by Nij Martin
In the eye of a social media storm that has engulfed Nigerian football discourse, Primate Elijah Ayodele is standing firm. The leader of INRI Evangelical Spiritual Church finds himself defending not just a prophecy, but the very nature of how prophecies should be understood and judged. As critics celebrate Ademola Lookman’s match-winning goal against Tanzania as proof that the cleric got it wrong, Ayodele has a simple message: you’ve misunderstood me, and time will reveal the truth.
The Clarification
Through his media aide, Osho Oluwatosin, Primate Ayodele has issued a detailed response to what he describes as a deliberate campaign of misrepresentation. His central argument is straightforward but crucial: his prophecy was never about a single match, but about the entire AFCON 2025 tournament.
“My prophecy about Ademola Lookman in the ongoing AFCON tournament is being misrepresented and misunderstood by mischievous individuals for reasons best known to themselves,” Ayodele stated, his tone suggesting frustration with what he perceives as bad-faith interpretations of his words.
The cleric drew a clear distinction between his actual prophecy and how it has been portrayed. “The prophecy was a warning, and what I said was that Lookman will not help the team in the tournament, not exactly the match against Tanzania,” he explained, emphasizing that critics are judging a tournament-long prediction based on the outcome of a single group stage match.
The Mathematics of Prophecy
Ayodele’s defense rests on a mathematical reality that his supporters find compelling: Nigeria has played just one match out of a potential seven-game journey to AFCON glory. “This is just the beginning of the match. We have just started the game and played only one match already; we should all wait before attacking the prophecy. One game cannot judge our performance in the tournament,” the cleric argued.
This perspective raises an interesting question about the nature of prophetic claims and their evaluation. When someone makes a prediction about an entire tournament, at what point can it be fairly assessed? After one match? After the group stage? Only after the final whistle of the last game Nigeria plays?
Ganiyu Mubarak, writing via Eagle Online, echoed this sentiment with measured reasoning. “The Super Eagles have played just one match out of several. There are still group games, the round of 16, quarter-finals, semi-finals and final. One match is inconsequential in the bigger picture,” he noted, questioning the rush to judgment that has characterized much of the online reaction.
From this viewpoint, the social media mockery appears premature. Nigeria’s journey in Morocco has barely begun, and the road ahead includes at least two more group matches, followed by potentially four knockout rounds if they progress to the final. A single goal, however dramatic and timely, doesn’t tell the complete story of a player’s tournament contribution.
Mischievous Misrepresentation or Fair Game?
Central to Ayodele’s defense is his claim that “mischievous individuals” are deliberately twisting his words. He maintains that his prophecy is being manipulated “for reasons best known to themselves,” suggesting an agenda beyond simple disagreement or sporting banter.
The cleric’s repeated use of terms like “misrepresented,” “misunderstood,” and “twisted” paints a picture of a man who believes his message has been hijacked and weaponized against him. Whether this interpretation holds water depends largely on how one reads his original statement.
When Ayodele declared that “Ademola Lookman will not help them… the coach doesn’t have luck,” was he speaking specifically about individual matches or the tournament as a whole? The ambiguity in the original prophecy leaves room for both interpretations, though critics argue that such vagueness is convenient when predictions face scrutiny.
A Patriotic Prophet?
Perhaps the most interesting aspect of Ayodele’s defense is his insistence on his patriotic motivations. Far from wanting Nigeria to fail, he claims his prophecies stem from a genuine desire to see the Super Eagles succeed.
“It would be my greatest joy if the Nigerian team wins, but that can only happen if they listen to advice. I have always rooted for the Nigerian team and this is why my prophecies about them always come up. I want them to lift the trophy and come back home victorious, but it will only happen if advices are listened to,” Ayodele stated.
This reframing positions the cleric not as a doomsayer or attention-seeker, but as a concerned patriot offering spiritual guidance to help his country achieve glory. From his perspective, the warnings about Lookman, Nwabali, and Osimhen weren’t predictions of inevitable failure, but conditional warnings—prophecies that outlined what would happen if his advice wasn’t heeded, implying that success remained possible if the right changes were made.
This interpretation transforms the prophecy from a simple prediction into something more complex: a warning designed to prompt action rather than passively foretell an unchangeable future. It’s a theological distinction that matters greatly to how one evaluates what Ayodele said and whether events have proven him right or wrong.
The Burden of Specificity
Yet Ayodele’s critics argue that specificity carries consequences. When a religious leader names specific players and makes concrete claims—”Ademola Lookman will not help them”—those words invite specific judgments. The more precise a prophecy, the more vulnerable it becomes to falsification.
The online backlash reflects frustration with what many see as prophetic hedging. When predictions come true, prophets take credit; when they don’t, suddenly the predictions were misunderstood, taken out of context, or not yet fully played out. This dynamic fuels skepticism about whether such prophecies should be taken seriously at all.
Media reactions captured this sentiment sharply. “When it comes to football, I’d rather listen to Mr Banks than listen to Primate Elijah Ayodele. I’d advice the cleric to stick to kingdom prophecies,” commented one user identified as Omochukwu1, suggesting that religious leaders should stay in their lane when it comes to sporting matters.
Another user, @Favvyabam, went further, invoking scripture: “when a prophet speaks in the name of The Sovereign, if the word does not come to pass or come true, that is a word that The Sovereign has not spoken; the prophet has spoken it presumptuously. You need not be afraid of him.” [Dabarym/Deuteronomy 18:22]. The implication was clear: failed prophecies undermine a prophet’s credibility.
The Waiting Game
Ayodele’s call for patience—to “wait for time to reveal the outcome of the prophecy”—puts both him and his critics in an interesting position. If Nigeria goes on to win AFCON 2025 with Lookman playing a starring role, the prophecy will appear definitively wrong. If Nigeria crashes out early despite Lookman’s opening goal, or if the Atalanta forward struggles in subsequent matches, Ayodele will point to vindication.
The tournament’s progression will write this story’s ending, not social media debates. And that’s precisely Ayodele’s point: judgment should be reserved until the complete picture emerges, not rushed based on a single dramatic moment.
A Pattern of Predictions
This isn’t Ayodele’s first rodeo with football prophecy. In 2024, he warned that Victor Osimhen would struggle if he joined Chelsea and claimed the striker’s stint at Galatasaray would not be worthwhile. These earlier predictions establish a track record that will inevitably color how people receive his current claims.
For supporters, it demonstrates consistent engagement with national sporting concerns from a spiritual perspective. For critics, it represents a pattern of attention-seeking through sports predictions that may or may not prove accurate.
The Verdict Deferred
As AFCON 2025 unfolds in Morocco, Primate Ayodele’s prophecy about Ademola Lookman remains in a state of suspense. One match has been played, and Lookman has already proven decisive. But whether that single goal invalidates a prophecy about an entire tournament remains hotly contested.
Ayodele maintains his prediction stands, asking only that judgment be withheld until the tournament concludes. “One game cannot judge our performance in the tournament,” he insists, and from a purely logical standpoint, he has a point.
The next few weeks will determine whether “time will tell” vindicates the prophet or confirms his critics’ mockery. Until then, Ademola Lookman will continue doing what he does best—letting his left foot do the talking on the pitch, where prophecies matter far less than performance, and where misunderstandings are settled with goals, not statements.
For now, the controversy serves as a fascinating case study in the collision between faith, sports, and public discourse in contemporary Nigeria, where passion runs high and patience runs low, and where everyone—prophets and fans alike—believes they know exactly what will happen next.