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

by Liberty Gaines

  Samson looked up, but when he saw the gentle eyes of Precious he lowered them again.

  “Talk to me, Samson. What happened to your dreadlocks?”

  Samson bit his lips and then spoke barely audible, “Delilah.”

  “What?”

  “D-Delilah did it.”

  “Delilah Daboya? What was she doing in the pastor’s meeting?”

  “She wasn’t.”

  “Where was she, Samson…And where were you?”

  Samson shuffled his feet. There was no way out. The gig was up.

  “At her cabin.”

  “Her cabin? Why were you at her cabin?” Precious’ voice was full of alarm.

  “I-I…uh…went there to tell her I could not have a relationship with her.”

  Precious sank down on the nearest chair and sighed. “O, My Lord. A relationship; I told you that woman is a snake.”

  Samson nodded. “I know.”

  “Did she get mad when you said you didn’t want to make love to her or something? Is that why she cut your dreadlocks?”

  “No, I didn’t even get the chance to tell her,” Samson said. “She made me drunk and then I woke up like this in the mud. I don’t know why she did it.”

  Precious was flabbergasted. “Did you make love?”

  “I-I can’t remember,” Samson said, “I don’t know anymore what happened at her place. I suppose it’s because of the wine she fed me.”

  “Come on, Samson,” Precious said while she wrinkled her nose. “That’s such a lame thing to say.”

  “It’s true,” Samson defended himself, “But…but…eh…I did once before.”

  “What do you mean?” Precious wanted to know.

  Samson sighed and with a broken voice he told Precious about the supposed meeting with her husband and how this scoundrel broke Delilah’s heart and how she sought solace and comfort in his arms. “…And uh…then we…well you know we did it.”

  Precious couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You made love to Delilah in church? What am I to do with you, Samson Jackson?” She threw her hands up in desperation and lifted her eyes to heaven. “Samson, you are in big trouble.”

  “Why?” Samson asked while he sought for comfort by his dreadlocks, but in vain.

  “Because,” Precious said with a scowl, “she is of her father the devil and a liar. She doesn’t even have a husband.”

  “She doesn’t?” Samson’s eyes widened.

  “No, she doesn’t. I didn’t trust her from the very first day I saw her. You may look for yourself.” Precious turned to her computer and switched to Facebook. Soon she had found the Facebook page of Delilah Daboya.

  Samson stiffened as he beheld the picture of the woman that had seduced and betrayed him. On the picture she was not smiling, but she peered with her dark eyes into the Jacksons’ living room. Right above her photo was the sign of a pentagram and as Samson read the text under her picture he felt nauseous again.

  Sharing the power of witchcraft in a misguided world.

  Delilah Deboya, licensed and experienced witch.

  I have many years of experience under my belt.

  I am here to guide and serve you.

  Want to know more?

  Mail me today.

  “There’s your lost sheep that needed to find her way back to the fold,” Precious said while she shook her head.

  Samson kept staring at the face that he had kissed only hours earlier and a deep sense of repulsion wormed its way into his heart. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he finally mumbled. Samson was aggrieved and clenched his teeth.

  Precious sighed. “I only found out a few days ago. Besides, you wouldn’t have believed me anyway.”

  Samson collapsed on the sofa. “What am I going to do?”

  Precious ordered him up. “You can’t sit on our couch like that. Get yourself cleaned up first, Samson. You look like you’ve been inside a garbage can.”

  Samson stared at her blankly and got up and stumbled out of the room. By the door, he turned and looked at Precious with tears in his eyes. “I am sorry, Precious. I am so sorry.”

  He expected Precious to bawl him out and say something like, sorry doesn’t fix it, but instead Precious started to cry too and walked over to him. “You have hurt me deeply, Samson. My trust in you has taken another blow, but still you are the father of my child and I know what God told me. I will not leave you nor forsake you.”

  Her gentle words were too much for Samson and he burst out crying. How could Precious accept him after all he had done?

