“But for you who fear my name, there will arise the Sun of Justice with its healing rays.” Malachi 3:20

The prophet Malachi speaks into the heart of every generation wounded by injustice, corruption, and violence. His words pierce through centuries and land squarely in our world today—especially in Nigeria, where citizens continue to cry out beneath the weight of bad governance, religious persecution, economic hardship, and ethnic tension. Yet into this painful reality, God announces a promise: “For you who fear my name, there will arise the Sun of Justice with its healing rays.” This is not a poetic illusion; it is a divine assurance that God sees, God remembers, and God will act. In the past few days, President Donald Trump and some global leaders who are interested have spoken openly about the need to protect Christians and other religious minorities in Nigeria from terrorism and extremist violence. Whether or not one agrees with Trump politically is not my interest, his statement pointed to a truth many Nigerians live with daily: that peaceful citizens—farmers, villagers, priests, imams, and children—have suffered unspeakable horrors in the hands of terrorists and bandits. The tragedy is not only the violence itself, but the slow and often defensive reaction from the Nigerian government, which has at times denied the scale of persecution or reduced it to political rhetoric. While leaders debate, ordinary people bleed. Communities disappear. Families mourn without answers. The cry of God’s people climbs to heaven. Nigeria has long been a nation rich in diversity—Igbo, Hausa, Yoruba, and hundreds of other ethnic groups—yet broken by leadership that often fails to honor that diversity. Instead of unity, Nigerians have endured decades of tribal suspicion, inequitable distribution of resources, and governmental structures that seem to protect the powerful while the poor suffer. From kidnappings in the North to economic suffocation in the West to political marginalization in the East, Nigerians across all major tribes know the weight of a system that often fails to uphold justice. This is what Malachi calls “the day when the proud and evildoers will be like stubble.” When leaders betray the trust of the people, God Himself becomes the defender of the oppressed. But Malachi does not end in judgment. He gives us profound hope: The Sun of Justice will rise. This means God’s justice is not abstract; it is healing, restorative, and life-giving. It promises not only punishment of evil, but renewal for the wounded. This healing is needed not only in Nigeria but across the world—in Gaza and Israel, in Ukraine and Russia, in Sudan, Congo, Haiti, and every land where the innocent are trampled under the weight of human greed and political violence. Our world burns with its own “blazing oven”—the oven of hatred, tribalism, ethnic cleansing, corruption, and war. Yet for all who hold on to God in truth, hope, and righteousness, the Sun of Justice is already rising. St. Paul in today’s second reading calls us to responsible living—working hard, avoiding disorder, and building communities rooted in dignity and mutual respect. A nation collapses when citizens and leaders abandon responsibility. Paul, therefore, becomes a model for a new Nigeria, a Nigeria where leaders work “night and day” for the common good, where citizens contribute diligently, and where dignity triumphs over corruption. Justice requires both divine intervention and human cooperation. In the Gospel, Jesus reminds us that even when the world seems to crumble—when “nation rises against nation,” and the future looks uncertain—we must not lose heart. God strengthens us to bear witness. Many Nigerians, despite suffering and persecution, have continued to testify to faith, unity, and peace. They are living examples of Jesus’ words: “By your perseverance, you will secure your lives.” Perseverance is not passive. It is the courage to keep believing, keep forgiving, keep building, and keep hoping even when evidence seems small. It is choosing peace over revenge, truth over propaganda, and justice over silence. Therefore, this Sunday’s message is both consoling and demanding. God promises healing—but we must stand on the side of righteousness. God promises justice—but we must persevere in truth. God promises a new dawn—but we must resist the darkness of tribal hatred, violence, and corruption. The Sun of Justice rises for those who fear the Lord—those who honor God not only with prayers but with actions, integrity, compassion, and courage. As the Sun of Justice rises, may Nigeria, America and other nations rise with Him. May the wounds of years of political failure receive healing. May the blood of innocents become seeds of a new peace. And may all nations wounded by injustice feel the warmth of God’s rays restoring them. For the Lord assures us: “Not a hair on your head will be destroyed.” The world may shake, but God’s justice will stand. The night may be long, but the Sun is rising. And His rays will heal us.