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Menkato V Awomi
Toluvi Dimapur
It’s truly inspiring and deeply humbling to witness the steadfast, unshakable faith of many genuine, born-again believers and worshippers of Jesus across mainland India. Despite facing intense persecution—being ostracized, threatened, attacked, and in some cases even martyred—these believers continue to love, serve, and proclaim Jesus with boldness and joy. Their passion for Christ, especially in the face of suffering, reflects the early Church we read about in the book of Acts. It is raw, real, and filled with the power of the Holy Spirit.
This kind of faith is not born out of convenience or cultural tradition—it is birthed through fire. When you see men and women gather secretly in homes, or kneel on dusty floors in open fields to pray, worship, and study the Word under the threat of violence, you begin to realize what it truly means to value Jesus above all else. Their lives testify that the Gospel is not just a belief system, but a living relationship with the risen Christ, one they are willing to die for. It is both beautiful and convicting.
In contrast, when we turn our eyes toward our own land—Nagaland—a region that is historically and culturally labeled as “Christian,” the difference is sobering. We have freedom of worship. We have churches on every street. We have Christian programs, revivals, and resources in abundance. And yet, for all our Christian visibility, something vital seems to be missing—Fire.
We have grown too casual with the things of God. Many of our churches are comfortable, but not committed. We are busy with religious routines but often empty of spiritual substance. The passion, the hunger, and the desperation for Jesus that mark the persecuted Church are often replaced here with complacency, tradition, and lukewarm faith.
There is little urgency to reach the lost, to disciple believers into maturity, or to live in the power of the Holy Spirit. While others risk their lives to proclaim Christ, we often can’t be bothered to raise our voices in worship or show up to prayer meetings unless it's convenient.
The apostle Paul once wrote to the Corinthians church, rebuking their spiritual immaturity by saying, I gave you milk, not solid food, for you were not yet ready for it. Indeed, you are still not ready (1 Corinthians 3:2). This statement sadly reflects the condition of many believers in our state. Despite being Christians for generations, many remain in the infant stage of faith—easily offended, spiritually passive, biblically illiterate, and more concerned with appearances than transformation.
We celebrate being from a "Christian state," but the fruit does not always bear witness to that claim. Jesus said, By their fruit you will recognize them (Matthew 7:16), not by their denomination, cultural heritage, or baptism certificate. Faith without fruit is dead. Worship without heart is noise. Religion without love is empty.
In mainland India, we see the scripture from Romans 9:25-26 being fulfilled before our eyes: I will call them ‘my people’ who are not my people, and I will call her ‘my loved one’ who is not my loved one,” and, “In the very place where it was said to them, ‘You are not my people,’ there they will be called ‘children of the living God.
This is what God is doing—raising up sons and daughters from places that were once spiritually barren. He is calling people to Himself from unexpected corners of the nation. The fire of God is falling upon those who were once considered outsiders to the faith.
And while this revival sweeps across places we never expected, those of us who have inherited the Gospel are at risk of becoming like the elder brother in the parable of the prodigal son—jealous, stagnant, and unaware of what we have.
We must ask ourselves: Have we become so familiar with the name of Jesus that we’ve lost our awe for His presence? Have we become so wrapped in Christian activities that we’ve forgotten Christ Himself?
It is time for us in Nagaland to wake up. We must stop assuming we are spiritually alive just because our identity is Christian. We need to return to our first love—to rediscover the Cross, the power of His resurrection, and the call to holiness. The fire of God does not fall on altars of convenience. It falls on sacrifice. It falls on yielded hearts.
We need a fresh outpouring of the Holy Spirit—not in hype, but in holiness. Not just in emotional moments, but in a lifelong commitment to Jesus. We need to disciple our young people, not just entertain them. We need to raise intercessors, not just spectators. We need shepherds who weep for souls, not just preachers who seek platforms.
The fire of God will only move in our land when we stop playing church and become the Church. When we stop debating about who is more spiritual and begin crying out for revival together. When we stop pointing fingers at one another and start falling on our knees before God.
Let us not be the people who once had the Gospel but lost its power. Let us not be the land that once was ablaze with mission but now grows cold in comfort. Let mainland India not put us to shame with their faith while we sit back in spiritual slumber.
God is not done with Nagaland. But He is calling us to repentance, to maturity, and to action. The assignment is not over—but we must realign ourselves with the Spirit. We must let go of our religious pride and ask Him to ignite a new fire within us.
Let the fire of God fall again—not just on pulpits and programs, but in every home, every youth group, every church, and every heart.
Wake up, sleeper, rise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you. (Ephesians 5:14)
