Pt.2-God Was Never Missing -(Power, Proximity, and the Illusion of Control)

One of my all-time favorite films is The Wizard of Oz—not because it is whimsical, but because it tells the truth about character.

The Lion was a coward.
The Scarecrow lacked discernment.
The Tin Man had no heart.
And the Wizard—let us be honest—was a fraud: a boaster, a conman, a grifter hiding behind spectacle and smoke.

Dorothy wanted nothing more than to get home—back to something honest, grounded, and real. Yet in her simplicity, she possessed everything the others lacked. She embodied courage the Lion could not summon, wisdom the Scarecrow did not have, and compassion the Tin Man had lost.

Most importantly, Dorothy—and even little Toto—had the courage to pull back the curtain.

They exposed the illusion.
They revealed the truth.
They showed the world that power built on deception collapses the moment it is confronted.

As I watched faith leaders this past week, I could not help but see the parallels.

I saw no Dorothys in the room.
No one willing to pull back the curtain.
No one brave enough to disrupt the spectacle and call the fraud what it was.

There was applause.
There was silence.
But there was no courage.

And that absence—that quiet refusal to speak—disturbed my soul.

I have been deeply disturbed in my soul for a long time—but this week, it settled heavier.

I watched hundreds of pastors, many of whom paid large sums to attend the National Prayer Breakfast. Paid—not simply for a seat at a table of prayer, but for proximity. For access. For optics.

To sit shoulder to shoulder with influential pastors.
To be in the same room with political power.
To be close enough to be noticed.
To maybe—just maybe—be caught on camera.

Because nothing fuels ministry growth quite like visibility.
Nothing boosts numbers like proximity to influence.
Nothing grows a platform faster than being seen in the right room, with the right people, at the right moment.

And so prayer became currency.
Presence became performance.
And the prophetic voice was quietly exchanged for applause.

Pastors from every corner sat and applauded as the leader of this country declared that he brought God back to America.

They sat there in willful ignorance—not because they don’t know that statement is false, but because they chose the comfort of a lie over the cost of truth.

This man can no more contain God than he could command the wind to obey him.
Yet they applauded.

These pastors need to be reminded of the words God spoke to Job:

“Where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth?
Tell Me, if you have understanding.”

So where, then, was our current administration when God formed creation?
Where were they when He set the boundaries of the seas?
When He commanded the morning to appear?
When He called the stars each by name?

How presumptuous for any man to believe he can summon God at will—tell Him where to go or when to arrive—as though the Creator responds to political timing or national branding.

God is not ushered in by administrations.
He is not invited by speeches.
He is not managed by power.

He goes where He wills.
He dwells where there is humility, repentance, and truth.

And any pastor who applauds the illusion of control over God has forgotten who sits on the throne—and who never did.

They listened as this same leader admitted he has never read the Bible—the very foundation of the Christian faith they claim to steward.
They watched as he elevated a woman he called his pastor, while openly confessing that he doesn’t know whether he will go to heaven. He assumes he will, because in his own estimation, he has done “enough good things.”

And still—
No alarm bells.
No correction.
No gospel.

Why doesn’t he know?

Because somewhere along the way, the truth of the gospel was never clearly shared with him. The gospel is not transactional. It is not earned by good behavior, influence, or proximity to religious spaces.

The gospel begins with repentance—acknowledging the wrong we have done—and continues with surrender: placing our full trust in God through His Son, Jesus Christ. It is believing not in ourselves, but in Christ’s finished work. It is allowing His Word to transform us daily—reshaping how we think, how we speak, how we live—until our lives begin to reflect Him.

That is the gospel.

Anything less is not good news—it is religious theater.
And the silence of those who know better is not neutrality.
It is complicity.

Jesus did not pay for seats at tables of power.
He flipped them.

He was not impressed by proximity to kings.
He confronted them.

He did not build crowds by courting influence.
He thinned them with truth.

Nathan confronted David when the king sinned.
Elijah stood before Ahab and called down truth in a nation drowning in deception.
John the Baptist rebuked Herod openly—and lost his head for it.

Faithfulness has never been measured by applause, attendance, or cameras.
Obedience is measured by truth spoken, repentance called for, and courage displayed when silence would be safer.

Somewhere along the way, we decided being invited mattered more than being faithful.
Being adjacent to power mattered more than speaking truth to it.
Growth justified compromise.
Influence replaced integrity.

But numbers have never been the measure of obedience.
Access has never been proof of anointing.
A full room does not mean God is present.
And silence in the face of falsehood is not wisdom—it is surrender.

Mama Wisdom Reflection:

If you have to quiet your conscience to keep your seat, the seat was never yours to hold.
If truth must be diluted to preserve access, then access has become your idol.
And if you must applaud a lie to stay in the room, you may want to ask which room you’re really in.

God has never needed a nation to validate Him.
But nations have always needed God—and He will not be controlled, packaged, or paraded for applause.

The Kingdom of God is not advanced by cameras.
It is advanced by obedience.