Heart Fire.

Chapter Two: A Novelty.

Solape’s P.O.V:

Solape lay sprawled on her bed, bonnet on, makeup wiped, one pyjama-clad foot on the wall.

She had spent the entire drive home declaring loudly that she wasn’t thinking about that man. That broad-shouldered, chair-crashing, calm-mouthed pastor. But now, faced with her ceiling and her thoughts, she was fighting demons.

“Why didn’t he say he was a pastor?” she hissed to herself.

Her conscience answered.

“Shouldn’t you be gracious to everyone?”

She rolled over and grabbed her phone.

“No. I’m not checking anything. I don’t care. I’m not even interested in him. He’s just… a man… who is a pastor… and whose shoulders are annoyingly—”

She stopped herself.

“No. I rebuke those thoughts. I can never date a Pastor, not to talk of marrying one. Why am I noticing shoulders?”

She opened Instagram.

Stared at the search bar.

Closed Instagram.

Opened it again.

Typed:

“PK Lagos Pastor”
Nothing helpful.

“Pastor K”
Too many Pastor K’s

“PK”
No result.

She hissed.
“What’s all this? Is he using a private page? Pastor that is hiding?”

Then it hit her.

She went to google.

“PK Hot Lagos Pastor”

There he was.

You could trust the obsessiveness of Lagos girls with fine men and the efficiency of Google SEO.

The picture was a good one. You have to love Millenial Pastors who know branding. He wore a black polo shirt and his arms (with nice biceps) were folded along his chest. He was not clean shaven here. But the beard was full and neatly kept. His eyes looked directly at her. She felt like she could trust him.

“The power of imagery” She said aloud, to douse her thoughts.

She clicked on a link that claimed to have his biography.

Pastor Korede Adeniyi, popularly called PK, of Christ Collective, Lagos, is 31 year old and considered one of the most eligible bachelor Pastors in Lagos. Born in …

Her eyes spanned down until she found his church IG handle.

@christ_collective

Found.

Opened it.

And the universe shifted.

Because the first post she saw was a video of him preaching.
Short sleeve black tee.
Ipad in one hand.
Voice smooth, powerful and warm at the same time.

He was saying:

“The fire the Spirit gives is beyond passion,
it’s the life of Christ burning in mortal men.
The kind of fire that turns ordinary people into witnesses.”

Solape dropped the phone.

“Wetin be this Abeg!!” she shouted into the empty room.

She picked the phone back up.

Scrolled.

Saw photos from outreach.
Him praying for people.
Him hugging kids.
Him wearing a denim jacket holding a mic.
Him laughing with church members.

And then she saw a caption:

Christ Collective: A people gathered in Christ, shaped by Christ, and sent for Christ.

She blinked.

“This boy is a whole pastor. A serious pastor. A pastor-pastor. How will I survive this?”

She clicked his personal page — finally found it through the church tag.

@pk_adeniyi

Clean.
Minimalistic.
Black and white aesthetic with tiny gold accents.

Of course.

Because why not? Why wouldn’t he have taste to add to her troubles?

She scrolled deeper.
Liking nothing.
Judging everything.

Then NJ’s message popped up in the group chat.

Group Chat: Order, Peace & Solape

NJ:
“Home?”

Miriam:
“Yes o. My stomach is full but my mind is full too 😭😭😭”

Solape:
“What happened to your mind?”

Miriam:
“You insulted a pastor, Sola.”
“You insulted a WHOLE pastor.”

NJ:
“PK of all people 😭”

Solape:
“Why are you people calling him PK like you know him?”

Miriam:
“I checked his page.”

NJ:
“Same.”

Solape:
“…traitors.”

Miriam:
“When I saw his pictures, I was like “Holy Ghost!!!”

NJ:
“My dear girl. A specimen of creation. God took extra time with him. He had to repay the debt somehow. The Pastoral calling was inevitable”

Solape:
“Please. Abeg. That is an exaggeration.”

Miriam:
“Anyway…”
“I think we should go to his church on Sunday. I need Jesus in my life”

NJ:
“I agree. And Solape needs PK in hers”

Miriam:
“Gbam! This is destiny.”

NJ:
“Ordained by God.”

Solape:
“…all of you are mad.”

Solape stared at the screen.

Then stared at his picture again.

Then back at the screen.

Then back at him.

Then groaned into her pillow.

“This is definitely the work of my village people ,” she muttered.

Silence.

She typed:

“We’re going on Sunday.”

Miriam replied in two seconds:

“I knew it 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭💀💀💀💀💀”

NJ added:

“Perfecto. Time to find the perfect outfit.”

Solape threw her phone aside.

“And that is how one innocent pastor will think I’m there for Jesus. Meanwhile I’m there for iranu.”

She switched off her light.

And the last thing she saw was the mental image of PK smiling at the restaurant…

…and the strange, ridiculous, unforgivable fact that her chest felt warm.

*******

Sunday morning arrived too quickly.

Solape stood in front of her mirror in a mustard blouse, dark jeans, and six-inch mustard heels. As she ran her brush through her waist-length, bone-straight wig, She told herself this outfit was neutral. Respectful. Mature.

In her mind, she prayed silently that the pastor would not recognize her. While simultaneously praying that he would.

She hissed at her reflection.

“This is foolishness,” she muttered. “I’m only going to church. That’s all.”

*******At Christ Collective

The church was alive.

Not noisy, alive.
Warm. Young. Vibrant. Expectant.

Lively music rose from the hall.
Ushers smiled like they were trained by an angelic HR department.

“Welcome to Christ Collective! We are so glad you are here!”

People hugged each other like it was a reunion.

