Dear pastor’s wife-as Pastor Appreciation month comes to a close, I want you to know…I see you. I know there are times that it gets hard. I understand the disappointment that burrows within, carving a hole in your heart as your husband has to leave for that last minute meeting he is called to lead. I feel you stifle the complaint as he peers into your eyes. He holds you close, gives you that unsaid, “I’m sorry, it can’t be helped,” as he kisses you goodbye. The predictable runs smoothly, however, the unexpected is more difficult to bear, but still I saw it…how you strove to surrender to God’s will. Perhaps you wait up alone, the minutes ticking by. Or maybe you have many children and it often falls on you to pull the blankets over their small frames each and every night. It rarely goes as planned; there’s always something you feel you’ve missed. There are baths to be had, catechism to be learned, homework you must check…the list goes on and on. There are times you feel you steer the ship alone, and really who are you to know if you aren’t headed for an iceberg straight ahead. I understand you may not have family nearby to check in, and sometimes that gets tough. Mostly it’s not a problem, but every now and then the convenience of blood relation would ease the circumstance. I get it…how your gut tends to drop when the phone rings late at night. Who could be calling at this hour? Your mind races to the worst-case scenario. Plans are subject to change, vacations cancelling, and family outings may be cut short. There are times your husband is gone for many days as other churches need the preaching too. It leaves you in survival mode until there’s time to reconnect, when he comes back home to you. I notice your tired eyes during those “busy seasons,” God sets forth. I see you on your Sunday morning stroll to church. I hear you assure your pastor husband that you will pray for him… that God will use and guide the preaching to be effective for Him. And as you make you short walk home after the service, you wait for those four questioning words, “How did it go?” It’s been years now, yet still he asks how it went…he still depends on you. The time may come you have to fight the prickled gnaw that can creep its way inside-because just like you, God’s people resemble Israel, prone to throw complaint. There will be moments you won’t want to fellowship in circle after church…you’d rather disappear. The night was long, your moods not right, and it’s draining to try and care. The times alone with your family feel seldom, but still, you beat yourself up for failing to invite people over for that visit you keep putting off. There are moments you worry, pray your husband makes it through. Because a busy week has turned into a busy month, and you feel he needs reprieve. You stand beside him-weeping, praying, conversing over all the frail sheep. You feel the identity of “pilgrim” keenly as you walk this earthly life. You know this place you abide will someday end, turning its page into an unknown “next.” Have wrestlings risen if you were called and capable of this?
Dear pastor’s wife, and those pastor’s wives to be...I know each station holds its hardships, and no two experiences are the same. But know you are not unseen. It won’t always be easy, but the best things never are. Trusting and following Him is never guaranteed to be easy, but He has promised that He will never leave us or forsake us. There will be broken that will often extend its brush to the canvas of your life as you walk hand in hand with your husband, caring for the church. You will pray for hope, for healing, for words to offer those who hurt. You will come along church members, some unexpected, your lives now intersected, as their crushed souls are laid before your own. You will crush a little there beside them, but you’ll know that that’s ok. Because sometimes caring means feeling crushed. Afterall, you know, the cross crushed Jesus too. You will realize God’s people are growing you, and you will grow to love them for it. The pleasantness of the communion of saints will permeate as they extend to you the hands and feet of Christ in their prayers, words of encouragement, holidays they don’t want you to spend alone, offers to babysit, and meals given when they realize you are carrying a load. You will come to admire the wives of those elders and deacons walking beside you…will see them in the shadows, and through the silence realize personally the ways in which they wear the weight their husbands carry on their shoulders too. You will get to know godly elders, with listening ears…and they will become a treasure to you. Don’t be afraid to lean on them, telling them the concerns of your heart for your husband, and for God’s people. You may sink into the ditch of comparison. But as my husband’s professor once said, “Comparison is odious.” As for people? The saying goes something like, “You will never make everyone happy, and if you are, then you are probably doing something wrong.” Seek to love those who are hard to love. You will meet wonderful people from many places…a delicacy that is attached to ministry. Let it leave you with a longing for paradise where one day we will all sit together before heaven’s throne. Don’t fall for the lie that you need to fit a certain type of “pastor’s wife.” As I have read, people will always have opinions about you, but God…He is the only One that has intimate knowledge of you. Fall into that truth. There is no “right” kind of pastor’s wife, only one whose heart is wholly devoted to serving the Lord. You may be in the center of the church, but you are also at the center of God’s heart. Hard blacks of sin will splatter as you encounter the failings of God’s sheep. They will blend richly with deep purples of joy, frustrating reds, sorrowful blues, wonderful greens, and hopeful yellows…all hues merging together, mixed carefully by the providential Painter, creating all your experiences to be a masterpiece hung just for Him. And all of it being used to blossom you.
Dear church member, and person I come to meet…sometimes when you look at me, I wonder what you think. Wonder if you think I am some super spiritual, amazingly gifted woman. The kind who plays piano for church, bakes cookies for meetings, never says a wrong word to her children, or raises her voice above the octave of a gentle whispering wind at her husband. Perhaps there are those who think I am an early riser, always consistent in prayer and devotion to God. Maybe some believe my house is always immaculate, my children abnormally well-behaved, and I have a heart that never gives way to jealousy. Then still, I wonder if there are those who define me according to how they viewed me in my days of youth. I hear the hiss of my enemy slithering up my neck, “You aren’t good enough for him,” as I begin speculating if people see me as a weakness to the work of my husband.
