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I never thought my marriage would nearly fall apart because of the man we named our spiritual father.

It began when my spouse became unexpectedly ill and was bedridden for days. I asked the pastor of our church for prayers since I was in dire need.

He looked at me with a grave expression and said, “Your husband’s life is in danger. The enemy has placed a death mark on him.”

What he said next chilled my blood, even as I pleaded with him to pray for my husband.

He leaned closer and whispered, “For the spiritual cleansing to work, you must spend a night with me. It’s the only way to transfer the evil from him to me.”

I initially believed it to be some weird custom that I couldn’t comprehend. However, I realized this had nothing to do with God when he grabbed me inappropriately. I declined and departed right away.

I had trouble sleeping that night. How many women had he told this similar narrative to, I kept asking myself? I challenged him in front of church elders the following day. I was shocked to learn that three other women shared similar stories.

He wasn’t looking for prayer. It was religion wrapped around passion.

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