The building itself had a sharp, intentional glow, clean banners, thoughtful lighting, everything arranged like it had a plan. The whole place looked like millennials designed the structure and Gen Z handled the colouring book. And beneath all that curated excellence, there was this faint hum in the air, like the place was about to multiply..

NJ grabbed Solape’s arm.
“I’m scared.”

Solape blinked. “For what?”

“What if he calls an altar call and I start crying?”

Miriam laughed. “Better cry. It’s okay.”

They stepped inside.

This was not church as Solape knew it.

As if echoing her thoughts, NJ said, “Wow! This is a whole production!”

Solape was impressed. It was beyond cool.

The ambience was alive with vim. Mood lights, Spot Lights, Haze Machines, it was all there. Videographers, Photographers, every kind of grapher.

It was expected though, there were young people everywhere.
Couples, Students, Tech bros in shirts with Bible verses in tiny fonts.
The girlies in modest yet chic fashion.

There was individual uniqueness and still, a collective uniformity about how they looked and how they worshipped.

The worship team was already singing, and it was not the timid type of singing. It was the type that pulled into your heart and exposed all your vulnerabilities.

Solape swallowed.

“Don’t fall for the ambience,” she warned the girls. “This is how they catch people.”

Miriam smacked her arm.
“Behave.”

They found seats somewhere in the middle.

And then — just before the song ended — the atmosphere shifted.

Maybe it was only Solape that noticed the shift, because everyone kept worshipping

He had walked out.

PK.

He was dressed in the same minimalist aesthetic.

Just a black long-sleeve polo, rolled up at the forearms. Chinos trousers and sneakers.

The room seemed to inhale.

And so did Solape.

She watched him greet some people at the front. Quick hugs, warm smiles.

Miriam grabbed her hand like she was holding onto destiny itself.

“Look at God.” NJ whispered.

“He’s as fine as I remember” Miriam hissed.

“Shut up!” Solape whispered back.

But she couldn’t deny it.

He was fine.

He climbed the stage.Looked around the room.

Then… His eyes landed on her.

Right on her.

She felt it in her spinal cord.

His expression didn’t change dramatically, but there was a flicker of recognition.

A warmth.
A small smile. A “you again?” kind of softness.

Her heart betrayed her.

Her knees weakened like an apology.

As she took her sit, She sat straighter than normal. too straight.

NJ stifled laughter.

Miriam muttered, “He remembers you. Ah. God is good.”

He began his sermon.

And boy did He know how to preach.

On calling.
On surrender.
On the fire of God forming character before it forms influence.

The call of God is not a shortcut to visibility; it is an invitation to die. To be remade. To be yielded. When God marks a person, the first evidence is not influence but obedience. His fire does not land to make us impressive, it comes to make us aligned. This is why Scripture says in Hebrews 12:29, “Our God is a consuming fire” — not to frighten us, but to remind us that everything that stands in the way of Christ being formed in us must burn. Calling begins in the hidden place, where God shapes the heart before He enlarges the platform. Character before charisma. Surrender before assignment. Fire before visibility. Look at the life of Joseph…

His voice carried the room.
His teaching was sharp.
Gentle. Convicting. Clear.
The type that made you feel known and understood at the same time.

And Solape, who always had something to say, had nothing.

She watched him like she was seeing something dangerous. Not the man. No, she recognised something powerful. Something definitely beyond this world.

The calling.
The mantle.
The weight of who he was becoming.

She recognised it. And worse… she felt pulled by it.

“This is bad,” she whispered under her breath.

Miriam leaned close. “What is bad?”

“This man has destiny.” Her voice cracked. “Real destiny. Not the fake one.”

NJ squeezed her shoulder with pity. “Sola, you’re finished.”

After service, they tried to leave quietly.

They failed.

They thought they had escaped the first timer welcome by not standing up during the recognition aspect of the service.

But the church was big, yet small enough that they stood out.

Volunteer after volunteer hugged NJ and Miriam like long-lost sisters.
Someone complimented Solape’s shoes.
Another said, “You look familiar. I know you. You are an influencer!”

(Solape almost fainted.)

They were just getting ready to sneak out when a voice behind them said:

“Leaving without saying hello?”

It was him.

PK.

Up close, unnecessarily personal.

He smiled at them.
At her.

Solape swallowed an entire wave of panic.

“We… didn’t want to disturb you,” Miriam said quickly.

“You’re not disturbing,” PK replied calmly.

He turned to Solape.

“I’m glad you came.”

Her heart did somersaults.

“Me? I came for Jesus.”

He nodded, lips twitching in amusement.
“Of course. Why else?”

Miriam elbowed her subtly. Solape glared at her.

PK continued, “You’re welcome anytime.”

Then, with no fluff, he greeted the girls again and moved, because he actually had people to pastor.

Solape stood still.

Miriam whispered in a sing-song voice, “Oh this is love...”

NJ sighed exasperatedly, “Miriam, even you could not have manufactured love from that conversation. There is definitely chemistry there though. Wait, can Pastors have chemistry?.”

Solape inhaled sharply.

“No. No. No oh. He cannot like me. I’m not pastor’s wife material!”

Miriam chuckled. “What God cannot do does not exist”

“Me! Look at me! I’m… loud!” she cried.

NJ held her hand. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. The novelty of him will fade soon.”

Solape blinked.

Trust the professor to always inject the needed rationality. Novelty. That’s what it was. It will fade soon. It had too.

---

Author’s Note: Hi Everyone, I enjoyed reading this even though I wrote it, lool.

Do you think the novelty of PK will fade soon as NJ said it would or will it be the opposite? 👀

If you haven’t read Chapter one, you can catch up here

See you next week.❤️