  He would never learn. He was a failure…no worse than a failure and still Precious managed to bite through her pain and in spite of the humiliation he put her through she was willing to trust God for him.

  Precious scrambled her arms around him and although the dirt was caked on his body and he smelled like a skunk she kissed him on his muddy forehead. “Now go wash up. I’ll clean up the mess in the living room. We will have to pray over you. Only God knows what curses Delilah has put on you.”

  “You are right,” sniffed Samson, “As always.” Then he turned and walked to the bathroom. Just before he stepped in he turned and blushed. “W-Would you have an Advil for me, Precious?”

  Chapter 9

  A Debtor To Sin

  WE CAN’T PUT our faults behind us until we face them.

  “But the Philistines took him, and put out his eyes, and brought him down to Gaza, and bound him with fetters of brass”

  Judges 16:18

  From: Abraxas

  To: Gorkaibahr

  Gorkaibahr, The Netherworld is rejoicing and the Master is pleased. It seems this loathsome human has forfeited his every right to serve in the armies of The One Whose Name We Dare Not Speak and is utterly defeated. Now make sure he remains sufficiently trapped in your claws so he will be of some future use for our glorious kingdom of darkness and will remain a constant obstacle for our enemy. Beware of the enemy. We are somewhat surprised things have gone so smoothly.

  United in wickedness

  Abraxas

  The following Sunday, Samson was scheduled to preach on the wonders of Christian living. He had not left the house since the disastrous meeting with Delilah and although Precious had tried to style his hair as good as she could, it still looked awful. His dreadlocks had been his pride and Delilah had known very well how to humble him.

  Precious had called Mary over and some other elders from Mary’s church had come along to pray over Samson.

  “We don’t want to give any ground to the devil,” she had said while looking deeply into Samson’s eyes. “We are most certainly not afraid of evil, but neither do we want to play around and underestimate Delilah’s evil influence.” After the prayer, Samson had felt strangely calm and had thanked Mary and the elders for coming over. “I needed this prayer.”

  Precious warned him that he would have to be willing to accept whatever humblings and suffering were coming his way. “There was a reason Delilah seduced you. You fell for her evil ways and you may have to live with the consequences.”

  Samson understood.

  “God,” she continued, “will forgive us all of our sins, but He can’t always undo the damage we have caused and the results may follow us for a long time to come.”

  “Can’t I stay home this Sunday?” Samson sulked after Mary and the elders had left.

  “Come on, Samson. You’re the preacher. You knew full well what you did.” Precious pressed her lips together and her eyes shone with an unearthly fire. “Your congregation has a right to know what’s going on; even if it means the end of your ministry. God knows what needs to happen.”

  Samson nodded while he looked at the floor. “Will you then at least come with me this Sunday instead of going to Mary Culbert’s church?”

  Precious narrowed her eyes. “I’ll ask Mary to come as well,” she finally said. “We’ll pray for you.”

  *

  When Samson walked up to the pulpit a shock went through the co
ngregation. He was not wearing his traditional sweatshirt with the smiling polar bear that said, “I am your friend”, but was now dressed in a suit with a bright red tie. His dreadlocks, that always jumped up and down in line with the confident stride with which Samson was accustomed to pass through the church were now strikingly absent. Instead, he was a picture of misery as he climbed the stage.

  People started to whisper and murmur all over the church.

  “Is that Reverend Jackson?

  “Why is he wearing a suit and tie?”

  “What happened to his hair?”

  “Is that maybe Samson’s brother?”

  Samson swallowed as he looked at the sea of faces before him. He had to tell everyone what happened and that was not going to be easy. He coughed and swallowed again. This was going to be the most difficult sermon he had ever given.

  “I…uh,” he stammered, “H-hello…uh…I…uh want to t-talk to you about the wonders of Christian living. But before I do, I need to say someth…”

  He stopped in the middle of his sentence and his face, which had already been without his natural color, turned a ghostly white. Because there on the third row sat Delilah. She glowered at him and leaned back in her seat. A mocking smile covered her face. Then she waved at him with her slender hand and manicured fingers.

