Last night, I had the opportunity to reflect on the theme of this convention—One Faith, One Family, One Future. And as I reflected, I was reminded of something deeply personal: faith is all we have.
I have seen faith move mountains in my own life. I have seen it carry me through storms when nothing else could. I have watched my mother bow her head in prayer when times were hard, trusting that God would make a way. I have seen friends and loved ones hold on to faith even when the world gave them every reason to let go.
As a people, we have been tested—through economic hardships, natural disasters, and moments of great uncertainty. But we have always been a people who rise. Not because we are the strongest, not because we are the richest, but because we are a people of faith.
2 Corinthians 5:7 says, “For we walk by faith, not by sight.” That scripture is not just words to us—it is how we live. Our ancestors did not know what lay ahead when they fought for freedom and dignity, but they had faith that something greater was coming. When we struggled as a young nation, we held onto that same faith.
And today, as we face new challenges, that faith must remain our anchor. It must be the foundation we stand on, the light that guides us forward. Because it is that faith—not politics, not status, not wealth—that has brought us this far.
When I look around this room, I see stories of resilience, of prayers answered, of people who have been through the fire and come out stronger.
I have lived long enough to see the way politics can divide us. How it can turn neighbors into strangers and friends into foes. How we can sit in the same church, sing the same hymns, pray to the same God, and still let party colors separate us. But when we strip all of that away—when the banners come down and the rallies are over—we are all just Bahamians. One people. One family.
If we are to build a better future, we must stop seeing each other through the lens of division. Because when tragedy strikes, it does not ask who you voted for. When a hurricane comes, when a child is hungry, when violence takes another young life, no one is checking voter registration cards. In those moments, we are simply Bahamians—lifting each other up, mourning together, standing in the gap for one another.
I have seen it with my own eyes. I have watched Bahamians—rich and poor, young and old—come together to help a neighbor in need. I have seen hands stretch across political lines to console grieving families, to rebuild homes after a storm, to pray over a hospital bed. In those moments, our differences fade, and what remains is something far greater: our shared humanity, our love for one another, our belief that we are stronger together.
But why must it take tragedy to remind us of this truth? Why must we wait until we are at our lowest to see each other as family? The time has come for us to stand together not just in crisis, but in everyday life. To look at the person beside us—not as PLP, not as FNM, not as someone from this constituency or that one—but as a brother, a sister, a fellow Bahamian with hopes and dreams just like ours.
We are in a fight for the very fabric of our nation. And that fight is not against each other—it is against the forces that seek to divide us, that tell us we are only as good as the party we support. No, my friends. We are only as good as the love we show, the bridges we build, the hands we extend to help those who have stumbled.
So let us not wait for another storm, another crisis, another loss to remind us of who we are. Let us choose, right now, to be the people God has called us to be—one nation, under God, moving forward together, bound not by politics but by love, faith, and a future we will build as one.
Faith isn’t only about our prayers on Sunday, our time in church, our finding refuge during grief or tragedy – faith has to drive us every day – faith is why we never give up on our hardest problems.
Every Thursday, I sit in my office and receive a briefing from the Commissioner of Police. Every week, I see the profiles of young men—lives cut short, potential stolen too soon. Some of their faces are familiar, others I have never met, but every single one of them represents a heartbreaking loss for our nation.
Some weeks, it is almost too much to bear. Because behind every statistic is a mother who prayed over her son, a father who worked to give him a better life, a community that had hopes for his future. It tells a painful story—one of a nation in battle. A battle to save our young men. A battle to give our sons and daughters the future they deserve.
But I do not only see despair. I also see hope. I see young men and women who are breaking barriers, chasing dreams, and proving that our story is not one of failure, but of resilience. I see Bahamians making their mark in business, in sports, in the arts, in science and technology. They are proof that, despite the struggles we face, our future is still bright.
When we feed our children, when we turn a young Bahamian away from violence – these are not political acts, they are moral ones, they are faith in action.
And so tonight, I ask us all: What kind of future do we want to leave in their hands? What role are we willing to play in shaping that future?
It is not enough to shake our heads at the news or offer empty words of regret. If we want to change the path of our young people, we must be present in their lives. We must be mentors. We must open our doors, teach them, guide them, and remind them that they are seen, valued, and loved.
We cannot let another generation grow up believing that violence is their only way out, that crime is their only option, that success is for others but not for them. We must show them another way. We must be the hands that lift them up, the voices that encourage them, the light that leads them forward.
So tonight, I ask each of you to do something simple but powerful: Pray for a young man who is struggling. Speak life into a young woman who is lost. Reach out to someone who needs guidance. And above all, let us start seeing ourselves in each other—not as strangers, not as enemies, but as family. Because if we do that, we will not only change individual lives—we will change the future of our nation.
When I was blessed with the opportunity to serve as Prime Minister, I knew that I had to begin where I have always begun—with faith.
Faith is not just something I speak about; it is the foundation of my life. It has carried me through my hardest days, lifted me when I felt weak, and given me the strength to keep going when the road was uncertain. And sometimes, when I needed reminding, I turned to the sweet song of the hymn:
”’Tis so sweet to trust in Jesus, just to take Him at His word, just to rest upon His promise, just to know, ’Thus saith the Lord.’”
Many of us grew up hearing that hymn in church, in our homes, or sung softly by a mother or grandmother who was praying over us. But do we know the story behind it?
That hymn was written by a woman named Louisa Stead. She and her husband had taken their young daughter to the beach for a family outing. As they were enjoying the day, they saw a young boy struggling in the water. Her husband rushed in to save him, but in the process, both the boy and her husband drowned before her very eyes.
Louisa was left alone, widowed, with a small child and an uncertain future. In the face of that unimaginable grief, she did what so many of us have done—she turned to her faith. She wrote the words of that hymn as a declaration that, even in sorrow, even in loss, she could still trust in Jesus. That no matter how painful life became, she could take Him at His word.
Her story is not so different from our own. We, too, have faced moments of grief and struggle. We have lost loved ones. We have had days where we did not know how we would make it. We have all faced storms that shook us to our core.
But like Louisa Stead, we have also seen God’s grace pull us through. We have seen Him provide when we had nothing left. We have felt His strength in our weakest moments. And we are still standing today—not because life has been easy, but because our faith has carried us.
So tonight, I ask that we do what that hymn teaches us. That we trust in Jesus, that we pray for one another, that we lift each other up.
And Finally ,
You may know the story about the three stonecutters, working side by side, asked to describe what they are doing: “Cutting stone,” says the first. “Earning a living,” says the second. “Building a cathedral,” says the third.
When a grandmother helps a neighbor’s child with homework, after noticing that the child returns from school every day to an empty house; when a successful businessman mentors a younger entrepreneur; when we turn abandoned lots into shared gardens; when strong and virtuous men serve as role models; when we raise our voices in encouragement rather than disparagement, we will build that cathedral together.
So I end where I started, with thanks to God, and with prayer:
May we always remember that servant leadership requires humility;
May we always align our hearts with God’s will for peace and justice;
May we remember that even though we are all too human, the work is sacred;
May God help us cultivate curiosity, so that we are always learning, and help us hear the music through the noise;
May God help us see that what presents in another as anger is often anguish, and grant us the grace to respond with compassion;
May God help us meet the hardest challenges with strength and resolve;
May God grant strength of spirit and courage of heart to all of our people;
May God continue to nurture in us the audacity to dream big;
And May God Bless every one of you, and the Commonwealth of The Bahamas.