Two days ago, Ghana was hit with a tragedy that tore through our hearts. A helicopter carrying two cabinet ministers and six others went down on its way to Obuasi. In moments, families were left broken. Children became orphans. Spouses became widows. A nation lost leaders, friends, and loved ones in a cloud of smoke and twisted metal.

This was not the time for debates. Not the time for personal glory. It was a time for silence, for mourning, for coming together as one people.

But what happened? Before the dust from the crash had even settled, before the first funeral arrangements could be made, some men and women of God had already turned the tragedy into their stage. Social media posts popped up: “I saw it in a dream.” “God showed me this.” “I warned the nation.” Some even dug up old videos to prove they were “right.”

Let’s call it what it is — attention-seeking in the name of God.

When did we become so desperate to be seen that we use death to market ourselves? When did Christianity stop being about Christ and start being about clout?

If Jesus were here in the flesh, He wouldn’t be on Facebook Live proving that He predicted the crash. He wouldn’t be dropping old clips to show His accuracy. He would be in the homes of the grieving, holding their hands, praying for their strength, and weeping with them.

Romans 12:15 says, “Mourn with those who mourn.” It doesn’t say, “Promote yourself when others are mourning.” This obsession with proving how “anointed” we are is making the church look like a marketplace for fame instead of a place of refuge.

True power is not in saying “I knew.” True power is in showing up when it hurts, in being there when the cameras are off, in carrying someone’s pain with them until they can stand again.

Ghana is mourning. Families are in pieces. And while some are competing for spiritual credit, the real work — the quiet, unseen work of love — is being left undone.

The church needs to wake up. We are not here to trend. We are not here to win prophecy competitions. We are here to be the hands and feet of Jesus — to serve, to comfort, and to love without needing the spotlight.

So I ask again: Is this what Christianity is about?

If it is, then we’ve missed the gospel. But if it isn’t, then it’s time to repent, to put away the clout-chasing, and to get back to the heart of Christ, where people matter more than platforms, and love speaks louder than likes.