I was dating a pastor when I was twenty years old. It started as prayers and later sauntered into, “God says you’re the one for me.” I didn’t hear God say that to me, but I agreed to date him, hoping what God had said would lead to a beautiful ending.
He was my first in everything—hugging, holding hands, kissing, and even sex. The day he broke me, we prayed together. He used the anointing oil on my private part and said God had opened the way for him to cross the Red Sea. It was hard watching him do that to me. I had a lot of thoughts about him as a man of God, but I had come to love him more than I ever could, so I didn’t question his actions.
FOLLOW US ON WHATSAPP CHANNEL TO RECEIVE ALL STORIES IN YOUR INBOX
He would come for me at school and take me to his place for the weekend. Sometimes he would be in church leading the service while I lay naked on his bed waiting for him. He would use the rest of the anointing oil he used for the service while we got intimate.
Sometimes he smeared it on himself and called it blessed. Sometimes he poured it into me and said the way had been parted for him to cross. I enjoyed it. I felt special. I felt like I was the only one on earth who could witness that part of him.
We dated secretly for three years when one day he introduced another lady to the church as the one he was going to marry. The lady belonged to the church from another city. I was devastated. I saw my world coming down on me. I couldn’t wait for the service to end. I went home and cried.
He called after the service and said I was too young and that, as the father of the church, the members had been yearning to see their mother. “That role needs a mature head and would be too much for you. That’s why I chose her.”
I listened. I looked into his eyes like I was searching for the connection to his soul. He said, “You’re the one I truly love. The only one I anoint before intimacy.”
I didn’t leave him. I stayed under his “anointing” for a reason I myself didn’t know. He had that woman he introduced to the church, but they barely went anywhere together. I was the one in his car. I was the one in his bed. I was the one watching from the corner of the room while he learned the Bible for the next sermons.
This went on until he finally got married and the lady moved in with him. It became difficult for us to meet like we used to, but once in a while, we escaped, and when we did, it felt like we belonged to the wilderness.
When I completed university and started my national service, it became very hard for the two of us to meet. It had to take careful planning and long travels between towns before we met. So we seldom met, and we hardly talked. It got to a point we could only talk once in several months, but the fire between us never died down.
When we met by chance or by serendipity, he “anointed” me in special places. Because of the distance between us and the difficulty in meeting often, my heart moved on and opened up to another person. We lost touch completely because the wind of life blew us in different directions.
Years later, Alfred made me his wife in a wedding that invited everyone from my past. He also came. And because he was my childhood pastor, we gave him the honor to preach that day. I watched him as he did his thing. He had too much aura when he preached. His words came out with authority and anointing. You’ll laugh, you’ll listen, you’ll fall in love with his preaching.
We hugged after the service, and everything came back to me again. I yearned for the “anointing,” but I was no longer that single woman who could go to him at will.
Three years into my marriage, nothing was happening when it came to childbirth. I was frustrated. I was scared I would lose my husband. I started visiting places, wherever it promised to make conception very easy. One day, the pastor came to mind, and I texted him. He spoke like a changed man, soft and gentle. He asked about my marriage, and I told him all was well, but we were looking for a child.
He said, “I have the keys to your womb. You remember I was the first? When I anointed it, it became mine.”
He said it like a joke, but I knew him too well to believe that it was a joke. I asked him, “So what should I do?” He answered, “Seek the face of the key maker.”
A week later, I was in bed with him. He poured the anointing oil into me and smeared himself with it too. We had the moment of our lives. I wasn’t doing it because I believed him. I was doing it because I missed what we used to have. He said I was free. I said I hoped it was true.
Three months later, I was pregnant.
I was shocked and happy at the same time. I showed the results to my husband; his innocence showed through. He was happier. He gave the child a name that day. In my mind, I had received what I had been looking for, so there was no need to call the pastor again, but he called. He asked, “Are you telling me what I did for you didn’t work? Then you better come for a repeat if you really want the seed.”
I was thrown into fear. “Indeed, he has the key? What does that supposed to mean? That anytime I need a child, I have to go to him first?”
I lied to him. “No, it hasn’t happened yet. Maybe we need patience and see what the Lord can do.”
He insisted I should see him. I’m not going again. I’ve never been this sure about cutting the thread that runs through us than I am today. But my fear is this: what if it’s true? What if it’s not a coincidence, but my womb was opened because of him?
Contents
What Nobody Tells You About Divorce
That’s the question that keeps me awake at night. I know I’ve committed a sin on several occasions. I’m ready to move away now, but what if he gets to know and he blocks my womb once again? Can a man have this power over a woman’s fertility this way? What is the way forward for me if that’s the case? Honestly, I’m scared!
—Perpetual
This story you just read was sent to us by someone just like you. We know you have a story too. Email it to us at [email protected]. You can also drop your number and we will call you so you tell us your story.
******