I Was the Church Secretary. I Saw Where the Tithes and Offerings Really Went.

This was back in 2022, after I finished my NYSC. I was 25, desperate for any job, so when my uncle's friend said his church in Enugu needed a secretary, I jumped at it. It was a big "grace and fire" ministry , the one with the pastor who drives a white Lexus and prophesies on Instagram.

My job was simple: record the offerings, type the bulletin, and file the receipts. But within two weeks, I noticed something. The Sunday service would bring in between 800,000 and 1.2 million naira. But what the pastor declared from the pulpit was always lower , "We received 350,000 naira this morning, glory be to God." The rest? It went into a separate account I was told not to ask about.

One day, the pastor's wife came to my desk. She picked up a receipt for 200,000 naira from a widow who sold rice in Ogbete market. "Burn this one," she said. "That woman is a witch. We don't need her money contaminating the church." I stared at her. "Burn it," she repeated. I did. But I kept a photocopy in my bag.

Omo, the worst part was the prophecies. The pastor would call me before service and say, "During the ministration, I will say 'someone wearing a blue wrapper and white blouse is blessed.' Write that name down. Find someone matching that description during altar call." And I would do it. I would scan the congregation, pick a woman fitting the description, and point her out to him. He would lay hands on her and declare her business would flourish. She would break down crying, thanking God. Meanwhile, I knew it was just a script.

I lasted six months. I left when the pastor asked me to forge a receipt for a building project that never happened. The money was going to a hotel in Asaba , I saw the bank statement on his desk. I resigned quietly, no drama. But to this day, when I hear someone say "God told me" from a pulpit, I remember that photocopy in my bag and the widow who never knew her offering was burned.