Role of a Pastor's Wife (From My Book 'The Call"
The life of a pastor's wife is like an open book. When they read you, what will they learn? Will they shake their heads and be confused or will your words bless them? A pastor's wife is the mother of the church. She needs to nurture the church. She needs to raise the church in the same way she raises her own babies. Many wives of pastors like to be referred to as “first ladies” of their churches and that is a really nice title. Are you really the “first lady” or the “invisible lady”? Do the church members only see you on Sundays, or anytime that you are needed? Are you the one to whom they run to for advice, prayer, and ideas? Or, are you the one who spends hours and hours watching soap operas or shopping in the mall? How many hours do you spend in the Word? You need to stay in the Word more than your husband because you are his armor bearer. Be the one he asks for a Scripture reference because he cannot find the verse. Prepare the word for him on your knees.
A pastor's first ministry is his family. The wife is the corner stone of the ministry, and the success of the ministry depends on her dedication. If she is supportive, the work will go well. A pastor's wife must help her husband hold his hands up on that hill. She needs to spend time in prayer and intercede over the husband. At the feet of Jesus is where the couple will find their common ground. A pastor's wife needs to know the temperature of her husband's soul and, if she senses a cooling, she has to get him hot again. A pastor's wife is his soul keeper. She watches over him like the hen watches over her chicks. She picks him up when he falls by lifting him up in prayer and putting his feet on higher ground.
I have never had the privilege of being a pastor's wife, but I lived with one for twenty-five years—my mother. Even though she was tough with us, I always admired her prayer life and her submission to the voice of the Spirit. She was the queen of the house and she was the glue in our daily lives. If we needed mercy from Daddy, we would go through her. She is a prayer warrior who is disciplined in every area of her life. She is an outstanding partner to my father in every way.
I never saw my mom spending time with a friend while I was growing up, because my dad was her best friend. They got married when she was only sixteen years old. Mom came from a small and rich family, while my dad came from a poor family that practiced polygamy. Given these differences, my mom's mom did not like the idea of my parents together. My grandma even tried to find a rich boyfriend for my mom while she was dating Dad! Whenever Grandma was coming from the farm and she saw Dad heading down the opposite side of the road, Grandma would go into the bush and let Dad pass, cursing and insulting him the entire time. She did not want to meet a poor person on her way home. The love that my parents had for one another, though, triumphed over all of Grandma's schemes.
Mom and Dad are very compatible in so many ways. Mom is tough and Dad is playful. When Mom gets stressed over an issue, Dad plays it cool. Mom tells as it is, while Dad prefers to sugarcoat the tough truth.
Mom was both parents while Dad was busy putting the church together. She laid her hands over us and prayed every evening and every morning. She always told us that we will be great in our life's efforts. She started every morning with a quiet prayer walk by herself and then called everyone into the living room for prayers as a family. I never like this morning meeting, because it is when she told Dad everything that each one of us had done wrong the previous day. She had a photographic memory! I don't know how she remembered all of our actions when there were almost fifteen of us. Dad was the judge, mom was both the prosecutor and the jury, and we were the defendants with no legal representation. We learned never to interrupt Mom while she was talking, because she would double or triple the punishment. Thank God I moved out of that house!
My parents love and respect each other. I never see them fight in front of us, or even yell at each other or accuse each other in front of us. But, there was not a lot of expression in the other direction, either. My mom is kind of person who does not like touching. We never saw her and dad kiss or cuddle or even hug. African couples do not engage in too much touching anyway. Mom did not even hug us. The only touch we had was when she put us on her back and wrapped us with clothes. That is the way African women carry their babies.
Despite the lack of physical affection, my mom and I were close. Because I was the only girl growing up in the home, she called me her sister. Even to this day, mom treats me like her sister. She only had one sister and five brothers, and her sister moved from the family house early in order to get married. So, I guess I served as a substitute for this purpose.
Going back even further in our family tree, my mom's mom was the only wife my grandfather had. In the village, many of the men had two, three, or even four wives. The other women in the village were so jealous of my grandma because was well taken care of, had a lot of money, and did not have to share her husband. The women in the village gossiped about her; they pushed her to the point that she decided to get a second wife for my grandfather. He insisted that he was not interested, but the grandma went and get a second wife for her husband anyway. See what culture and peer pressure can do to people.
In my village, they also used to trade women. Even my parents were traded. My mom and her brother married my dad and his sister. Mom and dad made a perfect match, but their brother and sister were opposites. There was a solution to this problem, even if it was quite odd. If two people fell in love, they had to find other people in the family to offer in their place. Fortunately, this uncivilized practice pretty much came to an end in the 1970s.
Let's return to grandma's story for a minute. Grandma gave my mom's sister away in order to get another wife for grandpa, who turned out to be a relative of my aunt's husband. The second wife of my grandpa became pregnant with her first child. But, eight months into the pregnancy, she died along with her baby. That was really, really sad. My grandpa was so upset with my grandma, because he did not want this second wife in the first place. With all of this grief and tension now in the home, Mom kind of missed her childhood and this brings me back to the idea that Mom considered me the sister she never got to experience. She even took to calling me by her sister's name!
One more story about my grandma before I move on. My grandma grew up in an atmosphere of idol worshiping. She had her own voodoo priest who gave her instructions and guidance concerning how she was supposed to live her life. The voodoo priest put grandma on a strict diet. There was some food she was not allowed to cook or eat. If she came in contact with those foods, she needed to make a cleansing sacrifice. The size of the animal used for the sacrifice depended on the type of offense. The priest gave grandma a bunch of stupid rules. She was not allowed to sleep in the same bed with her grandchildren. She was not allowed to sweep her room at night. Those are just two of the rules that I remember. At the end of ever year she did a sacrifice of thanksgiving to the demons that protected her for the whole year. On the first morning of every new year, she went back for more instructions. Even the devil has rules and instructions to operate his kingdom.
In the 1980s my dad was leading his first church in the southern part of the country. We were so far from our home village. Anytime Mom had the chance to visit our home she preached the gospel to Grandma. Grandma looked at Mom like she was the stupidest woman on earth. She never agreed with what she was hearing. But one year Grandma went again for instructions and her priest said to her, "Your daughter that is away from home is coming home soon. When she is home listen to her very carefully. She has some instructions for you. Do whatever she tells you to do.” I think this last sentence is very interesting—"do whatever she asks you to do.” Grandma returned home so disturbed, not knowing what else to do except wait for mom to visit. There was no phone in my village or a post office. To mail a letter you had to go to the nearest small city. But somehow, it did not take too long for Mom to decide to go back home and visit. This time Dad did not go with her. Mom told Grandma that it was time for her to give her life to Jesus; that is all Mom said, and it was quiet for a while. Maybe Grandma was waiting for more instructions. She couldn't believe that the Jesus she hated so much was the only focus of the instruction that Mom provided. After a while, there were tears running down her cheeks. Mom was concerned because Grandma was a strong-willed person who would barely cry in front of us. She told Mom that she knew it was time to accept Jesus because her voodoo priest told her to listen to whatever her daughter said.
Mom was shocked! How could a devil servant be an instrument that God would use to get this stubborn lady to the kingdom? Mom was so overwhelmed about the whole situation. She prayed a sinner's prayer with Grandma, who became a Christian. She burned all her idols. She was baptized in the water and the Holy Spirit. Grandma became a different person. Her behavior changed. She used to insult anybody who passed by her compound without greeting her, but now she was being friendly to everyone. She never returned to her voodoo priest for any instructions. She took everything to God in prayer. When Mom came home with the news we were all shocked and happy at the same time. My mom's dad died without knowing Jesus, so this was a big deal for our family. Grandma joined the safe side.
My grandma was a fascinating person. One day I saw her going to church holding her sandals in her hand. I asked her why she was barefooted; I thought she was losing it. She told me that she wanted the villagers to know that she had shoes but she just could not wear them. She was out of balance when she wore shoes. I offered to hold the shoes for her but she wouldn't let me. She said the villagers would not know that the shoes belonged to her if I was the one holding them. I just gave up trying to help, but I still could not stop laughing, either. It was hilarious! She passed away a few years ago and her life was a testament to Christ and she was an honor to be around.
Mom knew how to lead her household just like a Proverbs 31 woman. No problem was too big in the eyes of this woman because she believed in power of prayer. In African villages, you bring your own basket to the market to purchase goods. When she had no money to fill her basket, she would pray and someone would show up with money or food. Even if we started the day with an empty stomach, Mom always found a way to feed us before the day was over. We were poor, but content. She make home a safe place to fall. When the world did us wrong, we could always run home to find love and comfort.
We were the most disciplined kids in our neighborhood. We were not allowed to have friends over to the house unless it was to work on a school project. If a girl came to visit, she would ask her to go home and help her mom cook or clean the house. Perhaps her approach was rude, but Mom taught other kids not to go to someone else's house and do nothing for hours.
