Isioma*, 28, had always described herself as a lukewarm Christian at best, but she considers her husband a soldier for Christ. After he was made the pastor in charge of a youth church, she found her faith, her love, and her patience being tested.
This is Isioma’s story, as told to Itohan
The first time my husband, John*, and I met, he tried to preach to me on the campus road. Normally, I don’t give these evangelists the time of day, but he had a beautiful smile and kind eyes, so I took the tract and let him tell me about Jesus being my Lord and personal saviour.
The second time we met, I had followed my cousin to one of those campus youth fellowships. It turned out that was the church he had been preaching to me about that day. After the service, I waited behind, as all newcomers do, and that was how we got each other’s numbers.
He’d text me every week to find out how I was doing with classes and other things. It was my first year living on campus after staying with family for two years, and he was very helpful. He showed me where to buy cheap food and where to get quality furniture. He was the friend I didn’t know I needed.
A couple of months after we started talking, he told me he had prayed, and God had told him I was his wife. He felt there was no need to waste any time, and we should get married. At first, I thought he was insane because I was just 22 and he was talking about marriage. But he was so serious.
This was a man who had never even kissed me before because we had to avoid temptation. In fact, we were not even dating, and he still referred to me as his friend, yet he was asking us to get married?
I told my mum that day, and she asked to talk to him. After their phone conversation, she told me she approved of the wedding. I felt like the only one out of the loop. So, I went back to talk to John.
We met up at a restaurant and he explained that he had feelings for me that he’d never felt for anyone else. He said he had spoken to God about it, and God revealed to him that I was destined for him. He mentioned things about me being his universe and crown. I won’t lie, I don’t remember much of the speech now, but it was long and serious. He asked me to go and pray about it as well, and I agreed to.
Looking back, it was funny that I did, because I wasn’t a prayerful person. On some days, one might even argue I was borderline agnostic. But that night, I went on my knees and prayed. When I went to bed, all I saw was John’s face in my sleep. Some might take it as a sign. I took it to mean I’d been thinking about him so much that he popped up in my dreams.
The next week, we met up as usual and discussed our relationship. He said he wouldn’t have sex with me until we got married, and he didn’t plan to marry me until I was done with university. The information made my head spin, but I was resolved to go through with it. I knew enough about my emotions to know he loved me and would take care of me. So, I said yes. A couple of months after graduation, John and I got married in church. I was 24, and he was 27.
READ ALSO: Feminism, Religion and Spirituality: What Has to Give?
One thing I learnt from the first two years of our marriage is that John and I understand each other. We’ve never had to argue or fight over who does what. Our simple motto was that whoever is available and capable should take charge.
The second thing I learnt is just how much my husband loves God. I had an idea when we were in university, but living with him was a whole new ball game. He’d thank God for the sex we had during morning prayers and thank God for the sleep we’re about to have during night prayers.
Sometimes, he’d call me while I was at work and say a quick prayer because he felt I needed something to calm me down. He wasn’t wrong, and it was a bit scary how he knew almost everything that happened in my life, but he said his love for me is so strong, he could detect any change in my feelings and emotions. I think it makes me a lucky girl.
READ ALSO: I Dated a Man of God. It Was the Closest Thing to Hell
His love for God made me want to find something I was just as passionate about. While I was searching, they made my husband the pastor in charge of the youth church we attended.
I had never in a million years imagined I’d be in this kind of situation. When it comes to Christianity, I am on the fence. I don’t go to church every week, I don’t pay tithe every month, I don’t belong to any department, and I hardly pray. If I have to pray, I’d rather be the one saying “Amen.” I was the worst candidate for a pastor’s wife, and I didn’t know how it was going to play out. I was scared.
There were so many adjustments as a pastor’s wife. The first was that I now spent much more time in church. We’d get there before almost everyone else and be among the last to leave. My first Sunday as the pastor’s wife, I remember packing my things after we shared the grace, ready to go home. That’s when so many women started walking up to me. They were talking about preparing a celebration for the women in the church and things like that. I don’t remember signing up for anything, but they were so sure I was the leader.
Later, my husband explained that it was usually the pastor’s wife who handled such things. “Such things,” I learnt, included marriage counselling for young couples, which I thought was crazy, considering I’d just gotten married. They told my husband and me that we were supposed to lead people down the path of righteousness. I found it funny because I wasn’t done guiding myself day-to-day, let alone other people.
Another duty I never really understood was the random fasting. They were almost always fasting in church, and I love food. I remember cooking lunch one day, and when my husband got home, he reminded me we were fasting. When he wasn’t looking, I dished my food and ate in the car. That night, while we prayed, my husband said, “And may God forgive those who pretend to fast while they eat jollof rice in the car.” How he caught me, I still don’t know. But I stopped trying to hide it.
He’s never forced me to do anything related to church that I didn’t want to do. I still don’t attend every Sunday, but I sometimes pop into midweek service when I have time. My tithe payment depends heavily on whether there’s a new wig catching my eye or not. My husband does all the counselling. He’s the Pastor, not me, and I try to make that distinction very clear to anyone who meets us.
When I wanted to stop wearing my short clothes, he protested. He told me that being a pastor’s wife didn’t mean I had to change who I was at the core. He loved me as I was, and that’s why he married me. It made me cry, knowing I had someone who didn’t ask me for too much.
Still I find myself doing some of the things pastor’s wives usually do. I organised Christmas gifts for the workers last year, and I sometimes visit pregnant members in the hospital. The thing is, my husband loves God with all his heart. Loving God might be his whole thing, but loving me is a choice he made, and he promised to never default on it.
I know for a fact that if I told him it bothered me that he’s a pastor, he’d drop it for me. But I wouldn’t do that to him. It won’t hurt me to do a few things here and there to make him happy. It’s not like I’m not a Christian, I’m just lazy and uninterested in the entire ministry process. But it is my husband’s life, and I’ll do anything within reason to bring a smile to his face. If wearing a hat and a skirt suit from Turkey is what will please him, then so be it. His ministry is for the love of God, but mine is for the love of him.
*Names have been changed for the sake of anonymity
