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The night was heavy with heat as Samuel stood on the balcony of his mansion, staring into the darkness beyond the city lights. His phone lay on the table beside him, its screen glowing with messages, invitations, congratulations, offers of partnership, promises of greater influence.
His mind raced. The ministry had become a towering structure, admired by many, envied by some. But deep within, Samuel felt the tremor of fear.
What if it all comes crashing down?
He remembered his early days — how the Spirit moved, how souls flocked to the altar weeping for salvation. But now… it was different. The crowds came, yes. The noise, the applause, the spectacle — but where was the power? Where was the presence of God that once filled even the smallest gathering?
He sighed and rubbed his temples. The pressure was unbearable.
It was then that his phone buzzed again. A message from Mr. Mensah:
👉 “There is someone I want you to meet. A man who can help you secure the future of your ministry. Someone who understands spiritual battles at this level. You can trust him. Tomorrow night. I’ll send the details.”
Samuel stared at the message. His heart pounded. A voice in his spirit warned him:
“This is not My way. Turn back while you can.”
But another voice — quieter, smoother — whispered:
“You have no choice. This is the only way to protect what you’ve built.”
Samuel wrestled through the night, but by morning he had made his decision.
The meeting took place at a lavish estate on the outskirts of the city. The man he was introduced to was called Nana Kweku — a dignified figure, dressed in flowing white robes, his eyes sharp and knowing.
They spoke in riddles at first, but the message became clear. Nana Kweku claimed to have access to ancient powers, powers that could guarantee Samuel’s continued success, ensure that no enemy could bring him down, and keep his name great.
Samuel hesitated.
“But I serve the living God. I do not need any other power.”
Nana Kweku smiled and say:
“Man of God, you serve God — that is good. But remember, the world is full of forces that can oppose your work. We only provide protection, to make sure your ministry continues to prosper. Many great men walk this path quietly. Why should you struggle alone?”
Samuel’s heart beats wildly. His mouth felt dry.
“I… I need to pray about this.”
But as he left that meeting, something inside him had already yielded. The seed of compromise had taken root.
Days turned into weeks. Samuel kept meeting Nana Kweku in secret. At first, it was presented as harmless rituals for protection — nothing too serious, nothing that would demand his loyalty. But soon, Samuel found himself caught in a web of dark practices he never imagined he’d touch.
His ministry seemed to flourish outwardly — the crowds grew bigger, the offerings multiplied, the media praised him louder than ever. But inside, his soul grew cold.
Prayer became a duty, not a delight. The Bible felt like a closed book. He preached, but his words no longer carried the weight of heaven.
And yet, the people didn’t notice. Miracles still appeared — or so it seemed. The crowds still cheered. But Samuel knew. Deep down, he knew.
One night, as he stood in his grand auditorium, watching thousands waving handkerchiefs and shouting his name, a single tear slid down his cheek.
“What have I become?” he whispered.
But the snare was set. The trap had sprung. And Samuel — once a humble servant of Christ — was now entangled in the cords of darkness.