He had been a pastor for sixteen years, and it had been hard on him. In all that time, he could count the members of his church on one hand—just a handful of people. This devastated him. Night after night he would weep and cry out to God, "Why is this happening to me? How can I stand on the pulpit for sixteen years and my church still hasn't grown? Just a handful of people, nothing more. What am I doing wrong? Why haven't You made my church a mega-church? Why am I still swimming in poverty and misery?"
He would weep, and the one person who believed in him and preached patience was his mother. She would cradle him and pray for him to have the spirit of patience. "The Bible says God's time is the best. Be patient, my son."
"No, I'm fed up with this frustration. How can I be suffering like this? How can I be like a beggar while I serve God?"
"My son, don't talk like that. God is good all the time. Never doubt Him. Just be patient like Sarah in the Bible—didn't He give her a son?"
"He did," he mumbled.
"See? Be patient and remove that spirit of doubt. Just trust in the Lord with all your heart and soul, and you will see His wonders in no time."
And she would pray for him. She would lay her hands on his head and call on the good Lord to remember His servant—her son—and to bless him, to remove everything that made him doubt and question his Maker. And Pastor Joe Chung would feel better. Yes, his name was Pastor Joe Chung, a young man of thirty-five who had received the calling, he said, at age sixteen. After that, he had been serving the Lord ever since.
---
The New Church Next Door
One day he saw a new church under construction just a few meters from his own. At first he didn't pay much attention, just marveled at how fast the work was going. In three months the new church was finished—beautiful, well-built. He looked at his own shabby building and muttered a silent prayer.
After the new church opened and worship began in earnest, within one month it was packed to capacity. Some of Pastor Joe's own members even switched over. He felt devastated, but he resolved to meet the pastor of the new church.
One day he met him—Pastor Jack—and complained about how hard he had struggled to grow his congregation, but all his efforts had been in vain. "How can you have so many members in just one month?" he asked. "I could see there wasn't even any space left unoccupied."
Pastor Jack just laughed with a sly grin and said, "There is always a way, where there seems to be no way."
"Show me this way," Pastor Joe begged. "Let me be driving big cars and living in a big house too. Look at my suit!" He pointed at his faded, shabby suit. "I've been wearing it for God knows how many years."
"Do you really want to know the way?" Pastor Jack asked.
"YES!" he roared with all his heart.
"Good. Then meet me here at twelve midnight," Pastor Jack told him as the meeting ended.
---
The Hut by the Beach
That night, Pastor Joe sneaked out of the house while his mother was fast asleep and went to Pastor Jack, who was already waiting. In no time they were in a black Jeep, Pastor Jack at the wheel, cruising down a lonely street. No questions were asked about where they were going. Pastor Joe was just happy he was finally doing something to make his church grow. They drove in silence for about two hours, then he noticed they were heading toward the beach. He looked at Pastor Jack questioningly.
"Relax," Pastor Jack said. "We're almost there."
When they reached the beach, he was taken to a small hut—secluded, hidden from view. Even in daylight, no one would believe it was there. The hut was dark, lit only by a lamp that cast more shadows than light. He stared nervously at the shadows, and when a hand touched him, he jumped with a squeak.
"Calm down, it's me—Pastor Jack." His heart was racing as he was led to the man sitting at the far end of a dark table in the hut.
"Master, this is the man I told you about," Pastor Jack said, bowing to the man who sat silently watching them. Then Pastor Jack slapped Pastor Joe on the back, telling him to bow. He did, never taking his eyes off the man.
"What do you have to give if you want our power?" the man asked. A cold breeze blew from him and touched Pastor Joe.
"I have nothing to give. I'm just a poor pastor," he stammered.
"I don't need your riches. I only need what is dearest to you—what you value most in your life."
"I… I only value my mother."
The man laughed a wicked laugh. "Yes, I need your mother's soul."
"No, I can't give you that. My mother is the only one who believes in me. She's the only one who stood by me and had faith in me. She's my pillar and the rock I stand on. I can't give you her soul."
The man only smiled. "Then it would be okay to say you will die here. No one who comes here goes back alive without giving something in return. Since you refuse, you will die so our secret stays safe."
Three men stepped out of the shadows toward him. Pastor Joe just stood there trembling, looking at Pastor Jack, who averted his eyes.
