This story is lovingly dedicated to one of my best friends, Amy, and to all the women who have been victims of predatory men.

Amy’s story is one that can save lives.
Names have been changed and certain locations omitted for the protection of Amy’s family
and the many others quietly embedded within this story.

Amy died on February 24, 2024 in Arusha, Tanzania.

I believe Amy’s life was taken prematurely and unnecessarily. Once you read this story you will soon understand why.

This is a true story, and one of the most painful I’ve personally experienced in life. I’m writing this to all the women who have succumbed to and suffered from the abuses of predatory men — even “Christian” men. Men who have lied, love-bombed, pretended, gaslit, deceived, groomed, manipulated, emotionally hijacked, used, abused, and yes, even killed. 

Please read on, as you are about to discover just how sublime the enemy of our souls can be, and how to easily recognize traps laid for you.

This is a long story, as I’ve cut no corners. 

Coffee and Celibacy

I first met Amy in February 2013 in a coffeehouse downtown. It was a women’s weekly church bible study group, and I was so excited to be there with these lovely ladies. I had just moved into town and began attending the host church, which was brimming with life. Looking back, it was one of the richest and happiest, most joyous seasons I’d ever had in life.

Amy entered late, apologizing, and took a seat to my right in the leather chair. I didn’t immediately sense that she and I were to be so close. In fact, she was the last one with whom I anticipated becoming fast friends, but only because of obvious differences. How wrong I was. Amy was plain. I loved fashion and makeup. She had no interest in men. Men were all I thought about. Amy wore sneakers. I wore heels. Then I heard the Lord say, “She will be one of your very best friends. Ten years.” I was surprised. That’s all He said, and I wondered what He meant. However, I would not come to understand this word until after her passing.

I remember the group discussion that morning. We all talked about guys, our deep desire for godly men, marriage, our hopes for romance and a life of love, fulfillment, children, and marriages that lasted, passing the tests of time. We wanted honorable legacies. Destinies fulfilled. Grandchildren. All the things most Christian females aspire toward were on the conversational menu: marriage, motherhood, and ministry. I, for one, was deeply invested. Then Amy disclosed that she had no interest in romance, had no desire for marriage, and was called to be celibate.

The others already knew. I sat aghast.

Amy was as plain as paper. She didn’t wear makeup or feminine clothes. She wore a button-down, cut jeans, and high-top sneakers. Nothing special calling attention. But when you looked closer — seriously, she could have been a model. Tall, slender, gorgeous skin, perfect figure, a bright smile, beautiful eyes, and a glorious personality full of humor, wit, love, and laughter. If she had really wanted to, Amy could have been a siren.

The last thing I had expected her to reveal was her lack of interest in romance or men when all of us had been earnestly praying and preparing for those things in our own lives. She shared she really didn’t need a man, and felt very satisfied in life as a single woman. When I asked her about children, heritage, and legacy, she further declined any interest, clarifying that she has known herself to be celibate her entire life, but that gift was unusually hard to carry due to the judgments that accompany it. That seemed to be the hardest part for her. People seldom understood. And as Paul declared, celibacy is indeed a gift from God, as it is not of the natural order. Friendship, she said, was something she deeply desired with a man, but could not find how to make that happen in a biblical way without marriage. Men, as it turned out, were not interested in this friendship dynamic. Amy confessed to finding celibacy difficult to navigate. She felt she didn’t easily fit in with women or men, and was often regarded as odd.

It didn’t take long for us to forge a friendship. Amy and I bonded quickly. As we continued to meet at the coffeehouse, we got to know one another, finding that we had much more in common than not. Amy was a lot of fun, and we had many outings together. She may not have exuded a womanly disposition, but her deepest parts were incredibly feminine. I quickly realized that Amy was one of the most unique and beautiful individuals I’ve had the privilege to know, and her friendship was a treasure from the Lord. Her heart for God shone, and she was able to walk with Him in a manner that was holy, yet unpretentious.

What I didn’t realize initially was how much she struggled in her profession as a Special Ed teacher. Later that year, and long into the next, we would sit up for hours sharing life tales well into the middle of the night, talking about the educational system and the many changes being implemented. Amy confided in me some of the things the educational system was instituting, which deeply conflicted with her core values, moral code, and Christian beliefs and convictions. I found these revelations appalling.

