My Husband Was a Pastor in Church, But a Demon to Us at Home

People used to envy me.

“Wife to a man of God? You’re so lucky!”
That’s what they’d say. I smiled, nodded, and played the role of the perfect pastor’s wife.
What they didn’t know was that behind closed doors…
I was married to a man who preached with fire, but burned his own family in silence.

At church, he was loved. Adored. People knelt before him for prayers.
He laid hands, prophesied, performed deliverances… women wept at his altar.
But in our house?

He barely spoke to us.

He’d walk in, slam doors, eat in silence, and scroll his phone like we didn’t exist.
If the food was late, he’d shout. If the baby cried, he’d call it a “demonic distraction.”
I wasn’t a wife, I was a punching bag.
Not with fists, but with coldness, shame, and spiritual manipulation.

I tried to raise it with him once. To read more, click here.