Critique: On measuring Assemblies of God
The recent statement by Rev. Dr Stephen Yenusom Wengam, the General Superintendent of the Assemblies of God, Ghana, delivered at the valedictory service for Rev. Joseph Baisie in Tema, has circulated widely.
In it, the General Superintendent declared that, in the 110-year global history of the Assemblies of God, President John Dramani Mahama is the first member of the denomination to ascend to the presidency of any nation. Framed as the “biggest honour” the church has received, the remark was offered in a spirit of celebration.
Yet, upon closer theological and historical examination, it reveal a profound category error one that risks subordinating the church’s sacred vocation to the transient metrics of secular power.
An organisation, like a human life, is ultimately judged by what it was created to accomplish.
The Assemblies of God was birthed in 1914 not to produce heads of state, but to restore the apostolic pattern of Spirit-baptised witness to the ends of the earth.
Its 16 Fundamental Truths, its global missionary impulse and its historic self-understanding centre on the Great Commission (Matthew 28:19–20), the proclamation of the gospel, the planting of indigenous churches and the transformation of lives through the power of the Holy Spirit.
To cite the election of one believer to political office as the crowning achievement of 110 years is rather like praising the current CEO of Coca-Cola for being the first in company history to win an Olympic gold medal.
The achievement may be personally commendable; it is simply not what the organisation exists to measure or celebrate.
The founding objectives of the Assemblies of God contain no clause about occupying the presidential palace.
They speak of salvation, sanctification, Spirit baptism, divine healing and world evangelisation.
Any metric that deviates from these is, by definition, extraneous.
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The New Testament itself supplies the corrective. None of the 12 Apostles became Caesar.
None sought or accepted political rulership. Paul stood before governors and kings, yet never as an aspirant to their thrones; his boast remained the cross and the churches planted through suffering (Galatians 6:14; 2 Corinthians 11:23–28).
The early church measured fruitfulness not by proximity to imperial power, but by faithfulness amid persecution, by the spread of the Word and by the multiplication of disciples.
When the church has confused spiritual success with political elevation whether in Constantinian Rome, medieval Christendom or certain modern movements the result has seldom been revival but rather compromise, clericalism, and the dilution of prophetic voice.
Particularly poignant is the contrast with the denomination’s missionary forebears. Many of the pioneers who brought the Pentecostal message to Ghana and the wider continent travelled on one-way tickets.
They packed their belongings in coffins, knowing they would likely die on African soil.
They remained unmarried or childless so that nothing would hinder the work.
Their reward was not dynasties or state honours, but the birth of indigenous Pentecostal churches that now number millions
To stand before their spiritual descendants and suggest that the ultimate fruit of their blood, sweat and tears is that one of their number now occupies the Jubilee House is not merely historically tone-deaf; it borders on theological tragedy.
It reduces the costly obedience of the cross to the calculus of political visibility.
Equally troubling is the personal and institutional subtext. Rev. Wengam’s well-documented closeness to President Mahama dating back to the latter’s previous administration and continuing into the present has been noted by many observers.
While personal friendships between clergy and statesmen are not inherently wrong, when the General Superintendent’s public theology begins to orbit the presidential office, questions of motive inevitably arise.
The impression conveyed is that the prestige of State House is being valued more highly than the solemn charge of the General Superintendent’s desk.
This is exacerbated by the 2026 theme chosen for the Assemblies of God Ghana: “The Faith of Our Fathers.”
That theme is meant to recall the simplicity, sacrifice and separation of the pioneers.
Yet, the same leader who invokes it continues to retain the lead pastorate of the Cedar Mountain Chapel a practice none of his predecessors (Rev. Namyela, Rev. Asore, Rev. Dontoh or Rev. Frimpong Manso) permitted themselves.
Each of them stepped aside from local church duties to give undivided attention to the national mandate.
The current refusal to follow suit, set against the very theme of ancestral fidelity, constitutes a visible breach of the tradition being rhetorically exalted.
Ultimately, the issue is not whether a committed Christian may serve honourably as President. Daniel served Nebuchadnezzar; Joseph served Pharaoh. The question is whether the institutional church should redefine its missional success in their terms.
When the General Superintendent of a global pentecostal movement begins to speak as though the highest validation of 110 years of Pentecostal labour is a political election, he inadvertently communicates that the real power worth seeking lies not at the altar but at the ballot box.
That message may win applause in certain circles; it will not stand scrutiny before the cloud of witnesses who counted not their lives dear unto themselves (Acts 20:24).
If Rev. Wengam’s deepest calling has shifted toward political influence, the honourable course—consistent with the very “faith of the fathers” he invokes is to resign the General Superintendent’s office and pursue that vocation openly.
The church does not need another cleric-turned-politician; it needs leaders who remember that the kingdom of God is not meat and drink, nor presidential portfolios, but righteousness, peace and joy in the Holy Ghost (Romans 14:17).
The missionaries who came in coffins deserve no less.
Nii Teiko (aka Tico)
Kuku Hill, Accra