As a night nurse these long and sundry conversations came easily for me. I was able to afford her what others could not. She was struggling with insomnia secondary to the stress and internal torment of her profession. This became so tenuous that it began making her physically ill, insomuch she found it difficult to sleep or eat. We all grew worried and sought God for answers. She was deeply internally troubled; losing weight, pale, and in deep mental anguish. Clearly, this was not sustainable. We continued many long nights talking, praying, adjudicating, and begging God for guidance. I watched her navigate this delicate situation and make sacrifices that were daring and painful to accommodate God’s call on her life. That included letting go of her profession entirely, relying upon savings for expenses, visiting doctors for gastrointestinal issues caused by stress, and taking medications for severe insomnia — most of which brought no relief.

She had a roommate, a student who was often away, yet she still found it hard to enter a place of rest. My night shifts became opportune for her, and she seemed to enjoy my space much more than hers. I gave her keys to my apartment and told her she could come anytime for the rest, sleep, and solitude she so desperately needed. On various occasions I would come home in the morning to find remnants of her presence: things that had been moved or lightly used. I was only grateful I could afford her some of the much needed peace she so desperately needed. Her condition broke my heart and her pain was something we all carried.

Transition, Mission, and Ministry

YWAM

2015 was a strategic yet painful year of transition for all of us. We girls seemed to suddenly go our separate ways — entire moves that launched us forward into our unique callings. Two moved to Kansas City. I moved back to Tulsa, Oklahoma. After visiting Switzerland, Amy came home refreshed and inspired, announcing she was going to join YWAM, and began making plans to move to their base in Texas. She took the position as secretary at our church for a short stint until she was finally accepted into their ministry and could make the long-awaited move. I had helped her obtain entry by writing a glowing referral letter on her character, and I was more than excited to see her launching. I sensed this was a good thing for her: an entirely new and fresh start in life, and I prayed it was the answer to all of our prayers.

I reluctantly moved back to Tulsa, Oklahoma at the time to continue ministry among the Native American peoples, and took a position as a Nurse Manager. Amy stopped by to stay at my apartment on her way to Texas in January 2016. We had a wonderful girls weekend together, but we both knew that we may not see one another again for quite a long time. How long, we didn’t know.

From Switzerland to Egypt

Months and years passed. I watched as she finally made her way to the Switzerland YWAM base, taking a leadership position. God blessed Amy with amazing connections and wonderful friendships. In time she went back to school and completed her masters degree in World Missions while teaching ESL with YWAM. It was a tough schedule for her, and the demands were enormous. She relied entirely upon donations for her livelihood, which her church handled. However, Amy could pinch a penny tighter than anyone I’d ever met. She was a hardcore minimalist, and exceptionally frugal. For example: during one of our girl’s nights she was tasked with bringing the dessert. She had purchased one large piece of decadent chocolate cake at the nearby Dillon’s bakery. We all split it — and to my surprise, it was so rich those portions were just perfect. I knew right then just how on point she was, and she has taught me by example how to remain “weightless” in life by doing so much with so little. She packed light and gave up everything — even her old Jeep back home to honor the Lord’s call. She even considered leaving behind her beloved banjo.

We talked a lot about men and marriage. I constantly asked if there was a man in her life, half teasing her. She maintained she had “no use for romance” and “no interest in men or marriage”. As for sexual intimacy? It never even crossed her mind. I continued to wonder at this. I truly didn’t understand this gift she had. For most singles, sexual abstinence is an area of torment and constant struggle. For Amy, however, it was nonexistent.

She was the first and only true celibate human being I had ever met. In this, she taught me so much, having witnessed her life firsthand. Some people may take on a season of celibacy for the sake of virtue, or out of sheer necessity. But Amy’s celibacy came naturally for her, being proven throughout her life as genuinely from the Lord. He designed her that way from the beginning. Her celibacy, she said, remained consistent since she was a young child, through puberty, and onward. Never was there any wavering. Despite the grace to carry it, she admitted to struggling with her gift in matters of mutual relativity. People found it difficult to relate to her: and her to them. She hadn’t biblically explored areas of romance, dating, courtship, or marriage; let alone sex. She hadn’t needed to. These were all very untraversed areas. All she knew was what had been demonstrated by her immediate family, which was very little. Amy admitted to feeling awkward in her gift, and sometimes that translated into her womanhood. She was overly simplified with no embellishments other than those of her soul. She was uniquely joyous, witty, light-hearted, and fun. Her soul was incredibly feminine, betraying her boring outer appearance. I think that’s how Amy intended it to be. I tried in earnest to understand her in this area. I fully accepted her as God had created her, and I found her incredibly unique and fascinating. We had wonderful times together, and as God promised, she had become one of my very best friends.

