Her name was Margaret; she was my pastor’s wife. She was popularly referred to as Pastor Maggie. My pastor’s name was Apostle Raymond, but he loved us calling him Pastor Ray, because we the foundation members had always referred to him that way. It was just recently the title “Apostle” surfaced. Pastor Ray was handsome, tall, anointed with a capital “A.” He was way too young for the level of anointing he carried: my pastor was just 38 years old and his eight year old ministry had swallowed up most ministries that were up to 25 years and above in terms of popularity, crowd, branches and influence.
It therefore didn’t make sense one bit, that he would have married a woman like Pastor Maggie. She was not in his league. As I sat in the taxi on my way back from church that Sunday, I couldn’t help the level of anger I was feeling towards my Pastor’s wife. “How on earth would she dress that way?”
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