Pastor Samson's Secret Sins: The Story Of A Strong Man of God With A Weakness For Women

by Liberty Gaines

  Madeleine raised her eyebrows in surprise. “My. You are a real man.”

  That made Samson even warmer inside, although, it could, of course, have been because of the drink. One thing was certain, as he looked at Madeleine Stone and studied her warm, red lips and reveled in the scent of her luscious perfume, he knew this was going to be an afternoon he would not easily forget.

  *

  When he stuck the key in the door of his house and stumbled inside he growled. He had a booming headache and desperately needed a pain killer. What time was it anyway? He looked at his watch. Ten o’clock.

  Where was Precious?

  “Precious?” he yelled, “I am home, honey.” But there was no answer.

  Of course not; it was Thursday night. She was having a prayer meeting.

  In a way, he felt relieved there was nobody home. He should have called her of course. She had expected him at six for dinner, but what could he have told her? “Hello, honey. I am calling from the penthouse of Bert and Madeleine Stone. Bert? No, he’s not around. What am I doing here? Eh…well…Talking finances…and eh, other things.”

  It was true; they had been talking finances, very much so. Madeleine’s private eye had given his report and it wasn’t looking good. Bert’s double life was worse than she feared. He was an adulterer in the true sense of the word. Despicable fellow. But Madeleine had made the right decision. She wanted to divorce Bert.

  The good thing was she wanted to squeeze Bert for every penny she could and if he, Samson, as an objective Reverend, would be willing to testify on her behalf, the church could count on a generous donation. Madeleine was talking a lot of money. In spite of his headache, he chuckled again. That was going to be easy money and he wouldn’t even have to lie about it. Not much at least. He just had to twist the truth a little bit. But it was all for the good of the Kingdom.

  Of course, the place where they had been discussing these matters would best stay hidden. After three whiskeys and two bottles of wine, Samson had somehow ended up between Madeleine’s soft, silk sheets in her king-size bed. He couldn’t remember it very well, except that it had smelled like fields full of daisies…or had it been Madeleine?

  …Where did Precious hide those aspirins? He banged into the kitchen cupboard and yanked the drawers open. No aspirin and he grunted.

  Precious would be home soon.

  He did feel a little guilty though. Not very much, but at the far edge of his conscious a little voice seemed to want to proclaim some sort of message about integrity and related emotions. Annoying feeling.

  Madeleine had told him there was no sin in love. Madeleine was a good woman. She understood the pressures a reverend faced. “God knows I need you at a time like this, Samson,” she said. She had kissed his dreadlocks again. Samson loved it when she did that. It made him feel like…well, like a man. Precious never kissed his dreadlocks.

  When she had told him their relationship was one of the blessings of being God’s chosen man for the job and that the heroes of the Old Testament had lots of wives, he had heartily laughed.

  “Remember Solomon? He had at least 1000 wives.”

  Solomon seemed like a smart fellow. But neither Madeleine nor Solomon were around to comfort him and now that he was staggering around in the kitchen, looking for aspirin, and Precious was not around to tell him where the pain-killers were, fear and guilt crept in.

  He slouched down on the floor and started to feel nauseous.

  He vaguely heard that somebody was sticking the key in the lock. The front door opened and somebody came in. Was that Precious?

  “PPrecious. I-I need an aspirin.”

  Then everything started to turn. The floor started to move and the walls caved in on him. Everything became dark and Samson dropped onto the kitchen floor.

  If he could have seen the shocked and pained expression on Precious’ gentle face, as she knelt down beside her husband and gently rubbed his sweaty forehead, he would no doubt have felt ashamed, but he did not see such beauty. He was lifted up in a different world, where beauty, faith, and simplicity did not rule, but were replaced by his carnal lusts and human selfishness. And instead of the gentle picture of a caring wife that tried to love her husband into the arms of the Savior, the pictures Samson saw were of a very different nature.

  Chapter 7

  No Goodness At All

  IF YOU DON’T have Gods goodness you have no goodness.