Ministry kept her full and satisfied, and her schedule very busy. Eventually, she moved from the lush glories of the Swiss Alps to the hot deserts of Egypt, continuing the work God had given her to perform with YWAM. I marveled. She had an ability to acclimate that few possess. Every month I would receive her mass emails showcasing the work she did with her peers and the peoples she reached. She kept her hair short, lived under an alias, and her gravatar was nearly a silhouette of half her face dressed in huge sunglasses. The stories, pictures, life lessons, and testimonies she shared were powerful reminders of God’s grace. And despite the distance, we enjoyed long phone calls and text threads that ran like a hot newspaper press.

Rounding in the USA

Amy returned to the USA every year for visits. She would come back for several weeks or months and would make rounds with family and friends. Flurries of people would throng her. Everyone wanted a piece of her. By 2019 it became customary for her to stay a weekend with me, and I had a guest room prepared just for her. I told her over and over again, “This is your room. Just remember, you have a home here if you ever need one. You will never be without a home.” And since she got rid of her Jeep, I put my car title in her name as a beneficiary (just in case). When Amy came to visit we would have loooong girl talks, go out for walks, treat ourselves to special dinners, and catch up on life. She always burned up the camera, taking pictures. Every time she stayed with me, we would punch that clock, burn that midnight oil, and stay up late talking on the couch, pouring out our hearts over strong coffee, and sharing the intimate details of our lives. We shared so much in the Lord, and those intimate times were some of my most savored experiences with her. She was an excellent listener, and was one of the few people I’ve known to silence herself completely, giving her full ear and heart in conversation. She was the most genuine, invested, and reflective person I’ve personally ever known. When you talked with Amy, you felt heard, understood, and deeply loved. We laughed, cried, dreamed, planned, and prayed.

When she was overseas we would plan talks and message one another, sending pictures and developing long threads. We shared everything. Something I appreciated so deeply about Amy was that we were both true ambiverts. We loved people and social activities plenty, yet we both required intense solitude to recharge our batteries. Amy and I could exist in the same space for hours without saying a word, and she was the loveliest human presence and companionship I’ve had with another person. We understood one another deeply, and our friendship developed very naturally, becoming exactly what the Lord had promised.

As the years passed Amy’s ailments healed. Slowly, she settled, and with help she was able to sleep somewhat normally. She brightened, she laughed, and she was genuinely happy and fulfilled. Amy exuded joy unlike anyone I’ve ever known during her time with YWAM.

The Prophetic Warning

In the Spring of 2022 Amy and I were talking during one of her long weekends at my house. She shared that her mentor gave her a personal word of prophecy, saying to her, “Someone is about to come into your life and turn it upside down.” Amy was excited about this, and welcomed this fresh word from God. When I asked about this, she reported this woman to be mature in the Lord, a senior mentor in her life, and a strong confidante. She trusted her wisdom irrevocably. Those were things I could appreciate. However, I sensed a foreboding from the Lord. I told her that if the word was from God, I believed it to be a warning from Him, as nothing ‘upside down’ is ever good. So, I cautioned her. I urged her to pray, obtain clarity, and be on guard.

She dismissed that warning entirely, and was certain in her own right that this word from God was indeed good. In the months ahead her excitement to see it come to pass only grew stronger. She eagerly awaited this ‘someone’ to come into her life and ‘turn it upside down’.

I, on the contrary, only grew increasingly concerned.

The Coconut Man

The Graduation Proposal

Amy had worked so hard on her master’s degree for two years. Finally, she graduated in December 2022 just prior to Christmas at the YWAM base in Hawaii. It was an enormous achievement. This degree would allow her to broaden her scope, her reach, and widen the capacity of her ministry globally. It would definitely define her as a leader. I was not able to attend, but one thing I do remember: Her celebratory phone call. She had graduated with her master’s degree. She had met someone. He had asked her to marry him. She was unbelievably giddy. I sat there with my heart in my throat and my head in my hand.

