Preacher’s Wife

I kept quiet. I had no chance to say anything anyway because he was preaching on the pulpit. Nobody ever says anything. So I kept quiet. He would repeat verbatim what a famous preacher said in a video we watched, as if it was his own witty saying or profound understanding. Others would quote the preacher, “I listened to a sermon by ABC and he said..” but he did not. Every saying he ascribed to himself. And I kept quiet.

He would stand up front and say he had read a certain text and I’d be thinking, “Man, I showed that to you! Why can’t you ever admit that your wife taught you something you didn’t know?”

And this began long ago. Because I found him already an elder and preacher when I was 18, the only voice our students heard was his. And so when I wrote a scathing email about an improper Sabbath that celebrated us and not God, people actually thought HE had written it. Nobody knew I could also use texts to show what God thought of practical parts of life.

And thus began a pattern that lasted well over two decades. A pattern in which the preacher’s wife remains silent, quiet, but also hoping that the preacher would draw nearer to his God as he claimed to be.

I kept quiet when he’d bring girls from his workplace to our home. I was the prescher’s wife- maybe he thought his flirtatious manners would draw them to Christ? I don’t know. I didn’t keep quiet with HIM. But he turned it around and said I was not being hospitable like a good Christian should be.

I kept quiet when he’d teach young people to be circumspect around people of the opposite sex but he was doing the opposite. I kept quiet when a young man said his story of our relationship was like a love story, perfect. I couldn’t speak. I don’t like the neglect, abuse and cruelty that comes when I tell the truth. And it had been drummed into me that the only truth you can tell is the one that makes your spouse look good. So I kept quiet.

But.. no more. I started telling anyone who would come to our home about the abuse and neglect. The cruelty and sarcastic put downs. And so, yesterday, I added a new person to she small group that I will not longer lie to by omission.

It was a double edged sword. See, the last time the husband came to Cape Town was right after the first time I’d found out my husband had been unfaithful. I was in no fit state to see anyone I would HAVE TO BE FAKE WITH. So I refused to meet him.

And here we are again, I find out in October about his floozy, and the Kenyan and his family want to see us when they come for a week’s holiday. Now what? What crazy timing! This time I vowed to my best friend that I would tell the truth. It is harmful to play happy families when you’ve been treated so cruelly that even your children are in shock. No way I’d lie to anyone even by omission. I told my friend I hoped an opportunity would come up to expose the truth.

The worst part? The husband was a faithful boyfriend to her when they were dating and he was studying with us at UCT. Everyone knew his heart belonged to Gladys back home in Kenya. Fast forward a few years and we are living in Kenya and they are now a married couple with a little boy. And still, his heart was for her. He praised her, boasted about her, was a hands on dad. How would my heart handle seeing treatment that I deserve being given to another? Especially after everything I’d forgiven? You know how the Bible says if you’ve been forgiven a lot, your gratitude is also beyond measure? If that was the case – if he’d ever asked for forgiveness- then the love would have been abundant. But it was not.

Thank God, the wife took it out of my hands as soon as they arrived. She didn’t even sit down. She wanted to cook to help me but there was nothing to cook! She was desperate to do something practical to help. I don’t know why I didn’t think of the ironing. That has been disheartening! It hurts so much just to iron one sheet. I ironed a skirt and my neck and shoulder were screaming. I didn’t realise how bad it was because I had not ironed in a few months. Anyway!

She dragged me to another part of the house and said she wanted to hear from me. She said that when her husband didn’t see me when he came over in 2016, he was devastated. He phoned her and told her my husband had met him at his hotel and didn’t bring me and don’t invite him to our home.

Oh wow you guys. I think I’ve been made to feel so unwanted that I didn’t expect him to be that sad that he’s not seen me. I thought my husband would be enough for him.

And so, I had my opening that I’d been telling my friend I was hoping for. I told her why I couldn’t meet with her husband when mine was the opposite of what he pretended to be. No way I’d have been able to be normal. I had a meeting with him and the elders when this first known affair happened in 2016 and I wept from my broken heart. What did my husband tell me? “You were acting like you don’t love me. Why didn’t you hold my hand? And why didn’t you call me Honey like you usually do?”

I have morals and standards and I married him for the morals he pretended to have. I fell in love with the words the preacher spoke. When those words proved to be empty, what was there to love? Especially not when this meeting happened after I’d caught him and he’d claimed he’d dump her but then went back to her a month later. He had killed me and expected me to play happy families. So I told her that I couldn’t do that when her husband was here that time. I told her that when I’d been told they are coming, I’d looked for them on Facebook to try get her number to tell her before they come.

But all’s well that ends well. She too had seen firsthand the devastation a spouse feels when they’ve given their all to someone who purposefully throws it away. A sister in law I had met a few times had found out too. She lost it. She left her home with all her clothes and stayed with them for three whole months. Absolutely devastated. She said she could imagine how broken I was from seeing how broken their sister in law (her husband’s brother’s wife) was.

She asked if the camera pointed right at us could pick up sound and I said yep!! She said, “Good. He needs to know I know!” And of course as I described all the different forms of abuse, she pegged quickly that he’s a narcissist.

It was liberating but sad. And that’s ok. I’d rather be liberated and sad than faking a happy life and being even more sad. They are the ones who brought me that bunch of yellow roses you see above.

In the same way I stopped going to listen to this preacher who meant none of what he preached, I will stop hiding. I’m not the one giving away money and time and affection. I have nothing to be ashamed of.

I will not keep quiet.

Feeling really sleepy so there might be way too many errors! Sorry!