Mom was always concerned about the women's ministry at church, a ministry she started when we were little kids. Every Tuesday, women came to the church for Bible study, to learn how to cook, to share recipes, and to pray for one another. Women in my culture are the most mistreated people you will ever meet. Men often marry two to four women, putting the first wife in a state of depression. All of the wives had to live in the same house and there were constant fights over the husband, the children, and the farm. They would take turns cooking for him, with the woman who cooked also being the one who got to spend the night with him. I don't know how they survive that kind of life—sleeping in the next room while you hear your husband spending the night with another woman. It must be painful.
Sometimes the second or third wives will charm their husbands with items they receive from a voodoo doctor. When this happens, the husbands become their toys and just say “yes, ma'am.” The first wife becomes a victim as well, because husband is brainwashed by the demon and only offers his attention to the woman who charmed him. He does not consider the first wife as his own anymore. He does not sleep with her or support her and her children. Sometime the man will chase away his first wife, leaving the children behind to be slaves to the other women in the home. In my culture, children belong to the man, no matter what. Even if the children are abused, they have to stay with their father and stepmom. So, some women accepted a lot of mistreatment because they did not want to leave the children. I witnessed over and over again women coming to our house with bruises, swollen faces, and tears in their eyes, seeking God's intervention. Mom had those women on her prayer list. She helped a lot of them stay in their marriages and wait for God, because leaving the marriage was not the best option for these women.
Some of the most troubled women were the ones who could not bear children. In my culture, a man definitely will take a second wife if his first marriage does not result in a child within a year. Medicine is not that developed in my country, so everyone just puts the blame on women. Sometimes a wife will sneak away and have sex with a man in another village in order to become pregnant because no woman wants to be labeled as infertile. If a woman still was not able to have a child, this is when Mom would take her to a prayer village and focus on prayer and fasting with her for days. Most of the time, God would intervene and give these women children so that their marriages could survive. Here in America, women can file for divorce because they are not happy or in love anymore. In my culture, women fast and pray for God to help them stay in a marriage that is abusive for the sake of their children. These women prefer the pain and agony because they cannot imagine seeing their own children become slaves to another wife.
Most women in Africa are deeply hurting in one way or another. Our culture puts everything in the favor of men. This mission became a constant battlefield for Mom. She had to cast out the demons that second wives would put on their husbands so that the first wives could stay in the marriage and raise her children. It is a dangerous warfare. Sometimes while Mom was in the prayer village, a demon would come and pay us a visit in the house and one of us suddenly would become sick. There was no medication that would make you feel better. Only prayer could deliver you. Eventually, Mom learned how to enter the battlefield, win the battle, and get out of it before her family was threatened.
Anytime you want to fight the devil, you have to be careful. Sometime the demon that you cast out will turn against you. You need to know how to protect yourself before you ever get into this kind of battle. Mom memorized Ephesians 6:10-18 and put on the armor of God—the belt of truth on her waist, the breast plate of salvation, and the sword of the spirit. After she was dressed in the Spirit, she was ready to question the demon before her.
The spirit of mermaid is the worst idol possible. For this reason, I will not buy anything with a mermaid on it for my daughter. People here have no idea what demons can do to your daughters. There are two types of mermaids—the female one and the male one. They are demons, but they like to be married to humans. These demons will come and have sex with their human mates in their sleep. They will be convincing and demanding, taking anything they want from the humans they control.
There also are ghost demons. Some women in my culture use ghosts if they want to snatch someone else's husband. They will go to the voodoo doctor, who then takes them to the village cemetery. The voodoo doctor will use a spell and to call a dead man from his grave. The dead man will have sex with the woman right there in the cemetery. Any human man who has sex with a woman after she sleeps with a ghost automatically will fall in love with her. So, after the graveyard ritual, the woman will seduce a married man and snatch him from the wife.
There is another demon that possesses women and goes by the name “Ageh.” Most people cannot see this demon with their natural eye. Mom saw Agree once in a woman who was desperate for some attention from her husband. This woman took a sample of the blood from her period and put it her husband's food. When the man ate his meal, he immediately became his wife's slave. However, the woman had no idea that she had invited “Ageh” in their lives. Soon enough, both the husband and wife were possessed.
Christians in Africa live in a battlefield every day. They barely have time to spend time with Jesus in worship. If someone in Africa tells you that they are going to kill you, don't take it lightly. They don't even need a gun. All they need is your name or an item belonging to you. The only power that will defeat them is the blood of Jesus. I knew a woman who had her underwear stolen by her husband's second wife. The underwear was given to the voodoo doctor and she never conceived a child in her life. There are just so many demons in my culture! Mom would discover the demon she was facing, and then get furious with prayer. I saw her labor in prayer for hours. She never allowed anyone in the room when she was exorcising a demon because when the demons come out of a person, they look for another place to live. Mom sends them into the sea of Hell. She covers everyone around her with the blood of deliverance.
When you are married to a pastor, sometimes you have the same call as your husband, sometimes you are called separately, and there are even instances in which you are not called at all.
Called Separately
Sometimes couples receive the same call, which might happen when they were married or engaged or even before they met. The almighty God knows how to put things together and make them work. The husband can be called to lead a church and the wife can be called to take care of women or children of the congregation who are in need. When both submit to the voice of the Lord, they will find common ground to work together.
When the two individuals in a couple are called separately, the husbands often try to ignore the call of their wife. They force the wife to give up on her call and follow them. This is not right or fair to the wife. What will she tell God about what she did with her call and abilities? Husbands at least need to recognize their wives' talents—encourage and train them to work at the level of their capacity. The God who called you is the same God who called your wife. She is supposed to be submissive, but that does not mean that she should give up her call, abilities, and dreams. The Creator has deposited a lot potential in her; just because she is a female, it doesn't mean she is empty. She has a purpose and that purpose needs to be fulfilled whether she is married to a pastor or not.
It is so sad to see how many women have lost their call and talent because they married a pastor. I think it is selfish for a pastor to want his wife to give up everything to support him. A pastor who really understands the tragedy of the unanswered call will do anything to make sure that his wife does her ministry, too. Don't you think it will be helpful to a pastor when his wife is ministering in the Spirit? You should love her enough to let her be who she is called to be. You should be happy for her; encourage her in prayer and in love. I knew a pastor whose wife was called for music ministry. The pastor led the church as a whole and let his wife pursue her dreams. He became his wife's inspiration and she became a successful song writer and recording artist. This pastor lets his wife serve as the worship leader in the church. He even sings background vocals for her! He goes to almost all of her concerts and is the most supportive husband I have ever seen. He made his wife's call a part of his call and that is what a couple should do. Mix it together and make it work! So many pastors worry that their wives' ministries will overshadow their own works. What a selfish way of thinking! Just think about it for a minute. If you let her pursue her call, imagine the brightness that will come to her spirit, the souls that will be saved by ministry, and the lives that will be touched and changed. People will see that you have yielded not only yourself, but you made the guidance of the Holy Spirit and Jesus the top priority in your marriage. God will be pleased by your humility and love.
Mom was called, but her call was different than the call Dad was pursuing. Dad liked to plant new churches, while Mom liked to take care of the broken-hearted. Like I said, she is tough but her spirit is caring and loving. She did not mind spending hours and hours in prayer just to make sure the people who she was lifting up to God were going to be okay. Even though my parents each had different calls, they use humility to work together. Dad was the first one to be called and even though dad was the one who everybody knew as a pastor, he always made sure that mom operated with her own gifts. He taught Mom how to preach because she never had the opportunity to go to school or receive any training. Dad attended the women's meetings with Mom and would sit behind her, letting the Holy Spirit have his way.
Mom moved from the church ministry to serving as the Director of Ministry for the whole south of Togo, which was her dream come true. She conducted women's conventions one or two times a year, for which thousands of women would come from every church in the area. Those moments were not only important for her, but for our entire family. Before Mom even set up the dates for a convention, everyone went to the prayer village to fast and pray. Dad never let her enter these important times alone—they make such an inspiring team!
The calls might be different in time and task, but we have to put them together and make it work. Set aside all of our differences and let the spirit of God mingle in us. We have to be the servant in vineyard. We work with Him, we work for Him, we work through Him, and we work in Him. Dad was the one who prepared the messages that Mom then preached at the conventions. The rest of the family was involved as well. My brother handled the technical issues. We all made sure that the tent, the chairs, the sound system, and the instruments were in place. In those villages and even in the city, there were no conference rooms for the conventions that we planned. So, we actually had to build the tent and bring chairs for 15,000 to 20,000 people. It was a huge responsibility. My specific job was to make sure that the food and the worship was handled. We didn't cook for everyone but we did provide food for the band, the guests that came for teaching and preaching, and sometimes the pastor's wife.
