Welcome to series 2 in my dear soul sister series. Happy reading!
I am a broken man, for I am haunted by my message.
Why is it difficult to practice what you preach with ease?
Why is it easy to dole out the right words to others, but difficult to take them yourself?
I feel this way with the message of forgiveness.
Yes, I must forgive others their trespasses, so my heavenly father can also forgive me.
True, I must forgive seventy times seven times a day.
But truth be told, no one has offended me that much in a day.
Still, I can’t find it in me to accept this message and forgive Sister Joyce.
Sister Joyce, God-fearing (so I thought), all smiles and humble, was a perfect disciple in our youth fellowship.
Never did I imagine the evil behind her smiles.
Never did I imagine her appreciation of God’s grace in my life after each service to be more than that.
Never did I imagine the innocent smiles I returned were fanning a fire I couldn’t control.
How could I have known, Soul Sister, that Sister Joyce had a lot of plans for me? (Oh, not plans of good I tell you.)
When she showed up in my house that rainy day a year ago, with tears in her eyes, I gladly took her in to comfort her.
Her fiancé had just broken up with her after meeting with the church’s marriage committee.
Her eyes were swollen from crying, and my heart went out to her.
I counselled and prayed with her.
She made a simple request: “Can I stay here tonight? I’ll leave very early in the morning. It’s already late.”
Oh true, it was late and rainy.
Her sad eyes tugged at my heart.
How do I send her out with such heavy heart into the rain, all alone?
My response: “It’s alright. You can stay here tonight. Take the bedroom. I’ll be right in the living room.”
Her eyes beamed with smiles of appreciation, and my heart swelled with joy that I had done well for a sister.
Soul Sister, I curse that day even as I pen this down.
When she wandered into the living room sometime after midnight in a flimsy night gown I never knew she had in her bag, I became an ordinary man.
Youth pastor you say. Leave that, this was beyond me.
She was too scared to sleep alone, so she said.
I was too tempted to say no to a damsel in distress.
The die was cast, and the deed was done.
My tears ran down like a fountain.
Sister Joyce told me to be a man. It was a secret never to be revealed.
So when I was summoned by the marriage committee months later, I thought it was to finalize my marriage plans with my fiancée.
Soul Sister, the secret was out! Sister Joyce told it all to the committee.
My wedding was put on hold.
My fiancée could not bear the pain and went her way.
I was disciplined publicly in church.
All lips told the story of my fall. Eyes looked at me in condemnation. Hands pointed at me in judgement.
Sister Joyce was the victim, deceived by the youth pastor. He took advantage of her emotional state. Thank God she was bold enough to expose him, so the tongues wagged in church. They never bothered that the story was twisted, or I had something to say too. What would a fornicating youth pastor say? He didn’t even had the mind to confess to his wrong deeds. He must have been into it for long.
I left it all, Soul Sister.
I left to a life of shame and deep regret, but I had to search for God again.
My search has been painful, but I’m pulling through gradually.
Then Sister Joyce showed up in my house this morning. (Deja vu.)
She wanted to apologize for what she did. She couldn’t resist me, and so she had planned it all. She wanted me to accept her after what happened between us, but I went with another sister. She had been bitter, but God liberated her in a programme and she cried for forgiveness. Now, she wanted to do right by me.
I looked at her with so much hatred. If looks could kill, mine would have killed her this morning.
I pushed her out of my house.
She knelt at the door, crying. I told her I would think about it.
But really, Soul Sister, how do I forgive her? Should I even forgive her?
Expect another life issue next week Tuesday. Share with friends!