“Wait! WHAT???”

She told me I was one of the first people she called. So I had the privilege of seeing this unfold in real time. If anyone had ever been knocked over by a feather, it was me that night. It was nearly midnight in Missouri. But in Hawaii, she had just finished dinner. I tried to be supportive amidst growing trepidation.

Amy explained that he had been married before, but recently lost his wife to COVID less than a year ago. Prior to his wife’s death, about a year ago, she had briefly met him in Hawaii at the YWAM base. Amy had known his wife rather well, as they had worked together in YWAM on occasion. As the story goes, the organization had served hotdogs that night. As a native Samoan islander, he went on to cook an elaborate meal for the group, a BBQ of sorts, as he expressed his great displeasure about the hotdogs. Amy then made a comment in jest, saying to him that if she ever married she would want someone just like him! Amy didn’t cook, nor did she plan to marry. She perceived his act as one of sincere benevolence and Christian service, calling him ‘generous’, which so impressed her. That was the only history she had with this man until now. Amy was as pure as the driven snow, and as innocent as a dove. She had absolutely no idea what kind of bomb she had dropped when she had said that to him. Now a year later — he’s asking her to marry him — the very day of her graduation!

“He wants me to marry him next week!” she giggled.

I hardly knew what to say. I asked her what he proposed. I wanted to know exactly what kind of sport he was playing.

“He said, ‘You’ll marry me, right?’ And I said, ‘I guess so.'” More giggles ensued.

I chided, “That’s not a proposal, Amy!”

She elaborated: He was seventeen years her senior. She was forty.

Jesus…

More giggling.

I wanted to jump through the phone and rescue her. “Amy, you don’t even know him. You can’t marry him!”

“I’m coming home soon.”

She didn’t hear me. For the first time. Amy. Did. Not. Hear. Me.

Our Introduction at Dinner

Come home, she did. She wanted me to meet him. For anyone who’s ever seen a Samoan Haka, I needn’t say anything more. We met in a small town at a white table cloth restaurant in February, just after Valentine’s Day in 2023. I couldn’t wait. I wore my best, yet most modest dress and heels, and prepared myself for this “Coconut man” as she called him.

The whole night he rambled on about himself, looking me square in the face, piercing eyes, firm tone, glorifying himself in his accomplishments about how he had won the hand of his first wife in marriage at such a young age. It wasn’t honorable, he admitted. He confessed to not loving her. She was a trophy. He also shared how he had failed to truly fall in love with her later, and elaborated upon her sudden death by COVID. He praised himself for not grieving and being able to get over it so fast, hence his relationship with Amy. He never went to visit her in the hospital, but instead let his children attend her. He hadn’t grieved for her at all, but was able to bury her and let her go completely. This, for him, was a badge of honor. Now, not even a year had passed, and he was already after Amy, pressuring her relentlessly to marry him. This palatial story lasted all through dinner — ninety minutes of dinner. Amy sat in silence the entire time and did not say a word, but instead picked at her food nervously. As for me, my sirens were blaring.

Finally, he was done. Our plates were empty. Our napkins folded. I then asked, “So, do you have anything to say to Amy tonight?”

He looked surprised. “Well,” he said matter of factly, “We’re celebrating 75 days together!”

Amy looked up finally, and squinted with a cute smile. I wondered if she had been paying attention to anything he shared.

I asked him, “Do you have anything you’d like to say to me?”

He shook his head.

Nothing. No questions. No curiosities. No interest. No small talk, or kind inquiries. No polite conversation. I looked him dead in the eye across that table that night and I saw right through him. And he knew I saw him for who he really was. I made sure he knew it. I wanted to grab Amy and scream, “Do not marry this monster!” Instead, I smiled at her adoringly, praying with all my heart that God would open her eyes to what was so glaringly obvious to me.

He paid. We left.

They had never been to this town. So, I led them directly to the highway. Every sign was visible and clear. At the stoplight, one block before the turn, he made a hard right taking Amy down a long dark highway through the countryside, which she later revealed took them almost three hours out of the way. We had left the restaurant by ten o’clock p.m. She didn’t get home until after one o’clock in the morning. She later explained they got lost. When I asked why he didn’t follow me she reasoned, “I don’t think he knew.” I said, “Oh yes he did. The sign was right in front of us and the interstate was a block away.” Amy dismissed it, shrugging her shoulders. I knew, however, this was a sure sign of danger. This man was a monster.

