Future of the Church in Nagaland will not be secured by bigger vehicles, larger conventions, or greater institutional prestige but when every believer is valued equally before God.
A sheet of plywood is one of the strongest materials used in construction. Ironically, its strength does not come from one magnificent piece of timber. It is made by joining together many thin layers of wood, each different in shape, grain, and size. Remove enough layers, and the plywood loses its strength.
The Church is much the same. The Body of Christ is not held together by a few celebrated pastors, influential families, wealthy donors, or powerful association leaders. It is held together by ordinary believers—the widow who prays faithfully, the unemployed youth who still comes to worship, the elderly deacon who quietly serves, the Sunday school teacher, the church cleaner, the choir member, and countless others whose names never appear on a stage. Yet, one cannot ignore an uncomfortable trend in many churches today.
Leadership is increasingly measured by visibility rather than vulnerability. Official vehicles, impressive offices, public recognition, and privileged access to influential association leaders often become symbols of success. A pastor's closeness to those who control postings, appointments, and the allocation of major conventions or church programmes can sometimes appear more valuable than closeness to the suffering members of the congregation.
Whether this perception is entirely fair or not, it exists. And perceptions, if left unaddressed, slowly erode trust. Pastoral ministry was never intended to be a pursuit of influence. The Chief Shepherd did not ride through Galilee seeking prestige (1 Peter 5:4). He walked dusty roads to visit the forgotten, sat with sinners, comforted mourners, and restored the broken. His authority was expressed through service, not status (John 10:11).
In Nagaland today, many young people are silently asking difficult questions. They struggle with unemployment, corruption, addiction, mental distress, and an uncertain future. Many feel unheard—not only by society but also by the Church. They long for guidance, honest conversation, and compassionate leadership. Too often, however, they see greater excitement over organisational politics than over discipleship.
Meanwhile, widows, widowers, struggling families, and those living on the margins frequently receive attention only during ceremonial occasions. Their greatest need is not another public programme but shepherds who will sit with them, pray with them, and remind them that they are not forgotten.
This is not an attack on every pastor or church worker. Many continue to serve sacrificially, away from the spotlight, and they deserve our gratitude. But genuine respect for faithful shepherds should never prevent the Church from asking hard questions of its institutions and leaders.
When influence becomes more attractive than service, when proximity to powerful association leaders becomes more rewarding than proximity to hurting people, and when official cars become more visible than pastoral visitation, something has gone wrong.
The Church must have the courage to examine itself. Are pastors being recognised for their faithfulness or for their connections? Are important church decisions driven by prayerful discernment or by networks of influence? Are prestigious postings and major conventions distributed with transparency and fairness, or do ordinary believers simply accept whatever happens without asking questions?
These are not questions of rebellion. They are questions of stewardship.
The Church should never fear accountability. Institutions become stronger—not weaker—when leaders welcome honest scrutiny. Silence may preserve appearances, but truth preserves integrity.
Plywood reminds us that no single layer carries the weight of the whole structure. Every layer matters. Likewise, every believer matters. If the Church continues to value prestige over people, visibility over compassion, and influence over faithful service, it risks weakening the very body Christ entrusted to it.
The future of the Church in Nagaland will not be secured by bigger vehicles, larger conventions, or greater institutional prestige. It will be secured when every believer, from the most influential leader to the most forgotten widow, is valued equally before God.
Perhaps it is time—not to question the gospel—but to question whether our leadership still reflects it.
Mughalu
CTC, Aolijen