I was forty and single but not searching. I was just waiting for the right time. But to my church, my singleness at that age was a problem they felt needed fixing.

I never told my pastor or any elder of the church that I had an issue with my situation, but one Sunday, I was called to step forward to be prayed for. I needed deliverance from singlehood and that’s exactly what they did. I stood there, shocked, wondering how my private life had become a spiritual issue.

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From that day, whenever the pastor preached about marriage, my name found its way into the sermon. If he shouted, “Some of you will marry this year!” heads would turn toward me, as if I was carrying the nation’s marriage delay on my back.

One day, a member approached me, saying he had found a woman for me. I politely declined. I kept declining until he went to tell my pastor.

The pastor and elders summoned me. They reminded me of my age and the time we were in. They questioned why I kept turning down the offer. I eventually gave in, thinking there was no harm in trying.

I met the lady, and we started dating. Two weeks later, I crossed a line I shouldn’t have crossed. My desire got the better of me and we ended up in bed. A month later, she was pregnant.

That’s when my life turned upside down.

The church suspended me. My family had issues with her because of her attitude toward them. She wasn’t working, so every financial burden fell on me. I set up a small business for her, but it collapsed in no time. I became financially unstable and emotionally drained.

The pressure from the church to marry her grew stronger. My dream of becoming a pastor started to fade. I began avoiding some services because the atmosphere felt heavy.

But I stayed in the church. I told myself I would never leave even if the Holy Spirit abandons me.

Years later, I have met someone else—someone I can proudly say is my choice. A young woman in her early 20s who brings me peace. Who makes me happy. Who loves me in the way I’ve always wanted.

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But I’m stuck with the weight of my past, the memory of that Sunday, and the expectations of my church. I don’t know how to tell them the truth: that the choice they made for me was never mine. How do I go about this with my church, knowing they gave me one and I messed up?

—Kwame

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