. Now, pastors cancel programs; worshippers avoid evening services. Offerings drop. Local businesses that depend on religious gatherings suffer.
3. Declining Investment Climate: Investors avoid regions plagued by violent extremism or religious instability. When a live-streamed church attacks trends globally, it deepens the image of a volatile region.
4. Brain Drain Among Clergy: Talented pastors now migrate; some abroad, others into safer professions. This drains the Church of its brightest minds and spiritual capital.
5. Cost of Security: Churches now spend money on: Armed guards, CCTV systems, Bulletproof doors and Fencing and metal detectors These costs replace money meant for missions, charity, schools, and community development.
A NATION ON THE BRINK OF MORAL AND SPIRITUAL BANKRUPTCY
Nigeria was once a nation that helped Liberia and Sierra Leone find peace. Nigeria once led regional interventions. Nigeria once exported missionaries, peacekeepers, and humanitarian workers. Today, the nation is asking for help. Its citizens are trapped between bandits, terrorists, and indifferent leadership.
The big question remains: Who is benefiting from this insecurity?
The answers vary: Arms suppliers, corrupt security officials, political players who exploit chaos, foreign interests, criminal networks, extremist ideological groups. But ordinary people, the worshippers, farmers, teachers, and pastors pay the ultimate price.
THE WAY FORWARD: A CALL FOR TRUTH, COURAGE, AND ACTION
The Eruku attack is not just a church tragedy. It is a national alarm bell.
1. The Church Must Speak Boldly: Silence is not neutrality; it is complicity. Christians demand stronger advocacy from CAN, PFN, and denominational leaders.
2. Government Must Recognize Religious Targeting. Acknowledging persecution is the first step to solving it.
3. Security Architecture Must Prioritize Soft Targets. Churches, schools, rural communities, seminaries, these need fortified protection.
4. Economic Policies Must Address Security. Without safety, no industry thrives.
5. Christians Must Unite Across Denominations
Danger does not discriminate between CAC, Catholic, Baptist, or Pentecostal.
CONCLUSION: “WE CAN NOT DIE IN SILENCE”
The voices from Eruku are echoing across Nigeria: “Enough is enough.” “We are under siege.” “This must stop.”
Whether the Eruku attack becomes another forgotten tragedy or the turning point for Christian advocacy depends on what the Church, the government, and the nation do next.
But one truth is certain:
A nation that allows its sacred spaces to become slaughterhouses is a nation at war with its own soul.
