Syntheda

Five worshippers were abducted early Wednesday morning when armed gunmen stormed a parish of the Celestial Church of Christ in Uso, Owo Local Government Area of Ondo State, dragging congregants from their pews while a midnight service was in progress.

The attack occurred at approximately 1:00 a.m. according to Channels Television, transforming what should have been a sanctuary of worship into a scene of terror. Witnesses described how the armed men burst into the church compound, overwhelming the congregation before selecting and forcibly removing five individuals. The incident has sent shockwaves through religious communities across Nigeria's southwest, a region previously considered more secure than the country's volatile north and middle belt.

Owo, a town of roughly 70,000 residents in Ondo State, carries the scars of religious violence. In June 2022, gunmen attacked St. Francis Catholic Church during Sunday mass, killing more than 40 worshippers in one of the deadliest church attacks in Nigerian history. That massacre, attributed to suspected terrorists, demonstrated that no region of Africa's most populous nation remains immune to the security crisis that has gripped the country for more than a decade.

The Celestial Church of Christ, a prominent Aladura denomination founded in Benin in 1947, maintains hundreds of parishes across West Africa. Its practice of holding all-night vigils and midnight services, deeply rooted in Pentecostal tradition, has now become a vulnerability. The Nation Newspaper reported that the attack targeted worshippers specifically during their midnight gathering, suggesting the assailants possessed knowledge of the church's schedule and routines.

Security analysts point to the evolving tactics of criminal networks operating across Nigeria. What began as farmer-herder conflicts in the middle belt and Boko Haram insurgency in the northeast has metastasized into a complex web of banditry, kidnapping-for-ransom operations, and opportunistic violence. Armed groups have demonstrated increasing boldness, attacking schools, markets, highways, and now places of worship with near impunity.

"The targeting of religious gatherings represents a calculated strategy by these criminal elements," said Dr. Chidi Anselm Odinkalu, former chairman of Nigeria's National Human Rights Commission, in a recent security briefing. "They understand that churches and mosques gather large numbers of people in predictable locations at predictable times. The psychological impact of such attacks extends far beyond the immediate victims."

Ondo State police authorities have confirmed the incident, though official statements have been sparse. Legit.ng reported that law enforcement agencies have launched investigations, but details regarding pursuit operations or potential leads remain undisclosed. The pattern of delayed or incomplete police responses has become a source of frustration for Nigerian communities, many of which have resorted to forming vigilante groups and local security networks.

The abduction follows a troubling pattern across Nigeria's six geopolitical zones. In the past year alone, thousands of Nigerians have been kidnapped, with ransom demands ranging from hundreds of thousands to millions of naira. Schools have borne particular trauma—mass abductions of students in Kaduna, Niger, and Zamfara states have forced hundreds of educational institutions to close. Churches and mosques, once considered off-limits even by criminal standards, have increasingly become targets.

The economic dimensions of Nigeria's security crisis cannot be separated from its human cost. Kidnapping has evolved into a lucrative industry, with criminal networks operating sophisticated operations that include intelligence gathering, logistics coordination, and negotiation teams. Victims' families often sell property, empty savings accounts, and borrow heavily to meet ransom demands, perpetuating cycles of poverty and vulnerability.

For Ondo State, the latest attack raises urgent questions about the capacity and deployment of security forces. Despite repeated assurances from federal and state governments about improved security architecture, the ability of armed groups to penetrate communities, execute attacks, and escape with victims suggests either insufficient resources, inadequate intelligence, or both. The state's forested terrain, similar to that of neighboring Imo and Edo states, provides cover for criminal elements to establish camps and hold victims for extended periods.

Religious leaders across Nigeria have called for enhanced security measures at places of worship, though many congregations lack the resources to hire armed guards or install sophisticated surveillance systems. Some churches have begun conducting security screenings at entrances, limiting night services, or coordinating with local vigilante groups—measures that fundamentally alter the nature of communal worship.

The families of the five abducted worshippers now face an agonizing wait. Nigerian security forces rarely successfully rescue kidnap victims before ransoms are paid; most releases occur only after negotiations and payment. The psychological toll on victims, even after release, manifests in trauma, anxiety disorders, and fractured community trust.

As Nigeria approaches the 2027 general elections, security remains the paramount concern for voters across ethnic, religious, and regional lines. The inability of successive administrations to stem the tide of violence has eroded public confidence in government institutions. What happens in small towns like Uso reverberates nationally, shaping perceptions of state capacity and the social contract between citizens and those elected to protect them.

The Celestial Church of Christ parish in Uso will likely reopen, as churches across Nigeria have done after previous attacks. Worshippers will return, because faith compels them and because surrender to fear represents its own form of defeat. But the five empty seats will testify to a security failure that has become grimly routine, and to families whose midnight of prayer became a nightmare from which they have yet to wake.