The day I saw my mentor's hand inside the offering box

Seven years ago, I was still an assistant pastor. Salary was small, but my senior deacon, Brother Godwin, had paid my seminary fees. He was the one who told me to answer the call.

One Tuesday evening, I went back to the church to pick a book I left in the vestry. The main hall was dark, but I saw a torchlight near the offering box. It was Brother Godwin. Counting. But not into the bag. Into his pocket.

I stood there. My legs were shaking. This was the man who bought my first Bible. The man who prayed for me when I had nothing.

I didn't confront him that night. I went home and couldn't eat. My wife asked me what happened, I said nothing. For two weeks, I watched him greet me with the same warm smile. It was eating me.

Finally I went to him privately. I said, 'Sir, I saw you.' He didn't deny it. He just looked at me and said, 'Emeka, you don't know how this church runs.'

I reported to the pastor. It caused a storm. Some elders said I was too young, too proud. Brother Godwin stopped talking to me. He left the church six months later.

It hurt. But I learned something. Loyalty to a man cannot be higher than loyalty to God. Our people say, 'The hand you use to give is not the same hand you use to steal.' I still respect what he did for me. But I could not keep quiet.