A PASTOR'S BETRAYAL
FINALE
The morning sun shone brightly as Grace stepped out of the car, smoothing her dress with nervous hands. Michael stood beside her, his warm fingers intertwining with hers—a silent promise of strength.
"Ready?" he murmured.
Grace took a deep breath, looking at their children—Sarah, Daniel, and Joy—standing behind them like soldiers ready for battle.
"More than ready."
Today, the truth would be heard.
The sanctuary was packed.
As Grace and Michael walked down the aisle together, whispers erupted like wildfire. Heads turned. Eyes widened.
Pastor Gideon, mid-prayer at the pulpit, froze when he saw them. His mouth went slack, his hands gripping the podium until his knuckles turned white.
Grace met his gaze—and smiled.
The pastor's face drained of color.
When testimony time came, Grace didn't wait to be called. She stood, her heels clicking against the marble floor as she walked to the microphone.
Michael joined her, his presence steady beside her.
"Good morning, church," Grace began, her voice clear. "Some of you know me. Some of you... have heard lies about me."
She turned to face Pastor Gideon, whose smile had turned sickly.
"But today, you'll hear the truth."
And then, she told them everything.
How Pastor Gideon had preyed on her during her weakest moment.
How he'd twisted scripture to convince her to abandon her marriage.
How he'd taken her money—every last naira—while pretending it was "God's will."
Michael stepped forward then, his voice booming as he revealed the bank statements, the manipulated texts, the other women who'd come forward—widows, single mothers, all victims of the same scheme.
The congregation erupted.
"Sister Ngozi lost her house because of him!" a woman shouted.
"He told me my sick child would die if I didn't give offerings!" another cried.
Pastor Gideon stumbled back, sweat pouring down his face. "T-these are lies—!"
Then Sarah stood, holding up her phone. "No. This is a lie."
And she played the recording—his voice, clear as day, demanding Grace's last millions.
The church exploded.
Pastor Gideon bolted.
He shoved through the crowd, knocking over chairs as he sprinted for the exit. But the ushers—men who'd once obeyed his every word—grabbed him.
"You devil!" one roared.
The mob surged. Fists flew. A deacon's punch sent the pastor crashing into the communion table, wine spilling like blood across his white robes.
Grace didn't flinch.
Police sirens wailed outside.
The trial was swift.
Fifteen years for fraud. For exploitation. For shattering lives under the guise of God.
As the judge pronounced the sentence, Grace exhaled—a weight she hadn't known she carried lifting at last.
Michael squeezed her hand.
It was over.
Months later, the Thompson home was alive with laughter again.
Michael, once a workaholic, now built pillow forts with Joy on Saturdays.
Sarah, no longer sullen, sang as she helped Grace cook Sunday dinner.
Daniel, quiet but content, taught Grace how to use social media—"To help others spot wolves in sheep's clothing," he said wisely.
One evening, as they sat around the firepit, Grace looked at her family—whole again—and felt tears prick her eyes.
Michael kissed her temple. "What is it?"
Grace smiled. "I almost lost this. Lost you."
Joy climbed into her lap. "But you didn't, Mama."
And as the fire crackled, warming them all, Grace knew—
No false shepherd could touch them now.
The new pastor was kind. Real.
Under his leadership, the church became what it was meant to be—a refuge. A family.
And every Sunday, front and center, sat the Thompsons.
Together.
The End.
The wolf was gone. The flock was safe. And the Thompson family?
They thrived.