  From: Galgaliel

  To: Ariel, the lion of God and the protector

  Dear Ariel, I wish to pass on to you an urgent message of our beloved Master, the Rock of Heaven. Do not be alarmed at the seeming victory for the dark Kingdom and the stumblings of the one in question. Although Satan’s victories may seem great, they are destined to come to naught. As always, if we give Satan enough rope, he will hang himself. Therefore, concentrate your full protective powers on his beloved wife, the one called Precious. Her prayers and only her prayers are the keys to success. Satan knows this, so he will seek to discourage her. Therefore hover over her as the mighty warrior you are and do not allow Satan or his minions to touch her, not even for a moment.

  Respectfully yours,

  Galgaliel from the Heavenly Courts.

  *

  Samson Jackson was looking from behind the curtain at the sea of excited faces in the auditorium and couldn’t wait to make his appearance. He loved to stand in the limelight and have everybody staring at him. Especially the adoring eyes of the well-perfumed and stylishly dressed female worshipers were a joy to behold and made him feel fresh and alive. How wonderful it was to know that he was chosen to deliver the words of the Most High to the hungry masses. It was a rush that could not be equalled by anything known to man.

  His old friend, Pastor Geraldo Direheart, affectionately known as Smiley Gerry because of his continual smile, was talking into the mike and paved the way for Samson with a high-spirited introduction. The crowd seemed ready. After some passionate singing, dancing and clapping the crowd was eager to receive the true bread of heaven. “Come on, Pastor…” Samson licked his lips and tapped with his feet on the floor. “Get it over with…”

  At that instant, Pastor Direheart shouted in the microphone and said, “So without further ado, I present to you the new rising star in our beloved Christian community…The Reverend Samson Jackson.” He looked expectantly to the side of the stage with a warm expression and five thousand people started to shout, clap and scream again. Samson Jackson, dressed in a smart gray suit stepped onto the stage. His long dreadlocks were bouncing in step with his athletic moves as he waved with both of his hands.

  “Thank you all…Thank you all.” He grabbed the mike out of Geraldo Direheart’s hands and screamed, “My good friend, Pastor Direheart, told me he ate chilli dogs for supper.” He slapped the pastor on the shoulders. “So what do you think will happen to a pastor that eats chili dogs?”

  Samson just waited long enough to make the crowd think, and then shouted into the mike, “He will have to sit in his own pew.”

  The auditorium roared with laughter. Samson turned again to Geraldo, who for once did not seem to have a smile on his face and told him, “Go on Pastor. The stage is mine now. Sit in your own pew.” More laughter. Samson was off to a good start. The crowd was like wax in his hands.

  *

  It was going well for Samson Jackson. Happy Redeemer’s Church was finally making the progress Samson was after and they could now boast of a membership of 5000. Every Sunday, Samson Jackson was hosting his own television show, Glories of the Kingdom.

  But Samson was still not satisfied.

  He wanted more. Precious didn’t understand it and had asked him about it.

  “Why do you need more? You’ve got enough on your plate already,” she said.

  But Samson wrinkled his nose. Precious was wrong. She would never understand finances. All she did was praying. But he didn’t need her counsel anyway. He now discussed such important matters with Madeleine Stone in her pentho
use. She was a fine business woman who understood a man’s deepest desires and what was more, she had the money. After her successful divorce from Bert, she had all the time in the world for Samson and when he had explained his desire to expand the ministry and wanted to take over all the churches in the district she had been very supportive.

  “You can do it, Samson,” She told him one day while they were leaning against each other on the leather sofa in Madeleine’s penthouse and were enjoying a good glass of whiskey. “It’s a jungle out there, but the world needs a man like you.”

  Samson smiled. “Yeah…I am gonna be the King of the Jungle.”

  Madeleine played with his earlobe and then whispered, “I like that; you big, mighty Jungle King.”

  And so they had discussed how Samson should proceed with his plans for a takeover. Coming to the conference was a first step. When Geraldo Direheart had mentioned the conference, Samson had been overjoyed and wanted to come immediately.

