H is for Hypocrisy #atoz challenge

Hi, I have met a number of church leaders that are so inspirational that I could listen to the word all day long and a few that have the gift of the gab – saying what you want to hear and behaving totally different in private, I know that they are just people and people are fallible, but the hypocrisy of some church leaders really gets on my nerves.

This post is a slice of pure fiction.

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‘No perfect people allowed’ – screamed the inscription above the church door, it seemed to mock him, he was not perfect, he was flawed, and defective and yeah he knew it.

How did he become someone he despised? did he really have an alter ego? was his mad bad self a figment of his imagination? Did he have some mental block? when did he became so unrecognisable from the cool Mr Do-good exterior he portrayed to the world?, was it being an only child?  a high achieving only child whose parents gave in to his every whim, or was it his good looks? well that wasn’t his fault? but it very much to his advantage, a combination of German and African genes had given him a six foot frame, caramel skin, a perfect nose and green eyes – yes, it was his eyes that did it, they got him everything he wanted, the eyes definitely have it!

He got our of his car and walked the short distance to the church, a few of the regulars had arrived and were chatting about football as usual, they turned to welcome him.

“Good morning pastor Martyn” they chorused, like little children saying good morning to the head teacher, he grinned “Good morning, what a lovely day, made even lovelier by seeing you all here so early to hear God’s word!”

She walked in, she had worn the long sleeve blouse he had laid out for her, it would cover the bruises, it was her fault, she asked too many questions; where was he going? Why did he always have to solve other people’s problems? He was a pastor not a member of a peace keeping force, she went on and on until he snapped. She nodded at him, he could see the hurt quickly replaced by disgust and then the calm, welcoming face of a pastor’s wife.

“Good morning, welcome to Baruwa Baptist church, how are you?” she turned to welcome a group of over dressed women.

“Fine thanks” said the lady in the tight yellow dress.

She had worn it, perfect, he thought  – things were looking up.

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