04/03/2026
Topic: Raise Sons Again
Imagine…
A Sunday morning.
The sanctuary full.
The choir robed.
The instruments tuned.
Then the pastor stands and says,
“Due to gross misconduct, the entire choir is suspended till further notice.”
Silence.
By next Sunday…
Half of them are gone.
Relocated.
Transferred.
“Where our gift will be appreciated.”
Appreciated.
There was a time responsibilities were privileges.
Now responsibilities are contracts.
There was a time service was honour.
Now service is negotiation.
We have entered a generation
Where correction sounds like insult
And alignment feels like oppression.
There was a time when the words
“Step down for a while”
Meant go and pray.
Now “step down” means
Step out.
Exit the WhatsApp group.
Exit the workforce.
Exit the church.
And somehow…
We think we exited dishonour
When truly
We exited discipleship.
I saw a generation
Where correction was not cancellation,
It was construction.
Where rebuke was not rejection,
It was refinement.
Now we manage optics.
We protect egos.
We maintain talents.
Because sons can be corrected…
But talents must be maintained.
Sons stay for alignment.
Talents stay for allowance.
Sons ask,
“Where did I miss it?”
Talents ask,
“Who do you think you are?”
And the difference…
Is loud.
I remember when sweeping the church floor
Was not a task,
It was training.
And if the pastor said,
“You disobeyed instruction. Don’t sweep again.”
That season became
Brokenness.
Repentance.
Growth.
Now remove someone from sweeping
And they remove themselves from the church.
They will remind you
How much they have helped the ministry.
As though heaven keeps score
By microphones held
And not by hearts yielded.
The altar was never designed
To run like an office.
It was designed
To raise men.
Not celebrities.
Not contractors.
Not spiritual freelancers.
Men.
Men who fear misalignment
More than they fear losing platforms.
Men who tremble at correction
Because they know
Correction is protection.
Men who understand
That the greatest reward for service
Is not applause.
Not salary.
Not visibility.
But preservation.
Preserved from pride.
Preserved from error.
Preserved for eternity.
So Lord…
Raise sons again.
Raise daughters who love discipline.
Raise servants who choose alignment over attention.
Raise hearts that would rather lose position
Than lose Your presence.
Raise a generation
That sees correction
Not as disrespect —
But as discipleship.
Because when sons are raised,
The Church is strengthened.
And when talents rule without submission,
The altar becomes a stage.
Lord…
Raise sons again.
Amen.
©Oluclem
