The Married Prophet

I didn't want to tell her that I slept with him. I didn't want to tell anyone, other than my sister of whom I'd already spoken to. Still, the conviction and unsettling in my chest told me that I should talk to someone. I thought if anything, I could at least ask her questions about him that would help bring me peace. I exited my red SUV, closing the door and heading for the house with my fingers twisting and fidgeting with each other. I arched my back to stretch my chest in hopes that it would cause some ease. Per usual routine, I rang the bell before entering the house.

It was the second house church I'd ever joined. It had a very small and welcoming congregation that always made me feel like home was nestled in their living room, and most Sundays I never wanted to leave after it was over. The pastor and first lady were the sweetest people who took me under their wing. Our worship consisted of playing music on YouTube that we all sang together as we worshipped, followed by a sermon and prayer that often left us diving deeper than we thought, having spiritual encounters that left us in peace and drained at the same time. It left me in one of their comfy chairs either laughing at their silly family banter or asking a million questions about faith.

That is where I first met Brian a month or so before. He ministered, prayed and prophesied to everyone who'd been there, as we went to that church to end our weekend of gatherings celebrating being able to join in person again after COVID. I never thought anything of him, other than that he was a very devoted and gifted preacher. He wasn't even attractive to me in the slightest. So when he reached out to me and asked if we could talk, I assumed it was spiritually related. I never thought that he would end up at my home at eleven in the evening, nor did I think he’d be waking up in my bed the following morning.

After arriving to the house, church went on as usual with that ache still annoying me with its presence. When everything settled down, I asked the first lady, Momma B as I liked to call her, if I could talk to her. She agreed, walking with me to another room near the front of the house while everyone else scrambled about to figure out a plan for the weekly “after-church” meal. I sat on the couch that faced the front window, shifting slightly to the left to face her as she put her body in a chair that cornered the couch.

“Alright baby, what can I do for you?” She asked, placing her hands on her lap, folded into each other. Her eyes were on me, and I felt a comfort in her stare because I knew she sensed anxiety in me.

“I wanted to talk to you about something, or should I say about someone. I don’t know much about him but we’ve recently…” I paused, finding a way to say what I wanted to say without giving away more than intended, “…been in communication. I was wondering what you can tell me about Brian.” I sat upright as I spoke, then leaned forward with my knees resting on my thighs to hear what she had to say.

“Oh, yes. I’d stay far away from him,” she said immediately, not giving much time for a breath between me ending my sentence as she shook her head. My eyes widened and I swallowed, my body straightening and stiffening again.

“What do you mean? Why not?” I asked.

“We’ve been working with Brian for quite a few years now, Poppa B and I. He’s been trying to mentor Brian, lead on the right path. Why do you ask?” Her head tilted with the question, her eyes thinning almost to a close.

“I uhm…” I didn’t know what to say at that point, or where the conversation was leading but my gut twisted as I took a deep swallow.

“Oh Lord. Something happened between you two, didn’t it?” She asked. I prepared myself for a scolding. Yes, I knew what our beliefs entailed, no sex before marriage. I had no intention of ever being friends with the guy, let alone sleeping with him. It just happened. I didn’t respond right away but when I looked down to my lap, she knew my answer. I nodded anyway.

“We talked for over four hours on the phone. He told me he was interested in getting to know me. I kept feeling something about it but honestly, I just thought it was because he’s usually not the type I’d go for, and I should be open-minded. I know I’m pretty guarded so I told myself maybe I should give him a chance.”

“He said he wanted to get to know you, huh?” She repeated my words with a tone that suggested his unwanted audacity.

“He did. I confessed to him that I’d been hurt a lot, and that I was going through so much that I couldn’t handle anything else. He promised he’d be good to me, help me through things.” I said the words as if it would convince her of something. All she did was shake her head again.

“What is it?” I asked her, waiting for the ball to drop.

“I’m so sorry, sweetie. We’ve been trying to talk to him and help him for a very long time. But Brian has been doing this for years, throughout his entire marriage.” I paused, for a moment forgetting to breathe. I felt my eyes flutter and my jaw drop, tears filling and slipping to my cheeks.

“He’s…. he’s married?”

“He is, sweetheart. He’s been married for almost seven years.” She shook her head again, making a fist in her lap. “That’s why he hadn’t been around much except for our event a few weeks ago. He refuses to come around because he knows my husband and I don’t stand for his behavior and we constantly tell him about himself. He uses his ministry to go around to different cities, and I can’t tell you how many women he’s done this to, manipulating him with his gifts. I used to tell him all the time not to mess with God’s children like that.”

The back of my hands raised to my cheeks and pushed away the tears. Her apology rang through my eyes but I couldn’t acknowledge it.

“He didn’t tell you about her at all?”

“No. I even asked him, Momma B! I asked him if he was seeing anyone and he said he was single.”

“He absolutely is not. They should be celebrating their seventh anniversary this year, and she takes care of his three children by herself, while he travels to God knows where. That’s why he doesn’t have a home church. He refuses to have anybody who will keep him accountable for his mess.”

Children. He had a wife and three children. I replayed her words in my head, going back to the conversation I had with him. He said he was single. Even when I’d texted him after he left, he called me his “queen” and said I was the only one. A cry left my lungs and filled the entire first floor. I felt her hand on my shoulder as I buckled over. It was a humiliation I’d never felt before. Before him, I’d only been with one other person. In that moment I felt like the biggest idiot that ever lived.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it sweetheart. I’m so sorry he did this to you. Oh if I could I’d give him a good punch in the mouth right now...”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I really don’t know how to feel. After he left, I just felt this sinking feeling in my chest. I haven’t spoken to him since. I asked him and I begged him not to hurt me. I told him I was dealing with a lot of mental health issues and I wasn't feeling my best. I told him everything.” I admitted, finally meeting her gaze again.

In those four hours I'd bore my soul to him. He prayed for me in the past, having mentioned my desire to have a husband in the future and to heal from depression and anxiety. He told me he understood. All a lie.

“That’s just it, baby. You were vulnerable and open and men like that will prey on your weaknesses with everything in their bodies. His wife has been here many times with us to seek council. She’s told us stories. There had to be at least fifteen women or more, probably more than twenty by now.”

My body slid from the couch and I fell to my knees, my face hidden under my fingers and palms. My wailing was the only thing I heard in the room for a while. Then her words poured over me, soft and kind. She prayed for me, words that I could barely remember but all I knew was that she was talking to God. I’m glad she did that for me, because in that moment I didn’t have any words for Him. Only my pain.