“Kimberley?”

Bishop Gordon nodded.

“Yep. Kimberley Dosu. I met her on one of my trips around the country, sharing the gospel. I was in my early twenties, overzealous and very fresh in my walk with Christ. I’d just been born again a few years before, and I had this unquenchable fire in me, this… unshakable drive to serve God’s people. During one of my missionary trips, I met Kimberley.”

He paused, his expression softening slightly as he recalled that first meeting with her.

“Kimberley was… vibrant. Passionate about the Lord, just like me. She had this vision of fulfilling God’s purpose for her life, and we hit it off almost instantly. Looking back, I realize we were both young and idealistic, caught up in the idea of ministry and service. It didn’t take too long before we made plans to get married and go ahead with fulfilling the purpose we believed we were meant to fulfill.

“It was beautiful. At least, at first. But there was a bit of an issue. You see, my focus wasn’t entirely where it should have been. I wasn’t looking at Kimberley as a partner in life—someone I would love, cherish, and grow with. No, my mindset back then was more… functional. I saw her as someone who would help me serve God’s people. I thought that was all that mattered. And Kimberley, well, she also shared the same passion for ministry. So yeah, we dated for a year, convinced we were aligned in God’s will, and then we got married.

“At first, everything seemed right. We prayed together, we dreamed together, and we stepped into life as husband and wife with hope and faith. But things changed when I started my first church. I was just a young man then, full of zeal, determined to build something for God.”

“Uhh, it wasn’t Shalom Temple, was it?” Bruce asked.

Bishop Gordon shook his head. “No, no, it wasn’t. It wasn’t even here in Accra; it was in a small town. I named it Shalem International Ministries. I poured everything I had into that church: my time, my energy, my heart. But… that’s when things in my marriage started to go wrong. Horribly, horribly wrong…”

In the sparsely furnished living room of the simple apartment occupied by the Tamakloe couple, the young couple faced each other, defiant and unhappy looks on their faces.

“Look, Kimberley, I don’t know what your problem is. The choir needs you. You’re anointed, you’ve got a voice that can move hearts, so how can you just sit back and say you’re not “led” to join them? This is God’s work we’re talking about,” Gordon demanded.

Kimberley, her head down in frustration, lifted her head to face him fully, her voice steady but laced with emotion. “Gordon, I’ve told you before—I don’t feel called to sing in the choir. I’ve prayed about it. That’s not where I feel the Lord wants me.”

Gordon threw his hands up in irritation. “Then what are you led to do, Kimberley? Huh? You can’t just be sitting there lackadaisically. Ah! You need to know your role in the kingdom. That’s what marriage is about—working together to fulfill purpose!”

Kimberley’s voice rose slightly. “Is it, Gordon? Is it? Because right now, it feels like this marriage is nothing but a tool for your ministry. Like I’m just another worker in your church instead of your wife. Do you know how hurtful that is?”

“Hurtful?” Gordon scoffed. “Kimberley, listen to me, this isn’t about feelings. This is about obedience to God. If you’re not contributing, then what’s the point?”

“The point, Gordon, is that I’m still your wife. I need your patience, your support, not your constant pressure to fit into your vision of what purpose looks like.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy and raw. For a brief moment, Gordon faltered, his expression stunned by her statement. But then, he took a deep breath, straightened up, and glanced toward the hallway.

“You know what? I don’t have time for all this emotional nonsense,” he spat coldly. “Later.”

Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked into the bedroom, leaving Kimberley standing alone in the living room, frustration and sadness etched on her face.

The group sat in stunned silence, processing the weight of Bishop Gordon’s revelation. This did not sound like the Bishop Gordon they knew and loved at all.

In a low voice, Delasi asked, “Bishop… you? That was you? I can’t imagine you being that… cold.”

Bishop sighed and nodded, a wistful smile on his face. “Oh, I was, Delasi. Sadly, I was. I might have been on fire for the Lord and all, but I was very problematic. All zeal and no wisdom. I was arrogant, narrow-minded, and completely blind to how much pain I was causing Kimberley. My beliefs were… deplorable, to say the least.”

He paused, looking down at his hands for a moment before looking up at them and continuing.

“Back then, I thought that if it wasn’t a spiritual discipline—prayer, fasting, preaching, or singing in the choir—it didn’t glorify God. Everything else seemed… carnal. Trivial. And because of that mindset, I dismissed her passions, her feelings, and even her individuality.”

The group continued to listen intently, their expressions a mixture of shock and quiet empathy.

“Kimberley and I… we fought constantly because of it. She wanted to contribute to the ministry in her own way, but I couldn’t see past my own narrow vision of what service to God looked like. I pushed her—harder than I ever should have—and the cracks in our marriage widened every time we argued.”

Nana Asor murmured softly, “That must have been… unbearable for her.”

Bishop Gordon nodded solemnly. “It was. It really was. I was a terrible husband to her, there’s no ways about that. But… the worst of it came a week before our second anniversary.”

Irene hesitantly asked, “W-w-what happened?”

Bishop Gordon exhaled slowly, his fingers absently tracing the rim of his glass. His voice dropped, much quieter now.

“It was a horrible night. The worst night of my life…”

The living room was dimly lit, a single table lamp casting a faint glow over the cluttered coffee table. Gordon was hunched over his Bible and a notebook, scribbling down notes for his next sermon.

Kimberley entered quietly, a soft smile on her face as she approached him. She hesitated for a moment, seeing how busy he was, then decided to speak.

“Gordon?”

“Hmm?” he responded, barely looking up.

