Vikiho Kiba
Nagaland proudly professes Christianity with unrestrained fervor. Our churches resound with hallelujahs, our calendars overflow with revivals, and our pulpits proclaim God’s goodness with admirable conviction. Yet beneath this religious vitality lies a deeper and more troubling crisis, one that questions not merely our public worship but the very substance of our collective moral identity. In our desire for gold, our obsession with glory, and our selective God-talk, we confront a civilizational paradox: a Christian society edging dangerously toward spiritual schizophrenia.
The Crisis of Being: When Identity and Conduct Diverge. The philosophical study of being insists on coherence between essence and expression. But in Nagaland, we increasingly witness a painful disjunction: we are Christians by label, not by life. Sunday devotion rarely transforms weekday ethics. A baptized body often walks hand-in-hand with a compromised conscience. This disconnect reveals a fracture in our spiritual ontology, reducing the meaning of being Christian to appearing Christian, wearing a mask of conformity rather than bearing a cross of transformation.
We invoke God during elections, funerals, and festivals, yet retreat into tribalism, materialism, and nepotism whenever moral courage is required. This is not merely hypocrisy; it is a divided self,, an outer garment of piety covering an inner core shaped by compromise.
Religion as Psychological Escape Rather Than Moral Compass: Such duality produces psychological tension. When a society proclaims godliness yet practices godlessness, individuals are pushed into cognitive dissonance. The result is emotional religion without ethical depth. We shout louder in worship to drown inner guilt; we seek miracles to avoid responsibility; we build grander churches to compensate for hollow living. Religion becomes a therapeutic escape rather than a transformative path toward truth.
Society in Decline: When Tribe Overrules Truth. This inward confusion manifests in our public institutions. Tribal loyalty too often supersedes Christian fidelity. Moral worth is assessed by clan and connection rather than character and competence. Public offices are treated as private possessions, and merit is sacrificed on the altar of kinship.
Even the church, once the moral conscience of society, now frequently bows to political and tribal pressures. Tithes are collected, but justice is neglected. Pulpits welcome political dignitaries with honor while silencing prophetic voices for being “divisive.” Instead of discipling society, the church risks being discipled by it.
This marks a shift from covenantal Christianity to consumeristic Christianity, faith reduced to a tool for blessing, reputation, or survival.
When Gold Becomes God: Economically, Nagaland is not atheistic but pragmatically polytheistic. One God is proclaimed, yet another is pursued gold. Money, materialism, and market power quietly recalibrate our priorities. Integrity is too often traded for influence, contracts, or convenience. Religious institutions are not immune: inflated church projects, opaque mission funds, and questionable land dealings reveal a growing comfort with moral compromise.
When gold becomes god, people inevitably become expendable. Young people leaving the state do so less out of hope than desperation. Education is seen not as a path to wisdom but as a ticket to employment, prestige, or escape. Profit overshadows people; production outweighs virtue.
Theological Distortion: Glory Without the Cross. Underneath these symptoms lies a theological crisis. A prosperity-driven desire for glory without sacrifice has infiltrated the spiritual landscape. We seek elevation without repentance, crowns without crosses, applause without surrender. A theology shaped by market ambition rather than biblical conviction has replaced self-denial with self-advancement.
Christ’s call remains unequivocal: “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross.” Yet across Nagaland, many yearn for resurrection without crucifixion, forgetting that true glory is always preceded by discipline, sacrifice, and sanctification.
The NLTP Act Debate: A Mirror of Moral Incoherence. The current debate over the NLTP Act in Dimapur is more than a policy dispute. It is a mirror reflecting our moral inconsistencies. One side argues that prohibition has failed, fueling black markets and corruption. The other defends it as a necessary moral safeguard.
Both invoke moral language, yet the debate exposes selective ethics, tribal politics, and the ease with which religious rhetoric is wielded to justify opposing positions. The controversy lays bare our broader crisis: the widening gap between public profession and private practice.
The Hornbill Festival: Culture Without Conscience. The ongoing Hornbill Festival, celebrated as the “Festival of Festivals,” further illuminates this contradiction. What began as a legitimate cultural celebration has increasingly drifted toward carnal exhibition, commercial glamour, and unrestrained indulgence. Under the guise of heritage promotion, we now witness nightlife excesses, sensual performances, and behaviors that openly contradict the values we claim as a Christian society.
The contradiction is unmistakable: a land asserting Christian identity while hosting a festival that normalizes indulgence, alcohol-centered entertainment, and market-driven spectacle. We showcase culture with pride but often discard the moral substance that once dignified it. When culture detaches from conscience, celebration becomes escapism rather than affirmation of identity.
Hornbill has become a parable of our time, a people parading tradition while surrendering values on the altar of tourism, economy, and applause.
A Call for Reformation Over Revivalism. Nagaland stands at a pivotal crossroads. Revival meetings grow louder, yet the deeper crisis remains largely unaddressed. What we need is not intensified revivalism but renewed conscience, character, and collective responsibility. Events may ignite emotion, but only reformation cultivates durable transformation.
Reformation must begin with individuals. Parents must raise children who see life as service, not competition. Leaders in politics and society must value integrity over popularity. Pastors must preach truth even when it costs them applause, influence, or tithes.
But personal renewal alone is insufficient. Structural repentance is equally necessary. Government institutions must reject tribal favoritism. Economic practices must reflect fairness and justice. The church must reclaim its prophetic role rather than seek political comfort. Youth culture must shift from entertainment-driven identity to disciplined purpose. Revival may spark a flame, but only reformation lays the foundation on which it can endure.
Whom Shall We Serve? Jesus’ indictment echoes with unsettling clarity: “This people honor me with their lips, but their heart is far from me.” This may well become our epitaph if we remain unchanged. In a land where God is on our lips, He must also be enthroned in our lives. Where gold captivates our hearts, justice must guide our hands. Where worldly glory dominates our eyes, the Cross must restore our vision.
Nagaland’s crisis is not ultimately political, economic, or tribal, it is spiritual. Yet it is not irreversible. If we return to truth, embrace justice, and pursue authentic discipleship, we can reclaim both our moral identity and our collective future.
