There are some battles in life that are easy to understand.
When people fight over land, we understand why. Land has value.
When families fight over inheritance, painful as it may be, we understand the attraction. Wealth changes lives.
When politicians spend millions of cedis campaigning for public office, we may disagree with their methods, but we understand the prize. Political office brings influence, power, recognition, and control over public resources.
But there is one battle that has always puzzled me more than any other.
Why do people fight to lead a church?
The question has troubled me for a long time, not because churches are immune from conflict, but because of what the church claims to represent.
The church exists to proclaim Christ.
It teaches humility.
It preaches forgiveness.
It calls people to deny themselves, take up their cross, and follow Jesus.
Its leaders remind believers that the greatest among them should become servants.
Yet history tells a different story.
Across denominations, traditions, and countries, some of the fiercest leadership battles have taken place inside religious institutions. Churches have split over succession. Congregations have divided into rival camps. Court cases have dragged on for years. Families have stopped speaking to one another. Lifelong friendships have been destroyed. Members have insulted one another in public. In some parts of the world, these disputes have even turned violent.
And every time I witness such events, one question refuses to leave my mind.
What exactly are we fighting for?
Because if leadership in the church is truly a calling, why does it sometimes look like a political campaign?
At its very heart, Christian leadership is not supposed to be about privilege.
It is supposed to be about sacrifice.
It is not supposed to be about status.
It is supposed to be about service.
It is not supposed to be about power.
It is supposed to be about responsibility.
Jesus Himself could not have been clearer.
In Matthew 20:26-28 He said:
“Whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be your slave, just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve.”
These are remarkable words.
Jesus did not describe leadership as a throne.
He described it as service.
He did not invite His disciples to compete for importance.
He invited them to carry burdens.
He washed the feet of His disciples, a task usually reserved for servants. The King of kings knelt before ordinary men.
That single act should forever redefine what leadership means in the church.
Yet somewhere along the way, something changes.
Leadership slowly stops looking like a towel around the waist and begins looking like a crown on the head.
The office becomes more attractive than the responsibility.
The title becomes more important than the task.
The position becomes something to win rather than something to carry.
And perhaps that is where the problem begins.
The truth is that churches are spiritual institutions, but they are still led by human beings.
Human beings carry ambition.
Human beings carry pride.
Human beings carry insecurity.
Human beings enjoy recognition.
Human beings sometimes confuse calling with personal ambition.
That is not unique to Christianity.
It is part of the human condition.
The church does not stop being made up of imperfect people simply because it is holy.
This is why good governance is just as important in religious institutions as it is in governments, universities, charities, and businesses.
Clear constitutions matter.
Transparent succession plans matter.
Accountability matters.
Checks and balances matter.
Not because we expect the worst of people, but because we understand human nature.
Many churches function beautifully while the founder is alive.
The founder carries moral authority.
He settles disagreements.
He interprets the vision.
His word ends disputes.
Then he dies.
And suddenly questions appear.
Who succeeds?
Who interprets the founder’s vision?
Who controls church property?
Who manages finances?
Who appoints leaders?
Who has the final authority?
Without clear answers, what began as a spiritual family can quickly become a battlefield.
What makes these conflicts even more tragic is that very few of the people involved see themselves as wrong.
Most sincerely believe they are protecting the church.
Some believe they are defending doctrine.
Others believe they are preserving the founder’s vision.
Some genuinely believe God has called them to lead.
That sincerity makes the conflict more complicated.
But sincerity alone does not make every action right.
History is filled with sincere people who sincerely made terrible decisions.
Perhaps that is why one of the hardest tests of leadership is not whether someone desires to lead.
It is why they desire to lead.
Do they seek responsibility?
Or recognition?
Do they seek service?
Or influence?
Do they seek God’s glory?
Or personal significance?
Those are uncomfortable questions.
But they are necessary ones.
Because there is something deeply ironic about fighting to become the servant of everyone else.
If leadership is truly service, then service should continue whether one occupies the highest office or not.
A person does not need to become General Overseer to visit the sick.
One does not need to become Presiding Bishop to mentor young people.
One does not need to become Chairman to pray, teach, encourage, counsel, evangelize, or care for the poor.
The opportunities to serve are endless.
Which raises another question.
If the office disappeared tomorrow, would the contenders still be willing to serve?
If the answer is yes, perhaps they are responding to a genuine calling.
If the answer is no, perhaps what they sought was never service.
Perhaps it was position.
Some of the greatest people in church history never occupied the highest office.
Their influence came from their character.
Their authority came from their humility.
Their leadership came from their willingness to serve quietly, faithfully, and consistently.
Long after titles fade, character continues to speak.
Perhaps that is the lesson every church should remember.
The true measure of spiritual leadership is not how fiercely one fights to obtain it.
It is how faithfully one serves without it.
The healthiest churches are therefore not those that never experience leadership transitions. Every institution eventually changes leaders.
The healthiest churches are those where succession does not destroy fellowship.
Where constitutions are respected.
Where disagreements remain respectful.
Where relationships matter more than positions.
Where Christ remains more important than personalities.
Because in the end, the church belongs neither to its founder nor to its leaders.
It belongs to Christ.
Every leader is only a steward.
Every office is temporary.
Every title will one day disappear.
Only the mission remains.
And perhaps every person seeking leadership in the church should pause long enough to ask one final question.
If no one ever knew my name…
If no title was attached to my service…
If there was no recognition, no applause, no office, and no authority…
Would I still joyfully serve Christ?
The answer to that question may reveal whether one is pursuing a calling…
or simply chasing power disguised as ministry.