A PASTOR'S BETRAYAL
PART 9
The morning sun streamed through the curtains of the Thompson family home, painting the walls in warm gold. Grace stood by the kitchen window, watching as Michael played with Joy in the backyard—their laughter floating through the open window like music.
Six months had passed since the hospital. Six months of healing—of late-night talks, family dinners, and slow, steady rebuilding.
Grace smiled as she poured tea into two cups—one with two sugars and a splash of milk for Michael, the other just the way she liked it.
She had never thought she would feel this kind of peace again.
It happened on a quiet evening.
Grace was curled up on the couch, flipping through an old photo album—pictures of birthdays, vacations, moments she had almost lost forever.
Michael sat beside her, watching her face as she traced a finger over a snapshot of their wedding day.
"Grace," he said softly.
She turned to him—and froze.
Michael was on one knee, holding a simple gold band. Not a new ring.
Her ring.
The one she had left behind.
"Marry me again," he whispered. "Not because we have to. Because we want to."
Grace’s hands trembled as she reached for him. "Yes," she breathed. "A thousand times, yes."
They decided to do it in the south of France—just the five of them.
No fanfare. No crowds. No pressure.
Just love.
The ceremony took place on a small cliff overlooking the Mediterranean, the sea breeze carrying the scent of salt and blooming flowers. Sarah and Daniel stood as witnesses, grinning as they held the rings. Joy, dressed in a tiny white dress, scattered petals at Grace’s feet.
When the officiant pronounced them husband and wife (again), Michael didn’t wait for permission to kiss her.
Grace melted into him, her heart so full she thought it might burst.
Later, as they watched the sunset paint the sky in shades of pink and gold, Michael squeezed her hand.
"We’re going to make him pay, Grace," he murmured.
She didn’t need to ask who he meant.
Pastor Gideon.
The flight home was filled with quiet planning.
"We can’t just accuse him," Sarah said, surprisingly sharp for a teenager. "We need proof."
Michael nodded. "I’ve already started looking. There are others—women he’s manipulated, money he’s stolen."
Grace’s stomach twisted. She had been one of many.
But not the last.
Never the last.
"We’ll expose him," she said, her voice steady for the first time in months. "Publicly. So he can’t hurt anyone else."
The children exchanged glances, then grinned.
It was time for revenge.
The Sunday after their return, Grace walked into Pastor Gideon’s church for the first time since her collapse.
Heads turned. Whispers followed.
Pastor Gideon, mid-sermon, faltered when he saw her.
But Grace didn’t flinch.
She walked straight to the front row—where Michael and the children waited—and sat down.
The pastor’s smile was strained. "Sister Grace! What a... surprise."
Grace merely smiled.
You have no idea what’s coming.
After the service, Grace requested a private meeting.
The pastor’s office was just as she remembered—opulent, suffocating.
"You look... well," he said, eyeing her warily.
Grace folded her hands. "I am. Thanks to my family."
A flicker of unease crossed his face.
She leaned forward. "I know what you did, Pastor. And I’m not the only one."
His smile froze. "I don’t know what—"
Michael stepped out of the shadows, holding a recorder. "We have testimonies from five other women. Bank records. Even your *texts*."
Pastor Gideon paled.
Sarah, standing in the doorway with her phone, smirked. "Oh, and this is being livestreamed to the entire congregation."
The pastor’s chair screeched as he stood. "You can’t—"
Grace rose, her voice calm. "Watch us."
TO BE CONTINUED...

*Public service annoucement from fathers*

We are hereby giving advance notice of acceptable fathers days activities:

*FATHER'S DAY*
Sunday 15th June, 2025

*Order of proceedings for the the day:*

6: 45 am: Good morning and beginning of receipt of gifts ...

7:00: am Breakfast in bed (fry-ups or Akara/Moi-Moi & Pap with plenty honey).

7.30am to 9:00am:
Men's arrival in the church and prayer.

9:00am to 11:00am: Sunday service

11:00am to 12:00pm: medical check up.

1: 00 pm: - Mummy (and/or children) takes Father out on her bill.

2:00: pm Chopped fried Plantain with egg sauce or various infusions.

2: 30: pm Lunch - Pounded Yam or Eba, with Efo riro soup or Amala+abula, infused with assorted fresh and dry fish, Periwinkle, and large Snails, served with chilled non-alcoholic wine.

3: 30 pm: Grilled assorted meat and juice, followed 2hrs later by Goat Meat Peppersoup, and more chilled drinks.