Most of the women wanted to sing songs about battle and victory because so many of them are in battle all the time with their in-laws, the second wife, their husbands, or the devil. Since they are so busy fighting, they don't know how to get intimate with Jesus. Don't get me wrong; these women dearly loved Jesus, but they did not know how it feels to be loved by someone. Most African women don't know how to feel loved and this emptiness is reflected when they gather together. You can feel the pain in the atmosphere when all of the women are in one place. They were so cut up in the fights for their lives and the lives of their children to the point that they don't how to feel love. During worship, these women cried and cried. Some of them ran to the altar and threw themselves on the floor. You always can see the brokenness of an innocent heart. Some of them were so young. It was not uncommon to see a fifteen-year-old girl with a baby on her back. These were the ones who were forced to marry an old man as a second or third wife. At their very young age, they already were engaged in continuous battle. The first wives hated them, the husbands did not care, and they hated themselves, too. Worship time at a women's convention is a lot like spiritual therapy. You can hear the agony. They scream and they cry. Jesus was the only one who took the time to hear them. I have tears in my eyes right now because those images never left me. I can see them rolling on the dirt floor, crying and asking for Jesus to take the shame of barrenness away from them even though the husband was the infertile one.
Not Called at All
Some pastors' wives are not called by God. Maybe they found their husband when he was already called by God. Whether also working with an independent call or not, the wife has to know that it is a big responsibility to be a minister's wife. You better think twice before you say “I do,” because this promise is not only to the man, but to God and the call as well. Some women like the fame of being called the “first lady” in a church. Oh, my sister, there is a whole lot more to it. If you are a person who does not like a pressure, don't marry a pastor. You will make his life a living hell and probably your own, too.
These are the prerequisites for being a pastor's wife:
You must like prayer.
You must know how to do spiritual warfare.
You must be alert to the devil, other women, money and how your husband uses church money.
Accept the fact you life will never be the same.
Understand that you likely will be living in poverty.
Know how to deal with gossip about you and your husband.
Become Jesus' friend to help relieve some of the pressure.
Know that you will be the one raising your children most of the time.
Ask God for the spirit of discernment.
If you are a pastor's wife and you were not called by God for your own purpose, discernment will be your biggest issue. You have to be sensitive to the voice of God because you and your husband are working for a boss that you don't see with your eyes. You have to learn the difference between the sound of His voice and your own. You have to know when God is talking to you and when the Devil is talking to you. Your husband cannot use extra time and energy trying to explain to you what he has heard from the Lord. You need to hear this communication for yourself.
I know a pastor whose wife has no clue about what was happening around her. Her interests are so different from those of her husband. All she cares about is having good clothes and spending money in her purse. She does not like fasting and prayer and can barely make it to the women's meeting at her own church. Even worse, she asks other members of the church for money. She invites members into her home and then shares a sad story about not having any cash. The members then give what they have to her. When the husband see this happening, he feels horrible. It is not really the wife's fault, though. They are living two different realities. The husband wants to work with the Lord. The wife just wants a simple family without stress. She wants to have money to take care of her children.
When the wife is not called, issues between the couple likely will develop. The husband will become frustrated having to take the time to explain the instructions that he is receiving from the Lord. If wives are not called, they must do their best to stick to the call of their husbands and offer support. This support can be provided through prayer, counseling, loving, and caring for the family. Never forget, the success of a ministry depends in part on the decisions and behaviors of the pastor's wife.
No matter what happened, Moses could count on the fact that Aaron had his back. In the same way, hold your husband's hand in prayer and counsel. When he becomes weak, your prayer will become a well from which he can draw strength. Be supportive and encouraging. Remember that you are not just helping your husband, but an entire congregation. A pastor is the leader of the church and blessings flow through him. When he is not doing well, the canal created for sharing these blessings is blocked.
Pastor's Wife as Jezebel
Beginning in I Kings 16:30, we read about the story of King Ahab in Samaria and his wife Jezebel. Here what I want to highlight in the relationship. Ahab knew that God did not want him to marry a woman from outside of Israel, but he did it anyway for political convenience. This mistake is very common today. If you are called to be a servant of God as a man, you have to be careful about the person you choose to marry. Your spouse is critical both for you and your ministry. Don't base your choice on any convenience. Be very sensitive to the voice of the Lord in this matter more than anything else.
People base their choice for a spouse on several reasons—money, beauty, career, family connection, lust, etc. Ahab based his choice on political advancement, but he learned that living with Jezebel was going to be anything but beneficial. Ahab was weak and immature while Jezebel was strong-willed and wicked. She always got what she wanted. The consequence of their union ended up being negative and destructive for the entire kingdom.
Ahab never gave any consideration to what God expected from him as a king. He did not even know the spiritual temperature of the country he was called to lead. He is a son of a mighty warrior so there is no doubt that he was highly trained for war. But that is not enough. Likewise, it is good that you are getting the finest training and education on the Gospel field but that is not enough. You cannot do it alone and you must remember this fact when searching for a wife. Never look to what draws you to the woman initially. Instead, leave some room to discover other qualities. Also, consider the warnings of people around you. Your friends and family have a better perspective than you, since people who are falling in love never see clearly. Seek the will of God over your choice, just like you seek him over the call.
You need to have a wife who understands your life's work. If she doesn't get it now, you will find yourself torn between God and your wife. Which one are you going to disobey? The work as a pastor is already filled with stress, and adding the wife's nagging to your burdens will lead to depression. And, the problem is not necessarily the religion of your intended wife. She may have been a Christian her whole life, but this fact has nothing to do with devotion to servant-hood. Allow your instincts and, more importantly, what you are hearing from God determine your partner. When you feel the clash at the beginning, don't ignore it. Instead, you most likely need to walk away. Marriage will never change people; they are who they are. Recognizing this fact will save you a lot of trouble and headache.
A pastor's life is paved with poverty until he reaches a point that God will restore and establish his prosperity. By poverty, I am referring not only to lack of money, but also lack of health, lack of children, lack of resources, lack of home, lack of car, etc. You know—anything you believe you are supposed to have but you don't because you going through the training preparations with God. Can she stand by your side while the Master is squeezing on every side, molding you, shaping you, and sharpening you? Will she support you and suffer with you, or will she be telling you to let go of God and the call like Job's wife did? She is happy when everything is going smoothly, but anyone can do that. When it gets a little rocky, though, will she get upset with you and blame all of her pain on you?
Marrying a foreign woman will never please the Lord. She is certain to enter the marriage with a bad attitude and her false gods. A pastor cannot marry a Muslim or a Hindu and expect her to be changed and help him in the ministry. You also cannot marry a Christian woman and then allow her to act like a Jezebel in church. In such instances, a pastor becomes powerless and speechless and the wife runs the show. In fact, like in the case of Ahab, a pastor may use his wife to accomplish deep, evil desires. I know a pastor who was so interested in the church money that he would ask the deacon to hand him the basket right after the time of offering. He never allowed the deacons to count the money, instead making his wife the church secretary. The wife would stand and lecture everybody about the good work of her husband and accuse the members of being ungrateful. She made the church believe that they owed her and her husband more than the money they were collecting at each service. Collecting money became the centerpiece of the ministry and the spiritual welfare of the members was ignored. The greedy and nasty ambitions of the husband were fulfilled by the acts of his wife. What are you for your husband's ministry? Does your husband use you to fulfill his schemes? Does the counsel you offer match with the will of God and the call of God for your husband's ministry?
As a pastor's wife, you need to put your foot down and said no when needed. Bring your husband back on track when he is drifting away. Jezebel should have rebuked King Ahab and reminded him the law of God. But, you also must remember that every issue has two sides—the positive side and the negative side. You must stand with the side that is right, not on the one that you want or that is easier. When things are tough, are you going to take the easy way or are you going to help your husband do the right thing?
My mom never let Dad get away with anything. I will share an example by admitting that my dad could get lazy sometimes. In my village there was no phone to set up an appointment with the pastor. People would just show up at our house unannounced for prayer, counseling, to bring food (I like that one), or just to say hello. When dad did not want to receive a visitor, he would ask us to lie and say that he was not at home. However, Mom would just open the door, ask the visitors to sit in the living room, and tell them that the pastor would be with them shortly. This act by my mother forced my dad to do his job, which was shepherding the sheep. Whatever schemes my dad may have had, my mom never let him get away with it. Don't just say it's nothing.
While Jezebel used her power as a woman in a negative way, we still can learn the determination and dedication from her. If we can be that dedicated to our husband's ministry I think the ministry will see brighter days. Stand up for your husband. Don't let the elders or his so-called friends put him down in any way. Let the whole world know how supportive you are of your husband. The first person he is the pastor for is his wife. You better be proud of him.
Abigail
We learn about Abigail in the books of Samuel. She is a special woman with integrity and character, but she was married to a selfish man named Nabal. In Nabal's world, he is the only one who matters. He got everything he wanted—a beautiful wife, an immense amount of land and cattle, servants, and endless riches. He did not realize that God was the one who gave him all he had. The Bible said that Nabal was mean in his dealings; he cheated people in order to get rich. People who make their wealth by mistreating others think they work hard for their money, but they don't. Instead, they use others to fulfill their dream. This unfortunate reality is even in the body of Christ today.
My dad was once sick for seven months and hired an assistant to fill in for him. We all liked him, because he seemed to be a nice guy. But slowly and surely this replacement was trying to steal the devotion of my dad's members. He bribed them with high positions in the church. He stopped getting instructions from dad because he wanted to lead the church on his own. He became selfish and mean. I was so mad because my dad had spent more than ten years building that church and nobody had the right to take it away from him.
