Our leaders worship money and not morality in their pursuit for power

There is a verse in Scripture that many love to quote, often with misplaced triumph: *“Money answereth all things.” But they never pause to ask: What questions does money answer? Instead of discernment, they throw money at everything—disease, elections, funerals, churches, even consciences—without first asking whether money is the proper or sufficient answer.

Yet the Bible balances itself. Alongside that verse is another, one they silence: “The love of money is the root of all evil.” They mute it because to face it is to face the darkness in their own hearts. It would mean confessing that mammon has corrupted their ambitions and seized their souls. Leaders, both secular and ecclesiastical, have become not merely servants of mammon but its evangelists.

Their greatest fear is not poverty, not even death—it is light. For light blinds them. Light scatters their schemes. Light reveals what they bury in shadows. Jesus declared, “I am the Light of the world.” That is why disciples of mammon recoil at truth. Light is the one thing evil cannot negotiate with. It strips away disguises and leaves schemes naked. And our nation, drunk on the worship of mammon, trembles whenever truth is spoken.

Evangelists of Mammon

Listen to the language of our leaders. Their question is always: “How much money do we need?” Rarely do they ask: “What is right? What is just? What honors God?” For them, the ledger is the ultimate, the wallet is their sanctuary, and the budget their creed.

But Scripture sings in a different key. When Peter and John faced a lame man at the temple gate, they said plainly, “Silver and gold have I none.” Yet they carried something greater: the Name above all names. That Name restored a broken man and lifted him into dignity.

And Elisha, too, understood the temptation of mammon. When Naaman the Syrian was healed of leprosy, he offered the prophet handsome gifts. Elisha refused. To accept them would have reduced God’s grace to a transaction. His rejection was a prophetic declaration: the power of God cannot be bought. That is the kind of church we need today—confident in God, unafraid to intercept the seduction of money, and bold enough to say “no” to bribes disguised as generosity. Yes, the Kingdom requires resources, but it does not bow to mammon. The church must remember it carries a greater treasure: the Name that gives life freely, the Name that loves people into fullness without price.

But when mammon rules, suspicion becomes the currency of politics. Every handshake hides a dagger. Every alliance is temporary. Trust is unknown. To expect sacrifice from such leaders is to tune into the wrong frequency. Betrayal is the rule; genuine concern is the exception.

Why does no Kenyan politician ever resign, even when shame demands it? Because their loyalty lies not in principle, people, or patriotism. Their loyalty is singular: self. Ambition is their only compass. This explains their emotional barrenness. They cannot mourn with the grieving, for empathy would weaken their focus. They cannot share tears, for tears are wasted energy unless converted into votes or contracts.

So a mother crying for her slain child, or a student despairing over lost education, will not move them. Such cries have no currency. What moves them is money. Announce a grant for the same student, and suddenly they shout themselves hoarse, demanding it be channeled through their office. They fight in chambers not for justice but for control of funds. Whenever you see them quarrel, know this: there is loot to be shared.

And morality? To them, morality is an enemy. Integrity is too slow. Uprightness is a detour. Values are stumbling blocks. If lies open the road to wealth, then lies become wisdom. If theft delivers riches, then theft becomes necessity. Their creed is simple: get rich, no matter the cost.

Breaking the Spell

The result is a nation hijacked. Kenya does not lack resources—it suffers from worship of mammon. Hospitals are starved while mansions rise. Schools decay while offshore accounts swell. The state, meant to protect, becomes a predator. And the people, meant to be citizens, are treated as prey.

Suspicion now infects every level of society. Leaders do not trust citizens. Citizens do not trust leaders. Even citizens distrust one another. Generosity is questioned. Alliances are fragile. Betrayal is the national rhythm.

And yet, amid this darkness, light still scatters shadows. No scheme is too sophisticated for truth to unmask. No corrupt empire is too strong for exposure to collapse. That is why those who worship mammon dread transparency—they know light will undo them.

So what must be done? First, we must strip money of its false crown. We must stop treating it as the universal answer and begin asking deeper questions: Why? For whom? At what cost? With what consequence?

Second, we must recover a vision of leadership tethered not to ambition but to service. Leadership that echoes Peter: “What I have I give.” Leadership that dares to wield the Name above all names instead of the cheque book.

Third, the church must repent of its complicity. Too often pulpits have become altars of mammon, where stolen wealth is baptized in thanksgiving prayers. The church must again learn to say no, as Elisha did, and to declare that the grace of God cannot be bought. Citizens, too, must awaken to the deception of tokens handed out during campaigns. Those coins are not gifts; they are bait for grander thefts.

Finally, we must remember that truth is stronger than money. Truth is light. Truth exposes. Truth liberates. When churches refuse dirty offerings, when citizens refuse bribes, when truth is spoken without fear, mammon trembles.

Kenya’s greatest crisis is not the absence of wealth but the idolatry of wealth. Our leaders have become evangelists of greed, betrayers of principle, enemies of morality. But there is another way. There is a Name more powerful than silver and gold. There is a light stronger than darkness. There is a truth sharper than lies. When citizens embrace that truth, when churches return to that Name, when leaders rediscover service, the spell of mammon will be broken.

Money never answered the deepest questions. It never did. Justice, mercy, love, sacrifice, and hope have always required something far greater. They require light. And when light comes, darkness cannot endure.