8: 00 pm: Unwrap gifts, Nkwobi or Isi-Ewu with more drinks.

9: 00 pm: and if the body endures: Dinner (Jollof Rice with spicy Chicken Wings) + Chilled drinks.

*10.00 pm: - lights out.


Please pass this communication to the children and the wives so they do not plan anything "weird" that day.

Note: Give this notice timeously, so that they do not come with the excuse "I did not remember".

God bless us all.

Wahala Tie Rapper

It was a quiet Sunday afternoon. The birds were singing, the sun was shining, and everything seemed peacefu until 8PM. The front door burst open

A loud, angry ropber stormed in, pointing a big scary gnn and yelling,
Hey, Give me all the money in this house or else I’ll scatt er ur head

Inside the room, chaos exploded like popcorn in hot oil.

The woman in red underwear jumped up, totally shocked. Her eyes were as wide as dinner plates. She was so scared she forgot she wasn’t fully dressed

But the real drama? That came from the man in the bed.
He screamed, waved his hands in the air, and shouted,
Pls don’t shoot! I’m not her husband. I was just passing

Passing?! Through the bed?! With no pants?

The robber paused for a second, confused. Even he didn’t expect this nonsense. The woman looked like she wanted to disappear. The man kept begging, sweating like a waterfall.

Now the robber had a decision to make: rob the house or solve the mystery of the passing man.

In the end, he burst out laughing.
This house is more messed up than my life,he said, and ran off without stealing a thing.

If you’re just passing, wear pants. Always.

Angry Benue youths on Sunday staged a protest and blocked the Abuja-Makurdi highway, expressing outrage over the continued killings in the state.

Wishing you a relaxing and joyful day.
May God's love and blessings be upon you and your family.

*Happy Sunday *

I once hid in the bathroom of a restaurant just to breathe in the smell of food… and ended up washing dishes for a plate of cold leftovers.

I was 17. I hadn’t eaten in three days, and the hunger ached deep in my bones. I walked into a restaurant pretending I was waiting for someone. I sat down, ordered a glass of water, and just waited. When the waiter walked away, I slipped into the bathroom—just to stand there and inhale the smell of steak, warm rice, and fresh bread. I stayed so long they thought I’d passed out. When they found me, the manager didn’t throw me out. He just looked at me and asked if I wanted a job. I nodded, holding back tears.

That first day was a disaster. I burned a pot, broke a glass, and cut my finger peeling potatoes. But I didn’t quit. I survived the yelling, the heat, and my aching back. Because at the end of my shift, they handed me a plate of food. Cold, sure. Dry, maybe. But it was mine. I ate it with my hands. From then on, I washed dishes like it was the greatest honor in the world.

Over time, I learned to cook, to wait tables, to run the register. I became someone people depended on. For the first time, I showed up clean, with a pressed uniform and my head held high. I was still sleeping on a busted mattress, but every day I felt a little less invisible. A year later, they handed me the keys to open the restaurant on Sundays. That’s when I started to dream of something of my own—something I wouldn’t have to borrow from anyone.

When you hit rock bottom, every little win feels like a feast. What matters isn’t what you’re eating—it’s what you’re building while you’re hungry.

— Santiago

God will make that easy for you, whatever you are finding hard.

*Happy Sunday *

Happy Sunday to our gadains
Success is my wish to y'all

Happy Sunday to you all.

Good morning God's beloved. Thank God for another day. I declare that today Marks the beginning of all round victory and dominion in your life and family. You and your family are free from that shame and reproach. Before the end of this new week, every Goliath of your life will fall and die. Your days of sorrow and weeping are over. By the authority of faith, receive all your pending blessings today in Jesus name. By the anointing of the Holy Spirit, I render every enemy useless, helpless and powerless in your life. Every yoke of the wicked is destroyed from your life and family in Jesus mighty name. Have a Splendid SUNDAY. You are the next to testify to the glory of God.