  At first Geraldo had said no. “We already have enough pastors, Samson.”

  But Samson had gotten quite pushy. “It’s God’s will that I am a part of this, Smiley Gerry,” he said while he rolled his eyes. “God has spoken to me about His plans for this area. I can tell you man, it’s really big. It’s awesome. I need to be introduced to the flock and meet all the area pastors as well.”

  Geraldo shook his head. “I don’t know, Samson. I just want to feed the sheep. But if you insist—”

  “I insist,” Samson interrupted his friend.

  Geraldo shrugged his shoulders. “Fine then. The conference is all about the need for prayer and quiet time. Do you think you can deliver an inspired sermon on the subject on the morning of the second day of the conference?”

  Samson nodded. “Sure, I—”

  Right then the door opened and a petite woman with a timid smile stepped in. She was dressed in a short blue dress and had bound a white shawl around her frizzy hair. She was like a breath of fresh air.

  “O, meet my fiancé,” Geraldo said. “Yayla, this is Reverend Samson Jackson.” He smiled broadly as he motioned for Yayla to come in.

  “Pleased to meet you, Reverend,” Yayla’s attractive voice reminded Samson of the gentle waters of the brook of Kidron he had heard about in a documentary on ancient Israel.

  “The pleasure is entirely mine,” Samson shot back as he nodded his approval.

  He needed to remember that girl…

  *

  When Samson had started his sermon at the conference and scanned the crowd before him in the auditorium, he spotted Yayla. Right there on the front row. Geraldo had taken his seat next to her and Yayla smiled encouragingly at him with these big, brown eyes of hers.

  Samson had often heard that in order to deliver a good message it is wise to concentrate on just one person and Yayla was to be that person. So while he focused on her attractive face the words of his sermon started to flow.

  “My talk therefore is titled Holy living in the confines of your own closet.”

  Samson was a good speaker and the people listened with bated breath. He had skillfully constructed his sermon and spruced it with jokes and stories at all the appropriate places. Yayla seemed pleased.

  Afterwards, when they were having coffee and a slice of marble cake, she walked up to him with a grand smile. “That was a lovely sermon, Reverend,” she said.

  “Glad you liked it,” Samson answered as he wiped a crumb of marble cake from his lips. “It was such an inspired sermon, because of you. I saw you sitting there on the front row and you were my inspiration.”

  “O, Reverend,” Yayla giggled. “You embarrass me.”

  “No, it’s true,” Samson added. “You are a beautif…eh, true inspiration.” He scanned the faces of the coffee drinking saints. Where was Geraldo?

  Yayla seemed to guess his thoughts and told him, “Pastor Direheart had to leave, Reverend. He had to visit somebody in the hospital. He won’t be back for another three hours.”

  “O.” Samson suppressed a smile. “So sorry to hear that.” Then an idea formed and a sly smile crossed his face. “Would you have dinner with me, Yayla?”

  “D-Dinner with you, Reverend?”

  “Sure. Why wouldn’t a lovely young woman like you have to eat by herself?”

  “O, Reverend,” she said, “I am not sure if I should.”

  “Sure, you should,” Samson answered and pressed his lips together. “I am staying in the Grand Grover. They have a good restaurant there. Let’s leave this place and have a nice steak.”

  Yayla thought for a moment and then looked up with a smile. “All right, Reverend. Why not?”

  “Then, let’s go,” Samson said, as he gestured to the door. He slurped down the last of his coffee and turned to the door.

  Together they left the conference hall.

  *

  Yayla was crying. Big tears were dripping out of her eyes and fell on the snow-white sheets of the spacious bed in Samson Jackson’s hotel room at the Grand Grover.

  “You don’t need to cry, Yayla.” Samson brushed his hand through Yayla’s frizzy hair and placed another kiss on her tearstained cheeks.

  “B-But…We have committed adultery.” Yayla burst out crying.

  Samson gritted his teeth and pulled in frustration on his dreadlocks. “Of course not, Yayla,” he said with a soothing voice. “You’re not even married, so how could it be adultery?”

