They call him Pastor Makoko. With a golden cane in one hand and a Bible that has never seen dust in the other, he walks like royalty. His shoes shine brighter than the morning sun, and his convoy raises more dust than the village rainfall. The poor kneel before him. The sick crawl to his feet. And the desperate? They give him their last coin in hopes of a miracle.
Every Sunday, thunder rolls from his white cathedral—built right in the center of the viliage, where poverty sleeps with hunger. Women faint. Men scream. Crutches fly. Blind eyes “open.” But behind those curtains, behind that altar, there is a secret only the moon dares to witness.
Children vanish after service. Offerings never reach the elders. And the so-called miracles? Carefully rehearsed—paid actors, planted testimonies, holy oil mixed with perfume. Yet none dares question him. Why? Because those who did their mouths never moved again. And their families say the same thing: “He warned them once.”
But something is about to shift. A visitor is coming to the village. And with him, truth rides on the wind like a masquerade ready to unmask the devil wearing a pastor’s robe. The viliager’s has danced long enough to the drumbeat of lies. But what happens when the rhythm stops? Find out yourself from this heart touching story.
Chapter One
One night, a group of young men decided to investigate prophet Makoko’s claims. Under the cover of darkness, they crept toward his house, hoping to uncover the truth. What they discovered sent shockwaves through the village.
Makoko’s home, hidden behind tall trees, was a far cry from the modest dwellings of his congregation. It was lavishly furnished, filled with treasures that could only have come from the offerings of the faithful. The young men returned to the village with their findings, but fear kept them silent. They knew that confronting Makoko could result in a curse worse than death.
The news of Pastor Makoko’s miracles had spread far and wide, and one day he announced a grand conference at the grass-thatched church. He promised that the event would bring healing, deliverance, and miracles like never before. Word traveled quickly, drawing people from neighboring villages and beyond. On the day of the conference, the churchyard was packed with eager souls desperate for a touch of God’s power. Makoko stood at the front, his voice booming through the makeshift loudspeakers.
Brethren, today is the day of miracles. Blind eyes will open, the lame will walk, and even your broken radios will start working again if you just believe. The crowd erupted in cheers, some laughing at the mention of radios. Makoko had a way of blending humor into his sermons, and the people loved it. Let me tell you, even mosquitoes that have been biting you for years will leave your house tonight if you say hallelujah loud enough, he said, and the congregation roared with laughter.
As the prayers began, people lined up to receive healing. True to his reputation, Makoko laid hands on the blind, and one man’s vision was miraculously restored. The crowd gasped in amazement as the man screamed, I can see! I can see! Overwhelmed with joy, the man ran home to bring his brother, who had been blind for many years. The brother, frail and hesitant, was led to the front of the church. The crowd parted to make way for him, murmuring in anticipation.
Chapter Two
Pastor Makoko, however, was in the middle of a fiery sermon. He raised his hand to stop them. Wait! Wait! Wait! I am busy preaching right now. Do you want me to cut God’s message short for your impatience? My miracles are not fast food. You don’t just order and collect. The crowd laughed nervously, but the man insisted. Please, Pastor, my brother has been blind for so long. He needs your prayers.
Makoko sighed dramatically. All right, all right. But you know some miracles need scheduling. You don’t just walk into a hospital and demand surgery without an appointment. The crowd burst into laughter again, but the man was not amused. Makoko finally approached the blind man and placed his hands on his head. Lord, we know that with you, nothing is impossible. Just like you gave Samson strength and made Jonah swim in the belly of the fish without drowning, we know this man will see. He paused for effect, then declared loudly, My friend, you will start seeing from home.
The blind man’s brother looked confused. But why? The other man you prayed for started seeing instantly. Why can’t my brother see now? Makoko chuckled, wiping his brow. My friend, every miracle has its time. God’s blessings are like mobile data. They don’t all activate at once. Your brother’s miracle is pending activation. Just take him home and let it process. The crowd laughed again, but the brother’s face darkened with doubt. Reluctantly, he led his blind sibling away.
Later that evening, the man who had brought his blind brother decided to go into town to buy supplies. To his shock, he spotted Pastor Makoko sitting at a restaurant with the man whose sight had supposedly been restored earlier. The two were laughing and counting money on the table. The man froze, his heart pounding. He ducked behind a wall and watched as Makoko handed the man a thick bundle of cash. You did well today, Makoko said, his voice carrying through the air. The way you shouted, I can see, was perfect. These villagers are so easy to fool.
