Story, story!
Story come!
Ah, my dear listeners, you know how the world works: nothing moves faster than news wrapped in holy cloth. The preacher and the gospel queen had barely said “I do” before the people began to whisper.
At first, the whispers were sweet, “Have you seen them? Such grace! Such purpose! True kingdom marriage!”
Social media couldn’t get enough. The pictures glowed like angels took them. He in a white suit, she in a crown of glory, hashtags everywhere: #HeWhoFindsAFavour #GodlyCoupleGoals #HeavenHasDoneItAgain.
The people believed. They reposted, they rejoiced, they prophesied. “This is the kind of love we’ve been waiting for! Fire meets worship!”
But oh, how quickly praise turns into popcorn.
Months passed. The glow dimmed. Their posts became fewer, the smiles stiffer, the scriptures vaguer. Then the silence, long, loud silence; the kind that makes people start sniffing around.
And just like that, the “Amen” crowd became the “Aha!” crowd.
“Have you noticed they no longer tag each other?”
“Her songs sound… sad lately, no?”
“Didn’t he just preach about ‘submission’ a little too passionately?”
Then one day, the news dropped like a storm on Sunday: the marriage was over.
The internet exploded. Screenshots flew like arrows. Everyone had a theory, everyone had a source. Some said she left without warning. Others swore he’d been caught in lies. A few declared, “the devil attacked their union!” as if Satan personally took interest in Kenyan gospel marriages.
The saints divided faster than Moses parting the Red Sea.
Team Preacher said, “He’s a good man! He never speaks ill of her! That’s a true servant of God!”
Team Gospel Queen said, “She’s finally free! That woman has survived fire itself. Let her heal in peace!”
And the neutral ones, oh, they were the worst. They said, “We’re not judging, but…” (and you know, my friends, everything before that ‘but’ is holy, and everything after it is pure gossip).
Still, the preacher kept his peace. He smiled in interviews, praised his ex-wife, quoted forgiveness like a daily devotion.
Meanwhile, the gospel queen walked in light again, bold, glowing, ready to sing her truth. And when the day came for her to speak, she did not whisper. She spilled.
She spoke of silence, manipulation, unfulfilled promises, a marriage colder than the moon.
The people gasped. Suddenly, the fairy tale cracked wide open, and behind the “holy fire” lay smoke — thick, choking, human.
The congregation shook their heads. “Marriage is no joke,” they sighed. “Even the anointed cry in the dark.”
Some blamed the devil. Some blamed pride. Some said maybe they were just two good people who didn’t fit in the same grace.
But one thing became clear — even holy unions have human cracks. And love, even when wrapped in prayer, can still bleed.
Still, you know how people are. By next Sunday, a new couple was trending, a new proposal had gone viral, and the same crowd that had mourned this breakup was now screaming, “God when?!”
Because hearts heal fast when they belong to spectators.
And so, dear friends, the preacher moved on quietly. The gospel queen rose again, louder, freer, fiercer. The people kept talking, because talking is free.
So, my dear readers, next time you scroll through “perfect” love stories with matching suits and glowing captions, remember: filters hide more than faces.
And when saints start talking, always take it with holy caution. Because gossip, my friends, is the only sermon everyone listens to without sleeping.