She later shared, laughing, that he wanted to set me up with a Samoan man. To which I said, “Not a chance in hell.” She laughed. But I was entirely serious. I knew precisely what kind of comment this was. It was a silent threat — one of obscurity to demean me, exerting passive-aggressive authority and control — one stated behind my back instead of to my face. Amy just laughed it off. She couldn’t see it for what it really was, and I knew there was no way to show her.

Grooming and Crying

Now that she was home to stay, we talked all the time. It was nearly every day if I was not working. I also went to visit her at her parent’s house. I found her standing near the driveway waiting for me. She had been crying.

“Why are you crying!?” I was both shocked and saddened. We embraced.

“We talked all day and he taught me things I didn’t know.”

“Like what?!”

“About how women should behave, and marriage. He’s really pressing me to marry him. He wants to get married right now!”

Amy never cried. Laughter was the only thing that bubbled out of her. Her countenance was fallen. Her poor eyes were tearful and red. I told her that no honorable man pressures a woman he loves to marry him. He had bought her 72 roses for 72 days on Valentine’s Day. He had completely love-bombed her and seduced her. Now he was grooming her.

He had just had his first visit to the house. She said he wasted no time, announcing to her large family and telling her father that he wants to marry his daughter. It was the first time he had ever met them. By Amy’s account, her father exclaimed, “Yes!” without hesitation.

I was horrified.

He cooked dinner for all of them. What she described was one of the happiest times for her family.

Seduction, Pressure, and Empty Promises

In the days and weeks to come, promises were made to Amy that were never kept. And the proverbial goal post kept shifting. First, he told her he was all about her ministry and calling, and they would go back to Egypt together right after the wedding, wasting no time. She grew excited, and this motivated her to marry him sooner rather than later, so she could return to Egypt. He told her he would live to see her calling completed and do anything to support her in her calling. Amy desperately wanted to return to Egypt and complete her mission, which had been interrupted by his proposal at her graduation ceremony in Hawaii. Yet once they were married that May, he told her they needed to stay in the States so he could complete his personal plans on the agenda. Further and further out, he kept pushing her away from her calling.

She had more crying spells, calling me to tell me that she was noticing serious character flaws that concerned her. Her anxieties and stresses returned. What she had begun to heal from began to affect her once again. We discussed these issues at length. She said he was flakey. He was demanding and manipulative; presumptuous. He would put sudden pressures and demands upon people, commanding things of them in manipulative ways for which they were not prepared, making promises he never kept. He was manipulative and controlling, coercive and pressuring. I told her, “Amy, these are all very dangerous red flags. You need to address them now. Don’t wait. If he’s like this now, it will only get worse once you’re married.” She said she didn’t know what to say to him, and that he had already talked with her about submission to him. He kept pressing her to marry sooner, promising her he would go back to Egypt with her that very year.

I said, “Amy, how are you going to follow a man in ministry and submit to him when his character is putting you and others in danger? Your reputation is on the line. He will ruin everything you’ve worked so hard to build.”

As far as I know she never approached the matter with him. Yet his behaviors continued. But I was grateful Amy was finally seeing some of the red flags. When I visited her, she appeared afraid of him. That became evident to me. But in public and amidst loved ones, everything was roses. All he had to do was love bomb her a bit, and she would melt all over again.

Amy’s Retreat

Amy went on retreat to a nearby cabin in the woods that March, which rented freely and exclusively to missionaries. She spent a week there praying in earnest, asking God if this marriage was His perfect will. During this time her coconut man texted me, asking if I was Amy’s friend. I didn’t have his number, so it came up as unknown spam. I blocked it immediately since Amy was a missionary who required covert protection under an alias. I had no idea who this was or why I was being asked.

She called me near the end of her stay and I asked how things were going. She loved the property, telling me how wonderful it was. I was only too happy she was away from him. Yet she sounded bleak and confused. She had spent time crying out to God. She had weighed everything in the balances, and yet had no clear answer. I told her about the text and relayed the number. She confirmed it was him. I was shocked. I said, “What is he doing contacting me while you’re away on retreat in seclusion with God?! What honorable man does that?!” She said he must be cleaning out his contacts. I told her, “Please don’t marry him! You can’t marry him, Amy!” She paused and sighed. Then she said lowly with resignation in her voice, “You take the good with the bad.” That’s when I knew she had ultimately surrendered.