Those who know me deeper catch more than a sliver of the truth. Baking? I don’t really like it. In fact, when we first moved to Wisconsin, we met with a couple elders. When they jokingly informed me that I wasn’t expected to make baked goods for consistory meetings, I heaved a sigh of relief. Was that expectation even a thing in some churches? But hey…every now and then I do attempt to fill the cups of my children by venturing out to make some sort of baked good. Chocolate chip cookies is about as exciting as it gets over here, as I let them measure the flour that inevitably sprinkles their clothes white; and toss in sugar that unavoidably coats the floor, leaving trail for hidden creatures in my house. Although I have been asked that sort of give in question about whether or not I play piano-I fail there too. My piano days ended shortly after they began. If I knew they may be a pre-requisite for my life today, perhaps I would have told my 4th grade self to stick it out. Patience isn’t my strong point. Kid number 2 and beyond really showcased my lack thereof. My kids? They fight. It’s true-there are times (more times than I’d like to admit) I yell at them, giving way to selfishness, viewing them as burdens rather than blessings. They wiggle in church, and yes, sometimes I even have to walk out to deal with it. My house is frequently on the verge of chaos. I once went six weeks without cleaning my bathrooms. Six. It’s slightly mortifying to even admit. Does the fact we were gone for four of those weeks give me some sort of pass? I get annoyed when I finally have a handle on the house just to see my husband’s socks strewn on the floor right next to the hamper. I am prone to pride and inadequacy. Sometimes I stare into the mirror for too long and care too much about what I wear and what others will think. My devotional life ebbs and flows; sometimes giving way to valleys that bring doubts and temptations. Other times my faith stands with excitement at the peak of a majestic mountain. But more often than not-it’s just ordinary…just a practice of habit as I strive to grow by God’s grace. And despite what many assume, although I grew up as a PK (preacher’s kid) it didn’t really prepare me to be a preacher’s wife. By and large, they have been completely different for me. I think it’s safe to say that pastor’s wives don’t want sympathy for the hardships that come with their callings. Every calling has hardships. They strive to serve the Lord gladly in all their post entails. Where your pastor’s wife rejoices that God has called her to serve His church alongside her husband, she does appreciate your prayers and support. If we chatted, sat together over a cup of coffee, you would realize…I hope you would realize-I am just like you. No different than you. I need prayers, friendship, love, and forgiveness-because I am part of the body, just like you.
Dear elders…there are those we have leaned on, who have stood beside us in the storms. Much of your work lies in the unknown too. Your time is taken from your family after normal “business hours.” But we see it, treasure it…thanking God for you, your wife, and children. Just remember when family visitation hits and you are the lucky one to get our visit, we are normal people too. ;) We appreciate the hard questions…so don’t be afraid to ask.
It’s been 8 years for me. 8 years in this blessed thing called “minister’s wife.” I never aspired to be a pastor’s wife, but I did desire to be Erik’s wife. Over a decade ago, if you had told me I would one day be here, I probably would have sat in wonder. Perhaps pondering these things within much more like Sarah of old than like that of Mary, mother of Jesus. The laughter would have erupted as I thought maybe you were mistaken. I wouldn’t have known what it all meant, or what was to become. I probably would have shook in holy fear had I known what lay ahead. I am convinced that’s why God reveals daily, unraveling His grace thread by thread, lacing it intricately by the moment, as it gives way to delightful surprise. I jumped in headfirst, at the ripe age of 20. And thankfully… it wasn’t as scary as I thought it would be. Although I’m no expert, in that short time, I have seen that God sees in ways which we cannot. He has used my limitations to showcase His limitlessness, my weakness to display His strength. He has shown that being a minister’s wife isn’t about me, or the minister that married me. All is but a highway to Him. And if He who paints the sparkling stars innumerable and blood-stained Calvary…will not He sustain and use me in all my smallness when He has also painted me?
To my husband…my pastor husband. It kind of makes me do an inward smile that in the middle of penning these words, you came into the kitchen and said, "I'm scrapping it...I'm starting this sermon completely over." Although this occasion is abnormal, I can't say it's what a minister's wife wants to hear on Friday afternoon.. ;). Thank you for lifting some of the shadowy burdens as you pray for not only the pastor, elders, and deacons…but also for their wives. Thank you for each reminder that when we strive to live our lives holy, the house people think is made of glass, isn’t such a hard place to breathe. Rather, what one could see as stifling has brought forth some of the sweetest fruit. The earnest ways you seek out my opinions and confidence has placed value upon me. I have had many unique privileges as I have walked next to you…have seen it clearly-that where the terrain is rocky, that’s often where grace grows best. Have witnessed profoundly we are all so very needy: broken people with broken stories, bound together in a broken world, all of it rupturing forth, giving way to the abundance of the broken Savior. Our kids-they know your calling is important, but you don’t brush them aside. They know they…we…are your first important “things.” Our hands braid often in the darkness as we pray for what we know…all of it has flowered our friendship in ways above our own. As the days drift off into years, slinking away quicker than we’d like…as the dark hair fades, giving way to white…I pray you never cease to ask me that same loaded, “How did it go?” question I have come to expect week by week. The days…they toil, and they spin…and as we sway along…I pray grace continues to dance its way among us, keeping us humble, lacing us to Him in this earthly song.
Kommentare