I watched you on television sir, entering a church on Christmas Day, a cathedral in the capital, cameras clicking as faithfully as your folded hands. It was reported to be your first visit to a church. Congratulations sir. Though I must say, you did not need to march in as if inspecting a parade.
The King you came to meet was already at the altar, and He has never been impressed by power walks.
You stood there rigid, hands joined, spine straight, face carved out of stone. All wrong sir. Blessings are not issued across a counter. They descend when a man bends. Ever heard of the meek inheriting the earth? That inheritance seems to excite many, especially those who count votes more eagerly than virtues.
And then there was your face sir. No smile. Not even a courtesy one. That puzzled me. Anyone who has truly encountered Him usually walks away lighter. Smiling, even foolishly so. Because that is what He does.
He meddles with hearts. He loosens clenched fists. He replaces suspicion with compassion and fear with care. But your face remained untouched, like a locked file marked confidential.
Oh, but outside the church, reality mirrored that expression of yours, as celebrations were stopped. Churches vandalised. Priests assaulted. Christmas joy interrupted by men who confuse faith with force.
Funny thing sir, when the heart remains unmoved at the altar, the streets tend to become restless. Stone hearts produce hard actions.
What a performance, sir. Or, so you thought, but actually, what a waste of a moment. You stood inches away from a grace that cannot be manufactured by speeches or secured by slogans. In that one quiet moment you could have received everything that power, popularity and propaganda promise but never deliver. Peace within. Courage without cruelty. Authority softened by mercy.
But God’s grace has an odd habit. It refuses to be impressed. It does not respond to posture, protocol or publicity. It responds to humility. To honesty. To a man who comes not as a leader but as a lost child. Perhaps that was missing sir?
There are many in the past; people who pretended to worship Him and did not. They spoke the right language, wore the right expressions, but their hearts were elsewhere. He noticed. He always does. You will be meeting them too one day sir. There are no cameras there. No handlers. No security cordon. Just some uncomfortable warmth, uncomfortably close.
Christmas is not a photo opportunity sir. It is an invitation. To smile. To soften. To step down from high horses and kneel beside ordinary people.
It demands rulers to remember that greatness begins with gentleness.
So next time sir, if you enter a church, leave the stone face with your entourage. You might just discover that the power you seek has been quietly waiting to change you first…!