Arukah 08
Restoring the Powerful
A Biblical Guide for Leaders and Those Who Serve Them
by Pastor Mmoloki Mogokgwane
A Tribute to My Friend
To His Excellency President Duma Gideon Boko
"For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places."
— Ephesians 6:12 (NKJV)
My dear friend,
Before you read a single chapter of this book, I need you to know why it was written.
This book was not written by an enemy. It was not written by someone who wishes to see you fail. It was not written to embarrass you, to undermine you, or to position myself as your critic.
This book was written by a friend who loves you.
This book was written by someone who prayed for you to become President—and whose prayers God answered.
This book was written because I want you to succeed. Not just for five years or ten years, but for eternity. I want your legacy to shine. I want your name to be remembered with honor. I want you to finish your race well.
And because I love you, I cannot stay silent when I see danger.
THE BEGINNING: 2014
Do you remember where we began?
In 2014, when you were campaigning to become a Member of Parliament, I gave you a platform. I invited you to speak at my church. Many pastors would not have done this—politics and the pulpit are supposed to remain separate, they say. But I saw something in you that was not merely political. I saw a man who understood that the battle for Botswana was not only fought in parliament but in the heavenly realms.
And when you stood before my congregation, you confirmed what I had seen.
You opened your Bible and you read these words:
"For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places."
You told the church that the battle was not just political. You said there were spiritual forces operating in high places in our nation. You understood—even then—that what was happening in Botswana could not be explained by politics alone. There were powers at work that required spiritual discernment and spiritual warfare.
I knew then that you were a man who could see beyond the surface.
You won that election. You became a Member of Parliament. You rose to become the Leader of the Opposition.
And after your victory, you did something that many politicians forget to do: you came back. You returned to the church that had supported you. You thanked the people who had prayed for you. And you asked them to continue praying.
"Continue to pray," you said. "The battle is not over."
I have never forgotten that.
THE FAREWELL: AUGUST 2021
Years passed. Our friendship deepened. I watched you grow as a leader. I saw the burdens you carried, the attacks you endured, the moments when you wondered if the change you sought would ever come.
In August 2021, I was leaving my former church to begin a new chapter in my ministry. At my farewell service, you came to speak. You were still the Leader of the Opposition then—still waiting, still believing, still fighting for the change that would come three years later.
And what you said that day revealed the depth of our relationship.
You spoke about the law of equity from England of old. You described how, in ancient times, when the King would ride through the streets in his chariot, receiving the adulation of the crowds, there was an advisor who stood behind him. This advisor had one job: to whisper in the King's ear in Latin:
"Respice post te hominem te esse memento. Memento mori."
Look behind. Remember you are human. Remember you will die.
This advisor was there to keep the King humble amidst the flattery, to keep him grounded amidst the adulation, to remind him that despite all the cheering crowds, he was still a mortal man who would one day stand before his Maker.
Then you said something I will carry in my heart until I die:
"And so in my own life, this person who always whispers to me, my spiritual advisor, is Pastor Mogokgwane. He is the person to whom I account. And when he calls me and he would like to meet with me, I avoid him for a span, and in that period I try and reflect on what I have done or not done so that I am able to account to him, because he advises, he admonishes, he instructs."
You publicly declared that I was the voice that reminded you of your humanity and your mortality. You acknowledged that you needed such a voice—that every leader needs such a voice.
And you asked for this accountability. You invited it. You said you wanted someone who would admonish and instruct, not just applaud and agree.
My friend, this book is me doing what you asked.
THE BIRTHDAY: MAY 25, 2022
Then came my birthday celebration in 2022. You came to celebrate with me, and again you spoke publicly about what our relationship meant to you.
You called me your brother.
You called me your spiritual advisor.
And then you said something that I have pondered many times since:
"There are multitudes of people who look up to me. But actually, when they look up to me, they are looking up to him—because he has been that positive influence in my life."
You gave me credit for the good in you. You acknowledged that whatever you had become, whatever wisdom you displayed, whatever integrity you maintained—that I had played a role in shaping it.
I do not say this to boast. I say this because it reveals what you understood about leadership: that no one leads alone. That behind every public figure is someone who speaks privately. That the voice the world never hears may be the most important voice of all.
You understood this when you were in opposition.
Do you still understand it now that you are President?
WHY THIS BOOK
My friend, I write this book because I prayed for you to become President—and my prayers were answered.
When Batswana went to the polls in October 2024, I was among those who had petitioned heaven for this moment. For years, I had prayed for God to bring change to our nation. For years, I had prayed for leaders who would serve rather than steal, who would unite rather than divide, who would remember that they were human and would one day die.
God answered those prayers. You are now the President of the Republic of Botswana.
But my prayers did not stop at your inauguration.
Now I pray for your protection—not just from external enemies, but from the internal enemy that destroys leaders from within.
Now I pray for your discernment—that you would recognize the traps being set for you, the chains being forged for you, the blindness creeping toward you.