  “But you are married,” Yayla shot back.

  “That’s different,” Samson answered.

  “H-How is that different?” she sobbed.

  “Well, that’s obvious. I am a man of God. It was prophesied over me that I am a special instrument in God’s hands. I have come to the Kingdom for such a time as this.”

  “As this?” Yayla blubbered and looked around the room in confusion.

  “Look,” Samson tried again. “How many wives did Solomon have?”

  “A thousand?” Yayla answered in a small voice.

  “Precisely; and King David had many women too. But you see Yayla…” Samson caressed Yayla’s shivering body, “You are part of God’s great plan and that’s no sin at all. You are being used to relieve the stress of the prophet.”

  “I am?”

  Samson nodded. “Look…I’ll tell you a secret. The reason I came to this conference is not just to preach, but it’s to take over the whole area. I need to get my foot in the door.” He smiled as he thought of his vision. “This church world is like a jungle, but I…I am chosen to be the King of the Jungle. And you, my sweet Yayla, have served the King of the Jungle in sacrificial service.”

  “I have?” Yayla’s face mirrored more confusion.

  “Look.” Samson tried to hide his impatience, “I want to take over this area. I am going to buy out all the pastors here. Those who don’t like it can leave and the others…well, I make them all part of my…eh God’s greater church. It’s a work of the spirit and to be honest, it’s very stressful, which is why…” he kissed Yayla again on her quivering lips, “…you are such a precious…eh I mean, such a good help to me. God has shown me this is His will.”

  “But why does God need to expand His Kingdom here? Aren’t we already Christians?”

  “Because I…eh, He, has to. You just have to believe.” Samson bit his lips and secretly shook his head while he caressed more of Yayla’s hair. This girl was really dumb. What was that Bible verse again? Ah, yes…Silly women laden with sins, led away with divers lusts…* that was Yayla all right.

  Yayla started to dry her teary eyes and Samson’s smartphone made a beep.

  What’s that? Two missed calls?

  He checked the caller I.D. The first one was from Precious. Better click that one away. And the second one…Samson bit his lips. The second one was from Madeleine Stone. It read, Call me, my dreadlocked hero. I miss you. He should tell her not to call her when he was out. Who knows who could be reading his messages?

  “We’d better get back to the conference hall, Rev
erend,” Layla said as she got dressed. “It’s almost time for the evening service and my fiancé will be b-back.”

  O, no. Not again. The word fiancé had hit a raw nerve in Layla’s emotions and a fresh fountain of tears sprung forth. Maybe going out with Layla had been a mistake after all. If she would open her mouth life could get a bit messy.

  Very messy, actually.

  *2Timothy 3:6-7

  Chapter 8

  Work With Others

  PEOPLE THAT CAN’T work with anybody else usually can’t work with God either.

  “And Samson went and caught three hundred foxes, and took firebrands”

  Judges 15:4

  “He said what?” Pastor Geraldo Direheart paced back and forth through his kitchen and clenched his fists. “He wants to take over all the churches here? Who does he think he is?” Yayla was huddling in a corner on a stool and looked with fearful eyes at her husband-to-be. Geraldo yanked a kitchen chair from under the table and sat down in front of Yayla. “Well, I am glad you had dinner with him,” he said, as he grabbed her hands. “At least now we know he’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing.”

  Yayla nodded.

  Geraldo had noticed right away that something was wrong after Yayla came back. She stuttered and was stumbling over her words and was just not her happy self. When he asked her about it, she started to weep and in between sobs she had haltingly told him about Samson’s plans. But she didn’t mention…the other thing.

  Geraldo shook his head and mockingly mimicked Samson’s words. He spoke in a high-pitched voice, “I am a prophet. A chosen vessel. Hear ye me!” His eyes flashed dark clouds of anger. “How can a man be so arrogant?”

  Yayla’s face had a pained expression and she lowered her eyes again.

  “And he says he’s got the money to buy us all out?”

  Yayla nodded and the pastor started to pace back and forth again..