10/09/2026
WHY CHRISTIANS ARE NEEDED IN POLITICS.
After meeting with Mathieu Kérékou I returned to my room at the Marina Sheraton. It was no longer the dry season here and torrential rains were falling. I had not been in the room long when the phone rang. The clerk at the
concierge desk identified herself.
“A Nigerian ex-general is staying in this hotel,” she said.
“His name is Olusegun Obasanjo, and he would like to meet you.”
“I would very much like to meet him,” I said.
A very large man with a face that looked like he had seen it all, answered. He was wearing the traditional Nigerian fila hat and a long agbada robe that went all the way to the floor. I think he smiled at me but I couldn’t be
I recognized the name. This man was a former president of Nigeria. The very one Sani Abacha had imprisoned, and for whose life Mathieu Kérékou had intervened. He had become a Christian while awaiting certain death.
She told me that he was in a particular room and that I was welcome to visit him there. I took my Bible and called Peter van den Berg. Not being able to locate him, I went by myself. I knocked at the door.
completely sure. It was one of those enigmatic smiles concealed by a mask of deep reserve. He spoke with a ponderous, bass voice.
“Reverend Bonnke, come in. President Kérékou let me know you were here. I hope you don’t mind me contacting you.”
“Not at all. I am glad to meet you.”
He offered me a seat in a comfortable sitting area. He had already brewed a pot of chai tea. As he poured it into cups, he said, “I have read your books. As you know I have had much time for reading.”
“Yes. I am pleased to see that you have been released from prison.”
“Only days after Abacha died I received my freedom,” he said. He gave me an impenetrable look. “Many others who opposed him died behind bars. Some were executed.
Others died from the mysterious effects of prison food, or medical practice, or malpractice, as the case may be. God sent Mathieu to spare my life. Now, the new military
regime is asking that I lend my voice to their call for free elections. Can you imagine such a reversal of fortune? If it is true, if it can be believed, then elections will be held for the first time in 16 years. I keep asking myself, what
would make this military regime let go of power? It seems too good to be true.”
“Maybe, sir, they are looking back to someone who did it16 years ago and they like what they see. Without that example, it might not occur to them.”
He told me the story of how he had come to know Jesus in prison. Listening to him, I had a full confirmation in my heart that his conversion was real.
But there were other factors, too.
Abacha had campaigned against government corruption, but behind the scenes his family had embezzled more than a billion dollars of
Nigerian wealth. They had squirreled it away in Swiss and Middle Eastern bank accounts. Many powerful enemies We discussed the suspicious circumstances surrounding
Abacha’s death. He had been in the presidential villa with two key men, his chief of staff and the chief strategist for his political party. The official report stated that he had
died of a heart attack. But he was only 54 years of age.
Strange reports had been leaked to the press claiming that his heart attack had been fueled by Vi**ra during an indulgence with prostitutes.
If that was true, it might explain why his body had been buried on the same day without an autopsy. He had been born a Muslim in Kano. In northern Nigeria, adultery was sometimes punished by stoning. Public beatings and
humiliation were also common under Sharia Law. The humiliation of the prostitution rumors might have been enough to explain the strange haste in his burial.
Obasanjo knew that some within the military felt that Abacha had gotten out of control.
I thought of the paper bag full of money he had given me.
It was chump change to a man who had acquired more than a billion.
“Corruption is the bane of Nigerian society,” Obasanjo said.
He then told us that in July an autopsy had been ordered by the courts. Nigerian newspapers reported the results showing that Abacha had died of natural causes. But was
the information reliable? Nothing had been able to quiet the rumors that he had been poisoned by members of his own inner circle.
“Let’s pray together about this situation in Nigeria,”
Obasanjo said. “It is time for change in my country.
I am praying that this new leader, General Abubakar, is sincere in his promise to bring back democratic elections.”
We prayed together. Suddenly, I felt something strong inside my spirit. I felt that I was praying with the next president of Nigeria. I said nothing to him about it.
“General,” I asked, “can you help me get a visa for Nigeria? Abacha opened the doors for my return, but now all of those connections have been lost. I want so much to return with my crusades.”
He knit his brows. “You should try to contact Abubakar’s government. Work through his people. My gut feelings and my faith tell me that until God shuts a door, no human can
shut it. I wouldn’t assume that the doors to Nigeria are shut because of the death of Abacha.”
I thanked him and prepared to leave. As I did, he went to his nightstand and wrote something on a piece of paper.
Coming to the door he handed it to me.
“This is my private cell phone number. If you find it difficult to get permits to hold meetings in Nigeria, give me a call.”
The next day, as we drove toward the airport, Olusegun Obasanjo was the lead story on Benin radio news. If open elections were to be held in Nigeria, the story quoted him as saying, he would run for president.
I turned to Peter who was riding beside me in the car and pumped my fist. “If Obasanjo wins, Bonnke is in!” Then I bowed my head. “Oh, Lord, let him win, let him win, let
him win, in Jesus’ name.”
It was in Germany that the good news reached me that Obasanjo had won the presidential
election in Nigeria. Not only had he won, he won in a landslide, gaining nearly 64 percent of the vote. He assumed office on May 29, 1999, in what became a national holiday called Democracy Day. It was the first time in 16 years that Nigeria had seen a civilian head of state.
In his inauguration speech, he said, “Let me make a solemn pledge before all of you, before the whole world and before God, that I will devote all my energy and all I possess in my power to serve the people of Nigeria and
humanity.”
This was the kind of principled Christian leader Africa so desperately needed. 16 years before, he had been a military dictator. Even so, he had handed the military government over to a civilian president without resistance.
Now he had become that civilian president himself in free and open elections. What a divine full circle!
I took out my wallet and sorted through it to find a familiar piece of paper. On it Obasanjo had written his private cell phone number. I dialed it.
“Obasanjo speaking.”
“Congratulations General on your election to the office of President of Nigeria, when can I come?” I said it all in one breath.
“Immediately,” he said, chuckling on the other end of the line.
“I’m on my way.”
I called Peter van den Berg. I asked him where he thought our first Nigerian crusade should be held. He spoke to Winfried Wentland about it. Winfried and his family were CfaN heroes and veterans of the Kano disaster.
“Benin City,” was his reply.
“Benin City it is,” I said. “Begin planning, full speed ahead.”
- REINHARD BONNKE (Living A Life Of Fire)
- Spiritual Notes