This assistant went so far as to hope that my dad never recovered; he wanted to take over so badly. He used the deacon who got my dad sick in the first place to accomplish his wicked ambitions. He even changed his messages so that his focus became making fun of my dad. His wife was even worse. She was the most twisted person I ever met. She would smile at you to get information she later would use to put you down and encouraged her husband's negative behavior. This woman was so different from the Biblical character of Abigail.
Abigail lived her whole life married to a man with whom she had nothing in common. Nabal was selfish and grumpy but Abigail was loving and caring. When David was running away from Saul, he was going from place to place and living on charities. David also was responsible for the 200 men who had followed him. David's servants went to Nabal and asked him for help, but Nabal could not see the presence of God in those who surrounded David. In I Samuel 25:10, Nabal said, “Who is this son of Jesse? Many servants are breaking away from their masters these days. Why should I take my bread and water, and the meat I have slaughtered for my shearers and give it to men coming from who knows where?”
Nabal knew deep down that David's servant may have been telling the truth about their allegiance, but he just wanted to get his way as usual. This was the downfall of Nabal—he chose not to recognize the hand of God over David. Nabal was too blind and caught up in himself to see it. Sometimes even a man of God will reject one who is sent on His behalf.
Eventually, a servant in the home told Nabal's wife about the encounter with David's men. What could she do to fix the problem? She could ignore the situation and silently agree with her husband's decision; that is what many pastors' wives do today. When these women hear any accusations involving their husbands, they are more concerned about their reputations than understanding the issue. What will people say about them? What will people think about them? These wives do not care about the soul and mind set of their husbands. Before you start thinking about your reputation with society, think about your internal reputation. We constantly forget about what is happening inside of us. We are dying inside and creating the appearance that everything is fine. Nothing is wrong with wanting to protect our reputation in front of men, but how about God? We are exposed to God all the time, yet we think we can hide ourselves from Him.
God knows everything about us, good or bad. He knows it all. But, He does not touch certain areas of our life if we do not allow Him. When we get in trouble or sin, we need to go the Father and expose ourselves—confess, regret, and repent. If you do not confess, God will not forgive. If we are busy trying to convince other people that we are holy, one day God will get tired of our fake personas and let the whole world know our true colors. That is, unless you have a wife, a mother, a grandmother, a father, a grandfather, or husband praying and interceding for you. In this case, God will reveal the sin to your intercessors, who then will try and talk some sense out of you.
Let's return to Abigail and Nabal for a moment. In her shoes, most of us would have gone directly to Nabal to argue with him or beg Nabal to send at least the half of what he owned to David. However, doing so is really a waste of time and energy. A pastor's wife must be wise, clever, and sensitive to the voice of the Lord. You are like a pillar for your husband. If you are fragile, the whole building will collapse one day. You need to take care of everybody. Abigail raised herself to that position. She was not allowed to make any decision without the permission of Nabal, with death being the possible consequence. Even knowing this, Abigail took two hundred loaves of bread, wine, figs, and sheep to David and asked him not to destroy her household over her husband's selfish nature. I admire her courage and determination. Every woman wants to protect her home and family, but do we do it? Do not let anything stop you in your effort to protect the interests of your family. If you do, everything will crumble around you.
When Abigail finally met David, she got off her donkey and bowed down before him. David had never met this woman before, but he was touched by her attitude. The servants had come before Abigail, though, so David knew that someone was trying to calm him down and make peace. Abigail listened to everything David had to say, and then she asked David to blame her instead. This is a virtue directly from Jesus—taking the blame for somebody else. How many pastors' wives can do that for their husbands today? When you dwell in denial or try to cover up the sin, you are not helping your husband. No, you're killing him instead.
Abigail presented her husband badly, but it was a way to calm David down. Let me put it this way, “I know my husband is a fool, but I'm here now to make it better for you.” She pleaded and pleaded for the sake of her family. She praised David and pretended that her husband was not worth the battle. Abigail recognized the anointing of God over David and respected this calling. As a pastor's wife, you need to stay clever and aware of what is going around you and your husband's ministry. Be a sounding board and a keen observer.
Let me ask you this question. How well do you know your husband? Abigail knew her husband inside and out. She knew that he was capable of insulting David. Some pastors' wives do not know their husbands at all and have to spend too much time trying to figure out problems. By the time you are able to face a difficulty, it is already too late. But, Abigail was aware of the circumstances affecting her family and how best to approach the problem. Once she had placated David, Abigail did not tell her husband what happened right away. She knew when to be quiet and when to talk, just as any good wife should. As a good wife we need to know that as well.
Abigail waited for her husband to be sober before telling him about her meeting with David, and Nabal had a heart attack. He was in a coma for ten days. Then, the Bible said that God struck Nabal dead. Pourquoi? Nabal did not acknowledge the anointing of God. Nabal not only ignored who David was, but he trashed David in front of his servants. When I left home to go to the United States, my dad gave me one piece of advice. He said, “Never get into a fight with a person who has been anointed by God. If you do, you'll be surely punished.” I carry those words with me to this day.
Sometimes, unfortunately, a pastor will not treat his wife properly. I can share the story of one couple that was pastoring a big church. People of every age, language, and tribe came to the church; it was a big international house. The pastor was a very good preacher. His preaching touched lives and changed people on the spot. He was well-known throughout the region for his ministry. Every time he preached, he always presented his wife and asked her to stand in front of the congregation. He praised her in front of everybody else. Despite this show, the members noticed that the wife was not happy. She always had a gloomy attitude. They seemed like a great couple but something was wrong.
One day, the pastor's wife came to church Sunday morning in her pajamas. She was holding a blanket and pillow. People who saw her at the door were shocked. Some people thought she was losing it. Before the church service even started, she went on the pulpit and grabbed the microphone. She said, “I came today wearing my PJ's, and holding my blanket and pillow to make a point. At the church my husband treats me like a princess. He praises me and says all these nice things about me. In the eye of the church, my husband adores me. But at home he treats me like trash. He beats me up. He does not show any love or compassion. He wanted the church to think that we are the best couple ever. Not only have I supported his abusive ways, but I have to put up with his fake display of love. I can't take it anymore. So I brought my pillow and blanket and I will stay at the church forever. I like the way he treats me here.” The pastor was crushed and could no longer lead his congregation. This is a true story and an important one to hear if you are considering marriage to a man who plans to spend his life in ministry.
So, are you ready for the challenges and the rewards that come with being the wife of a pastor? Are you prepared for roles you will be expected to play? Will you be a Jezebel, and Abigail, or someone completely different?
My Own Experiences as the Child of a Pastor
We are children of God like everybody else. We have our ups and downs, so the Spirit of the Lord reminds us in Proverbs 2:7, “My son, if you accept my words and store my commands within you, turning your ear to wisdom and supplying your heart understanding. Then you will understand what is right and just and fair, every good path. For wisdom will enter your heart, and knowledge will be pleasant to your soul.”
Despite these clear instructions to study the word of God and the fact that we are just like everyone else, pastors' kids somehow have a hard time reading the Bible!! Why? We have heard it so often that we think that we know it. Can you imagine how many sermons I have heard in my lifetime? I am thirty-five years old and I went to church five times a week—Sunday morning and evening, Wednesday and Friday nights, and youth meetings. That adds up to 7980 times and that does not even count conferences, conventions, choir practice, church band practices, and gatherings for fasting. This does not mean that I know the Word well. I have heard it, yes, but if I don't make it personal, it will not do me any good.
For pastors' kids, it is like we work at our father's soap factory. Soap is everywhere, but if we do not take the soap and wash ourselves, we will be walking around dirty. Even though the soap is available, our condition never changes. We are so used to the ritual, the prayer, and the fasting that we become numb to the situation instead of being on fire for God. It's time for us to apply the Word we been hearing our whole life. Apply it your daily life. Apply it to your problems. Hold on to it on the rainy days, for days of trial and deception.
One common problem in our relationship with the Lord is that we don't see God as loving father. Where was he when we were in poverty? Why do people kill so often in His name? I even witnessed little babies dying while Dad was praying for them. As a little girl I often asked myself, “What is the point? The miracle-working God cannot even save a little baby from death?” I learn later that is was more complicated, but tell me—what does the faith of a little baby have to do with applying justice to the world? In reality, maybe the parents were faithless or my dad was operating in doubt, or it simply was God's will to take the baby away. It's still a little confusing. But, God is God whether we are confused about His ways, decisions, and judgment or understand every move that He makes.
My parent did not teach me that He is a God of principle. They gave me the wrong impression of him. They just told me over and over to be good and everything would be fine. However, it takes more to please God than just being good. This is serious. I manage not to steal, fornicate, kill, insult, dishonor the Sabbath, call God's name in vain, and so on. At that time, though, I lie, gossip, make fun of people, and take part in other “little” sins. Self-righteousness is so dangerous. Even though I was committing all those little sins, I thought I was a saint. But when I get on my knees and ask God for something, it might come or it might not. I am guaranteed nothing.
