Pastor, My Foot
I loved God with all my heart. I always had. My faith was my everything, the very foundation of my soul. I preached His word with passion, believing that His light would guide me through life's struggles. But what do you do when the very person you trusted the most, someone you thought was a fellow servant of God, betrays you in the most horrific way?
David, the church member I had gone on that preaching mission with, sold me. Sold me to a sex trafficker, all to settle a debt. I thought I knew him. I thought I trusted him. He was supposed to be a brother in Christ, yet I found myself shipped away from Nigeria to Ghana, a stranger in a foreign land, torn apart by people who had no mercy for me.
For fourteen years, I was a commodity. My body was used, my spirit crushed, my hope shattered. Every day felt like an eternity, a silent scream echoing in the pit of my soul. I felt worthless. I felt stained, as though everything I had believed in had betrayed me. The woman I was before, full of love for God, was no longer there. I had become a shadow, a shell of the person I once was.
But then, as cruel as it may seem, I found a way out. A sickness—HIV—took my body and nearly destroyed me, but it also freed me. It allowed me to escape the nightmare that had been my life for so long. I came back home, broken and afraid, unsure of how to go on.
And then I saw him.
David.
The man who sold me. The one who caused me so much pain. The one who had watched me break and never even cared.
Now he stood there, in front of a church. A pastor. The man who had destroyed my life was now hailed as a man of God. He had "found Christ," they said. He had changed. I could see it in his eyes how he was adored, respected, worshipped by others. He was praised for his redemption, for his newfound faith.
I wanted to scream. How could he be forgiven when I had been left to rot? How could he stand there, preaching, when he was the one who betrayed me? I felt like God had turned His back on me. I had prayed. I had trusted. I had begged Him for help, for mercy, and yet, He let this happen to me. He let David destroy my life and then gave him a new one ,one of power, respect, and forgiveness.
And where was I? I was left broken, lost in the mess of my own shattered faith. I wanted to feel His love again, I truly did. I wanted to believe that He hadn't abandoned me, but I couldn't. Not anymore. How could I? How could I ever trust a God who allowed this betrayal to happen and then rewarded the one who caused it?
I loved the church once. I loved the feeling of belonging, of being part of something bigger than myself. But now? Now, I felt nothing but anger and betrayal. Every time I saw David preaching, I saw my suffering. I saw my brokenness.
I didn't know how to reconcile the faith I once had with the bitter reality I lived in. I felt so lost, so alone. How could I go back to God, knowing that He had let me suffer for so long? How could I love a God who had allowed me to be thrown away, only to let the one who destroyed me rise to greatness?
I didn't know if I could ever forgive. I didn't know if I could ever heal. All I knew was that I was a stranger to my own faith now, and I had no idea where to go from here.