Now I pray for your legacy—that when your time in office ends, whether in five years or ten years or whenever God ordains, you will leave Botswana better than you found it and your name will be honored rather than cursed.
This book is part of my prayer.
I cannot stand behind you physically as you ride through the streets of power. I cannot whisper in your ear every time the crowds cheer. I cannot be present at every meeting where flattery flows and truth is filtered.
But I can write.
I can put into words what I would say if I were standing behind you in that chariot.
Look behind. Remember you are human. Remember you will die.
And more than that: Remember the spiritual forces you spoke about in 2014. Remember the principalities and powers that operate in high places. Remember that the spirit of power does not care about your party, your promises, or your good intentions. It only cares that you sit in the seat—and it will try to consume you as it has consumed so many before you.
THIS IS NOT AN ATTACK
I must say this clearly: This book is not an attack on you.
I know how it will be perceived by some. Those who do not know our relationship will see a pastor criticizing a president and assume the worst. They will call this political opposition dressed in spiritual clothing. They will accuse me of seeking attention, of positioning myself, of being bitter that I am not closer to power.
Let them talk.
Those who know me—and those who know you—know the truth.
This book is a love letter written with trembling hands.
This book is the voice of a friend who sees danger approaching and cannot stay silent.
This book is an act of faithfulness to the relationship you yourself described—a relationship where I advise, admonish, and instruct, and where you account for what you have done and not done.
If I saw a truck speeding toward you and I said nothing, that would not be friendship. That would be betrayal.
If I saw the patterns emerging—the same patterns that destroyed leaders before you—and I stayed silent to protect my access, that would not be loyalty. That would be complicity.
You asked for a voice that would remind you of your humanity. Here it is.
You asked for accountability. Here it is.
You asked for admonishment and instruction. Here it is.
The question is: Will you receive it?
FOR YOU AND FOR THOSE WHO FOLLOW
This book is dedicated to you, but it is not only for you.
It is for the young leader who is watching your presidency and dreaming of their own turn in power.
It is for the minister in your cabinet who is facing the same temptations you face.
It is for the civil servant who must decide whether to speak truth or seek favor.
It is for the pastor who wonders whether to prophesy or to flatter.
It is for the citizen who wants to support you but also wants to hold you accountable.
It is for future generations who will read about this moment in Botswana's history and wonder: Did the leaders learn? Did they break the pattern? Did they resist the spirit of power?
I write this book so that when those questions are asked, there will be a record. A record that someone spoke. A record that warning was given. A record that the path to a different kind of leadership was clearly marked, even if not all chose to walk it.
MY PRAYER FOR YOU
Sir, my friend, my brother in Christ—
I pray that you will read this book not as an enemy's accusation but as a friend's warning.
I pray that you will see in these pages not criticism but concern, not attack but affection, not opposition but the deepest kind of support.
I pray that twenty years from now, you will look back at this book and say, "He saw the danger early. He warned me when there was still time. And because I listened, I avoided the fate of those who did not."
I pray that your name will be spoken with the same honor as Mandela's—a leader who held power but was not held by it, who served the people rather than serving himself, who left office voluntarily and lived to be loved by those he had governed.
I pray that the principalities and powers you spoke about in 2014 will not capture you in 2026 or beyond. That the spiritual discernment you displayed as an opposition leader will remain sharp as a sitting president. That the humility you showed at my farewell service will not be eroded by the flattery that now surrounds you.
I pray these things because I love you.
I pray these things because I believe God placed you in this position for a purpose.
I pray these things because I want you to fulfill that purpose rather than be destroyed by the very power God entrusted to you.
WILL YOU STILL LISTEN?
In 2021, you said I was the one to whom you account.
In 2022, you said multitudes look up to you, but really they are looking up to me through you.
These were beautiful words. They revealed a humble heart, a teachable spirit, a leader who understood his need for guidance.
But words spoken in opposition are easy. The true test is whether those words survive the transition to power.
You are no longer in opposition. You are the President. The most powerful person in Botswana. The one to whom millions look for leadership.
Do you still want the voice that reminds you of your humanity?
Do you still want the advisor who whispers that you will die?
Do you still want someone who admonishes and instructs rather than applauds and agrees?
If so, this book is my gift to you.
If not—if the seat has already changed you, if the flattery has already deafened you, if the spirit of power has already begun its work—then this book is my warning to you.
Either way, it is written in love.
Either way, it is faithful to what you asked of me.
Either way, I remain what I have always been: your friend, your brother, your spiritual advisor, and the voice that will not be silenced even when silence would be safer.
Respice post te hominem te esse memento. Memento mori.
Look behind. Remember you are human. Remember you will die.
May God grant you ears to hear, eyes to see, and a heart soft enough to receive what is offered in love.
Your friend and brother,
Pastor Mmoloki Mogokgwane Arukah House of Restoration
"Faithful are the wounds of a friend, but the kisses of an enemy are deceitful." — Proverbs 27:6
UNDERSTANDING THE PROBLEM
"The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked; who can know it?" — Jeremiah 17:9