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3 Love Stories That Could Happen in the Church

Updated on June 22, 2017

Here are 3 of my countless stories that are constantly being narrated inside my mind on a daily basis. It is not the only thing in my mind, just to be clear, but it is a persistent occupant. I have also expressed the stories here in three different forms for the purpose of relaying the message as it suits it. May all be blessed!


Silently in love.

Closeness never described your relationship. You were nothing but cordial to one another, brother and sister in Christ. A sentence was the longest piece of conversation you ever shared, and it was so brief and meaningless than you never really remembered you had contact. Words did not connect you and physical attraction, though feasible, did not take place.

One day after another went by and without giving it much attention it soon became years. Nothing was heard except the silence of time, distance and sincerity. Consciousness was not waken until it reached the point where its presence demanded discovery. The point where records of the other person’s voice, though not directed at you, has now accumulated itself and was becoming a desirable tune in your ears. Display of faithfulness having latched on were automatically replaying in your thoughts. For every strength, you’ve applauded. For every weakness, you’ve sympathized. For every smile, you’ve fallen deeper, and for every glance, you’ve lost posture. Your cheeks turns ruddy, your eyes start to search, your heart grows unsteady, and your mind busied with the same subject. In other words, the potent work of each other’s testimony has been discreetly weaving your hearts to each other all along. Interest has reached maturity and the want of new revelations rouses curiosity like a ravished beast. Nothing could stop it.

You started loving one another, but only from a distance. Cherishing your dear one in the cold charity of silence and reservations. You know each other well but not enough. That is why you want to know more, you want to love each other more. But how? You desperately wonder where courage hides for it is the only thing missing for your love to be realized. For your hearts are closer than ever but your eyes are distant as it could be; you hold nothing else but each other’s testimony. -apG

"You never looked at me the way I looked at you."
"You never looked at me the way I looked at you."

I have loved you.

I have loved you without the slightest regret

I have prayed for you the moment we met

I have watched you grow every inch of your faith

I have prepared myself to patiently wait

I have restrained any selfish claim

I have accepted that you feel not the same

I have rejoiced at your found forever

I have understood that you ought to have better

I have cherished you still in my heart and memories

I have preserved every joy and misery

I have prayed for you the moment we met

I have loved you without the slightest regret.


The missionary and I.

Sunday school was at its loudest during church anniversaries so you double checked the flexibility of your dress twice, ensuring maximum level of movement. You also tied your hair up in a tight bun so to avoid premature balding. And of course, tons of wet wipes, napkins, and candies. Surprisingly enough, more like a miracle, Sunday school was not as rabid as expected. The kids listened for more than five minutes, little crying and tantrums, and best of all, no serious stains clung on your dress. It was a special day you said to yourself. God is good.

After a quick groom to make yourself look human again, you and your fellow teachers went straight inside the auditorium for the preaching. It was a blessed thing to know that the church suffered no lack of gentlemen especially in times were no chairs were vacant. The proof of the commendation was when it only took mere seconds before seats were vacated to accommodate you and your company. During the process an alien sight catches your attention. The gentlemen who gave away their seats possessed foreign physiognomies and not the usual faces that you are all too familiar with. It was surely guests so you thought, saved guests. Maybe from another church? You queried within yourself. But it was not a time of acquaintance so only a short thank you and you’re welcome were exchanged.

Half way through the sermon you started to feel watched. You dare not turn your head for the whole congregation was transfixed at digesting what was being preached. You then decided to put if off to no avail. The feeling only worsen and has proven to be too much of a distraction. Finally, you acted to sneeze and when you were to raise your head again your eye inconspicuously surveyed towards the direction from where you felt the stinging intuition that you were being examined. You instantly froze as you discovered the unwonted spy; it was one of the men that gave their seats. You heart catapulted into frenzy when your eyes met his. Severe lack of self-confidence struck after realizing how handsome that person really was. “Wretched flesh!” You shouted in your mind.

