I was working for the church. Long before the congregation arrived every Sunday, I was already there. I cleaned the auditorium, arranged the chairs, dusted the furniture, and made sure everything was in place for worship. It wasn’t a paid job. I did it because I loved God.  Because of my dedication, I became close to our pastor. He often prayed with me and encouraged me. One thing he repeatedly told me was, “Your marriage is close. God has prepared someone for you.”

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Those words became a source of hope. Every prayer he prayed over me made me believe my waiting season was almost over. One day, he introduced a gentleman to me and said they had both prayed and God had told them we should marry. I didn’t take his words as the gospel truth. I also prayed about it for weeks but I didn’t hear God’s voice. Still, I convinced myself that maybe God had spoken through my pastor. That aside, I thought this man was a good man. He dressed nicely, spoke with a soft voice, and prayed fervently. He said he was working at the Ministry of Defense then. That also added to the flavour.

So I accepted to marry him. We dated for only three months. I took him home to meet my parents, and he also did the same. Seven months after we started dating, we got married. It was only after the marriage that I learned the people he had introduced as his parents were actually not his parents. He was not on talking terms with his father, and his mother had been sick for a while.

When I asked him about it, he lied at first but then, after much pressure, he admitted that his father had disowned him, so he had simply chosen another man to play the role of his father. I wanted to believe him. I wanted to convince myself that maybe he was only trying to hide a painful family history. Marriage requires grace, doesn’t it? So I swallowed my disappointment and tried to move on.

Four months into our marriage, another secret found me. This time, it wasn’t a rumour. His own biological father called me. He said my husband had a son and this son was living with him and my husband had refused to send money or even acknowledge the boy as his son. I was so shocked I fell on my knees and asked God what kind of man he brought into my life.

When I confronted my husband about it, the first slap landed on my face before I could process what was happening. Then he shoved me so hard that I fell to the floor. Before I could get back on my feet, he started kicking me. I remember lying there in shock and in hurt, but what hurt even more was realizing that the man I had trusted enough to marry had no problem beating me for asking a simple question.

I ran to the pastor to complain. When the pastor called him to come, he arrived and narrated a completely different story. He claimed I had been going around talking to people and using gossip against him, and that it had frustrated him, which was why he pushed me. He insisted he had only pushed me and had never slapped or kicked me. This pastor heard from both of us but wasn’t interested in my side of the story. He was instead preaching forgiveness. He made us hug and said we should go home and talk things over.

I left his office feeling more alone than I had ever felt in my life. Months later, another lie surfaced. Throughout our relationship, my husband had insisted he worked at the Ministry of Defence. One day, while chatting with a close friend who actually worked there, I casually mentioned that my husband also worked at the ministry. My friend looked confused. After making a few inquiries, he told me the truth. My husband wasn’t an employee of the Ministry of Defence at all. He merely worked for a private company that supplied goods and services to the ministry, and even that arrangement was only contractual.

Everything he had built our relationship on was falling apart. When I confronted him, another violent argument broke out which ended with my husband throwing my things out of the house—a house I had contributed 70% of the rent for. I fought back, and because he wouldn’t open the door, I called the pastor. He came and convinced him to open the door. We sat down and talked, but every time I told my side of the story, our pastor didn’t seem to care. All the pastor wanted from me was forgiveness.

After he left, I insisted on knowing the truth. It turned into another fight. I fought back and sustained some injuries. This time, I went home to my parents. I narrated everything that had happened. My dad led my brothers to the house. I wasn’t there, but judging by the damage they did to my husband’s face, I could tell what had happened.

My husband reported the incident to the police. It was my dad who went to the police station to explain what had actually happened. He also called his lawyer to handle the matter from there.

The pastor called me, and I went to see him. He said, “You know marriage is not smooth. Why did you bring your parents into this? Why didn’t you call me?”

I told him, “I’m beginning to doubt the anointing on you. You brush my feelings aside, and all you do is tell me to forgive. If I were your daughter, would you tell me the same things? Do you want me to die before you see the truth? How much did he pay you to do this dirty job for him?”

I Called My Girlfriend And Another Man Answered The Phone

I walked out of his house and stopped attending the church. When I threw my husband out of the house, he went to live with this pastor, and the two of them have been asking me to give our marriage another chance. They claim they have been on the mountain praying and that God has shown himself to them so what happened will never happen again.

How do you rebuild trust with someone whose entire identity was built on lies? We are currently going through a divorce, but he never shows up whenever he is summoned. He says divorce is against the will of the God he serves, so he won’t participate in it.

Well, that won’t stop me. To me, a man who lies about who he is, lies about his own family, and then turns around to abuse me isn’t worth a rug in the dirt.

—Frema

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