I have been taught that if the prayer is not answered, it is for one of the following reasons; it's not the right time, I am living in sin, I am asking for the wrong reasons, I don't need it, I have doubt, or my prayers are not precise. These faults are not just restricted to the children of pastors. Do any of them sound familiar to you?
Another one of our problems is that we don't have faith in our parents. We have lived with them and witnessed their strengths and weaknesses. They became just like any other mom and dad and we don't consider them our spiritual leaders. We don't feel covered by our parents; we miss the blessing that flows from them. We miss the anointing that is flowing from them. This is the reason why we are the most cursed people on the planet. We are well-positioned to be blessed. We are the closest people to the anointed men and women of God. Yet, we miss the whole thing. No wonder the world calls pastors' kids the most unstable people in the world.
As children, my siblings and I were trained in the way of God. My parents did not give us a choice in the matter, but I am thankful for that. My favorite verse is still one that my dad made me memorize at the age of five, “Know that the Lord is good. It is He who made us, and we are His; we are His people, the sheep of his pasture.” This verse continues to be a link for me to get close to my creator and my father is largely responsible for making sure that this most important relationship was developed early.
My dad's first church was in a village called Attitogon. The congregation had very few members and he only was paid around $15 a month. Even for 1979, this salary certainly was far from extravagant. By this time, my baby brother was born and my cousin and aunt also were living with us—so that was $15 a month for a family of nine or ten. Despite the financial hardships, I never saw my father complain or whine about the situation. He was drawn by his call and the growth of the church—he did not take his eyes off the focus he was given.
To cover the cost of raising such a big family, we started our own farm. In my country, which operated under the French school system, we would go to school two times a day. We would be in the classroom from 8:00 am to 12:00 pm, go home for several hours, and then return for more schooling from 3:00 pm to 5:00 pm. The three hours of break we received was used to go to the farm and help our parents. And, on Saturdays we spent our entire day working with the crops. As pastor's kids, there was simply the assumption that your schedule would be designed to help support the family.
A pastor first act of ministry must occur within his family. But sometimes, the requirement of the call and job is overwhelming. My dad spent more time dealing with his members than the needs of his wife and children. Mom was our soul keeper; she made sure that our needs were met while Dad was all over the place. In our village, most of people did not have money for medication so we relied on God for everything through prayer. My dad was the one to take women to the hospital when they were in labor because the husband did not care. If somebody passed away in the church, he was the one to organize most parts of the funeral. In addition to his home church, my dad had over ten other churches under his care in the village around us. So, he had night services to attend almost every night and some Sundays as well. We only would see him on the mornings that nobody came to see him. Dad did not have time to play with us or go to our games or any other school activity.
Here is the part that I hated the most—the Holy days. Dad used to fast on Christmas Day and New Year's Eve. He went to the prayer village and spent the whole day over there. Fasting on these two holidays was a big deal because Christmas in Togo revolves about food. We exchange gifts, but most of the time the gifts were meat, yam, rice, goat meat, chicken, and so on. While everyone around us celebrated with wonderful meals, we always ate Christmas lunch without my dad. A part of our family was missing. Dad chose these two important days to fast, because he said they were special moments to get close to God and that devotion was appreciated by the Lord. My dad really was in deep love with the ministry.
My parents wanted us to behave well at all times, which means we missed a big part of our childhood. There were some games we were not supposed to play because we were the kids of a pastor. My brothers were told they could not be on the soccer team for some reason that we still do not understand. On the other hand, Dad was obsessed with our involvement in school. He wanted me to get a PhD . . . the specific field of study did not matter to him. After earning my high school diploma, I wanted to go to a Bible college. The Assemblies of God church had a theology school in my country that served all of western Africa. I received the call of God and I wanted to get an education to understand the Bible and my Lord more deeply. But, my dad refused. He wanted me to go to a “regular” college. The other pastors, who were more educated than my dad, had children were going to secular universities to become bankers, doctors, lawyers, and other such professionals. Dad wanted me to do what he did not get the chance to do growing up. I had three older brothers but none of them received their high school diploma, which became a huge point of distress for my dad. Some of his colleagues said things such as “like father, like son.” Now, I was the only hope for dad.
I pleaded with him to let me go to the Bible college, but it did not work. Since he was the one who was going to take of the expenses, I had to submit to his plan. This need to follow my dad's wishes was exaggerated by the fact that in my culture we live with our parents until we are married, particularly if you are a girl. So, I was in the house and had to go by the rules of the house. I started the secular college and studied accounting for three years. Dad was so proud of me and very happy. Any expense that I needed was met. I was succeeding in my courses but I was not happy. There was something missing. My heart was empty. The only thing that made me smile was music and my band. Dad was so proud of me because I was living his dream, but what about mine?
The son of an American missionary expressed a desire to go out with me. Dad quickly stopped that romance because he knew the boy would drag me to the Bible college, where the boy's father was the school director. Dad took away my chance to be prepared for the call and to be married to someone who maybe would have loved me and cherished me. I was very angry at him, but remained silent. Not only was my childhood ruined, but my teenage years were ruined as well. I felt like I was living the life of somebody else. Even now, Dad does not know that he hurt me at such a deeper level. I forgive my dad, but I'm writing this so that other servants of God will be careful about the decisions they make in the lives of their own children.
With my dad absent so much, sometimes it took a person outside of the family to teach me an important lesson, which a boy from school once did. He was a sick kid and his head was a little bigger than his body. I used to make fun of him. I knew my treatment of him was very wrong and I don't know why I continued, but I did. One Thursday after school, I was on my way home alone without my brothers. That particular boy who I teased found me on the soccer field and proceeded to beat me up. In my village, when two kids are fighting the rest of the students will make a circle and enjoy the entertainment. So, no one stopped the boy as he hit me until I was laying on the ground and unable to get up. When I went home, mom was so furious; not because I was beaten, but because of my earlier behavior toward the boy that prompted the attack in the first place. She told me never to push anybody down or hurt their feelings. She had a serious talk with me about the words that come from my mouth. She asked me to walk in the boy's shoes. While I was at home and in bed for a week recovering from the beating, the Lord touched my heart and changed me. The word of God says that God will take away the heart of stone and give us the heart of flesh. That is exactly what the spirit of God did in me. My attitude totally changed. From that experience I became more caring and loving. I was not the bully at school anymore. I became more sensitive to people's feeling. God used that painful incident to change me and turn my life around.
For a child to go back and pick up the broken pieces of a difficult childhood takes a lot of time and courage. After I left my dad's home, I finally went to Bible college to study radio broadcasting and receive other training in an effort to bring all the pieces together for my ministry. I wasted so many years trying to please my dad. He wanted me to be what he did not get a chance to be. I'm not trying to blame him because he did not hurt me on purpose. Maybe he did not even know that he hurt me that way; he just was trying to do what he thought was best for me. He never asked me what I wanted to be. He never took the time to ask me about my desired profession. I know that many other fathers do the same thing. They want their children to take up their broken dreams, fix them, and make them their own. This pressure makes the child so uncomfortable and unhappy. Pastors should pray for their kids and pass on the anointing on their children, but not force the anointing on them. Working for God is the noblest work in the world, but it has to be voluntary. Pastors should never make their child be a servant of God in the image they want. In such an instance, the child always will work to please her dad but not God.
On the subject of wanting to please our dad, there were strict guidelines we were expected to follow as the children of a pastor. I would like to share the primary rules of our home and some details regarding each one, which I believe will offer some additional insight into how our daily lives operated.
You don't leave the church for anything during service
Mom may smile when she sees you leave, simply in order to keep the peace while at church. But, you can expect a severe spanking when you get home!
Never open your eyes during prayers.
One woman brought a bucket of cooked corn with her to church. When she received the Holy Spirit, she jumped up screaming and spilled her corn everywhere. I could not help but open my eyes and laugh, and then share a few smart words with my brother. I did not realize that Mom had witnessed my behavior until she walked up behind me and gave me two slaps which felt like lightning had struck my eyes. And, there was more punishment waiting for us when we got home.
Never come to church late.
Mom never spanked us for being late, but she did take away privileges. One day my brothers and I decide to gather corn in order to get some money for clothes. By the time we finished, we realized that we were not going to make it to church. Mom came home to check on us and when she found us, she did not ask us anything. If Mom is angry and she talks, this is a good thing because she lets out her anger on us with words. But when Mom becomes silent, that means she is going to get Dad involved. Mom called a family meeting after talking with my dad, and they decided to take the corn away from us. We were so sad and heartbroken. We did not see that coming. We had made so many plans for the money we were going to get out of it, but those plans would never happen. All for the sake of missing church!
Even when we weren't gathering corn, getting to church on time was difficult because Sunday morning was the busiest time in our home. There was only one bathroom for fifteen people! Some of us had to take showers on Sunday night after choir instead. I hated that because I was afraid of the dark. We have to fetch the water from the well that is two miles away every Saturday. So, during the dry season, Mom usually used one bucket of water to bathe five or six kids. She started with the baby and moved up in age order. By the time she was done, the water in the basin was so dirty!
