When the Presidency announced the creation of the Office of the Presidential Envoy for Interfaith and Ecumenical Affairs, the country collectively tilted its head in curiosity.
For some, it was a forward-thinking gesture towards interfaith harmony.
For others, it was an elaborate attempt to bureaucratise the divine.
After all, how does one even begin to manage matters of prophecy, discernment and visions with the neat efficiency of filing cabinets and memos?
The story behind this new office is as intriguing as the office itself. Its creation was not born out of thin air.
Recent months have seen heated national conversations about the influence of pastors, prophets and imams in shaping political discourse.
At the centre of the storm was Prophet Raja, whose pronouncements often blurred the line between the pulpit and the political podium.
With such figures commanding large followings, it seems the state felt compelled to create an official channel to engage, coordinate and advise on interfaith matters.
On paper, the initiative sounds noble.
Ghana is, after all, a deeply religious nation where Christians, Muslims and traditionalists share space and sometimes tensions.
Having an office dedicated to promoting dialogue and preventing faith-based friction could indeed serve a stabilising purpose. But here comes the satire that bites.
If this is truly about harmony, why does it already feel like a fusion of prophecy management and spiritual protocol clearance?
Critics argue that the office is less about fostering unity and more about courting the spiritual elite for political capital.
In other words, rather than separating church and state, we might just be creating a new wing where the two can hold hands in an official capacity.
And herein lies the practicality problem.
Can you legislate faith?
Can you regulate revelations? Is prophecy something that can be endorsed or rejected by a committee of civil servants?
The matter of discernment complicates things further.
Within faith traditions, especially Christianity, the ability to discern which word is truly from God has always been a sacred responsibility, not a bureaucratic task.
How will this office determine what constitutes a credible prophecy and what is mere political punditry cloaked in spiritual language?
Will a presidential envoy be required to have the gift of discernment, or is a background in political science enough?
Prophet Raja’s name inevitably looms over this office like a shadow.
His history of controversial prophecies and political commentary makes it difficult for many to see the initiative as neutral.
The suspicion is that the state has built this structure not to arbitrate faith fairly, but to streamline and sanitise voices like his within the corridors of power.
Ultimately, the creation of this office raises more questions than it answers.
Yes, dialogue between faiths is vital, but must it come with a government letterhead?
Yes, harmony is necessary, but can it be legislated into existence?
Or is this yet another example of our penchant for creating elaborate offices that serve more symbolism than substance?
Until clarity emerges, we are left with the spectacle of watching the government attempt to domesticate the divine.
And as every student of theology will tell you,
God does not easily fit into a filing cabinet.
