It began, as these things often do, with what should have been a footnote. A birthday celebration. A preacher in attendance. A few affectionate words caught on camera.

Within hours, the moment had escaped the room and entered the public square, replayed, analysed and argued over with a fervour that surprised even those accustomed to Nigeria’s hyper-vigilant religious culture.

When Apostle Joshua Selman attended the recent birthday celebration of Sandra Areh, popularly known as Selwoman (a play on Selman), and publicly referred to her as “my love”, the reaction was immediate and polarised.

Defenders invoked privacy and warned against intrusion into a man of God’s personal life. Critics sensed something more unsettling, though many struggled to articulate exactly what it was. The discomfort lingered not because of scandal, but because of history.

For years, Selman and Areh have occupied a familiar yet undefined public space. Close enough to invite speculation. Undefined enough to deflect it.

The birthday moment did not create the controversy. It crystallised it. It compressed years of ambiguity into a single symbol and forced a question that had long been deferred.

What are the ethical obligations of clarity when a spiritual leader’s personal relationships become publicly instructive?

This is not a question about sexual morality. There is no allegation of impropriety here. It is a question about leadership, power and responsibility.

More precisely, it is a question about what prolonged silence teaches when the person who remains silent wields immense spiritual authority.

To answer it honestly requires moving beyond gossip and into structure. Psychology explains how ambiguity affects the human mind. Scripture sets a higher bar for leaders than for private citizens.

Power analysis reveals who benefits and who bears the cost when clarity is delayed. Taken together, these lenses expose a problem that does not rely on scandal to be serious.

Joshua Selman’s rise has been built on discipline, theological seriousness and an insistence on depth over spectacle. That reputation matters, because credibility in ministry is cumulative.

It is earned not only through preaching, but through coherence between message and life. When a leader who teaches clarity in obedience and decisiveness in faith appears to model prolonged relational ambiguity, followers notice. Even when they cannot quite say why.

From a psychological perspective, the issue is straightforward. Human beings are not wired to live indefinitely in “almost”. Emotional closeness, repeated proximity and symbolic language such as “my love” are not neutral signals.

The brain reads them as pair bonding in progress. When that bonding is not resolved through commitment or clear disengagement, it produces a loop of hope, restraint and reinterpretation.

Psychologists call this intermittent reinforcement. It is one of the most powerful drivers of attachment. It keeps people invested not through certainty, but through possibility.

Over time, the person with less control over the outcome – Sandra in this case – experiences heightened anxiety disguised as patience. Life decisions are quietly postponed.

Alternatives fade without formal rejection, meaning prospective suitors who would otherwise have asked her out are kept at bay by the appearance that she is already taken. Thus waiting becomes a way of life.

Joshua Selman, the person with greater control in this situation, experiences something different. Comfort without urgency. Emotional benefit without decisive cost.

This asymmetry does not require bad intentions. It is a function of power and biology. But its effects are real. And when such a dynamic plays out in public view, it does not remain personal. It becomes a lesson.

That lesson matters in a church culture already prone to spiritualising delay. Young women learn that endurance is godliness.

Young men learn that discernment – which supposedly is what Selman may be engaging in, thereby delaying to move the relationship forward – has no deadline. Neither lesson is psychologically healthy.

Both are reinforced when leaders appear to inhabit relational grey zones without consequence.

Scripture is less forgiving of such ambiguity than modern church culture often is. The Bible sets a higher standard for leaders, not because they are less human, but because their lives teach whether they intend them to or not.

Paul’s instruction that an overseer be “above reproach” is not moral minimalism. It is optical integrity, an imperative to not only do the right thing, but also to be seen to be doing the right thing.

“Now the overseer is to be above reproach, faithful to his wife, temperate, self-controlled, respectable, hospitable, able to teach” (1 Timothy 3:2).

Jesus is even more direct about clarity. “Let your yes be yes, and your no be no. Anything beyond this comes from the evil one” (Matthew 5:37). James adds that “a double-minded man is unstable in all his ways” (James 1:8).

