### *The Accidental Lesson*
It was a warm Sunday morning in the heart of Kampala, and the congregation of New Life Church was packed to capacity. The air was thick with anticipation as Pastor Solomon Mubiru took to the pulpit, his usual commanding presence filling the room. He was known for his fiery sermons, which mixed scripture with passion, and today, the topic was one that had been the subject of much discussion in the community—*adultery*.
“Brothers and sisters,” Pastor Mubiru began, his deep voice reverberating through the wooden beams of the church, “the Bible speaks clearly about the sanctity of marriage. It is a sacred bond, meant to be honored by all who enter it. Adultery, my friends, is an abomination before God, a sin that destroys families, poisons relationships, and defiles the very foundation of our society.”
His words were powerful, and the congregation nodded in agreement. Several people murmured *”Amen,”* as he went on, detailing the biblical consequences of infidelity, his finger wagging at the air with righteous indignation.
“As a community, we must hold ourselves accountable,” Pastor Mubiru continued, pacing back and forth. “We cannot allow the devil to lead us astray. We must flee from temptation, resist the urge to stray from our vows, and keep ourselves pure in the eyes of God. Adultery,” he spat the word with disdain, “is the downfall of any man or woman who seeks to dishonor the covenant of marriage.”
The congregation was hanging on every word, many of them nodding in agreement, some whispering prayers under their breath. But in the front row, where a few visitors sat, a quiet and unexpected event was unfolding.
—
Pastor Mubiru, as he usually did during his sermons, had placed his handkerchief in his back pocket, adjusting it for comfort as he moved about. But today, unbeknownst to him, he had also placed something else in that pocket—a small, discreet object wrapped in plastic.
As he raised his hand for emphasis on the importance of faithfulness, the object in his pocket suddenly slipped free. It fell softly to the ground, bouncing lightly off the wooden floor with a soft *plop*.
The congregation’s murmurs fell into an awkward silence. It was a noise that didn’t quite fit the rhythm of the sermon, and all eyes instinctively darted to the ground.
Pastor Mubiru froze mid-gesture, his expression briefly faltering. His eyes followed the path of the object, which had landed right at the feet of Sister Judith, an elderly and stern woman who sat at the front, always with a watchful eye on the pulpit.
For a second, time seemed to stop.
Sister Judith, ever the respectable and no-nonsense member of the congregation, stared at the object as though it were some kind of unholy relic. Her glasses slid down the bridge of her nose, and her lips parted in shock.
The object, which had fallen innocently out of Pastor Mubiru’s pocket, was unmistakable.
A condom.
It lay there on the floor like a guilty party, a small, wrapped reminder of the very thing Pastor Mubiru had been condemning with such fire and brimstone.
The silence stretched for what felt like an eternity.
—
Pastor Mubiru’s face flushed a deep crimson as he instinctively bent down to retrieve the condom, his fingers fumbling awkwardly. He knew this wasn’t just a minor mishap; this was a moment that could not only ruin his sermon, but also his reputation as the steadfast shepherd of his flock.
He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure.
“Uh… my beloved brothers and sisters,” he stammered, standing up slowly, holding the condom awkwardly in his hand like it was a venomous snake. “I… I don’t know how that got there.”
There was a brief moment of quiet confusion in the congregation, then a few muffled chuckles. People shifted uncomfortably in their seats, exchanging nervous glances.
Sister Judith, still wide-eyed, shook her head slowly, her eyes never leaving the object in his hand. “Pastor Mubiru,” she finally said, her voice carrying just enough volume for the front rows to hear, “is there something you would like to share with the congregation? I thought we were here to talk about the sanctity of marriage.”
Pastor Mubiru’s throat tightened, and his palms began to sweat. His mind raced as he tried to think of a way to save face. He had always prided himself on being a man of integrity, someone who upheld the principles of faith. How could he explain this? The irony was too much.
“Let me explain,” he said, his voice still shaky, but rising with a sort of resolute confidence. “That… uh, that item… is not mine.” He paused, glancing at his pants pocket. “I… well, I don’t know how it ended up there. But I can assure you, I stand here as a man committed to the word of God, and to my wife, and I have no interest in the temptations of adultery!”
His voice grew steadier as he spoke, the initial shock fading away. “I know the enemy works in mysterious ways, and sometimes he will try to test us, even in the most unexpected moments. But I will not be distracted.”
The congregation sat in silence, the awkwardness still hanging thick in the air. Then, a single voice from the back row broke the tension.
“Amen, Pastor!” It was Brother James, one of the deacons, his hand raised. He had an infectious laugh, and as soon as he spoke, the rest of the congregation followed suit, chuckling nervously, trying to shake off the awkwardness.
Pastor Mubiru, despite himself, let out a nervous laugh as well. “Yes, amen,” he said, still holding the condom like it was a relic. “But let me tell you, my friends, the enemy works through subtle ways. We must be vigilant. Even something as small as this can be a reminder of the dangers we face.”
At this point, the church was no longer in complete shock. The tension had been broken, and laughter filled the air, not mocking, but more of an uncomfortable release. Even Sister Judith, though still shaken, cracked a smile, realizing that this was one of those moments where nothing could be done except to laugh off the absurdity.
—
The rest of the sermon continued, though the topic of adultery was no longer the main focus. The congregation seemed to have collectively decided that God, in his mysterious ways, had given them a lesson they would not soon forget. Pastor Mubiru, embarrassed but determined to continue, soldiered on, reminding everyone of the importance of marriage, fidelity, and purity.
But the damage had been done, in a way. The rest of the service carried an odd undercurrent of humor—something lighthearted to temper the heavy subject matter. The pastor’s accidental mishap became the talk of the church, and word spread like wildfire across Kampala. The story of the condom that fell out of the pastor’s pocket while preaching about adultery would become a tale retold for months to come.
And though Pastor Mubiru’s pride had been wounded, he couldn’t help but see the humor in it all. Maybe God had a sense of humor after all.
As the service drew to a close, Pastor Mubiru stood before the congregation one last time, his voice now calm and confident.
“Let us all remember, friends,” he said, his eyes scanning the room, “that we are all imperfect, and we all fall short of the glory of God. But it’s through His grace that we are made whole. And it’s through moments like these that we learn humility—and, perhaps, a little laughter.”
With that, the church erupted in a final round of laughter, and Pastor Mubiru, despite the embarrassing moment, had somehow brought his message full circle: temptation could come in the most unexpected forms, but redemption, he hoped, was always just one prayer away.
