Don’t Mock God: He Weighs the Hearts of People

There comes a time when a nation must look inward—not for political gain or public relations, but for truth, repentance, and healing. Liberia stands at such a moment. A nation scarred by the brutal civil war that consumed the lives of over 250,000 of our fellow citizens and foreign nationals—many of whom were peacekeepers and innocents—cannot move forward without confronting the heartache and injustice that still echo in the homes of their surviving loved ones. These lost souls, each tied to an average of ten or more surviving relatives, amount to a massive community crying out for closure, acknowledgment, and justice.

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By Rev. Dr. Clarence R. Pearson, Sr., PhD, contributing writer

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Yet what do they witness?

They see perpetrators of these atrocities elevated, celebrated, and even served by the very nation their hands bloodied. Impunity has been the silent anthem since the guns went quiet in 2003. There has been no war crimes court. No genuine national reconciliation. And worst of all, no true acknowledgment of the pain borne by those left behind. Instead, we have seen vast sums of public money spent on elaborate funerals, lustrous celebrations, and government services reserved for those who benefited from the war—while the grieving are told to be patient, silent, and forgiving.

It was in this context that many welcomed with cautious hope the recent pronouncement by President Joseph Nyuma Boakai. His public apology, his promise of a national monument, and his proclamation of a National Day of Prayer to honor the memory of the fallen were seen by some as steps in the right direction—gestures that hinted at a leader willing to weigh the sorrow of his people and move toward collective healing.

But before the ink could dry on the President’s Proclamation, what followed was nothing short of a betrayal.

Instead of solemnity, there was spectacle. Instead of mourning, there was merrymaking. Instead of introspection, there was indulgence. Pomp and pageantry prevailed over prayer and penance. Wining and dining filled the evening that was meant for weeping and reflection. It is not a small thing to the grieving; it is not a minor oversight to those whose wounds are yet to close. It is, quite plainly, a mockery of both God and the sacred memory of those whose lives were violently stolen.

The President, as the father of the nation, had the power to decide the tone and timing of this solemn national moment. That he chose a path of fanfare over fasting, of laughter over lamentation, speaks volumes—not merely of oversight or poor planning, but of a deeper issue: a heart not aligned with the cry of the people or the heart of God.

The Word of God warns us plainly: “Do not be deceived: God cannot be mocked. A man reaps what he sows.” (Galatians 6:7, NIV)

“If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sin and will heal their land.” (2 Chronicles 7:14, NIV)

“These people honor me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me. They worship me in vain; their teachings are merely human rules.” (Isaiah 29:13, NIV / Matthew 15:8-9)

National prayer must be more than a ceremonial recital or a political gesture. It must be rooted in humility, sincerity, and brokenness of heart. King Hezekiah of Judah, when faced with the threat of death and the burden of leadership, turned his face to the wall and “wept bitterly” before the Lord (2 Kings 20:2-3, NIV). Queen Esther, when her people faced annihilation, declared, “Go, gather together all the Jews… and fast for me. Do not eat or drink for three days, night or day. I and my attendants will fast as you do. When this is done, I will go to the king…” (Esther 4:16, NIV). These are biblical models of national intercession—not photo ops, not parades.

Mr. President, this moment was not about you. It was about them. About the mothers whose sons never returned. About the children who saw their parents die before their eyes. About the widows and widowers who still sleep alone, haunted by memories. It was about the many whose blood cries out from the ground of Liberia—souls whose memory should not be reduced to a backdrop for festivities.

If there was ever a time for the President and the government of Liberia to lead from the front in honesty and humility, it was now. And sadly, the nation has been left disappointed once more. Whether this was a result of poor advice, gross miscalculation, or sheer insensitivity, the outcome remains the same: a grieving nation now grieves even more.

To all those who have lost loved ones in Liberia’s bloody conflict, I share your pain. I speak not as a politician, nor as a critic, but as a fellow Liberian who believes that God weighs the hearts of men. And He has weighed this moment—and found it wanting.

Liberia deserves better. Our dead deserve better. Our God demands better.

Don’t mock God. He weighs the hearts.