These are not abstract virtues. They are warnings against the spiritual cost of prolonged indecision.

Biblically, discernment is not indefinite. It has a horizon. Beyond that horizon, delay becomes avoidance wrapped in spiritual language. Scripture treats time as a moral resource.

“Be very careful, then, how you live. Not as unwise but as wise, making the most of every opportunity” (Ephesians 5:15 to 16). To consume another person’s time without clarity is not neutral stewardship but an act of recklessness and being inconsiderate.

Leaders are also accountable for the effect of their lives on those they lead.

“Be shepherds of God’s flock that is under your care, watching over them” (1 Peter 5:2). The shepherd is judged not only by personal innocence, but by what the flock learns from his conduct. When ambiguity becomes normalised, confusion follows.

Power analysis sharpens this further. Power does not require coercion or force to operate. It flows from structure. In this case, Selman’s power over Sandra flows from spiritual authority, public reverence and control of narrative.

His silence about defining their relationship or clearly cutting ties with her itself becomes an exercise of power, because it controls timing and meaning.

Even when a woman is intelligent, consenting and strong, the costs of delay are uneven. Public association narrows her narrative options. Leaving invites scrutiny.

Waiting is praised as faith. Asking for clarity risks being framed as impatience or lack of spirituality. Choice exists, but inside constraint.

The man, by contrast, absorbs less cost. His authority remains intact regardless of outcome. If clarity eventually comes through marriage, he is praised for patience.

If it comes through disengagement, the story is reframed quietly. This asymmetry explains why ethical responsibility rests more heavily on the one with greater power, namely Joshua Selman.

Church culture often disguises this imbalance by spiritualising female endurance. Women are celebrated for waiting well. Men are celebrated for discerning slowly if she is the right one. What looks like virtue can easily become conditioning. Not empowerment.

Supporters often argue that the public is owed nothing. That privacy must be protected. This is true, up to a point. Leaders do not owe congregations intimate details.

But once personal relationships begin to function as public symbols, silence stops protecting privacy and starts teaching confusion.

History suggests that unresolved ambiguity rarely ends well. Sometimes a leader marries someone else suddenly. The previously associated woman fades from view. Sometimes she is reassigned or quietly disappears.

Sometimes time resolves the situation through exhaustion rather than honesty. In each case, the cost is disproportionately borne by the less powerful party.

There is, however, a healthier model. It is neither intrusive nor radical. It begins with private honesty. A leader must decide whether he is genuinely open to marriage before emotional proximity deepens. Boundaries must precede affection, not follow it.

If courtship becomes visible, transparency must replace symbolism. No cryptic language. No public affection without declared intent.

Discernment should be time-bound. The man can’t say in good conscience that he is still trying to discern the woman’s suitability for marriage indefinitely. It should be done within a reasonable time.

This is where trusted mentors and elders should provide accountability. When a decision is reached, behaviour must align immediately.

If marriage is intended, timelines protect dignity. If it is not, distance protects hearts. Silence protects no-one, but is instead harmful to the woman and some onlookers, especially the church being led by the man.

The controversy surrounding Selman’s birthday appearance matters because it exposes a wider tension in modern ministry. The gap between message and method.

The distance between what is preached about clarity, discipline and sacrifice, and what is modelled when decisions are deferred.

The church does not need perfect leaders. It needs coherent ones. Leaders whose private lives do not quietly contradict their public teaching. Silence may feel safe, but in leadership it often speaks the loudest.

In the end, this is not a call for intrusion, but for courage. Selman must demonstrate courage by deciding and communicating clearly if he intends to marry Sandra or not.

Clarity is not cruelty. Distance is not rejection. Decision is not betrayal. They are forms of care. Otherwise he is ruining his reputation and slowly wrecking Sandra’s life even without intending to.

If the modern church is serious about integrity, it must stop mistaking prolonged ambiguity for wisdom. And its leaders must remember that how they love teaches as powerfully as what they preach.

Gabriel Manyati is a Zimbabwean journalist and analyst delivering incisive commentary on politics, human interest stories, and current affairs.