My big brothers were Sunday school teachers. They have to be there at the assembly before classes, which meant being ready even earlier! I remember helping them set up on Saturday afternoons for their children's classes. I never liked being in class with my big brothers, because I did not want them to ask me tough questions at the end of the class to make me look stupid in front of everyone. They sometimes did this just to get back at me for something that I did at home. They thought I was a pain in their necks. They loved me, but yet they could not stand me. I am sure some other siblings out there can relate!
Don't hang out with friends for too long after church
Mom did not want to give any members a reason to notice any improper behavior from us. I never had a problem with that rule, because I was too sleepy to stick around anyway. As soon as the church service was over, I just looked for somebody to take me home!
My cousin and brothers, on the other hand, liked talking to girls after church. Mom would not watch after them but just made up the rule that everybody better be home by time she arrived. Otherwise, you could expect big trouble! We had a curfew—everyone had to be at home by 6:00pm every night unless Mom and Dad sent you somewhere. There were only four places that we should ever be—school, farm, home, and church. We didn't go anywhere else. No one was about to go visit a friend. We were far away from our relatives, so mom said that we needed to stay near home and stick together as a family. We needed to love, care and help each other.
No boyfriends or girlfriends
There was a boy in school who I liked very much starting in the third grade. He was the popular boy at school, while I was unseen by most. The only way I had ever been known was by my nickname, “Jesusbell.” My school dress was torn and required several repairs. I had no shoes and no backpack. He looked at the popular girls, not me. Any time that I tried to approach him, I felt invisible. I didn't worry about trying to talk to him, though, because we were at school and Mom was nowhere to be found. But, one of my brothers liked to play the guardian angel around me. He was definitely overprotective. One day, the school was preparing a theater production and the boy I liked was playing a married man. I tried to audition for the wife, but I was not good enough. Instead, a popular girl took the role. One afternoon after the play, I told the boy that I thought he did a nice job. He turned around and said, “You like me, don't you?” I blushed and denied it. He smiled and left. I stood there for a while, and I pinched myself to make sure that I was not dreaming. I lied because I was shocked—that was the first time he noticed me! I captured that smile in my mind. I still smile every time I think about it.
My brother also had a girl who he really liked. The girl was a nice girl if you asked me, because she was from a rich family. She brought a lot of money to school, and she usually shared her lunch with me. Because of her, I didn't have to worry about being without lunch. As far as I knew, my brother and this girl were not fooling around or sleeping together. They just liked each other. But, this was still a no-no for mom.
At the beginning of my middle school years, there were two boys who wrote sexual content in my text book. I took it to the principal's office, thinking that the principal would just talk to the boys and ask them not to write such things again. But to my big surprise, the principal told the two boys to crawl on their elbows from his office to our classroom—in the dirt! It was 200 feet away on a hot day! I was devastated because I knew the whole school would hate me for making these two boys suffer. I hated myself, too. I wasn't proud of myself and it became even harder to make friends.
I had a big problem with the “no boyfriend” rule when I was a teenager! During my second year of middle school, I met the cutest guy. He did not talk too much but I just liked to be in his presence. One day he wrote a little letter and gave it to me during the recess. I could not wait for the end of the school day to read it so I put the letter under my desk during math class to discover what my new boyfriend wrote to me. The teacher noticed that I was not paying attention and he walked to my table while I was still reading the letter. He took the letter from me and gave it to my brother. Everyone in the school knew my brother was the guardian angel in my life. Sometimes they would even ask him if he was going to marry his own sister. So, I knew I was going to be in trouble.
By the end of the school day, the student president and my brother showed up in my classroom. I was so mad and scared at the same time. I did not know what they were going to do. They asked the whole class to be quiet. The student president, who was also a church member and my brother's best friend, read the letter that the boy wrote to me in front of the whole class. People were on the floor mocking me and I was in tears!
I knew the entire school soon would be aware of the drama. I went home that day completely shut down. I could not sleep all night. I hated my brother at that time, even though he had warned me never to have a boyfriend. And, as expected, Mom and Dad were so mad at me. They tied both my hands and my feet and left me under the table. My other brothers wanted to help me but they could not. I know now that my parents were trying to discipline me the way they knew best. After a while, they untied me and asked me to get dressed and go to school. I did not want to go because I knew I would be the subject of mockery. Just as I expected, it was horrible.
As soon as I walked into the school compound everyone was calling me “a letter from Scottland”—my new nickname, a change from “Jesusbell.” How did the other kids come up with this name? There was a text in our reading books that was titled “A Letter from Scotland.” Since the boy I liked was named Scott, the title became perfect for me. I was so embarrassed! The boy never spoke to me again. He did not even want to get near me. As a pastor's child, I had to live a pure and holy life. I was so angry and so lost . . . and so alone.
No sleeping or talking while Dad is preaching
That rule was made for me. I liked to spend my days with the boys—playing soccer, riding bikes, or climbing trees to get fruit or just for fun. Sometimes we played hide and seek in the woods. By the end of the day, I was so tired. This made for serious problems when the time for church service arrived. As soon as Dad would start to preach, I would nod off. This is a big problem because I often read the Bible for my dad during service and someone would have to wake me up to complete this task. It made my mom so uncomfortable! One time, I even fell from the bench while dad was preaching. People thought I had a heart attack. The young people of the village were shouting that the Spirit of God took over. But, Mom knew that I was only sleeping!
One night, we went to evangelize in another village because my dad liked planting churches. All the members of the home church would take the benches of the church and walked miles and miles to another village. We would gather at the church at 6:00 pm and pick up benches, drums, tambourines, and lamps. By the time we arrived it might be 7:00 pm and church would already be underway. As soon as we started singing and dancing, people in the village would come out and see what was happening. At that time, few people had televisions in their homes and there was not too much to do after the villagers would come back from their farms. So, the sound of drums or anything else entertaining was exciting! By 8:30 pm, dad started preaching. This was when I always became sleepy. Come on, we had a busy schedule! We go to school from 7:30 am to noon. After working on a farm that was three or four miles away, we would come back to school for two more hours, go home, take a shower, go to church, pick up a bench, walk for miles, and then sing and dance. What do you expect?
Always put money in the offering basket.
Mom always would remind us that God is watching. Even so, I sometimes would keep my money to pay for breakfast instead of offering it to the church. I thought I was being smart. But when I was eight years old, Jesus spoke to me and told me that I needed to give my offering and stop stealing from the Kingdom. That was an early and important lesson for me—I must remember that everything belongs to God.
I will say that my dad did one important thing for me that I will cherish forever. He constantly shared the Word of God. He required me to read a lot of Christian books in my free time. He had a big library of such books just for us. He would give each of us one book to read for a set period of time and the person who finished first would get a treat. Today I ask myself, why did we not lie about finishing our books? Dad would never know the truth. For some reason, though, I always took my reading seriously. I love challenges and I learned a lot from those books. Dad also had us memorize a lot of Scripture and we even made a game out of it. We created two teams of three or four people and then said Scriptures one after another until one team could not remember any more Scriptures. These are moments that I still cherish today.
Dad also bought many music cassettes for us so that we could learn spiritual songs and we would sing on our farm. After a long day of working under the sun, we would come home, take a good shower, and sing in the kitchen while helping mom cook dinner. Sometimes what started as fun singing turned into deep worship and we were speaking in tongues.
I was daddy's little girl! I remember when I was about eight years old Dad had me learn a wedding song and when the church was hosting a wedding, he told me sing the song. People were so pleased by the song and they gave me a lot of money. I became like a hit single. My dad had churches in four villages at that time and anytime one of the churches was hosting a wedding, I was invited to the ceremony to sing. You should see how I dressed for the event. It was hilarious when mom showed me the picture years later. Singing was the one thing that made me happy; it was effortless. Now, I was getting attention and money for something I loved.
I used most of the money to buy hens, as we all had learned how to raise hens. When the hens had chicks, we split the group of babies in half—my parents kept half and we kept the other half. The difficult part of the process was protecting the egg. Every day that we got home from school, we have to count our eggs and make sure nobody ate them. Snakes in particular liked to eat our eggs so I always was on the lookout for safe places to hide my hens.
We used the money we earned from selling eggs to buy clothes, lunch, and something called “talent.” Talento was fundraising done by the youth group at our church, the details of which I will share with you. I was little, but I followed my brothers to their youth meetings because I liked to hear them talk about their boyfriends and girlfriends. At the youth group, the leaders gave everybody one penny. After two or three weeks, we needed to have found a way to make more on the money and bring the profit back. It was just like the story in the Bible about the talent—this was a big day that we all anticipated. The person who brought the biggest amount would receive a price and that person's group would receive and keep a flag until the next talent collection. This bragging right was a huge deal.