Our Last Weekend

Amy began preparing for the wedding that March upon her return from the retreat. She struggled for a long time to find the perfect dress. Being true to her frugal nature, she feigned spending any money on her wedding and opted for something simple: a plain white blouse and skirt. Before long we made plans for a weekend together as we always had. I was eager to welcome her and prepared her room. I knew this would probably be our last weekend together, as they had finally set a date to marry in May, and it was fast approaching.

Amy came to stay in early April. Since she didn’t have her Jeep she allowed him to drive her to my house. To my chagrin, he would not only have my number, but now would know where I lived. That very day I experienced a dark witchcraft come upon me as soon as they headed toward my home. It was heavy and oppressive, and it struck like an arrow to my heart. I prayed, asking the Lord to show me what was going on. This dark heaviness became painful. It was clearly a spiritual attack. As I prayed the Lord began to reveal the intent. It had been launched to destroy my relationship with Susanna.

She called as they neared, asking about lunch. “We’re going to Five Guys. What do you want?” He was buying. He wanted to eat lunch with us at my house. On the outside this appeared to be a kind and timely gesture. But I saw it for what it was: an opportunity to rob us of precious time alone together, an opportunity to gain entry into my home. I did not trust him. I prepared myself. Looking back, I should have politely declined, insisting there were other plans for lunch.

Amy came bursting in with smiles and hugs. He came in carrying hot food and wanted to see the house straight away. “Where’s her room?” I had shut my bedroom door long before they arrived. He carried her bags upstairs. “What’s this room?!” he demanded, gesturing to my bedroom. I looked at him and said, “That’s my room.” He became disgruntled that the door was shut. He looked around, wondering. His eyes busy and glaring. Amy smiled sweetly — being completely aloof to his behaviors. She had become completely blinded to him, and I knew that was by design.

We set the table downstairs. He wanted me to attend a Native American conference in Oklahoma. Again, all at his beckoning. I asked him who was leading. He mentioned the name of a man who had previously violated me, whom I had to report to the Church. I told him I can’t go, and carefully but respectfully delineated why. He slammed his fist on the table and said, “Well, I like him!” Amy and I startled. She looked up at me, scared to death, not saying a word. Then he proceeded to challenge me, stating, “I need to find out if that’s true. I will go and ask him.”

I said, “Excuse me? You will do no such thing.”

He went on, saying, “I will! I need to find out if this is true!”

“Find out if this is true? Do you realize what you’re doing? This happened nearly thirty years ago. And you are of no position or authority over me. How dare you call me into question before my abuser! You’re going to bring me into question before him?! As if he’s going to confess the truth to YOU! Who do you think you are? You can’t meddle in these matters of your own volition and destroy the reputation of people like this.”

He grew angry, telling me he has done it before at IHOP in KC.

I wanted to vomit. I sat there, appalled. I stopped eating.

He finished his meal. Not one word to Amy the entire time. She sat with her head down, staring at her plate. He enlarged himself, broadening his frame, louder and louder he became, telling tall tales of how he defended women at IHOP-KC.

I couldn’t take anymore. I stood up. “It’s time for you to go.”

He refused to move. “Who are you?” he asked me, sitting there with elbows on the table, as if he owned the place.

“I’m a child of God. If you want to know more you can read my work. It will suffice.”

He looked around the room, studying it, glaring. He then said to me, “I know the Lord. I’ll find out who you are.”

I said, “Well, two can play that game. And I didn’t have to ask Him who you are. He’s already told me.”

He stood up and made ready to leave. “Can I have a hug good-bye?” he asked.

I looked at him incredulously. “No.”

He left in a flurry telling Amy he will pick her up on Sunday, and stormed out.

Amy and I stood in my kitchen, eyes locked, in total shock. She was visibly flustered. Her eyes fluttered nervously, brimming, red, and glistening. Finally she said, “We can just forget about it. I’m going to take a nap.”

“A nap?” I looked at her. “A nap? I don’t think so. We need to talk.”