Gently, she continued, “Ummm, I was just wondering. Our second anniversary is in a week. I wanted to know if you’ve thought about what we might do to celebrate it.”

He paused and looked up, his face expressing impatience. “Oh, yeah. That. See, I’ve got a preaching engagement next weekend in another part of town. We’ll figure something out after I get back, okay?”

Kimberley’s small smile instantly vanished. “After you get back? After you get back? Gordon, it’s our anniversary oo. Not some silly little holiday. Our wedding anniversary.”

Returning his focus to his notes, he curtly replied, “Kimberley, I’m doing the Lord’s work. This is important.”

Kimberley’s voice rose. “And what about me? What about us? Am I not important? Does our marriage not matter to you?”

Gordon set his pen down and turned to her, his expression hardening. “Ah, na you, what is wrong with you? Why are you making this about you? Why does it always have to be about you competing with God?”

“Competing with God? Gordon, I’m not competing with anyone! I just want to be loved by my husband as Scripture demands! Ephesians 5:25 says to love your wife as Christ loved the church. Do you think Christ would have dismissed the church like this?”

Gordon bristled at her reply. “Don’t quote Scripture at me, Kimberley! You think I don’t know what the Bible says? Everything I’m doing is for the kingdom of God. This marriage, our marriage, is supposed to serve a greater purpose!”

“And what about us, Gordon? What about the love and the partnership we promised each other? Is that just a footnote to your ministry?” Kimberley asked, her voice breaking.

What followed was a most unpleasant exchange, as husband and wife threw all sorts of words at each other.

“What at all is wrong with you? Ah! You always think you’re right! You never listen!”

“You too, why are you like this? Why? So impatient and uncaring! Ah! Are you a real man of God at all? What is this?”

“What do you mean by ‘am I a real man of God’? WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY ‘AM I A REAL MAN OF GOD’?”

It was an ugly back-and-forth, that ended with Gordon storming out of the living room, leaving her standing alone in the living room, heart aching, not just from the fight but from the growing realization that her husband saw her more as an extension of his ministry than as his wife.

*

It was about half an hour to midnight when Gordon entered the bedroom. Watching her lie there annoyed him so much; the rancour in his heart at that moment was deep. He grabbed a pillow from the bed, muttering under his breath as he exited, ready to spend the night in the living room.

“Always complaining about unnecessary things. Just can’t see the bigger picture… everything’s about me, me, me. Mtcheww!”

He slammed the door shut.

*

An hour later, and he sat up.

A strange sound was coming from the corridor.

Rubbing his face, he frowned. “Ah, what’s that?” he wondered aloud. Half-conscious, he struggled to decode what sound it was.

“Uhhh… wait, is that a sound like… like choking… Jesus!”

A flash of memory hit him hard: Kimberley had asthma. She had had a couple of attacks before, usually mild, but sometimes in the middle of the night.

As his consciousness grew sharper, the choking sounds became clearer, and one awful thing was evident: this attack was no mild one.

The worst part was that her inhaler was on the dining table; he had seen it lying there and totally neglected to remind her to take it to her when going for his pillow.

He raced toward the bedroom, and the sight that greeted him there made his blood run cold.

There she was, sitting upright in bed, her face pale and her eyes wide with panic. She clutched her chest, her hands trembling as she gasped for air.

He rushed toward her, his voice frantic as he cried, “Kim! Kimy, hold on-don’t-don’t panic!”

As she began to grow faint and slump against the headboard, he grabbed her phone. “Hold on, Kim! I’m calling an ambulance!”

He quickly dialled the number he knew off hand.

“Hello, yes, yes, please, this is an emergency! Yes, my wife’s having a serious asthma attack! We need an ambulance—right now!”

*

The cold white walls of the hospital hallway did nothing to calm the storm brewing inside Gordon. Sitting in the waiting area, his hands nervously wrung together, his eyes darting back and forth. His mind was racing with thoughts of Kimberley and her pale face. The paramedics had managed to stabilize her for a brief moment, but she was still in critical condition. His heart pounded in his chest as he pleaded silently for a miracle.

“No, Lord, no! Please, no! God, don’t take her! Not her!” he whispered painfully, fighting back the tears that threatened to break free. “I’m sorry, Lord. I was wrong… I was wrong. I didn’t love her the way I should have. Please, God, save her. Don’t let her go…”

The door to the waiting room swung open, and a doctor in scrubs stepped out, looking tired and solemn. Gordon’s heart skipped a beat as he stood up, feeling the weight of his fear settle into the pit of his stomach. The doctor’s expression was unreadable, but there was a sadness in his eyes that makes Gordon’s blood run cold.

“Gordon Tamakloe?”

Gordon’s breath caught in his throat as he nodded and stepped forward, every nerve in his body on edge. “How is she? Is she okay?”

The doctor lowered his gaze, and for a moment, the world seemed to come to a complete stop. Gordon’s heart sank as he sensed the gravity of the situation in the doctor’s silence. The doctor took a deep breath as he met Gordon’s eyes with a sorrowful expression.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Tamakloe. We did everything we could, but Kimberley’s condition continued to deteriorate. She suffered from severe status asthmaticus… the worst case we’ve seen in some time. Despite our best efforts, umm… her oxygen levels plummeted, and she went into hypoxia… which led to cardiac arrest.”

Gordon’s knees buckled under him as his mind struggled to process and accept the words from the doctor’s mouth. He reached out to steady himself against the wall, his chest tight.

This could not be true. This just could not be true!

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Tamakloe. We did all we could. But… we couldn’t save her. She’s… She’s gone. I’m sorry…”

Goodness, what an awful experience! No wonder Bishop continues to feel terrible…