Perfect Marriage Shattered By A Hidden Church Affair

On the day of our wedding, my father told me, “Marriage is a lifelong commitment. Look at your mom and me; we’ve been married for thirty-seven years. Our bond isn’t just because I’m a pastor and she’s the pastor’s wife. We’ve lasted this long because we’ve learned to forgive. If you want to thrive in your marriage, embrace forgiveness.” He then prayed for my husband and me before we headed to our new home.

Marriage is rooted in forgiveness.

I entered marriage with the mindset that there was no turning back. It was a healthy perspective. I made mistakes, and he forgave me. I didn’t wait for him to ask for forgiveness; I forgave him even before he erred. I believed our marriage was built on a solid foundation—on Christ, who was the head of our family.

In addition to learning forgiveness, I also understood the importance of keeping my marriage private. Whether things were good or bad, it was my treasure, and I was content. As my father advised, “When you’re unsure, seek God. When you’re confused and searching for answers, He is the answer.” I never discussed my marital issues with friends, even though they often shared their struggles with me.

Perhaps my marriage seemed perfect to them. I was always in good spirits. While others recounted their marital failures, I only had positive stories to share.

He was a wonderful man, and I won’t deny it.

At home, he did everything to ensure my happiness. When it came to chores, he had one rule: “If you can do it, I can do it too.” There was no division of labor; he cooked when necessary and did laundry when needed. When our first child was born, neither of our parents moved in with us. It was just the two of us figuring things out.

Two years later, we welcomed our second child. It was easier this time since we had experience. We combined our efforts and skills to keep our household running smoothly. Life was manageable. Marriage was good. Praise the Lord.

One afternoon after church, an elderly woman approached me. I recognized her; she wasn’t a prominent figure in the church, but it was hard not to know her. She said, “Young woman, look at that woman standing with your husband. Pay close attention to them, and you’ll understand what I mean.” I smiled, but she insisted, “Don’t take this lightly.”

When we got home, I shared her words with my husband. He laughed heartily and said, “How can someone like her be spreading gossip?” He even considered confronting her, but I urged him not to, respecting her age. Life continued, and we were happy raising our two children.

Not long after, another friend warned me, “Abena, I don’t mean to interfere, but you can’t trust that lady. I know what she’s capable of. Keep them apart.” This friend had been in my life for years, but after her comment, I cut ties. I had no patience for anyone trying to meddle in my marriage.

One day, during a casual conversation, my husband called me Abi. I’m Abena. While Abi is a shortened version of my name, this was my husband we were talking about. I couldn’t be just Abi to him, and he usually called me dear, so why the sudden change? He claimed it was a mistake and apologized, but then…

The girl the old woman and my friend warned me about was named Abi—short for Abigail. I began to read between the lines, but a small voice in my head urged me, “Don’t let the devil into your marriage. It’s just a mistake. Let it go.” As usual, I prayed about it and decided to let it go. Surely, my husband wouldn’t pursue a girl from the same church, right? That seemed unlikely.

However, I started noticing changes in him. He changed the unlock pattern on his phone and refused to share it with me. Not that I asked, but when I had his phone and it locked, the husband I knew would have shown me the pattern. Not this time. He took the phone, drew some complicated lines, and handed it back to me, watching my every move to ensure I didn’t bypass it.

Then the old woman’s voice echoed in my mind: “Young woman, look at that woman standing with your husband. Pay close attention to them.”

But how could I start watching them closely? Where would I begin? I was a prayerful wife, not a snooping one.

Through it all, my children remained my top priority. As fate would have it, evidence began to unfold right before my eyes. After calling me Abi multiple times, I discovered condoms in his trousers. He explained, “Condoms come in packs of three, so obviously, I haven’t used any. They were given to us during an AIDS program at work.” He started coming home late with flimsy excuses and developed a habit of chatting on his phone even when we were in bed with the lights off.

As a pastor’s daughter, what could I do? I prayed, “God, reveal what’s happening to me.”

I made it my mission to learn the pattern he used to unlock his phone. After a week of observation, I finally figured it out. One Saturday night, after he returned from town, ate, bathed, and fell asleep, I began snooping. I went through his chat history and didn’t find any mention of Abi or Abigail. Surprisingly, the top chat was labeled “Wifee,” but I hadn’t sent him a WhatsApp message in ages, so why was my name at the top?

I tapped it open.

Oh God! Every sentence shattered my heart. It felt as if I didn’t know the man I was living with. They discussed sex—what they had done and what they planned to do. Numerous naked photos were exchanged, some captioned, “I wish you were here,” and others, “Wet and ready for you.”

I forwarded those images to my phone and took screenshots of some messages.

I spent the entire night grappling with how my seemingly perfect husband could betray me like this. I cried uncontrollably. I left the bedroom and slept on the couch, sobbing like a child. I asked God why this was happening. At dawn, he walked into the hall, turned on the light, and when he saw me on the couch, he switched off the light and left. I thought to myself, “This isn’t my husband. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t ask why. He just left as if me sleeping on the couch was normal.”

On Sunday morning, we dressed for church. I tried my best to appear fine, but if he were perceptive, he would have sensed something was off. After church, I sought out my friend and apologized for cutting her off. She said, “I’m sorry for what I said about your husband. I didn’t mean it negatively.” I smiled and reassured her it was okay. I also looked for the old woman to have a conversation.

I asked her, “I’ve been reflecting on what you said, and I want to know why you mentioned that.” She asked, “Have you caught him cheating?” I replied no. She said, “Liar! You look troubled.” She advised me to keep praying but also to take action.

After church on Sunday…

“What is Abigail to you?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Just tell me the truth. Who is Abi to you?”

“Are you listening to gossip now?”

I sent one of the images to his WhatsApp…

“She was naked. Why would she send you her naked photos?”

He was taken aback. His expression shifted from stern to guilty in an instant. He began to stutter…

“Whe…whe…where did you get this photo?”

“Do you want me to send you more? I will.”

“So you’ve been going through my phone? Why would you do that?”

“Let’s discuss Abigail…”

He broke down and started crying, begging me, and as usual, he blamed everything on the devil. He didn’t even attempt to explain. Watching him cry felt like the therapy I needed, but I wasn’t naive. I told him, “Get ready; we’re getting a divorce.” He cried and pleaded. When he realized I wasn’t swayed, he brought the kids in, saying, “These kids need a father. If nothing else, think of them and let’s try again.”

For the next several days, I could do nothing but cry. I was lost, unsure of what to do next. I could forgive him, but would I truly be happy staying married to him? No… I wouldn’t. I hadn’t done anything wrong, yet he chose to betray me on such a grand scale. Was it just Abigail, or were there others I didn’t know about?

Questions! Questions!!

I turned to my father. I said, “I’m coming to you as a daughter, not as a pastor’s child. How far should we forgive those who cheat on us?” He was taken aback by my question. After I showed him the messages and images, he said, “There’s no limit to forgiveness, but it must come from a willing heart. Can you forgive without holding it against him?”

He suggested we live apart for a while to reflect on the situation before making a permanent decision. We’ve been apart for three months now, with three more to go, but my mind is unsettled. I’m tempted to stay for the kids. That’s my only reason. For the kids, but what about my happiness? Can I truly be happy if my kids are happy, or does that mean sacrificing my own happiness for theirs?

Questions! Questions!

But one thing I know for sure: I deserve to be happy. I owe myself that much. If forgiveness doesn’t come from a willing heart, I will seek a divorce and walk away with my head held high. I have three months left to decide. I’ll pray for healing and a better future, with or without him.

—Abena  
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