Everyone in my family knew what they were going to be from a young age. My oldest brother and my cousin pretended to be pastors as children. They would put robes around their necks as ties, and use spoons as microphones. My second and third brothers would beat up on the cooking pots as drums. And, I was the worship leader. While there was preaching, the rest of us had to sit and listen and keep real. There was to be no laughing and getting up. And, wouldn't you know it; my first brother has now been a pastor for almost fifteen years. He can speak five different languages to one extent or another. My cousin has been a pastor for more than twenty years. My second brother is a drummer and has founded an orphanage. The third brother founded a church in Germany. Me, I'm just a worshipper for now, but I know my childhood fantasies will become reality.
My mom and dad taught us how to love God, but each one of us loves God in our own way. I first heard the voice in my heart when I was eight years old. I was coming from my teacher's farm, as all elementary school kids spent time at the farm from 3:00pm to 5:00pm on Friday afternoons. I was walking home alone, as my brothers all were ahead of me. I was weak and hungry. I started thinking about my uncle who lived in Nigeria. He came home to visit us often and often brought back nice things from Lagos. I always wanted to know how it felt to live in a place where you had food, running water, electricity and nice clothes and shoes, especially shoes. I was daydreaming when I heard a voice talking with me just as clear as if he was standing right next to me and he said, “Little girl, you know I can take you places that are even more beautiful than Lagos Nigeria. I love you.”
I told him, “No, you don't. How come I don't have what other little girls have?”
He said, “You have other good things the other girls don't have.”
I suddenly snapped out of it and wondered why I was talking to myself. And, for some reason, I felt goofy and different. When I got home, I started thinking about what I heard. I was like a fifteen-year-old girl in the body of an eight-year-old girl. I locked myself in my room for hours. My father found me crying and singing a little worship song that Grandpa always liked. The words are, “The blood of my savior that was shed that day surely washed my sins away. Come and find your last life in Jesus.” The melody of the song was sad and sour. My dad left me there in the room, weeping and sobbing and singing the song over and over again. To this day, I don't know why my dad chose to leave me alone.
While I was crying I felt that imaginary person was there with me again and that particular song became a link to my imaginary friend. I started wanting to be with him more than anybody else. The chapel was close to our house, so sometimes I just would go there and see if he would talk to me. He did not talk to me often, but I felt him in my own way every time. I even came to like prayer meeting and worship. (I still slept through the sermons, though). I knew my imaginary friend was going to take me to places of which I had never dreamed. My way of thinking became different. I loved being challenged. Everything around me was worth fighting for. I fought for good grades, my parents' attention (that was difficult because there were almost twelve kids in the house), I fought for good, and I even fought to sit on one of the stools in the house.
I had a lot of questions that I asked my imaginary friend. Who was God? Why was He so heartless? Why did He call my dad away? Where did God come from? If God did not exist, what would happen? Why was I created to suffer? What if I was only an insect for fish or other animals? Why I was not a boy just like my brothers? All those questions did not get any answers. Sometimes I could feel that my friend was laughing at some of my questions, but I was serious about them.
My hunger to know more about God continued to get bigger when in 1986-87 a revival began in churches that offered me some amazing lessons. The revival started soon after my dad was released from prison. The government had closed the temples of the Pentecostal church for reasons that I can't remember. When my dad arrived in the village, the former members of this church asked him to put the Assembly of God logo on the old Pentecostal temple. They changed their denomination just like that. My dad bought the land behind the church to build our houses and that where we stayed. After five or six years he started building a bigger temple for the church because the number of the members had increased. However, the government soon reopened the Pentecostal Church and the headquarters of that denomination took their temple back. Not only that, but they wrongly kicked us out of our homes as well. We went to school one day and on our way home we saw our belongings outside on the street.
Dad had to find a new home for his family and a new place for worship. In these critical moments, I saw the faith of my dad. He always goes to the rock. Anytime he needed a friend or advice, he fasted and prayed. These are the moments that he did not talk to anyone. He would fast from water and food for seven days. I think he learned this from his father, because Granddad was a serious faith freak!
While my dad was seeking the Lord, my mom was looking for a place for us to at least put our stuff in. Within a week she found a home in a nearby village in which only thirty people lived. It was a big mess and a challenging moment for my parents. But, I liked the way they dealt with the pressure. While one of them was seeking the answer at the feet of Jesus, the other was working on the reality of the issue.
Once we were mostly settled at the new place, we had to go through the government in order to get our new temple built. With the government at that time, the person with the most money was going to win the case. Some of our stuff was still in the old house. So, one afternoon, the church secretary went to get some of it for us. When the son of our elder who now was living in that house saw the secretary approaching, he went out for a confrontation. Our secretary was holding a knife in his hand, which he needed as a tool. The Pentecost guy thought our secretary came to cause violence and lunged to take the knife away. The wife of the elder tried to stop them and her arm got hurt in the process. When that happened, our secretary let them have the knife and he left.
That night, my dad went to another village to preach, not even aware of the incident that had happened earlier in the afternoon. The next morning, the chief of the village sent one of his guards to our house to ask my dad to go to the chief's house so they could discuss the whole issue. When the guard left, my dad followed him with a bike. On the way, my dad heard a voice behind him clearly say, “Don't go.” Dad turned around, but saw no one. Even so, he turned around and came home. Mom asked him what was wrong. He told Mom that the Lord did not allow him to go to the chief's house. Mom just told him to do what he felt the Spirit was telling him to do. Here was one of reasons that I cherish my parents. They are so sensitive to the voice of the Spirit. If one of them hears the voice, the other one support any decision that must be made as a result. Everything is up to discussion except for the voice of the Lord.
So, Dad stayed home that and they had the meeting without him. After reviewing the issue, the village chief sent everyone home because the injury to the Pentecost's wife was not serious. However, over the next days we heard that soldiers came from the city to arrest our church's secretary and his uncle. There also was a warrant for my dad to come to the city. We were all shocked. We thought the village chief had settled the issue. We did not know that the Pentecost leader wanted to make a fight out of the issue. They were so mad at my dad because he had more members than they did. They went to the city police station and told the officers that my dad sent his secretary to kill their elder. When Dad went to testify and was gone all day, our instinct was telling us that he was arrested, too, but we were not sure. The city was around 100 miles away and there was no telephone to call him.
When my mom decided to go and look for my dad, she found my dad locked up. Mom was shocked and scared at the same time because prison in my country at the time was horrible. The prisoners sleep on the floor and barely eat one meal a day. Mom sent one of the elder homes to tell us what was happening. We were all scared to death, but some of elders stayed with us at our home. We were all in prayer for my dad. We did not know what else to do. Why were two entities that belonged to God fighting?
Dad said the first few days were rough for him because there was no bed. He asked the guard for a box and the guard was kind enough to provide one, probably because he was from the same region of the country as my dad. My dad unfolded the box and used it as a bed. Other than that one guard, though, people in the jail were mistreating him. Dad was lost; he did not know what to do. I wonder why he did not act like Paul and Silas. I guess it is easier to preach a Scripture than live it. He was praying for sure, but praising—I don't know about that. Dad was arrested for the gospel, yet he did not know how to claim his right from the greedy. We all were so desperate and depressed. We did not know for a second that God was going to show Himself to be mighty in this situation.
At the court date, two members from the Assemblies church district were there along with my mom and some elders in the village. Before the court session, the chief police asked the wife to go to the clinic so they take look at the wound. They wrapped her arm from the shoulder down to the fingers and the guard took her to the clinic. When they returned, there no longer was a bandage on the lady's arm. Dad had some relief in seeing that, but with the corruption anything could happen. The Pentecost board members had money and they thought money could buy them everything. It reached a point at which it looked like the court was getting close to lock up Dad for good, even though the lady's injury was not bad. Not surprisingly, the police chief got a big bribe from the Pentecost guys. Suddenly, though, the village chief raised his hand to indicate that he wanted to say something. He said, “I think we are forgetting something. Pastor Mawussi is not involved in this issue because when I asked him to come to my palace to discuss the issue, he never showed up. The pastor knew he was not involved in the problem. And the Pentecost guy never mentioned the name of Pastor Mawussi when we discussed the whole issue. Why suddenly has the pastor become the center piece of this incident? I don't get it!”
It was like the Holy Spirit entered the room and the danger disappeared. Dad said before the village chief talked, the room was possessed. The atmosphere of the room was too heavy. But now, honesty was in charge. The Pentecost guy said that his bosses forced him and his wife to say that Pastor Mawussi was the one who sent his secretary to kill them. Everyone in the room was shocked! The Pentecost guy continued his confession by saying, “My boss said that if I can get Pastor Mawussi locked up we can get all our old members back and his new members, too. My boss promised to make me the apostle of the church.” My dad and my mom were shouting “Hallelujah!” All charges were dropped. The court asked my dad what he wanted to be done to the Pentecost guy. My mom almost suggested a good spanking, but Dad put his hand on her mouth. Instead, Dad said to let him go.
