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At first, it was invisible — like cracks in the foundation hidden beneath polished floors. But soon, the consequences of Samuel’s choices began to surface.
His home, once filled with laughter and peace, became a house of silence and tension. Samuel no longer shared his heart with Naana. He stayed up late into the night, pacing the floor, burdened with thoughts he could not voice. His children, once eager to sit at his feet and hear Bible stories, now avoided his gaze. They sensed the change in their father, though they could not understand it.
In the church, strange things began to happen.
The junior pastors bickered and competed for influence, mirroring the spirit that had crept in at the top. Jealousies flared; scandals erupted. Some began using questionable means to draw crowds to their own meetings, believing that success was measured by numbers alone.
The power of God, the true anointing that once rested on the ministry, faded. Samuel tried to stir the people with louder music, brighter lights, grander programs — but the deep move of the Spirit was gone.
Behind the scenes, Samuel’s dealings with the occult began to demand more. Nana Kweku, once so gentle and persuasive, now spoke with authority and threat.
“You have come too far, Pastor. There is no going back. The spirits who help you now demand your loyalty. Fail them, and all will collapse.”
Samuel was trapped.
The toll on his body became visible. His face grew thin. His eyes lost their fire. He became quick-tempered, lashing out at staff, dismissing long-time friends who questioned him.
His prayer life, once rich and intimate, became a formality — empty words, spoken more from duty than desire.
And the enemy tightened his grip.
Then came the public shame.
It started with whispers. A journalist uncovered financial irregularities in the ministry accounts. Former staff members spoke out about Samuel’s harshness, his secret meetings with strange figures. Photos leaked of him in places no man of God should be seen.
Social media exploded with rumors and accusations. Supporters turned silent. Critics became bold.
Government agencies began to investigate. Sponsors pulled out. Attendance at meetings declined.
The mighty structure Samuel had built, brick by brick, through years of labor — and compromise — began to crumble before his eyes.
One evening, as the sun set in blood-red streaks over the city, Samuel sat alone in his once-grand office. The large windows overlooked the empty parking lot where thousands used to gather.
He buried his face in his hands and wept like a child.
“God… how did I get here? Is there any way back?”
The voice of the Spirit, so long ignored, spoke softly to his heart.
“Return to Me. Repent. Though your sins are scarlet, I will make them white as snow.”
But the path of repentance would be costly. The question Samuel now faced was this: Would he choose it?