  Anger coursed through Samson’s body. He looked down at his sermon notes, and he closed his notebook and looked up with renewed strength. How dare that witch Delilah come here and mock him like that.

  “I’ll tell you what has happened to me,” he said. “But before I continue I want to tell everyone here that the devil is here.”

  He raised his voice and shouted, “The devil is—” But before he could go on the church doors opened and Pastor Bob Armsteadt appeared. He was followed by several armed policemen and he too shouted while he pointed his finger at Samson, “—there is the devil. There he is; the wolf in sheepskin.”

  Another shock wave went through the congregation. People jumped up and started to scream as policemen ran up to the front of the church and surrounded Samson.

  “W-what’s going on?” Samson demanded as a husky looking policeman with a little beard stepped up to handcuff him.

  “Samson Jackson? You are under arrest upon suspicion of having killed James and Yayla Direheart. You have the right to remain silent. Everything that you say can be used against you.”

  Samson froze and felt like falling over. Big drops of sweat formed on his forehead as the husky fellow clipped the handcuffs around his wrist and started to drag him off the stage. Armsteadt walked over as well and yelled curses at him while he shook his fist in Samson’s face. The words he yelled even surprised Samson as they should have never come out of the mouth of anyone calling himself a Christian.

  Where was Precious? As the police dragged Samson through the aisle and the members of his church yelled and screamed he scanned the church while his lips trembled. Just before the police pulled him into the hallway he caught a glimpse of her. She was holding Mary Culbert’s hand and her face was ashen.

  When they came into the corridor, Deacon Boyle stepped up and shook his finger at the husky policeman that was dragging Samson along. “Wait…It’s all a big mistake. You can’t do this. This is Reverend Jackson.”

  “Out of my way!” Husky yelled, “Or we will arrest you as well.” Deacon Boyle grimaced and stepped away from the aggressive policeman while he clasped his head in desperation.

  As they came outside, Samson had to blink his eyes as many cameras started to flash. The place was filled with reporters. Samson recognized Jocelyn Cork who ran up to them while she was talking into a microphone.

  “Can we have a statement, Reverend Jackson?”

  “Move away! Move! Husky pushed her away and Jocelyn Cork stumbled into another reporter who gave her another shove so she landed on the pavement.

  “Did you kill Pastor Direheart?” the other reporter shouted as he held the microphone before Samson’s nose.

  “Did you have a relationship with Yayla Direheart,” Jocelyn Cork shouted from the ground while she was holding up her microphone.

  Husky had no time for such nonsense and barked out his orders and the other policemen formed a protective circle around Samson and pushed him into a dark police van that stood ready. Husky jumped in with him and as soon as he sat down the van started to move and drove off.

  Samson’s head hung down and he stared at the floor of the van. Delilah had done her work well. She had ruined him.

  But it was his own fault. Samson knew it and he deserved every bit of what was coming to him.

  Husky looked at him and smirked. “Well, Reverend. How’s your God going to get you out of this one?”

  Samson shook his head. “He’s not. He’s a righteous God and hates sin. I have sinned greatly and I am not going to deny it.”

  Husky raised his eyebrows and shook his head. “Most crooks I arrest always shout they are innocent. You are just about the first that admits to his crimes.”

  But Samson did not answer. He thought of Precious and the child she was carrying. Candy was carrying his child as well. What kind of lie had he been living? Tears sprung his eyes, but they were no tears of self-pity this time. Samson felt strangely calm, almost as if he were under some kind of anointing. Maybe he could finally stop fighting and find real peace with God.

  He recalled the words of King David in the Bible after the prophet Nathan had accused David of killing a man in order to sleep with the man’s wife. Against thee, thee only, have I sinned, and done this evil in thy sight.*

  That was him all right. He had sinned against everybody he loved, but especially against God.

