When I started, I had no intention of writing a part 2. And now there’s a part 3 coming up next week! See how you get me weak in the knees? lol. Here’s where we left off;

She laughed “Sorry, I don’t give my numbers out like that.” With that she slid into the front seat of the car. Her friend did same and started the engine. Yaw didn’t see it coming. Something about his disorientation made her feel bad. She rolled her window down halfway “But maybe after the third time I see you in church, I might reconsider.” She smiled as they drove off.

He watched their taillight disappear into the darkness, smiling like a piglet. He started thinking to himself what department in the church to join.

***

II

She was on his mind all throughout the week. She stained his mind. He tried to find her on Facebook. 12 hours went into that search, literally! but her face didn’t show. The more unfindable she was, the more he craved to find her. She didn’t come to church on Sunday, but that wasn’t a shocker; most people came for the Friday night prayer service then went to their own churches on Sundays.

On Friday, he felt what David meant when he said “I was glad when they said unto me…” He was distracted the whole service, turning in the direction of every motion, hoping it was her coming in. She didn’t show. He felt frustrated; he’d been present but absent from the service and missed out on being edified. The person who could have made it all worth it too didn’t show. Bummer! Next Friday was the same. He started to think maybe she was some boga who’d returned to Alabama. Read More The Steamy Church Romance II

Blog Religion short story

She was the first person he noticed when he entered the auditorium. There was nothing remarkable about the tight blue jeans or navy green top she was in, but there was everything about the body it clad.

Such perfect proportions, such sufficiency, such equilibrium! What a temple! She was fair, but not the induced kind; he’d learnt to spot cream-induced fairness by spotting darker knuckles and inconsistent ‘fairness pantones’. This one was legit. The neckline of her top was a little loose so he could notice a few petals of the rose tattooed at her back. No colours, just black contours. It was a beautiful tattoo.

The usher directed him to a seat four rows behind her. She shared his attention with the pulpit. The worship songs were moving her. She was in the spirit. When she jumped, she wobbled, and he swallowed, then looked up to heaven. Forgive. Read More The Steamy Church Romance.

Blog short story

YOU’RE just chilling when you see a person driving down the street in a sleek luxury car, you hear they’re living in their Trassaco villa this weekend, and they are always sporting the trendiest designer clothes and shoes. Undoubtedly, you want to know who they are and what they did to acquire such wealth. “Oh, she’s a businesswoman,” and that is enough of an explanation for the show of wealth, usually.

This isn’t the case when it comes to men and women of God. Can you imagine seeing all of that and someone saying “oh, he’s a pastor of so-and-so church” as the explanation for the wealth? That wouldn’t go down so well. There will be a plethora of follow-up questions about what it is the church does and doesn’t do and why and how this head pastor is chopping all the money.

For some reason, we attribute being a pastor to living an austere life. Because if your lifestyle isn’t austere, you can’t possibly be true to the word of God. However, if there’s going to be prayer for financial prosperity there’ll be a hoard of people ready to receive God’s blessings. Only the congregation should benefit from financial prosperity, the leaders must remain eternally “humble”.

Read More Pastors Can’t Be Rich

Blog

I distinctly remember going to a church someone had invited my mum to. As a dutiful child, I went along with her. I like to think the person who invited her to this church was a good person, but you never know. It took what felt like ages to get to the church and we made it for the tail end of a worship song. Soon after the preacher began to preach a rather long sermon. None of which spoke to me. At all. Actually, the more he talked, the more peeved I got that we were there.

I wasn’t on fire like that for God yet, so with my little stank attitude I made every effort to show my mother that as for me, I wasn’t having it. I sighed heavily and yawned obnoxiously. I would place my hands under my head and pretend I was sleeping. Anything to get her attention, so she could ask what was wrong. She didn’t.

Read More The Leaders Are Dirty

Blog