When President William Ruto hit the campaign trail ahead of the 2022 General Election, his rallies often resembled evangelical crusades, a combination of politics, worship songs and biblical citations. 

In one such rally, Ruto quoted Psalms 113:7-8, drawing parallels between the biblical David and Kenya’s “hustlers”. He claimed even in the Bible, God raised the poor from the dust and lifted the needy from the ash heap. 

From the sunroof of his customised six-wheel Monster Campaign Truck, he interpreted the scripture as divine endorsement of his Bottom-Up Economic Transformation Agenda (BETA). 

“This hustler movement didn’t start with us,” he declared. “When David fled to the cave of Adullam, an army was formed around him – people with all sorts of problems. It was the hustlers of that place. Those looking down on us – calling us boda bodas and handcart pushers – should know we are an army like David’s. We shall succeed.” 

Tactic pays off 

The religious ticket worked. Analysts like Prof Macharia Munene argue that Ruto’s appeal to Christians across denominations played a crucial role in his victory. 

“Raila Odinga blundered when he dismissed Christianity as brainwashing and when his wife called for the regulation of churches. It backfired and boosted Ruto’s appeal,” Munene observed. 

But two years into power, growing discontent suggests many now feel Ruto used religion as a political tool rather than a genuine reflection of spiritual values. 

Critics draw comparisons between Ruto and former President Moi, who also leveraged religion to consolidate power.

They also reference political theorist Niccolò Machiavelli, who argued in The Prince that religion can be used by rulers to control the masses and project moral authority, even when they privately hold different motives. 

Machiavelli famously noted that “men are more moved by what appears than what is”. Just as religion promises salvation, he argued, politics could use passion and emotion to win obedience and trust, not necessarily truth. 

When Ruto was elected, foreign media dubbed him “Kenya’s evangelical president.” Locally, scholars expressed concern about religion’s encroachment into the secular domain of governance. 

Yet Ruto has remained defiant, often reaffirming Kenya’s identity as a religious nation. 

“I’m proud to lead a nation of faith. We must never take our freedom of worship for granted,” he said during an Iftar dinner at State House, urging unity among all religions. 

Church pushes back 

On the ground, disillusionment is mounting. The same church that ushered Ruto to power is now among his loudest critics. 

After a recent national prayer breakfast, youth in Mombasa accused Ruto of using religion as a cover for inaction. 

“We don’t need more prayers. We need a working government,” said Meshack Nyongesa, echoing many voices that view religious posturing as a substitute for effective leadership. 

Religious leaders are increasingly pushing back. The Anglican Church of Kenya (ACK), led by Archbishop Jackson Ole Sapit, has barred politicians, including President Ruto, from speaking during services. 

“Even if the President is here, we won’t let him speak in the sanctuary,” Sapit declared during a consecration in Nyeri. “Worship is sacred. Politics must remain outside.” 

Fiery sermons 

Sapit went further, urging the President to be honest with the public about the economy. 

“Just come out and tell Kenyans that some promises were unrealistic. Let’s reprioritise. If we keep trying to deliver what we can’t afford, you’ll break everyone’s back, including your own,” he warned. 

In a separate television interview, Nyeri Catholic Archbishop Anthony Muheria condemned what he described as “rough, arrogant, and imposing” leadership. 

“We are headed in the wrong direction. That’s why religious leaders are speaking out,” he said. 

Other voices have joined the chorus. Apostle James Ng’ang’a of Neno Evangelism has gone viral for fiery sermons criticising high taxes and skyrocketing living costs. 

“You raise taxes, spend money as you please, and when someone speaks, you shut their church. Come shut mine if you want! Stupid!” he roared during a recent service. 

Retired AIC Bishop Silas Yego has also joined the criticism, urging the government to spend taxes responsibly and cut unnecessary travel and perks. 

The reckoning 

Two years since the election, the same religious leaders who marched in support of Ruto are now challenging him from the pulpit.

What began as a powerful fusion of faith and politics is morphing into a dangerous rift—with the Church demanding accountability, not scriptures. 

As the honeymoon period ends, critics argue that while religious theatrics can win votes, only tangible results will sustain power. 

Ruto’s political ascent was, in large part, intertwined with religious theatre. Known for his frequent public prayers and emotional displays of faith, his open religiosity earned him both praise and ridicule.

Critics mockingly dubbed him “Deputy Jesus”. 

Following the Supreme Court verdict that upheld his victory, Ruto and his wife, Rachel, knelt in prayer, a symbolic gesture broadcast to the nation.

Even before his presidency, the Rutos had constructed a chapel at their Karen residence, regularly holding prayer meetings. 

Despite being a dedicated Christian, Ruto demonstrated religious inclusivity, hosting Muslim prayers at State House and emphasising Kenya’s religious diversity.

But not everyone was convinced. Renowned gospel artist and evangelist Reuben Kigame, in a rare public critique, accused the Ruto administration of “overdoing religion”.