  Samson reckoned there would be a court case soon and he would go to jail. That much was certain.

  How had the mighty fallen

  *

  “Would you want to spend some time at our house?” Mary Culbert asked as she peered at Precious, who leaned back on the bench in the stuffy courtroom. Her shoulders ached and the baby in her tummy felt heavy.

  “Thank you, Mary. I would be ever so happy,” Precious said. A few days away from home sounded like heaven; just a little time to catch her breath. The whole court case had been demanding, but now it was over. Samson had just left the courtroom in between two sturdy guards. He had not looked her way when he left. Just down. Precious knew he was broken and very ashamed, but there was nothing she could do anymore besides praying for him.

  Five years in prison.

  That had been the verdict. And Samson would be sent to a prison all the way to the other side of the country. A shiver had gone through Precious’ body when she heard it. Visiting Samson was going to be almost impossible and by the time he came out of jail, their child would be four and a half. Jimmy Fox had gotten twelve years, but for some reason he was going to the correctional center near Crystal Lake. What a mess it all was. But this was bound to happen. Samson had never really listened and now he had to pay the price. Precious squeezed Mary’s hand. Thank God for friends.

  “The guest room is ready,” Mary said with a cheerful voice. “And you know how much the kids like you. You are so very welcome.” Precious cast a grateful smile at her. These months had been taxing and she could sure use a bit of pampering.

  “There’s really nowhere else I would rather be right now than with you and your family, Mary,” Precious said.

  “You can stay as long as you want,” Mary answered and got up. “Let’s leave this gloomy place with all these horrible testimonies. I am in for some real inspiration. How about a cup of coffee and some chocolate cream-puffs at Albert’s Corner first?”

  Precious couldn’t suppress a smile. “Thank you, Mary. You are an angel indeed, but remember, no cream-puffs for me.”

  ACT 4 - REDEMPTION

  Chapter 1

  Divine Light

  THE BEST WAY to see divine light is to put out thine own candle.

  “Howbeit the hair of his head began to grow again after he was s
haven.”

  Judges 16:22

  From: Galgaliel

  To: Ariel, the lion of God and the protector

  Thank you, Ariel for your faithful service. Everything is set in place for the real victory. Because of your skill, the enemy is now lulled into a sense of complacency as they think they have won. There are still many battles ahead, but we are now able to finally reach the heart of the one called Samson. Be vigilant and be sober for our adversary continues to roar, but as long as he only roars he won’t do much biting.

  Respectfully yours,

  Galgaliel.

  *

  Darkwood Correctional center

  December 15

  From: Samson

  Dear Precious

  The socks you sent me are wonderful. They are so nice and wearing them makes me think of you. Soft, warm and comfortable, just like you. However, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll give them to one of the inmates here since he’s much colder than I am and he is such a lonely fellow. I am trying to be a friend to him. It’s always cold here. I suppose they try to economize, but I don’t mind. I keep my heart warm.

  It’s really amazing for I can honestly say that prison, in some strange, mysterious way, is almost the best thing that could have happened to me. For the first time ever I really want to pray. It’s so wonderful to sit close to Jesus and listen to His voice. You always told me to pray, but I never wanted to. I am so ashamed of the life I used to live and for the first time I think I understand what the writer of the hymn meant when he said,

  Nothing in my hands I bring,

  simply to the cross I cling;

  naked, come to thee for dress;

  helpless, look to thee for grace;

  foul, I to the fountain fly;

  wash me, Savior, or I die.*

  I deserve to be here, and I thank God everyday he did not let me get away with my sins. This prison is such a fruitful mission field in itself. I never experienced this before. I told you about the Bible study I started here and it’s going very well. Soon it will be Christmas. My third Christmas in prison. The warden asked me to lead the service, but I am not sure if I want to do it. I don’t want to stand in front of others anymore, so I may instruct some of my dear friends here to do it for me. But… that’s enough about me now.