Meanwhile, we were at home praying and praying. I mean praying without season. We were waiting to hear something. It was just like when the church members were praying when Peter was locked up. Dad and Mom knocked the door; my uncle opened it and quickly closed it again. He couldn't believe that they set Dad free so soon. All of us were amazed! We jumped on them and were shouting with delight. Our house was filled that night with food everywhere. After everything, Dad sat down and told us what happened. He highlighted the fact that the Holy Spirit told Him the day he was on his way to the chief's house not to go. Being obedient to the voice of the Holy Spirit saved Dad from the devil's snares. If they locked up Dad, what would we have done?
As I mentioned earlier, this whole episode got me thinking about God on a deeper level. Why Christians behaving like this? In the name of what—religion? The spirit of religion is a mighty weapon of the enemy. He uses it to distract, disturb, and divide us. Two churches were fighting over members! Christianity is a free religion. No one forces anybody to serve God. Even God Himself has given us a free will to serve Him.
All of this madness almost removed our desire to be Christians after we left our Mom and Dad. Jesus is so loving but his followers are so hateful. Jesus is so sweet but his followers are so sour. The church is supposed to be the reflection of Jesus, but it is totally the opposite. Any organization that is based on law leads to slavery. Jesus said he will build his church on a rock which is nothing else but his word. And the word of Jesus is nothing else but love. We see love over and over again in Jesus' speeches when he was on earth. Religion is purely based on law while Jesus preached nothing but love.
This battle between the two churches was really serious. Families were now divided. Even weddings and baby-naming ceremonies were now affected. There was one wedding I will never forget. An elder in the Pentecost church had a daughter who was engaged to our church secretary. The father of the bride wanted the event in his church, even though the groom and the bride were our members. Our member didn't want to go to the Pentecost church because we all holding grudges. After all, they took our land and our new temple from us. They were not even using the new temple! They now had two temples at the same location. Here we were worshipping in a palm tree tent! During the rainy season, service became quite difficult. The bride's father told the groom that he was not going to give his daughter away in a tent. He gave the groom the choice between his daughter and the Assembly of God church. This stupid issue delayed the wedding for almost two years. The couple almost broke up! It reached a point that the bride decided to leave her father's house in order to keep her fiancé. She finally chose her man over her dad and they had the wedding in our church. Guess what? The father of bride came anyway.
I bet Jesus looks down on us sometimes and says, “I don't even know these people.” The whole purpose of the cross was the Unity of the body. Let go of our differences and get bundled up in love and fight our common enemy, which is the devil. Why is this so difficult?
On our way to church on Sundays, Wednesdays, and Fridays we cross each other and we don't even greet one another. What a shame. Jesus was so disappointed in us. The issue was still present when Dad decided to invite an evangelist to the church. He was an American who was blessed by the gift of wonders and miracles. Dad told the villagers and our surrounding neighbors to bring their sick family members and friends to the meeting. They built the largest tent I have ever seen and prepared for three of four days of being immersed in the Gospel. During that week, mom had a vision. She saw a very big pot on the stove that was made out of three stones. Dad was cooking something in the pot. When the water started boiling, the bottom of the pot broke and the whole thing fell into the fire. The fire went out because of too much water. Dad tried to fix it but everything happened so fast that he couldn't. When Mom told Dad what she saw in her vision, Dad knew right away that something was not right about the coming miracle campaign. Dad told everybody to pray about it and he canceled the work of enemy.
How amazing it is when God is trying to teach us a lesson. We turn around and blame the Devil for it! Let me tell you why. It is easier for us to blame everything on devil—rebuke him, cast him out, and move on with our life—than to stop, think, pray, and try hard to figure out who is at the source of the problem. It can be God, us, or the devil.
The will of God over the miracle campaign was totally different. The week of the campaign, people came from different villages with their sick family members and friends. Some people just came to see the spectacle with their own eyes. The first day, the place was full and packed with people. The evangelist got up and preached and after that he did an altar call for sick people to receive their miracles. He prayed and prayed but nothing happened. Meanwhile, there was a group of intercessors behind the tent praying for divine intervention.
I was a teenager at that time, but I remember I felt like there was another stronghold. There was a wall built between the evangelist and the sick people who came to the altar for physical and spiritual miracles. Every power the evangelist was sending was stopped by the war. Nothing was wrong with him, but something was wrong with the transport of the power. The power was sent, but the element that was supposed to receive it was not compatible to the power. It does not mean that God was incapable of performing the miracles, but just that we were unable to receive it.
We all were surprised by what happened. Not even one person was healed. It reached a point that people started leaving the tent. We all were so disappointed. We fasted and labored and believed in God for the miraculous manifestation of the power of the Lord. Wow, the atmosphere became heavier and heavier! People who came from twenty to thirty miles away were murmuring because they walked hours and hours just to go back home with people who were still sick. Dad encouraged people to stay for the second day. Maybe the Lord still would manifest his power, so Dad decided to have a previously unscheduled morning section. Dad wanted to teach people about faith—how to believe in God for their miracles.
Dad was so disappointed and sad. Mom had to come and encourage him by bringing up the vision that she had during the fasting and praying. Dad was so confused because he was trying to figure what went wrong. We had rebuked the devil all week! He did not get the fact that the vision was coming to pass anyway. He did not want to hear what Mom had to say about the vision. For Dad, people did not believe enough to get their miracles because most of them did not know Jesus. Dad got on his knees to figure out with the Holy Spirit what went wrong. Dad got religious. He was looking at it with his physical pastor's eye. He was depressed, not because the miracle did not happen but because he got religious about it.
He spent most of the night thinking about how to organize the different classes the next day. Dad managed to have morning section, when they taught the sick people who came about the faith. That was a perfect thing to do because one soul saved is better than ten thousand healed. But the main focus of the campaign still was supposed to be the display of the power of God through healing and salvation. The night came and we noticed that the attendance was lower than the previous day. Again, the evangelist preached and preached and nothing happened at all. People were more disappointed than ever. More people left that night without any of them experiencing the power of God.
Mom kept telling Dad that something was terribly wrong; that we need to find it and kill it. But Dad was so confused about everything. The night went on without one person being healed. We all were disappointed. We thought God had failed us. The evangelist was shocked and did not understand what was happening. I don't know if the Lord ever gave him a reason.
It was the biggest deception Dad ever had in his ministry. God turned his back on Dad in a strange way. But dad was too upset to humble himself under the cross and find out what was happening. Here comes the mocking of the villagers near and far! There was an argument over whose god was best in the village. The villagers loved to adore idols. They would give everything they had to those idols. They trusted their lives and their families' lives to those false gods. They prayed to them, they worshipped them, and they even made images of them in front of their houses. Now they were mocking our church and our God. They said that He was powerless. Why did Dad even bother asking people to bring their sick to something that he knew would never happen?
Now that I'm writing about this incident, it gets me in a strange mood. I want to know why the Lord turned his back on us like that and put us in the biggest period of shame and distress. Here is what the Lord was telling us as a church, “You were not my body or my bride. You hated Pentecost church members so much; you can't even show any mercy to them. Why do I show mercy to you? Your heart was full of hatred and a lot of pain. How can I manifest my power in this dark atmosphere?” When I received this word from the Spirit it was like, “Wow! Why did the Lord not say so while we were fasting?” Then, He took me back to mom's vision. Because we were in a fight with the Pentecost church, whatever we were cooking could never be done. The condition of our heart put a hole in the pot; that is why all the water was running into the fire. Our attitude toward others was nasty, so it put out the fire of the Holy Ghost. We did not wait at the feet of Jesus and have the real explanation of the dream. We were busy casting the devil out, but this time we were our own devil. It is so amazing how we fight the wrong battle all the time, wasting our time and our energies. Sometimes we need a few moments to think alone. But soon after you think, take your thoughts to the cross. See if they match with the word of the groom.
Now I understand why the atmosphere was heavy at the campaign. As a church, we were not clean. I know that the Pentecost church did so many wrong things to us, but we need to forgive as a body of Christ and move on. Be aware that this fight cost us a lot. We lost our land, a new temple under construction, and a lot of members. Our dad even spent time in jail! On top of that, because we did not forgive the Pentecosts we suffered more than they did. Forgiveness is the mighty way out of deception, depression, and rejection. The Pentecost church members did not wake every morning, thinking about how they hurt us deeply. But we woke in the morning thinking about what they did to us. Because of them we were worshiping in coconut branches. Yes, they hurt us, yet the Lord's desire is for us to forgive and forget. This issue had led us to a shaky ground with the Lord. The Lord turned his back on us on the miracle campaign because our heart was not in alignment with the love of Christ.
We have to learn how to forgive anyone who does us wrong. They go on with their lives not knowing that you are hurting. You know, this revelation takes me to the days of Elijah. Elijah told Baal the prophet to challenge God Almighty. What if that day there was no fire from heaven? Elijah would be proven no better than Baal's prophets. Elijah would be so disappointed! In anything we do, we need to make sure that the condition of our heart is right. When we have an issue with somebody we need to let it go so we can receive the blessing from the Lord.
I have had to forgive a lot about my childhood as the daughter of a pastor. But, as you will read in the next section, this process has not been an easy one.