“He cares about you. He was just trying to defend you.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“He told me that if anyone comes to my wedding it’s going to be Erin! Why would he say that if he didn’t like you?”

That’s when I knew. He was playing a reverse psychology. He was setting me up; setting her up. We stared at each other. I told her calmly, “If you marry him, I fear what will become of you. Please don’t marry him.”

We embraced. I felt her heart beating so heavy it was slamming her chest. She went quiet, just breathing. Then she said, “I’m marrying him.” Clearly, she was fortified in her decision.

“Then I can’t come. I’m speaking now, and I’m not holding my peace any longer. I can’t.” This was not something swiftly decided. I had known this from the beginning. I was simply waiting for the right moment, hoping I never had to tell her; hoping she would end it altogether and absolve me of ever saying it.

“Why don’t we talk about this later?” she asked, her eyes fluttering nervously.

We both took a nap. I cried all afternoon silently in bed, fearing for her. That dark arrow of atrocity that was so strategically launched continued to haunt my heart. Nothing was the same between us afterward. Amy spent much of her time alone in her room. I knew he was monitoring her every move. We had brief interactions for meals, talked as we always had that night, and tried to make the best of it. But everything was tense. Her laughter stopped. Her smiles faded. Her eyes were sad. She went quiet and solemn.

Later we had a bon fire. She sat there staring into the flames sadly and revealed my worst fears. “Men are controlling. You don’t have a choice.” She sighed so heavily, resigning her life to this man.

I didn’t even know what to say. But I saw a distinct sadness in her I had never before seen.

Sunday came and he arrived to pick her up. He never came to the door. Amy simply said, “Thank you for the rest.” She walked away down the sidewalk to his car and never looked back. That was not the ending I wanted or anticipated. Until now, we never parted without a long strong hug, smiles and laughter, promising to keep in touch. But I knew it was over. Soon after she came back with a bag of coffee. I opened the door.

“He wants to apologize.”

“For what?” I asked.

She shrugged. “He’s afraid you’re mad at him.”

I said, “Amy, he’s a grown man. If he wants to apologize he can come to me himself and say it to my face. He doesn’t need to send you in his stead. And I certainly don’t need more coffee. Beware of this, or you’ll be apologizing for him the rest of his life. That’s not going to win you any awards as a woman in ministry.”

She turned and left. I told her again to tell him to come to my door if he wanted to apologize. She nodded silently. I was willing to forgive and make peace if he actually did this. I quietly waited by the door. He never did. Instead, I listened to his car peel rubber down the street in a flurry of heat that terrified me for her safety.

After she left, the crushing pang that so oppressed me slowly lifted, which I found odd.

Amy later texted me that she didn’t want to be the mediator because it just causes more problems. I agreed. I told her that was fine, and I didn’t want her suffering in the middle. But I had to tell her that he was no longer welcome at my home, and that if he ever showed his face again I would report him and have him trespassed. I told her he was not only dishonoring to me, but threatening, and he was not to ever come back.

Within days, and on separate occassions, I had two strange people knock on my door, to which I did not answer. Both of them appearing related to him. One was a young man; another was a young woman. I hadn’t seen them before, nor have I seen them since.

I wrote Amy a poignant letter, expressing my deepest concern for her, begging her not to marry him. I did my best to make my argument, exposing his character. I expressed my lifelong loyalty to her as a friend, and begged her in earnest not to marry him.

There was no reply.

Nearly a month went by. Again, I sensed the Lord telling me I needed to write Amy again. The trepidation grew to something terrible. I felt a stern warning from God that something absolutely horrific awaited Amy if she married her “coconut man”. But I never dreamed it would be her death.

Upside Down

Nearly another year passed. Amy had her wedding that May of 2023. All our mutual friends attended. I stood firm in my decision, having no reason to hold my peace. My heart broke for her, but I did not attend. I stood my ground.

I re-read my letters to her. I revisited our long texts and photos. Grief gored me deeply. I feared for her. As the months passed, I let go. I realized there was nothing more I could do and I surrendered her to God.

I had long drives home in the dark from work. One night I stopped for gas when our friend Lily texted me. It had been a long time. I was so happy to hear from her and replied with joy. We agreed to talk when I got home.

“Have you heard about Amy?”

“What do you mean? Her wedding?”

“No. Are you sitting down?”