In an effort to flee temptation you rigidly turned to face the pulpit once more while still clasping your hands over your mouth. The image of your brief eye contact lingered on your mind and you could not help but examine how penetrating yet dignified his stare was. Nonetheless, you felt embarrassed for being watched and sinful for failing to internalize the message because of it. Mumbling prayers for forgiveness and deliverance, you fail to notice that the sermon will now end with a special number. “Church, I would like to formally welcome our missionary guests that will now render a special number as we close this morning service...”--- You were brought back to reality at the mention of “missionaries,” and looking up the pulpit you saw in horror the cause of your distress standing in the middle. “A handsome missionary that can sing,” You said in a quick soliloquy, “Figures.”

Right after the service ended you jumped from your seat, and then hastily hugged your sisters. You were almost home-free but you remembered that you left something in the Sunday school room. Retreating from the gate you dashed to retrieve it.Maneuvering your way through a sea of worshipers, stopping now and then for hi and hello’s, you were almost successful when a loud thud exposed you.

The malevolent interruption was caused by your failure to see the medium-sized crack on the pavement. You fell on your knees and bruised it enough to bleed. People immediately gathered around you and by some kind of divine intervention, out of the many hands that reached out to help you stand, you ended up picking the missionary’s.

“That was a bad fall. Let me help you with that gash.” He then pulled you up gently with a firm grip. You obviously had no choice but to accept the kind offer. Especially after the concerned members that once crowded around you slowly dispersed after being assured that you were taken care of.

The missionary aided you to sit on the nearest chair, your pastor’s wife also surfaced bringing some first aid. Although she did not stay long because she was yet to take care of other guests and the lunch banquet. The first minutes alone with him was excruciatingly breath-taking. He was beautiful and it looks like his heart was, too. You also noticed how capable he was in handling wounds. You instantly felt safe though you knew that it was too early to make conclusions.

“Do you believe in love at first sight?” he asked, kneeling down, before softly blowing on your injury to ease the sting.

“No,” you answered almost automatically, struggling to hold your composure.

“Me either,” he smiled without looking at you, still preoccupied on his nursing task.

Silence fell once again between the two of you, and it was only after he finished cleaning the wound that he would start a conversation once more. “There you go. All done. Be more careful next time, okay?”

You nodded timidly in response.

Smiling back he presented another inquiry, “How about answered prayers?” seating himself only inches away from you.

“Yes, of course. Very much,” you answered honestly.

“Same here,” he replied blithely.

You were about to stand to say thank you for the second time to the missionary, but another word came, restraining you from leaving.

Turning to you with a familiar stare, he added, “I think I got an answered prayer today.”

Rattled and confused by his behavior, you suddenly blurted out the words, “Please don’t say you love me. We don’t even know each other’s name.”

Surprised and a bit amused, he explained, “Oh no, it’s not what I meant. Of course, I’m not going to say that.” The both of you then finally introduced yourselves to each other.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable during the sermon,” he immediately stated after the brief introduction.

“Oh, that. It’s okay. Just forget about it.” You wanted to end the topic but your curiosity won’t rest until it was settled. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but why were you staring?”

Without struggle and any apprehensions, he answered, “Because I find you very special.”

You looked away in unbelief and froze as you did earlier. You demanded from yourself an explanation as to why you are so drawn to this man you’ve just met.

“I pray we cross paths again soon,” he added without hesitation. Quitting his seat, he stood in front of you and reached out his hand one last time. “It was more than a pleasure meeting you.”

You received his gesture and said the same. His impending departure from your immediate presence was strangely summoning a melancholic feeling. You have secretly hoped for your encounter to linger longer than it did but the moment his hand released yours, he was lost in the crowd.

You remained seated for a few more minutes recalling the missionary’s prayer. “I pray we cross paths again soon.” A prayer you, too, prayed. A prayer that was meant to be answered.



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    • sujinmikee profile image

      Sujin Mikee 6 months ago from Philippines

      Thank you for your tip, Dora! =0)

    • MsDora profile image

      Dora Weithers 7 months ago from The Caribbean

      Sujin Mikee, I like the part of the story which has short paragraphs and dialogue. Just a sisterly tip: Do that more often instead of the long paragraphs. It looks better and is easier to read.

      Interesting theme and beautiful ending on that last story!