The man’s blood boiled. His worst fears had been confirmed. Makoko’s miracles were fake, a carefully orchestrated scam designed to rob the faithful of their hard-earned money. Makoko leaned back in his chair, laughing loudly. If only these people knew how easy it is to trick them. Honestly, I should start selling holy water too. I’ll tell them it can cure headaches and drive away witches. The other man chuckled, pocketing his share of the money. You’ve got them wrapped around your finger, Pastor. You could tell them you walked on water yesterday, and they’d believe it. Why stop there? Makoko said, grinning. I’ll tell them I had dinner with Moses last night, and he complimented my cooking.
The two men laughed uproariously, but the man hiding nearby was see things. He clenched his fists, his mind racing. How could he expose this fraud without falling victim to Makoko’s wrath? The villagers would never believe him without proof, and Makoko’s curses had a way of silencing dissenters. Determined to find a way to reveal the truth, he quietly slipped away, his heart heavy with the weight of what he had witnessed.
Chapter Three
The once revered grass-thatched church of Pastor Makoko began to unravel as strange events unfolded. One day, a renowned witch doctor from a neighboring village heard rumors of Makoko’s miraculous powers. But this man had an ulterior motive. He suspected Makoko’s miracles were not of God, but derived from dark forces. The witch doctor, known for his mastery of snakes and other mystical powers, decided to pay Makoko a visit, not to seek healing, but to test the source of his strength.
The witch doctor entered the church during a crowded prayer service. Makoko, as usual, was commanding the congregation to close their eyes while he prayed. But the witch doctor kept his eyes wide open, studying the surroundings. As Makoko raised his hands in prayer, the witch doctor noticed something unusual, a massive snake slithering behind the pastor. It moved like a shadow, coiled and ready, as if it were part of Makoko’s being. Quietly, the witch doctor devised a plan. If this man’s power comes from these snakes, he thought, then I will take one and see if his strength diminishes.
The next day, under the guise of seeking prayer, the witch doctor managed to steal one of the snakes during a private session with Makoko. Though the pastor did not immediately notice, the theft marked the beginning of a shift. After that day, Makoko’s miracles began to falter. Some people who had previously been healed returned to complain that their illnesses had returned. The blind who had supposedly regained their sight began losing it again. Makoko’s once commanding presence seemed weaker, and his sermons lacked the fire they once had.
Meanwhile, another new visitor attended the church. During the prayer session, despite Makoko’s warnings, this man opened his eyes. What he saw shook him to his core, a massive snake standing upright behind Makoko, its head swaying as if it were part of the pastor’s ritual. The man screamed and bolted out of the church, shouting, “This is no house of God! There’s a snake behind the pastor!” The congregation was thrown into chaos. Some dismissed the man as mad, but others couldn’t shake the unease growing in their hearts. They began whispering among themselves, wondering if Makoko’s powers were indeed divine or something far darker.
During one of Makoko’s prayer sessions, a few of the faithful started falling to the ground, as was customary during his services. But this time, it wasn’t from the power of the Spirit. It was fear. They had begun to suspect something sinister in his prayers.
Moral Lesson’s
This marks a moment of reflection for anyone reading or hearing this story. Not every church is a house of God, and not every pastor is a servant of the Lord. Be careful where you worship. Do not blindly enter any church you come across without seeking God’s guidance. It is better to pray from home and ask the Lord for discernment than to fall into the trap of deception and darkness.
God’s Word reminds us in 1 John 4:1, “Dear friends, do not believe every spirit, but test the spirits to see whether they are from God.” This is a call to seek wisdom and to pray for God’s direction before placing your faith in any preacher or church. The enemy often disguises himself as an angel of light, and many false prophets rise, seeking personal gain rather than leading people to the truth.
To protect yourself, always pray before joining a congregation. Ask God for clarity. Trust Him to lead you to a place where His truth is taught and His Spirit is present. And remember, prayer. Where his truth is taught and his spirit is present. And remember, prayer is powerful, even from the comfort of your home. Jesus said in Matthew 18:20, “For where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them.”
If this story has touched your heart, type this prayer as a way of seeking God’s guidance: Type, “Lord, lead me to your truth., Protect me from deception and let your spirit guide my heart always.”