"Wait!" he said, gulping as tears spilled down his cheeks. "Please, ask for anything else—but not my mother."
"That is the only price," the man said, flicking his hand for the men to proceed.
Pastor Joe, seeing he had no other choice—it was his life or his mother's—with closed eyes and a silent prayer, said, "I accept the deal."
---
The Price of Power
The man raised his hand for the men to stop and beckoned Pastor Joe toward him. With a wicked grin that never reached his eyes, he gave him a concoction to drink, then handed him a red knife. He told him to look at the mirror placed in front of him. As Pastor Joe looked, he saw his mother sleeping peacefully. The man said, "Stab her with the knife." He did—through the mirror—and the image went dark.
He was then told to go. When he got home, he rushed to his mother, but he knew the deed had already been done. She wasn't breathing. He sat by her bedside weeping until dawn.
A month later his church started growing. He was gaining members like grains of sand in the desert. His wealth was staggering—he boasted almost a billion dollars. He lived in a big house and could afford whatever he wanted. Life was finally going the way he had always dreamed. But then he thought about the cost—his mother. His wealth was even greater than Pastor Jack's because he had given what he valued most with his whole heart.
---
The Devil Never Gets Satisfied
Everything went fine for two years, then everything started going downhill. He could see things getting bad—his riches plummeting, members practically leaving his church, no more donations. Worried, he hurried to Pastor Jack to complain. "How can everything be going downhill? I have given so much—why now?"
"Do you think everything is free after that?"
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"You have to go and renew your charm. It's the law of the devil. You think you only sold your mother's soul?" He laughed. "You fool—you sold your soul too. You need to renew the contract, or you will be dead."
"Why didn't you tell me about this?" he fumed. "You led me into this."
"Don't pretend you didn't know what you were getting into. You came to me, remember."
Pastor Joe got angry and left. He went to the hut to complain, and they told him to renew his sacrifice to the devil or he would die.
"I have nothing valuable left to give," he said to the man.
"Your wife's womb will be okay."
"What!" he exclaimed. "My wife—I love her. We haven't even had a baby yet."
"Exactly," the man said with a sinister look. "You will give us her womb. Anytime she gets pregnant, the devil will take the child. You will never have a child again. You will never impregnate another woman. You will stay only with your wife, and you must always impregnate her. The devil loves such sacrifices," he said with a wicked laugh.
Pastor Joe went home. When his wife told him she was pregnant, he wept. She thought they were tears of joy. That night the devil took the child through miscarriage. And so it went for another two years. When he was asked to renew the charm again, with a shaky heart he asked what he would have to bring.
"Your wife's soul," the man said.
And so his wife was taken from him. He sat there in the dark, crying and wondering why he hadn't been patient like his mother had asked. He analyzed his life—he hadn't enjoyed the wealth, he hadn't gained anything from the lives he had taken. They kept asking for more. Blood was all they wanted. Every year the devil demanded impossible sacrifices. He sat there weeping, and no one was there to counsel him.
---
Nothing Left to Give
Two years later, after he had given his wife, they asked him for what he valued most now because he had refused to marry again, fearing the worst. "I have nothing of value," he said.
"Wrong," the man said. "You have what makes you a man."
"What! I can't give that."
"That is what the devil demands. You give it, or you will die after suffering a lot."
"I'm dead already without it."
"Yeah, you value it—so he takes it. That is the deal for power and money from the devil. He never gets satisfied."
Pastor Joe nodded as he stood to leave. He could feel his manhood leaving him, knowing they had taken it.
---
The Confession
He went home, sat at his desk, and wrote his story. He sent it to a friend he hadn't spoken to in years—someone he had been hiding from, knowing his friend would question the source of his wealth and he had no good answer. In the letter he confessed what he had done and asked for forgiveness.
"For confessing this, you will die in six months' time," a voice said to him as he sat there writing.
"I don't care," he roared as tears spilled down. "You took everything from me. You ruined my life. I will let the world know about you and your damn location so it will be burned from the face of the earth."
He died six months later, and his story was circulated as a strong warning to people to stay away from any deal that comes with blood and death—for the devil never gets satisfied.
---
*What would you do if you were asked to give all that they asked Pastor Joe Chung?*
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