I sat down. Oh my God… What?…

“Amy passed last night in Tanzania…”

I crumbled, screaming.

My worst fears had come to pass. God had tried to prepare me. But I dared not believe it, and yet it happened. Amy was dead. They never went back to Egypt. He never supported her in her calling. He wanted his. He led her to Tanzania where he could obtain credentialing for ministry with YWAM. Amy had been completely removed from God’s will for her life by a man who wanted his own. A team of missionaries were on a bus when a skid loader behind them lost its breaks traveling downhill. It ran over the bus, crushing it. Amy died instantly. Yet he survived.

That phone call with Lily lasted three hours. I didn’t sleep that night. I should have called into work, but I didn’t. A complete breakdown ensued. My boss sent me home and removed me from the schedule that week, and I was later able to attend Amy’s funeral.

I wept sore.

I stood at her gravesite with one of my best friends, watching the procession. Her coconut man took his place, as I so knew he would. He stood there among her brothers and sister, her mother and father, who were clearly gutted. Her mother bent over in half, unable to watch, sobbing.

Hundreds of people staring. He had all the audience a malignant narcissist could ever want.

And I was astonished at what he said: “I’m sorry Amy, if I did not love you well.” Not one tear. Those were his last words to her before she went into the ground. And I remembered his lack of grief for his first wife and how he left her to die in that hospital.

Words cannot convey or articulate what I felt in that moment.

He had come home with a celebratory Haka dance at the airport in the presence of her grieving parents and family. He was celebrated as a survivor. A Go Fund Me was immediately posted for monies for his personal ministry soliciting thousands in the very wake of her death, before he or Amy’s body even returned home. His family managed the funeral preparations, making extravagant plans, but it was reportedly funded by her parents. People came from all over the world.

He deceived everyone.

This was a strategic takedown. Amy never fulfilled her calling. She never used her Master’s degree. I pray her family comes to see the truth. Her coconut man went back to playing pickle ball, and reportedly he’s not been heard of or seen since. He’s all but disappeared. Yet the Go Fund Me is strangely still active to this very day.

It took me months to end my grief. And I know I’m not the only one. When I prayed the Lord said, “She underestimated the cost.” He further said, “I’m not done with Amy.”

Come to find out YWAM had told Amy that if she were to continue ministry in Egypt, she would need to marry due to the inherent risks. No ministry has any right or authority to make such demands of anyone. Consequently, Amy had seen this marriage as an opportunity to continue ministry in Egypt. She loved God so much that she compromised her celibacy to embrace this wicked man. She laid it all on the line to embrace the call of God on her life. Instead, it turned her life upside down.

I laid it all on the line as well. I told her the truth. It was no longer about our relationship. It was about her. She could hate me all she wanted — so long as I could help save her. I spoke clearly and boldly over, and over, and over again. Passionate pleas. I was the only one who said anything to her. This man had deceived everyone else, completely deluding them. I spoke with mutual friends at her funeral. They were convinced he was a godly man. It was all an act. When I shared details of my personal experiences, they were shocked.

He kept her in the States for nine months following the wedding. They had only just begun in Tanzania when she died.

Ladies, this is what predator’s do. This is what they look like.

Ladies, please pay attention to red flags. Learn to discern. Never compromise. Never underestimate the cost. And remember, when you really love someone — say what needs to be said. Never be afraid to say what’s true when you know it could save their life.

God’s Word of Warning

God’s word came to pass. He was faithful to warn.

Amy and I enjoyed ten years of deep friendship, precisely as the Lord said. I met her in February of 2013. She left my home for the last time in April 2023 when our friendship ended.

God later revealed, the word spoken to her by her mentor proved true. He said “someone”. Not a man of God. Not a husband. Not even a boyfriend. Certainly not His son. He said, “someone”. That is a very general and vague term that He revealed to mean this man was not from Him. He was not a ‘sent one’ from God. He’s just a someone who ‘came into her life’. I don’t think I need to expound on why He said this someone would turn her life upside down. Amy’s life was indeed turned upside down in many ways. The general understanding is that when something is turned upside down it brings destruction, disorder, chaos, and even death, which is precisely what happened. Just look at the photo and how she died.

Beware of predators. May God use Amy’s story to save many others. Please share.

Cheers & Shalom,

Image Credit: Tanzania Bus Crash | 2024

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